by A. D. Roland
“Well, if you’re sure,” McKendrick said slowly. “I suppose I don’t object.”
“Daddy, no! West is supposed to marry me.” McKendrick raised a single eyebrow in Emeline’s direction. Another sucker punch of phantom pain stole West’s breath. Where was this coming from? An hour ago she confessed she didn’t want to marry him. She didn’t even want to date him any longer. In moments she’d reduced him from a twenty-five-year-old man to a nervous fourteen-year-old.
What game was she playing? “Sweetheart,” McKendrick said, as if speaking to a child. “West is not a suitable match for you.”
“Why not?” Mattie asked. “He’s human. He’s got all the right parts. He’s a good man, and he would take care of her.”
West felt really, really confused. What was Mattie doing?
“Matilyn, it’s not something you would understand,” Justine said. “West is a wonderful boy, but—”
“Oh, I get it. West isn’t really good enough, on a social or economic scale, right? Not for Emeline, anyway.” Justine opened her mouth to reply but snapped it shut. McKendrick only nodded.
“I wouldn’t have put it quite so bluntly, but yes, we expect Emeline to be with someone from a different sort of background.”
Mattie narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. Already West knew that look. She was going in for the kill. “Didn’t you start out with West’s father?” McKendrick’s lips pressed together in a thin white line. West gripped Mattie’s arm and squeezed it in a silent warning. McKendrick didn’t like being reminded of his past.
Emeline wailed and flounced back in her seat. “Daddy, you can’t let her marry him. You know I love West!”
“You are so melodramatic.” Mattie crossed her arms and smirked at Emeline.
McKendrick twisted his glass in the condensation ring on the tabletop. “Now, Emeline, dear. Brant is about to lose his land. His home, his business. I’m about to take even that dilapidated hunk of metal he calls a truck from him. He will have nothing, Emeline. Do you still want him? And Mattie, if your sister decides she wants Brant, what will you do?”
West held his breath, waiting for Em to say something. What would Mattie say?
Mattie shrugged. “After the way she’s treated him, if he even considers taking her back he deserves her. The fact that this conversation is going on as it is already giving me second thoughts. She deserves him. She needs someone weak to walk all over.”
Mattie said, “Well, let me know what you decide. I’m going to bed.”
Without another word, she turned and marched into the house. West watched her walk away, at a loss, but not sure why. Granted, she did seem to lend him strength he didn’t have on his own. But it didn’t explain the urge to run after her.
Then again, maybe it did.
“I don’t want to live in a trailer,” Emeline said meekly.
“He won’t even have that in two months,” McKendrick said.
“I’ll get some of my trust fund money when I get married.” Emeline’s bottom lip poked out theatrically.
“It will take at least three months for the money to become yours. I refuse to pay the mortgage on your condo, if you chose to actually marry him. Where will you live, Emmie?”
Emeline paled and shook her head. “I guess I haven’t changed my mind after all. Sorry, Brant.”
West squeezed her shoulder. “No, you’re not. But it’s okay. I don’t think we would have made it much longer anyway.”
He ran inside and overtook Mattie outside her bedroom. She squeaked in surprise when he grabbed her shoulder.
“Oh no!” She smacked his hands away. “That little stunt downstairs completely killed anything other than tolerance for you, mister.”
“What stunt?” His face burned with embarrassment.
“I saw that expression on your face while you were waiting for Emeline to tell McKendrick what she wanted to do. You were still hoping she’d say she wanted you.”
“Mattie, come on. Let it go. I told you how it is.”
“You can’t let go. Why should I?” She took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a second. She caught his hand and took the ring out of his fist. “It doesn’t matter. What’s between us is business. Go ahead and lust after her until your dick explodes. You can let yourself out, right? I’m beat.”
“Yeah—”
She shut the bedroom door in his face.
***
Mattie waited until his muffled footsteps faded completely down the hall before she ran for the window. Her room overlooked the courtyard, the front yard, and the driveway. She pulled the sheer curtain aside and watched him steer his rattling, clunking truck down the long drive.
When the bright red dots of his taillight vanished down the private road, she sighed and leaned against the wall.
What was she doing? Was she insane? What was K going to say?
What was he going to do? She pulled out her cell phone and dialed half of his number. No. She couldn’t tell him. He was already pissed that she wasn’t willing to demand money. After debating for another hour, she dialed his number.
“What?” Quickly, she told him she was going to play her part a little longer. “What do you mean, you’re going to act like one of them?” he yelled so loud she had to hold the phone away from her ear.
“I have to, K. And...I am one of them. I can’t get any money unless I stay longer.”
“You need to do what you need to do to get me that money. Think about who’s important to you, Mattie.”
“What do you mean?”
“Get me my money and you won’t have to worry about it.” Mattie forced back tears. She thought furiously for an idea, anything. “K, if I stay for a little while, I think I can get even more money. They won’t tell me everything, not until the DNA results come back. Just give me a chance. You can hold out for a little longer, can’t you? Isn’t Isabella working something now anyway?”
She was talking too fast. He was going to know something was up. “Whatever,” he said finally. “This ain’t happening again, Mattie.”
