by Anne Kyle
The choice was mine, but I had to make it right then. There was no waiting, and once I decided, there was no turning back. No way was I going to burst into tears and give him the satisfaction of beating me. Crying wouldn’t have helped me with a bastard like that anyway. I told him that he could go fuck himself, because I sure as hell wasn’t going to do it. Then I said that I would take my chances with the authorities.
He just shook his head and waved me away. I cleaned out my desk as my coworkers looked on in bewilderment. I couldn’t make eye contact and didn’t say a word to anyone as I left the building, went back to my apartment, and waited for the inevitable to happen.
When I got home, I finally let go and had a good long cry. I called my folks and told them what had happened and what was likely to happen in the morning. They offered to come up to Columbia, but I told them not to and that I would call the next day once the wheels of injustice were rolling.
I woke up early and tried to look for lawyers online, but no one jumped out at me. I didn’t even know what kind of lawyer to get—who handles this type of case? I figured that I could just get a public defender to handle the bail part, and then I’d find someone cheap.
Just after 6:30 there was a knock at my door. I answered it, and there were two policemen standing there. They asked if I was Katherine Matthews. I told them I was, and they said that I was under arrest for the crime of embezzlement. They handcuffed me, put me in a squad car, and took me, as they say, downtown.
I was booked and fingerprinted, then placed in a holding cell with an interesting bunch of folks to wait for my turn with the judge. Things were looking up. I would be in front of the judge before lunch. I met with a public defender and explained in very broad terms what my defense was. She seemed to understand the case well enough in the few minutes that we had together.
I went before the judge, and the firm’s lawyer was there. The charges were read and I agreed that I understood them and I pled not guilty. The lawyer for Goodman and Rodgers asked that I not be allowed bail, as I should be considered a flight risk. Because I allegedly had an offshore account with almost two million dollars in it. The judge said that whether or not I had access to that money had yet to be determined in a court of law. He did order that account frozen, and I was told to turn in my passport and that I was not allowed to leave the state until the case had been resolved. He set bail—thankfully, in an amount I could pay—and then set my court date.
I paid my ransom and took a cab back home. I called my parents and told them what happened. My mother kept crying but was very supportive, and my father said that they would do everything in their power to help me. It made me love them even more that they never asked me if I was guilty.
The public defender had given me some names of lawyers who had experience with this kind of case, so I started calling them and getting price quotes. Of the four that I called, the first one was the cheapest, and I made an appointment to meet her the next day.
I stayed in Columbia for a couple of weeks until my lease ran out. I met with my lawyer several times, and she said she had subpoenaed the firm’s records and was having some experts go through them. I told her my plans to return home, and she said she would be in touch if she had any questions and for me to do the same.
I packed up my things, tucked my tail between my legs, and came home. I applied for a waitress job, and now I’m sitting on pins and needles wondering if a man that’s swept me off of my feet is going to sweep me out the door.”
He had said only a few words while I told my story, but as soon as I was finished, Alex whispered, “Good God, Kat, I’m so sorry.”
I thought that by sorry he meant that this was more than he bargained for and it was “adios, senorita.” I heard his seat belt unsnap and looked at him as his big, beautiful eyes met mine as he slid over and wrapped his strong, comforting arms around me. “I’m sorry I had to tell you this, and I more than understand if it’s too much to deal with and you don’t want to see me anymore. But I can tell you that I did nothing wrong,” I said into his shoulder.
Alex gave a tiny, almost shy, laugh. “I know you didn’t. I haven’t even known you for two days, and I already know that you couldn’t do anything like that.” Then he kissed me. It was a kiss filled with comfort and support; it was almost chaste. It made me want to cry. So I did. Just a little.
“We’re almost home, can we keep talking about this? I have a few questions about some of the details, and I might have a few ideas that could help,” he said, sliding over to his seat while keeping hold of my hand.
“Are you sure you still want to see me after that story? Aren’t you shocked or surprised or cautious…something?” I asked, unable to believe this amazing man.
He squeezed my hand and gave me a huge smile, “Of course I still want to see you. I want to see you as often as I can. As for being shocked—well, you’re not the only one who knows how to use Google. I’ve known about the story since this afternoon. It was all I could do not to get your side of the story as soon as I saw you. But we had better things to do.”
“I can’t believe you. As far as you know, you were having dinner with a soon-to- be-convicted felon, and it didn’t even faze you.”
“You faze me. I didn’t think for one minute that you were guilty. I knew that there was the story in the paper, and then there was the truth. Look, we’re home.”
The car came to a stop, and the partition lowered. “Home sweet home,” Charlie said as he got out of the car and opened my door.
“Thank you, Charlie, it was a pleasure meeting you. And thanks for taking such good care of us,” I told him, sincerely.
He smiled at me and closed the door. “I should be the one thanking you. It does my heart good to see two young people having such a good time. Not only that, but it’s nice to see Alex smiling so much,” he said as we walked to the other side of the car.
Alex stuck out his hand, and he and Charlie shook with genuine affection. “Excellent job as usual, Charlie, you’re the best,” Alex said, handing him a fat wad of bills.
