In Too Deep

by Janelle Taylor

  Lost, angry and searching for escape, she had literally run into Troy’s beat-up Dodge truck with her car. He’d just parked in one of the private spaces reserved for the Holloway elite at Houston’s original Rancho del Sol. Jenny hadn’t meant to hit him. She’d just been so distracted that she slammed her foot on the accelerator instead of the brake and bumped hard into the back of his car. His look of horror was almost comical, and Jenny leaped out of her car and apologized over and over eventually running out of steam since he never responded with so much as a syllable.

  “I’m sorry,” she said for the umpteenth time. “I’ll pay for it.”

  “Never mind,” he finally replied. “I shouldn’t have been in your parking spot.”

  “Oh, no!” Jenny was eager to take the blame. “It’s my fault. Come inside. I’ve got my insurance information …”

  And that was how Troy was introduced to Allen. Jenny, reverting to childish ways, let her father handle all the particulars. It turned out Troy was looking for a job. He had a business degree from UC Berkeley, or so he maintained, and wanted to work in restaurant management It was all a lie, but he had enough phony credentials to back up his claim; and Allen, happy to have his daughter’s accident so easily dispensed with, hired Troy then and there.

  And Troy played the part of everyone’s favorite guy. Cool even in the worst Houston heat. A trait Jenny had admired and learned later to distrust completely. Someone somewhere had said that there were two types of physical abusers: those that flew into a white rage and were dangerous because they were out of control; and those whose heartbeat actually decelerated in the anticipation of a physical battle. Calm and cool but imbued with the swiftness and intensity of a cobra. That was Troy.

  Hero-worship had consumed her, despite Allen’s disapproval. And when her shocked father stumbled upon the two of them in an embrace, his gaze flicking from Troy to Jenny and back again, she found her weapon against him without even trying.

  Allen hustled her into his back office and gave her an ultimatum: she was not to see Troy Russell as anything but an employee.

  She eloped with Troy the following spring. Her first inkling of trouble was at the end of the ceremony, when Troy Russell kissed his new bride and then looked down at her with a smile on his face. Not the loving smile of a new husband. The smile of a conqueror … the smile of a scam artist who’d just pulled off an enormous coup.

  “Mom?”

  Rawley’s voice brought her back to reality. He stood at the edge of the counter, eyeing her worriedly before his gaze dropped to the blue can of spot remover. “Oh,” she murmured, turning around and reaching for the paper towels. “Here. Maybe you could clean up the pawprints in your room.”

  He took the paper towels and the can and asked, “What were you thinking about?”

  “Nothing much.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Just the work I need to finish before we go on vacation.”

  He nodded. “I’m going over to Brandon’s for a few minutes. After I do this,” he added, indicating the spot remover.

  “Wait. Don’t go.”

  “Why not?”

  “I just kind of want you here, today. This afternoon …”

  “What for?”

  What for, indeed? To make your mother’s birthday something to remember? “I don’t know. Oh, never mind.” She smiled wanly. “Have a good time.”

  The tears she’d been battling suddenly welled in her eyes. Rawley gazed at her in consternation.

  “Mom …?”

  “I’m okay … really … I’m just tired.” With that, she collapsed onto one of the two bar stools, struggling to get her emotions under control.

  The doorbell rang and Benny, still on the porch, started barking at whoever was standing outside with him. Instantly Rawley ran to the rescue, cracking open the door, collaring Benny as he streaked inside. “Oh, hi,” he said to the newcomer.

  “Hello, there. You’ve grown a few inches since the last time I saw you. Pretty soon you’ll be looking for a job at Rancho del Sol!”

  Jenny brushed her tears away and got up, stopping short at the archway in stunned amazement. Her father … Allen Holloway … stood in the doorway.

  Rawley hung onto Benny for dear life and managed an uncomfortable smile. “I guess …”

  “Well, hello,” Jenny greeted him, forcing a lightness she didn’t feel. Her father had never come to her apartment. He’d never been invited and she hadn’t even known he knew where it was.