“I know. Never again.” He hung up on her. Mattie turned her phone off completely and lowered herself slowly to the bed.
Her head hurt like someone had taken a hammer to it.
Chapter Nine
“Me and West are going to get married,” Mattie announced to Ruth Ellen. The young lawyer pretending to mind his own business glanced up from his newspapers, startled.
“I’m sure that has something to do with the trust funds?” Ruth Ellen asked. “A little presumptuous, don’t you think? What if you don’t find Elaine’s body?”
“I will, and even if I didn’t, I’d sue you for what’s rightfully mine. I may not be McKendrick’s kid, but I’m Karen’s. That entitles me to at least two of the trust funds.”
Ruth Ellen chuckled. “You’re my granddaughter, all right. But, just for your information, there is another stipulation--one McKendrick and I changed the day before you arrived. You have to be a biological Carruther-McKendrick to get a dime.”
Mattie gaped at the woman in the bed. “So you’re screwing me over even now? I’m not his kid! How the hell am I supposed to pass DNA tests?”
“I’ve taken care of it, Evelyn. Whether it’s the established funds you receive or a ‘gift’ from me, you will be financially compensated for your work.” Her voice softened. “And your past.”
Mattie sat down in the chair beside the bed. “I don’t understand why you kept Elaine. She wasn’t his either.”
Ruth Ellen sighed. “Jealous, are we? Would you rather have been killed at age five and buried alone in an abandoned orange grove with only a heart-broken little boy and a ‘crazy’ old woman left to mourn you?”
Mattie sighed. “How did they not know about me?”
“My daughter’s marriage to James was the next best thing to a business arrangement. Actually, very similar to this affair of yours and Brant’s. He needed financial backing. I told Karen it was the best for everyone, and she propo
sed marriage. I was able to make my investment grow, as well as help James make the best of his aspirations. It’s a shame that he’s sunk to the things he has, though.”
“Like what?”
Ruth Ellen gave Mattie a knowing gaze. “It’s none of your business. Jones, go over the stipulations with her again. I want her to make sure she knows one-hundred-percent what she is doing.”
Jones, the skinny young lawyer that didn’t really look like the ‘legal shark’ Ruth Ellen proclaimed him to be, cleared his throat and shuffled through his briefcase for the right paperwork. “Um, you have to be married a full year. You have to reside full-time with this legal husband for three months. During the three-month-period, an allowance drawn from the fund will be paid to you. At the conclusion of the three-month-period, the funds created by your maternal grandparents will be awarded to you. At the end of the year, two separate funds created Ruth Ellen Carruther and the late Edward Martin Carruther will be awarded to you.”
Ruth Ellen gave him a proud little nod and turned her gaze on Mattie. “Do you understand that fully?”
“I do. What about the DNA tests, though? McKendrick told me the other night it will only be a couple of weeks.”
“It has already been taken care of. Your tests are lost in transit at the moment. I’m giving you the three months to find Elaine. You shouldn’t need nearly that long.”
“Won’t McKendrick just order more tests?”
“It’ll be dealt with. So when’s the wedding?”
“Two weeks.”
Ruth Ellen laughed again. “A little soon, isn’t it?”
“McKendrick is about to evict him from his land. He gave West until December to pay him back. The end of the three months will be the end of November if we get married now, so I’ll be able to pay off the debt.”
“Playing the heroine, hmm?”
“No! I want to help him. He’s a nice guy.”
“How is Emeline taking the news?”
“I don’t really know. I don’t really care that much.” Ruth Ellen nodded thoughtfully. “Just be careful, Evelyn. Justine can be a viper. She’s devious and scheming, especially now that my son-in-law is facing—” She cut herself short.
“Facing?” Mattie prodded.
With an exasperated sigh, Ruth Ellen shook her head. “It’s none of your business. I’m warning you, the fam—”
“’—Family has secrets that need to be kept’. I get that. I hear it quite often.”
“Yes, I’m sure you do. But you, my dear, are the one who is going to bring them to light.”
“Yay,” Mattie replied in an unenthusiastic monotone.
***
Mattie descended the wide curving staircase, feeling like Kate Winslet in Titanic, except that nobody was watching her or gasping at her resplendent beauty. It was a good thing, though, because on the second to last stair her foot, clad in super-skinny heels, dipped sideways and she nearly did a face plant into the million-dollar carpeting.
“I ought to call you ‘Grace.’”
“Shut up, West.” He smirked at her and waited for her to readjust her cocktail-length black dress before he extended his hand.
“You look nice.”
“Thanks. You too.”
“Thanks. Want a drink?”
“Not right now. So what am I supposed to do? Just wander around?”
West chuckled. “Just for a little while. This party is more for Justine and Mr. McKendrick than us. Emeline’s got something going at her condo in our honor.” Mattie sidestepped a waiter and rearranged a stray strand of hair that wouldn’t stay in place.
“In our honor? So she’s over her tantrum?”
“No, but she’ll grab any excuse to have a party.” West guided her through the well-dressed crowd, stopping only when someone stopped him. “Seriously, we only have to stay a few more minutes, then we can go see how the shindig at Em’s is.”
