by Debbie Civil
Chapter 18
Tia frowns at me when Peter and I exit the elevator holding hands. Her blue eyes are filled with disappointment. She gestures at my clothing.
“Are you really going to wear that?” Her question makes me glare at her.
“We’re going to eat at a diner, not Legal Seafood,” I comment and she sighs.
“But you bought so many beautiful casual dresses at Mary Masson’s shop,” she whines. My future husband and I ignore her and walk out of the doors, with an agitated Tia on our heels. It’s ridiculously hot outside, and sweat begins to drip down my forehead. I wipe some of the moisture away with the back of my hand when we raise for the garage. My car is in its spot. I open up the driver’s side and slide in. I reach over, popping the glove compartment open and pull out the keys. They are where Carmen told me they would be. Part of me is surprised that Mom and Dad hadn’t confiscated them. Peter gets in beside me and Tia squeezes in the back. I sigh and back out of the garage and gently glide my car through the gates. No one says anything during the ride to the diner where Peter works. I think it’s because Tia and I hadn’t really known each other. As much as it sucks to admit, she is a virtual stranger to me. Regrettably, I hadn’t made much of an effort when it comes to her. It’s as if the odds of being friends are stacked up against us. Number one, Tia told Grandmother that I snuck Adam in and made out with him by the pool. Everyone was so distracted with accusing Adam that no one noticed Tia’s father Eric. I have a crazy theory about that. Maybe Tia caused the distraction for her father. I’ve brought that up to the detectives. They don’t think she had anything to do with this crime. Number two, she doesn’t have an endearing personality. The girl likes to whine, moan, and groan. Sometimes, it gets too much.
“Here we are,” Peter says with a smile as we park in front of the diner. He has a spare uniform in his locker. Tia frowns at the place as if considering whether she should eat here or not.
“Come on, Tia,” I say. “I’m craving a burger.”
It’s barely noon, and people are starting to trickle in. Tia and I are seated in a booth near the back of the room because my cousin insisted on it. I feel foolish that we are surrounded by nothing but empty tables. The hostess, a girl named Valerie that I went to school with, looks agitated.
“I hope we get Peter as a server,” she whines.
“I hope so too,” I say, fruitlessly peering down at the menu. I know exactly what I will eat, a double bacon cheeseburger, onion rings, and a side of fries. The lack of junk food has been taxing. And besides I need to celebrate. I’m engaged! For dessert, maybe I’ll spring for chocolate cake.
“Chelsea, Tia,” Peter says before doing his usual greeting. I smile up at him, wishing that I could kiss him. But, I don’t want to get him fired.
“Hi Peter,” I say, shooting a smirk in his direction. Tia sits up straighter and right before I can order, she speaks.
“We will be expecting one more. Can we start with appetizers?” she asks.
“Okay. What would you like for an appetizer?”
“I want the sampler. Justin might want some,” she says. Peter scans at me in confusion. I shrug.
“Can I please have a glass of water?
“ I guess that we are going to eat a sampler, which includes buffalo chicken wings, buffalo shrimp, loaded potato skins, french fries, mozzarella sticks, onion rings, fried green beans, cheeseburger sliders, and cheese and spinach flatbread. Yikes, I hope that Justin is really hungry. I stare at Peter, who takes down Tia’s drink order and smiles.
“I’ll bring you water and lemonade, Chelsea,” he says before kissing me on the head. “Behave.” He whispers the last word, as if I need the warning. Tia is setting up a meeting. I have no doubt about that. My fiancé rushes off to the kitchen to get our drinks.
“Who’s Justin?” I ask casually.
“He’s your uncle,” Tia replies. I frown, and a vague memory of the name of Grandma Betty’s deceased husband’s love child springs into my mind.
“Why is he meeting us?” I feel very uneasy about meeting another Philips. The lot of them needs therapy. Tia sighs.
“There’s something that Grandma Betty never told you,” Tia begins. She peers around the room as if someone could be eavesdropping. Whatever she has to say isn’t flattering.
“What is it, Tia?” I ask, feeling impatient.
“You aren’t in Grandpa Michael’s will.” She pauses as if this should be a surprise to me. But I nod, figuring that my parents got disinherited, and he probably didn’t want to deal with any offspring either.