“Now, you know this is too much. You even bought my dinner, you’re making all of my other clients look bad,” Charlie said, tucking the money in his pocket.
While they talked, I looked down the street and saw a car with its lights off idling four or five houses down. The exhaust was rising in a thick cloud over the rear bumper. I thought that it was probably just a couple of kids making out. But then, with its lights still off, it slowly rolled up the street and disappeared around the corner.
I turned back to the two men to see if they had seen the car, but Charlie was already heading back to the driver’s seat, so Alex and I said our goodbyes to him, and I didn’t give the car any more thought.
We were holding hands and walking up the driveway when Alex said, “Uh-oh,”
and pointed at the flat tire on the rear driver’s side of my car.
“Oh shit,” I said, letting go of Alex’s hand. “I don’t even know if I have a spare.”
“Hang on, I’ll go turn on the floodlights, and we’ll get this taken care of,” Alex said over his shoulder as he walked to the house. A few seconds later, the driveway was bathed in light. I opened the trunk to look for the spare, and after lifting the mat, I saw that there was an extra tire.
Alex came back and took out the spare out and set it on the ground. He grabbed the jack and tire iron and kneeled down next to the flat. “Huh, that’s funny,” Alex said, poking a finger at the tire.
I knelt next to him and looked at where he was pointing. He asked, “Do you see this hole?” I told him I did. “This tire was slashed. Someone did this intentionally.”
“Why the hell would anyone want to slash my tire? That’s just so… I don’t know, juvenile,” I said, incredulously.
“Yeah,” Alex muttered, almost to himself. “Is there anyone in town with a grudge against you? Maybe an old boyfriend or someone you went to school with who knows you’re back in town?”
&nb
sp; I thought about that while Alex jacked up the car and took off the flat tire. “There are a couple of old boyfriends still around, I guess. But I haven’t seen any of them since I’ve been home. And I never had a bad breakup with any of them—at least, nothing that would warrant this kind of behavior.”
I told him about the car I had seen earlier when we were leaving the house He looked up from the tire and stood with a worried look on his face. “Are you sure it was a Focus?” he asked.
“The car I saw earlier was definitely a Ford—I saw the emblem on the trunk when we drove past it.” Then I told him about the car I saw while he and Charlie were talking. “It was dark, so I couldn’t see what kind of car it was. I just thought it was strange that it pulled away with its lights off. Do you think it’s the same car?”
“I don’t know,” Alex said as he put the spare tire on and began tightening the lug nuts. “If it is, I might know who did this, and it doesn’t have anything to do with you.”
“What does that mean?” I asked in a stunned tone. Even as I said those words, I couldn’t help but watch the muscles in his arms bulge while he fixed my tire. I could also see his firm thighs straining against his pants while he rose and put the flat in the trunk.
He stowed the jack and tire iron then turned to me as he closed the trunk. “Its not a pretty-looking tire, but it should hold up until you can get a new one,” he said, slapping the dirt off of his hands.
“Thanks for changing that for me, but can we get back to the part where you said you might know who did this?” I said with more petulance than I had intended.
He looked up and down the street. “Let’s go inside, and I’ll explain. I might be wrong, and I don’t want to worry you for nothing. Boy, this sure is a night for sharing. I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone so much about me in such a short amount of time.”
His comfortable demeanor made me relax a little despite the tire episode. He made me feel safe. I threaded my arm through his as we walked up to the house and went inside.
We went to the living room and settled ourselves on the sofa. Alex looked like he was gathering his thoughts. I put my hand on his leg and said, “Just start at the beginning. It’ll be okay.”
“I really hope I’m wrong about this, because I’ll feel really bad if something from my life becomes a problem for you,” he said with a sigh.
“It’s just a tire, Alex. Now, tell me what you think is going on.”
He moved his hand to mine, and our fingers intertwined. “I told you that I don’t date very often. One of the reasons is because I don’t have a lot of time. Another reason, though, is that the last time I went out with someone, she ended up being a real wingnut.”
I giggled a bit, “Wait until you see my crazy side.”
“She seemed fine at first. She and a few friends came into the restaurant one night, and they were having a good time. I was helping Jerry behind the bar, and this one woman was flirting with me relentlessly. It was harmless, really, just another night slinging drinks.”
“I can’t say that I blame her. At least she has good taste,” I said.
Alex squeezed my hand, “So, anyway, she tells me her name is Mandy and asks me what mine is. We shake hands, and she asks me if I’m the Alex that owns this place. I tell her yes, and her eyes kind of light up. I should have seen that as a sign right away, but I didn’t. To tell you the truth, I was kind of flattered.”
“That’s nothing to be ashamed of; I can tell you that I was very flattered when you asked me out,” I told him.
He smiled at me. “I have to admit that asking you out is turning out to be one the best decisions I’ve ever made. Anyway, Mandy comes in a few more times, and we talk. She gets pretty sloshed once or twice, but hey, it’s a bar right? Finally, she asks me if I want to go with her to an oyster roast a friend of hers is having. I figure what the hell so we go.