“Good. I can wear jeans, can’t I?”
“Yeah. I got mine out in the truck.”
An hour later, after she’d been greeted coolly and ignored, West nodded at her questioning gaze, and she escaped to the relative sanctuary of her room to change clothes. West waited just inside the door.
Just wanting to screw with his head, she made sure the bathroom door stayed halfway open as she changed, showing him flashes her body as she slipped into a pair of worn, comfy jeans and a tank top. She watched him through the mirror, satisfied with the way he stared intensely, hands in his pocket. Even the bulge of his hands couldn’t hide the other bulge in the front of his pants.
God, it felt good, knowing she was affecting him like that. For so long K had her convinced she was fat and ugly, utterly unattractive to anybody but him. Whether he was just horny or if he really thought something of her, West made her feel good. He liked being her friend. He never asked her for anything that he knew she would mind giving. She swept her hair up into a messy ponytail. Dressed and ready, she followed him out the door and to his truck.
***
For a party that was supposed to be in her honor, Mattie thought Emeline had done a good job of taking over. She didn’t care—none of Emeline’s friends interested her. They were all in their early twenties, wealthy, and had no aspirations other than getting drunk and getting laid.
And the music! R&B and rap poured from the speakers set up all around the expansive penthouse condo’s balcony overlooking the beach. Nearly forty men and women gyrated and ground against each other. The booze flowed freely from the bar.
Sick of it after barely an hour, Mattie slipped away from the party. Getting drunk alone was boring. West was nowhere to be found, but she hadn’t really expected him to hang around.
It would have been nice, even though their conversations had turned more to vaguely uncomfortable silences. Since the Friday he’d accepted her proposal, he hadn’t really spoken to her more than he had to. He had lots of thinking to do, she figured.
Nobody had seen him lately, although someone saw him in the elevator when they were coming up to the penthouse. Mattie decided to check the parking garage. He was her ride back to the McKendrick house. Even if they didn’t get any talking done, she didn’t want to be stranded at Emeline’s. She’d rather sleep on the street.
The elevator coasted down smoothly, dinging at the garage level. She stepped out into the dimly lit space, looking for his beat-up old truck. It wasn’t on any of the upper levels, but she found him on the ground level, parked by the wall that was open to the ocean air.
“Hey,” she said, knocking on the door of the passenger side. He glanced over at her and nodded, acknowledging her presence. “Can I get in?” He shrugged. Mattie climbed in and slammed the door. It didn’t catch and bounced open again. She pulled it in and held it shut with one hand. “I was thinking we should talk.” Instead of saying anything, he passed her a bottle of dark amber liquid.
“That shit up there’s depressing,” he muttered.
“Yeah. You’re already drunk. It’s been an hour!” Steeling herself, she took a swig of whatever it was in the bottle. It seared her throat like liquid lightning. Coughing, she tried to suck in enough air to cool the burn.
“Wimp,” West said, pushing a bottle of lukewarm soda into her hand. She gulped it down, soothing the burn in her belly. “What’re we supposed to be talking about?”
It was Mattie’s turn to shrug. “Just stuff. I don’t want you to hate me.”
West turned sideways and gazed at her, frowning slightly. “I don’t hate you, Mattie.”
Mattie didn’t know what to say, so she took another gulp of the horrible stuff in the bottle and chased it with the Pepsi. The burn wasn’t so bad that time. It hit her stomach like a rock, though. “You’re going to get drunk,” West commented.
“Nah.”
“That stuff’s a lot stronger than you’re used to, darlin’.”
“I can deal. What is it?”
“Called a Cluster Fuck.”
“Lovely name.”
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“It’s pretty indicative of what you’ll feel like tomorrow.” After the third gulp, she felt the tendrils of alcohol tickling her brain. West reclaimed the bottle. He was right. That stuff hit hard and fast.
The wind blew in off the ocean, strong and salty. It whipped into the cab of the truck, sending a handful of receipts stuck between the visor and the ceiling flying.
“We’re still friends, aren’t we?” Mattie asked around the haze that was slowly enveloping her mind. “You’re a good friend, West. I don’t want to lose that.”
His hand crawled across the bench seat and held hers. “We’re friends, Mattie. You like my singing.”
“I love it. I could listen to you all day. Your voice does things to me.” Laughing at herself, Mattie rolled her eyes. The haze thickened a bit more, masking a bit more of her inhibitions. She leaned towards him, grinning. She whispered, “In my pants.” It struck her as hilarious and she laughed until her stomach hurt.
West smiled, a lopsided, bleary-eyed look. “So the truth comes out. I guess maybe I do like you.”
“I’m not so bad. Really.”
“It’s all an act, huh?” After he took a generous pull from the bottle, she took one. She barely felt the burn. A minute or so later, she noticed her cheeks and nose were going numb. The alcohol hammered at her brain.
“We don’t have to do the big wedding thing, do we?” she asked, distracted by the way her mouth felt forming the words. It took a bit of effort to get the words out right. “I don’t like a lot of fuss.”
“Me neither. I’m all for a Justice of the Peace wedding.”
“Cool. Let’s do that then. White makes me look fat, anyway.”