“I know,” I say.
“You don’t understand.” Tia is panicked, her eyes going wide. “He made Grandma Betty promise that you and Tiller wouldn’t receive a dime of his money. The money that you’ve been spending belongs to Uncle Kenny. He feels bad for you and your brother. He wants the two of you to have a better life. I’m telling you, the money will run out, eventually.” I’m surprised. No, I feel sick inside. All of the money Grandmother has been handing me wasn’t a gift from her. All of it belongs to Uncle Kenny.
“What about the money from the road trip?” I ask. Tia shrugs.
“That money was for all of us. The will strictly states that Grandmother can’t give you money. It doesn’t say that she can’t buy you gifts,” Tia reasons. “A vacation could be considered a gift.”
“What does Justin have anything to do with that?” I ask. Tia sighs.
“I don’t know. He told me that he wanted to meet you. That’s all I got,” Tia responds as Peter gives us our drinks.
“The appetizers are coming right out. Do you want to order?” Peter asks.
“No, I’m waiting for Justin,” Tia snaps. Peter sighs, pats my shoulder then takes off. I glare at her. Peter has an annoying job. Tia doesn’t need to give him an attitude. Peter returns with our appetizers. He places three plates on the table. I grab a mozzarella stick with my fork. I drop it on my plate and select a buffalo chicken wing. I bite into the chicken wing and moan in pleasure. It tastes really good. I sigh and smirk up at Tia when her expression turns inwards.
“Aren’t you eating?” I ask. She picks up an onion ring with her finger. And shoves it in her mouth. She scans over my shoulder and waves at someone. I crane my neck and see a tall, muscular, man with caramel colored hair and olive skin walking over to us with a hesitant smile. He’s dressed in khakis, a button down shirt, and black dress shoes.
“Justin,” Tia calls as if the wave isn’t enough. The man walks over to Tia, nods at her and slides in the booth across from me. She looks slightly disgusted to be near him. But he doesn’t notice. His soft brown eyes that look so much like my mother’s twinkle at her.
“Hi,” I say, suddenly feeling nervous. This is my uncle. Is he evil like Eric?
“Hi, Chelsea, How are you?” I’m about to answer, but Peter hustles over. I smile up at him when he stares at Justin.
“Peter, this is my uncle Justin. Uncle Justin, this is my fiancé, Peter.” The man looks as if he’s swallowed a lemon. I try not to laugh at his expression. Peter looks impassively at my uncle.
“Hi, Sir,” my fiancé greets.
“You guys can’t be more than twenty,” Uncle Justin protests. Tia sighs.
“They’re being forced to get married, Justin. Chelsea’s father is trying to keep them apart.” Why does she say everything in a whiny tone? I sigh and take a sip of the lemonade, thinking that I’m going to have to fill Justin in after my cousin’s statement.
“Oh, I see. Peter, you work here?” Obviously Uncle Justin. Why else is he wearing the uniform?
“Yes,” Peter answers, waiting for the next question.
“Are you in college?”
“Yes.”
“What are you studying?”
“Pre-Med. I’m going to be a pediatrician.” So Peter changed his mind about being an orthodontist. I’m going to ask him about that later. Justin nods.
“Good. Can I please have
a bowl of clam chowder?” Peter smiles and nods.
“Chelsea and I both want the bacon burgers,” Tia whines. She’s ordering for me again. How annoying! My fiancé nods, ruffles my hair and walks over to another table.
“Are you going to explain things to me, Tia?” My cousin sighs.
“Justin, I need you to help her.” Her words are serious. Tia’s eyes are narrowed at the man beside her. He seems remotely interested.
“How?”
“By giving her a job. Chelsea wants to go into business. Someday, she wants to start her own bakery. Peter told me so. But in order to do that, she needs experience. I’m not saying that you should hand her money. But let her work for your company. She’ll work her way up and pay her way through college.” Tia’s impassioned speech catches me by surprise. She has it all worked out. I don’t know how to feel. This whole micromanaging thing is annoying. We will talk about this later, but now that I know that I’m not receiving a huge inheritance like Eli. Peter does have some money saved up. But I only have the money that Uncle Kenny handed me. It’s a hefty sum. It will probably be best to save it for a rainy day.