  “Are you going to invite me in or make me wait out here all day?” Allen asked with an attempt at humor as flat as Jenny’s smile.

  “Of course. Come in.” She walked across the room as Rawley stepped aside, one hand still on Benny’s collar. “What in the world are you doing out this way?”

  He wore a pair of gray slacks, a navy suit coat and a polo shirt, his normal dress for a Sunday afternoon at his club. If Jenny had been thinking, she would have realized the reason for his visit immediately, but she was just so surprised to see him—and wary—that her brain seemed to stall.

  “It’s your birthday, isn’t it?” he asked.

  Rawley threw his mother a stricken look.

  “Well, yes, it is,” she said, aching for her son and wishing Allen could have been the one to let the event slip by rather than Rawley.

  “Happy birthday, honey.” Awkwardly he pulled her into an embrace and Jenny did her darnedest to hug him back with feeling. But too many memories intruded, memories of other birthdays and events where the hours they spent together were filled with him badgering her about her future and her sinking into resolute silence. Even after Troy was out of their lives, he’d called and cajoled and tried to force her to come work with him. Her resistance, and refusal of all monetary help, frustrated the hell out of him.

  Now, however, Jenny swallowed as her gaze flew over the magazines and leftover mail scattered on the coffee table. She mentally congratulated herself for recycling the bottle of chianti she’d begun with a frazzled Janice Ferguson a few days earlier and finally finished the evening before. She would have liked her father to see her place in its most immaculate state, but a muddy pawprint caught her attention and she realized that was hopeless. Why it mattered, she wouldn’t consider. It just did. She didn’t want him to start in again about how much she needed his financial support

  “So, how does it feel to be the ripe old age of thirty-five?” Allen asked her.

  She half smiled. Her father always knew the worst thing to say to her. “Not a day over thirty-four.”

  His laughter sounded choked. In the mirror above the entry table she caught sight of her wildly curling auburn hair which remained forever untamed even in this era of chic, straight cuts. Birthday blues had kept her from even bothering to even clip it back. Wouldn’t you know her father would show up? Some things were destined.

  As Rawley dragged Benny back to the cement landing, Jenny held the door. Allen stepped quickly aside, avoiding Benny’s light-colored fur although some of it ended up on his pants. Allen’s snort of disgust made Jenny’s lips twitch. “Whose animal is that?” he demanded. “Not yours, I hope.”

  “The neighbors’.”

  “Mom …?” Rawley said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

  “Go.” She waved him away with a smile. “And take Benny with you.” He was out the door like a shot. Benny’s disappearing barks and Rawley’s noisy footsteps said they were fast on their way.

  “That’s all he says to his grandfather?” Allen demanded.

  “You’re lucky he wasn’t in one of his silent moods,” Jenny said, instantly defending her son. Rawley might drive her to distraction, but she did not need her father telling her how to raise him.

  Allen let that one go by. “I brought you a gift,” he said, pulling an envelope from his inside pocket and handing it to her with a flourish. Reluctantly Jenny accepted it. She didn’t want to open it. She knew what it was. Money. Another bribe to get her to come back i
nto the family business. “Aren’t you going to open it?” he demanded, settling himself gingerly on her couch, alert for more dog hair.

  She sat down opposite him in a painted rocking chair that tended to squeak. She wasn’t poor, but she’d been saving her money for years and years and some things just weren’t as important as others. “I’m getting my inheritance from Mom,” she said, the envelope heavy in her hand.

  “I know. I just wanted you to have enough.”

  “Enough?”

  “I know you’re opening a restaurant in Santa Fe,” he admitted.

  Jenny felt the noose slip over her neck. This was how it started with her father. Carefully she opened the envelope. Glancing at all the zeroes at the end of that check, she folded it up and held it out to him. He, however, refused to reach for it.