It’s a bummer from the start. When we get there, she starts pounding shots, and then she asks me if I want to smoke some pot. People can do whatever they want, as far as I’m concerned, but I tell her I’m okay. Well, that doesn’t stop her, so she disappears with some friends, and when she comes back, she’s just baked to the gills. I’m quickly realizing that this isn’t my scene, and I try to think of a way to leave.”
I say, “It’s her party and she’ll get fried if she wants to.”
“Exactly. She’s getting really loopy by the time I bring up the idea of leaving. She says that the party is just getting started and that I need to loosen up. The next time she goes off to smoke some weed, I ask one of her friends if they can take her home. Her friend tells me that she doesn’t get this way very often and agrees to give Mandy a ride home. But then she says with an ominous tone that Mandy won’t be very happy about this. I didn’t think anything of it at the moment, but I should have.”
“I think I can see where this is going. It doesn’t sound like a happy ending,” I tell him.
“Oh, just wait, I haven’t gotten to the good part yet,” he says. “Over the next week, crazy Mandy comes into the restaurant a couple of times and keeps getting hammered. I avoid her the best that I can, but she goes out of her way to run into me. She yells at me and calls me a dick and a spoiled rich boy.
I make her leave the second time she pulls that shit, and when I go out to my car at the end of the night, I have two flat tires.”
I said, “Well, it looks like I got off easy.”
“Oh, yeah, you did. Then, one night I wasn’t working, and I get a call from Jerry,” Alex tells me, shaking his head. “It seems that Mandy had come in drunk and was yelling that I should stop hiding from her. She starts smashing plates and some glasses and generally freaks the fuck out.
Jerry has to restrain her while he waits for the cops to come. They take her in and want to know if I want to press charges. I don’t press charges, but I do take out a restraining order against her so she can’t come near me, the restaurant, or my home.”
“Let me guess,” I added, “That wasn’t the end of it.”
“Not quite. I start getting hang-up calls at home, and the number comes up blocked. I get rid of the landline—I was only using the cellphone by that time anyway, so no loss.
Then, one night at the restaurant, one of our outdoor garbage cans is set on fire. It wasn’t anything serious, and no one got hurt, but it scared some people who were leaving. They saw a young woman put something that was on fire in the can. It was Mandy.
I tell the police, and they go have a talk with her. They tell her that if I report her one more time, she’s going to jail. That’s the last time I had a problem with her…up until now, that is.”
“Wow, Alex, that’s some scary shit,” I said.
“The weird thing is that she kept escalating. I was afraid of how far she would go. And now it looks like she’s still watching me, and you’re caught up in it,” he sighed.
“For now, it’s just a tire. Like you said, it might not even be her, but I think it’s safe to assume that it is,” I told him. “At least now I know that I need to keep my eyes open and look around a little more.”
Alex looked at me in a cool, appraising manner and gave me a big smile. “You know, you’re pretty amazing. A lot of women would just walk away from this and say ‘See you around, restaurant boy.’ But you don’t even bat an eye at what I just told you.
I know things have been moving pretty fast with us, but I think we have something here that we should explore. And I hope I don’t need to remind you that I may be a convicted felon not too far down the road. You took that news better than anyone I can imagine,” I said, leaning into his shoulder.
He put his arm around me and kissed the top of my head, “Like I said, you’re amazing.” Alex sat up, “Hey, it’s not very late, would you like to see something cool?”
“Is that a trick question?” I answered. “Whenever a hot, rich dude asks if you want to see something cool, the only answer is ‘absolutely’. But don’t you have to get up early for
your flight?”
“I can sleep on the plane. Plus, this cool thing is only about ten minutes away,” he said, pulling me off of the couch.
We walked out to his car, and he made an overly exaggerated gesture of looking up and down the street. “I think the coast is clear, sweetheart,” he told me in a tough -guy voice.
“I sure hope so,” I said. “I only have one spare tire. So, where is this cool thing?”
We pulled out of the driveway and drove down the street, “It’s a surprise. But since you’re a local, you’ll probably be able to figure it out before we get there.”
We drove down Coleman Blvd. and over the Shem Creek Bridge. We both turned our heads to look at Westy’s. We could hear music from the outdoor bar as it bounced over the light-reflecting water. “Looks like everything is okay at the restaurant,” I said.
“It better stay that way. At least for the rest of the night,” he replied.
We rode in a comfortable silence. Every now and then, I would sneak a peek and admire his profile, which was bathed in the soft blue glow from the dashboard lights. I wanted to trace the strong curve of his jawline with my finger and brush his perfect lips, the lips that had given me so much pleasure in such a short amount of time.
We turned at the light that leads to Patriot’s Point, and I blurted out, “Don’t tell me that you own the Yorktown and we’re going for a midnight cruise.” I was referring to the decommissioned aircraft carrier that sits on the Mt. Pleasant side of the Charleston Harbor. It sits in the mud, and it would take an act of God to move it. It’s probably the safest place to be during a hurricane.
He laughed, “No, they wanted too much money for a big boat that doesn’t move.”
We drove past the Yorktown entrance and entered the marina parking lot. The Patriot’s Point Marina isn’t as big as the city marina, which is home to the largest ships in the area, but it is still huge. I now had an idea where this trip was going.