“Well, Chelsea, what do you think of all of this?” Uncle Justin asks. Honestly, I have no idea what to say in this situation. Tia has a reason for being so sneaky. I just can’t figure out what it is. This smells of Carmen. She has something to do with this setup. My parents won’t be happy about it.
“I guess it depends on what you say.” My words come out after a nervous chuckle. Before Uncle Justin can reply, Peter brings out the food. We are nowhere near finished with our appetizer, so it’s a tight fit. I continue eating the buffalo chicken wings, thinking that they taste really good. If I can’t finish the burger, I’ll box it up.
“Do you need anything else?” Peter asks.
“More water,” Tia replies. Peter nods and hurries to the kitchen to get Tia’s drink.
“Chelsea, I don’t mind you working for me. In fact, I think that you would excel in my company. As for an inheritance, it’s too bad that you don’t get one. I feel as though you were punished for the mistakes that your parents made. I know exactly how that feels,” Justin pointedly says, staring at Tia. My uncle knows how to put someone to shame. This is a relief. At least I have a job. I have a job and a boat load of money in my bank account. This will be all right. We can make it.
“What kind of company do you run?” I ask, hesitantly.
“A publishing company.” I pale when I hear this. What in the world could I do there?
“What’s the name of it?” I ask.
“Margarita publishing. I know it sounds stupid, but my wife loves Margarita pizza. We are more in the eBook market. My goal is to expand to paperbacks and hard covers. Chelsea, you can do some work for us online. I can get you on salary. But there’s one catch.” The man pauses as if he’s worried about how I will take this. A glass shatters and the noise startles me. When I’m startled, the hairs on the back of my neck rise. What if Will’s here? What if he followed me? I suddenly hate myself. I’m going to regret this excursion into Elmview. Why didn’t I just stay home? Bob could have brought Peter to work. I clench and unclench my fists nervously. None off the patrons in this restaurant look like Will.
“He isn’t here,” I accidently say aloud, but both of them know exactly who I’m talking about.
“Good. I’m glad that monster isn’t here. Your friend Molly told me some of what he did to you,” Tia whines with a shudder. This information catches me by surprise. How am I so self-centered? What did happen to the others?
“Where is everyone else?” Maybe, Tia will know. She shakes her head.
“I don’t know where they are, Chelsea. It’s best that way. If Will captures me and tries to torture the information out of me, then, I won’t know it.” Tia grimaces when she says this. I swallow. Would will start going after the people that I love? Will I be putting a target on Peter’s back if I marry him? I know one thing. I can’t have the threat of being followed by will hanging over my head. He can’t hurt Peter. I have to come up with a plan to draw will out. Maybe I can appeal to detective Green. Maybe, Carmen can come up with something. Either way, Will needs to be gone. Then, I can breathe, stretch, and relax. Until then, I will always be expecting someone to ruin my happiness. I sigh and take another swig of the lemonade. After Peter places the glass of water in front of me, he pats my shoulder. I wish that he didn’t have to work this job. I honestly wish that the Jacobs came from money. Maybe Peter would be extremely spoiled and loved. But then I remember the love that fills his family and the greed and violence that plagues mine. The Philips are all screwed up. Could that be so because of the money? I don’t have any idea. But it has to factor in on how people act toward one another.
“Has he been lurking around the mansion?” I ask Tia. She shakes her head.
“No. Grandma has stepped up security in the house.”
“Did she fire the person that helped Will?” Tia shakes her head, and my blood runs cold. So the interloper wasn’t discovered. Great. This doesn’t bode well for me. Will can easily sneak into the mansion now. To think that I had been stupidly distracted by my engagement. Now that my mind is on course, I’m having second thoughts about marrying Peter. Marrying him will only make him a target. But the thought of giving up forever with Peter because of some crazy psycho makes me ill. I can’t function without my fiancé. I guess I’ll have to figure out a way to get rid of Will once and for all.