  “I appreciate it, but I can’t accept it”

  “Geneva …”

  “No.” She cut him off. “Obviously you’ve been keeping tabs on me.”

  “Well, of course I have! You’re my daughter.”

  “I’ll do fine with what Mom left me and what I’ve saved. Better than fine.”

  “You need the money,” he argued. “Take it. And if you don’t put it in your business, save it for your son. It’s a birthday gift.”

  It’s a bribe … She didn’t say it She wanted to, but she didn’t.

  “I understand you’re naming the restaurant Geneva’s,” he said, ignoring her outstretched hand until Jenny had to drop it in her lap.

  “After my grandmother, not myself.”

  “I figured.” A small glimmer of a smile. “It’s not easy to make it in this business.”

  “I’ve spent a lot of years being an apprentice,” she pointed out.

  “Hmmm.” He didn’t argue. Why should he? He probably knew as much about Jenny’s expertise as she did herself. That was just the way Allen worked.

  “Do you also know it’s southwestern cuisine?”

  “Yes.” He got to his feet and walked stiffly around the room “And I think you’re foolhardy. You won’t work at Rancho del Sol to save your soul, but you’ll jump into your own restaurant with no knowledge of what it really takes to run this kind of business. And don’t tell me about all the years you’ve worked for that Italian. It’s not the same.”

  “‘That Italian’ owns Riccardo’s and it’s one of the best restaurants in this city,” she answered in a steely voice. “‘That Italian’ has a name: Alberto Molini.”

  He waved her fury away. “You won’t listen to me no matter what.”

  “Not when I know you’re wrong.”

  “Tsk, tsk.” He shook his head at her, his facade cracking. He hated being thwarted. Hated it.

  “I’m not going to take this check. Thank you.” She set the folded-up piece of paper on the coffee table.

  “Fine. I’ll deposit the amount in Rawley’s stock portfolio.”

  “Rawley doesn’t have a stock portfolio.”

  Another tight smile. “Yes, he does.”

  Jenny was thoroughly annoyed. This high-handedness was typical of him. “How much is in that account?” she demanded.

  “Enough to cover his mistakes.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Now she was furious.

  He spread his hands. “It cost a lot to get you out of that Troy Russell fiasco.”

  Jenny felt like she’d been slapped. Her father hadn’t ever thrown that in her face. He’d been as relieved as she was when it was over.

  As if realizing he’d crossed the line, Allen inclined his head. “I’m just trying to prevent him from making similar mistakes. I should have set up your own account and let you have some financial freedom. Maybe then you wouldn’t have jumped into marriage so soon.”

  “Money wasn’t the reason I married Troy!” Jenny looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “My family had the money. You had the money. That’s why he married me!”

  “Still … I want Rawley to be safe.”

  “What are you talking about?” Something about his tone made gooseflesh rise on her arms.

  Allen seemed momentarily at a loss. He took a deep breath. “Your birthday isn’t the only reason I stopped by today.”

  “No?” Jenny braced herself. Now they were getting to it. And she could already tell she wasn’t going to like it.

  “Sometimes things happen and there is nothing to do but act,” he said cryptically, running a palm down the back of his silvered hair. “I know you’re planning a trip to Puerto Vallarta with friends before you leave for Santa Fe. Is Rawley going with you?”

  “Yes.” She tensed. Waiting.

  But he seemed to relax a little. “Good. Good.” He rubbed his hands together and nodded.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I just wanted to get that clear.”

  “No. It’s something else. If you’re not here to badger me about coming to work for you, then you’ve got some other purpose. Frankly, you’re scaring me.”

  Allen stared at her, or more accurately, through her. It was as if his vision were transfixed on some otherworldly object and whatever he saw was decidedly unpleasant.

  Uneasiness feathered across Jenny’s skin. Her heart beat in a deep, painful cadence. Troy, she thought as her father said grimly, “Your ex-husband contacted me.”

  Jenny felt the blood rush from her face.

  “He came to the house to tell me he was sorry. He said he wanted to make up for all the trouble he caused.”

  “I don’t believe you,” she said dully.

  “It’s the truth.”

  She shook her head. “I mean, I don’t believe this is happening. Troy doesn’t know how to feel remorse. He’s—he’s been living in California, right? What’s he doing here? What’s he really doing?”

  “I don’t know.” His sober tone reflected how they both felt at the moment. “I don’t trust him at all. And I don’t want him trying to insinuate himself into your life again.”

  “Neither do I.”

  “You’re sure? You fell for his lies once before.”

  “I’m a lot older and wiser.”

  “But he’s clever. He fooled all of us once.”

  “He won’t fool me again.”

  “Okay.” He nodded. “I was going to suggest Rawley stay with me and Natalie.”

  Oh, he’d love that, Jenny thought but wisely kept that to herself.

  “I was worried Troy might try to contact him.”

  Jenny’s heart leapt in fear. “He never has before!”

  “He’s never turned up before, either. I bought that man off, Geneva. And now he has the gall to come laugh in our faces. If I could’ve, I would have had him arrested on the spot!”

  Jenny darted a glance to the hall and her son’s closed door. “Rawley’s got a different view of Troy than we do.”

  “That’s because he doesn’t know the man.” Allen harrumphed. “It’s just as well, since Russell’s a criminal.”

  “He’s never been convicted of a crime, so he’s not a criminal,” Jenny reminded him.

  “He’s a criminal,” Allen responded, his voice softening ever so slightly. For a moment he didn’t meet Jenny’s eyes, then he surprised her by coming to where she stood and reaching for her hand. “I’ll never forgive him.”

  Jenny swallowed hard, refusing to give in to emotion one more time. It made her skin crawl to even consider seeing Troy again. She had never told the whole story of his physical and mental abuse, but her father had read between the lines. “I would really hate to face Troy again.”

  “The bastard had the nerve to smile at me and stick out his hand, like we were old friends or something.” Allen’s jaw tightened. “I refused.”

  Jenny had a momentary flashback. Troy had backhanded her twice, sending her reeling across the room. Both times it had been over nothing, and she’d been shocked by the power of what had seemed like an effortless hit on his part. She’d stayed away from people for several weeks, waiting for the bruises to fade.
Why she hadn’t been able to tell she couldn’t really say. But it was true that she no more wanted to talk about those days now than she had during the worst of them.

  She’d been so naive. But Troy had crushed all her girlish dreams of white knights and men of honor in the space of a few months. Her illusions had vanished as swiftly as the bonds of her marriage.

  “What do you think he really wants?” she asked now, her voice sounding odd even to her own ears.

  Allen’s jaw worked several times before he finally admitted tightly, “I don’t know.”

  The second time Troy hit her she’d just learned about Rawley. She never told him about the pregnancy. And when her father came to her with another plea to leave Troy, she’d accepted gratefully. She’d never told Allen all the whys and wherefores, but her father was a man who knew things before they were even uttered.

  “I’m not going to dwell on this while I’m in Puerto Vallarta,” Jenny said, thinking aloud. “And then I’m only here for a few more days before we leave for Santa Fe.”

  “I never thought I’d be glad to have you moving out of Houston, but this time I am.” Her father looked at her. “Doesn’t mean I think you’ll make it in the restaurant business.”

  “Heaven forbid.” Jenny lifted an ironic brow, earning her another one of her father’s rare smiles.

  “Keep the money,” he said as he made to leave and Jenny reached for the folded-up check. “Please.”

  Since she’d never heard him say “please” in all her life, Jenny froze in the act of picking it up.

  “I’ve made arrangements to keep you safe,” he added.

  “What do you mean?” Jenny asked warily.

  He hesitated, then said, “I’ve got someone checking the bastard out. Seeing what he’s been into these last years. I want to know what’s in that man’s head.” Jenny inhaled and exhaled heavily. “So do I.”