“Chelsea, where do you plan on living after you get married?” Justin asks. I don’t even get a chance to answer. A woman slides into the booth beside me. She looks like that reality star that got too much plastic surgery. Her hair is long and jet black. She dyed it. Her eyes are brown and filled with purpose. Her lily scented perfume is overwhelming, and I want to puke.
“Chelsea, it’s so nice to meet you. When my son was telling me you were here, I had to come. So, what are we talking about?” my other grandmother asks. I want to groan in disappointment because talking to her seems like it’s going to be taxing. Besides, she’s a side chick. Nothing’s more annoying than dealing with a side chick. “Mom, what are you doing here?” Justin looks annoyed.
“I wanted to make sure that you’re not about to do something stupid.” Justin’s face quirks up into a smile.
“Sorry, mother. It’s too late. It’s already done.” He smirks and the woman shrieks. What a drama queen. I frown at Tia who’s scrunching down in her seat. She’s too embarrassed to deal with something like this. I frown at Justin, not knowing what he did.
“That can’t be true. I need it, Justin. We need it. How could you do this to Larry and me? After all we’ve done for you? No, no, no, no, no. This can’t be happening. Justin, please tell me that…
“Grandpa said that I could do whatever I wanted with the estate. My businesses make me a great deal of money. Larry is a lawyer for a good firm. And you have a few million saved up. I did what was right. I’m sorry if you don’t agree. Tiller and Chelsea deserve a lot better than what they were given,” Justin says before standing and exiting the restaurant, without paying for his bill. The embarrassing piece of plastic follows him out. I stare at Tia who shrugs.
“Thank goodness, they're gone,” Tia mutters as her phone chirps. Tia pulls her phone from her coach purse and frowns. “The message is for you. Justin wants me to tell you to check your account balance.”
“What about the bill?” I ask, dismissing what Justin says. He got a free meal out of this. Well, his meal probably cost five bucks, but it’s the principle of the matter. His embarrassing mother causes a terrible scene, and yet, Tia and I are left to endure all of the stares. I’m positive that it won’t take long until someone recognizes us, and the camera crews start showing up. I angrily peruse the dessert menu, and I order myself and Tia a chocolate cake to go. Tia does the same, and I hand him my card, hoping that Mom didn’t clean me out. Who knows what my parents are up to? But nope, Peter has no problem scanning
it. He hands me back the card, and I give him a fifty dollar tip for the embarrassment my grandmother caused. We grab our take out containers and stroll out of the now busy diner and into mayhem.
The press is here in full swing. News vans, cameramen, and photographers are lining the side walk. Reporters wearing microphones are blocking our path. Grandmother is liking the attention. Justin looks mortified. I just stare at Tia, not knowing what to do. They are in a frenzy over me. This is weird.
“My granddaughter is doing well,” Gladys declares. “She’s trying to live life as normally as possible.” The only thing that I can think of is that Will is watching this. He won’t try to snatch me in front of all of these cameramen. But he’s watching. My pulse quickens, and I search the faces thinking that I could spot his. But I don’t. Tia seems annoyed. She just wants to get to the car.
“Chelsea, how were you kidnapped?” a male reporter with thick brown hair asks. The detectives instructed me not to release any details of the case. It’s much easier to catch him that way. So I just stare straight ahead and try to force myself through the crowd.
“Chelsea, what happened to Adam Smith? Did you ever lay eyes on him?” Adam is dead. The detectives found him. Apparently will slit his throat. His partner in crime is also dead. Teresa is barely clinging to life. They didn’t tell me what her injuries are. But I can only assume the worst. Thinking of Adam and how we never resolved anything makes the food sit awkwardly in my stomach. He’s dead. I’m never going to talk to him ever again. Why can’t these people see that reminding me that Adam is dead isn’t doing me any good? I want to move on with my life. I want to forget that he ever existed. I want to hate him. But I know deep down inside I feel bad that he died like that. He was chained up by a mad man who thought that I was his fiancé and killed like a rabid dog. Something’s incredibly wrong with that.
“No comment,” I shout as I'm rushing at the reporters. Some of them grab my arm, but I keep on going. At one point, I nearly lose my take out containers. But eventually, the police show up, and they disrupt the party. I’m relieved when we slide into the convertible and go home.