“You have a lot of nerve!”
“Do I? Heed me words, Charlotte. I could have your job if you don’t.”
“Who the fuck do you think you are, talking to me like this?”
My whole body stiffened, and my hands clenched into fists.
“And who do you think you’re talking to anyway? You think I’m a nobody. Don’t you? I’m not. Far from it. If you knew who I was, you’d give me the respect I deserve, but you don’t know who I am, do you? Because women like you are petty and small, and so afraid of losing what puny wealth you think you own, you’re terrified of anyone that gets too close. And I am close, aren’t I? Well you know what? I could have your job. If I wanted it, that is.”
The room went wild as Jewel took center stage once again. She said a few words then started singing Santa Baby to Zac who appeared to be loving the attention.
I turned toward Margo, wrestling my arm free. “What do you want, Margo?”
“Not you for a daughter-in-law, for one. Why is it that when all the blood rushes south, most men are simply incapable of making sound decisions?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Zachary can be fickle when it comes to women. That’s why he hasn’t settled down yet, but I believe that’s all about to change. Yes, he’ll be that much more desirable now.” She motioned toward the stage. “Now that they know how much power he has at Remington’s.” She grabbed my arm again.
“Let go of my arm!” She was damn lucky I didn’t slug her.
To my surprise she let go, her eyes boring into me like diggers. “You may as well know, my son will get bored with you like he does with every woman eventually.”
“I think that’s for him to decide.”
“Perhaps, but answer me one question. Can you really be with a man who sold you out to the tune of fifty thousand dollars?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Fifty grand. That’s how much his bonus check is. Look. Mr. Remington is presenting it to him as we speak.” The stage was pretty far from where we stood, but it was clear that a large manila envelope was being handed to Zac. “Along with a job as Vice President of the board of directors,” Margo continued.
I swallowed hard. I had no idea he would be rewarded this way. It should not have mattered to me.
“Well... That’s good,” I said, “That’s great. You should be proud.”
“Oh I’m not proud. I know he didn’t get there on his own.”
“W...what do you mean?”
“I know my son. Someone had to have helped him and it wasn’t me. I’m guessing you know something about that since you’ve spent so much time together.”
“I...I don’t know anything.”
“Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me, that is unless you wish me to divulge it to Mr. Remington. Let him know he crowned the wrong man. Or woman that is.” She sighed. “But if you do that, he’ll be disgraced in front of the whole company, but that’s not your concern now, is it?”
“Why would I do that?”
“You probably won’t, but I will. And when I do, stocks will plummet. I’m guessing this would finally be the straw that broke the camel’s back.”
“I can’t believe you would do that to your own son.”
“Only if you force me to, Charlotte.”
“What do you want from me?”
She flexed her ruby thin lips. “Zachary is moving into a new position. One with more responsibilities. He won’t have time for his little washerwomen I’m afraid.”
I was starting to see zig-zags and bright lights. Signs of an oncoming migraine. “I have to go.”
Chapter 21
Zac
“WELL, WILL YOU LOOK what the cat dragged in?” said one of my old military buddies. Charley Hamilton. His friends called him Chuck. Most positive thinking guy I’d ever met. Always the life of the party. And that was saying something. Some of us didn’t fare so well stateside. Whenever I was feeling down, Chuck was the one I thought of. He always made me feel like shit for feeling sorry for myself. How could I have my own pity party when one of Chuck’s legs had been amputated? I couldn’t.
“Come. Take a load off,” Chuck said, tapping an empty seat beside him. He pushed the Australian bush hat to the back of his head, then snapped his fingers in the air. “Hey Duke. You wanna get my friend here a drink?”
A few minutes later, two beers were set before us.
“Um, no, I...”
“Ah don’t tell me you’re still off the sauce. That was ages ago, man. Never mind. “Duke, my man. Bring us a milk or orange juice, whatever you have without booze in it, will ya?”
“On it,” Duke called back.
I tapped Chuck’s hand. “Haven’t seen you in what...three years? What ya been up to, you old scoundrel?”
Chuck laughed. “From what I hear, you’re the one with a fancy career. I hear you’re working over at Remington’s. That true?”
“Yeah, that’s where I’ve been for the past two-and-a half years.”
“No shit. What happened to your restaurant idea?”
“Didn’t work out,” I said.
Duke set a glass of orange juice before me. “Thanks. Oh and...” I grabbed the corner of Duke’s apron. “Bring me a shot as well.”
Chuck’s eyes widened with surprise. “Oh, so you are drinking. Care to talk about it?”
“No,” I said with conviction. Duke was the last person I wanted advice from. He’d been married four times and that didn’t include the three women he lived with, two of them at the same time. I wasn’t sure if he’d slowed down since the accident.
“Keep your secrets if you want. S’ ok by me.” Chuck said with a grin that said ‘you’ll tell me later whether you know it or not.’ He leaned forward. “Ya know, I have a pretty little lady joining me later. Maybe she has a sister. Interested?”
“No!” Damn, that came out harsher than I’d meant.
“Okay, man.”
My back stiffened. “I’m through with women. Can’t please them. Can’t fucking figure them out.”
“I see.”
I had no idea what was wrong with Charlotte or what I did to make her act so cold all of a sudden, but ever since we’d returned from what was supposed to be a fabulous weekend, she’d been standoffish. Gave me one word answers on the phone. Then she’d called in sick for three days. I downed the shot of whiskey, tried and failed to hide the deep angry scowl from my old friend.
“Keep ‘em coming,” I said, slapping down two hundred-dollar-bills. Duke’s brows raised, but then he pocketed the money. I leaned back in my seat wanting to disappear into oblivion. With enough time and alcohol, it might actually be possible.
Chuck lifted his chin. “So, what’s it like over there? You some big shot or something?”
“What?”
I was surprised he didn’t want to know what happened in my love life. Then again, he probably knew he was the last one to give advice.
He tilted his head. “The suit,” he stated as if it were totally obvious. “Wool is it?”
“Swedish silk.”
Chuck let out a loud whistle. “Drinks are on him,” he called to Duke.
I took a sip of orange juice, feeling like a first-class show off, then reached for the bowl of popcorn in the middle of the table. This wasn’t my usual hangout, and for once Chuck was the only one in the room who knew me, which was exactly the reason I’d chosen Jimmy’s Ale House over my usual watering hole of Dante in Greenwich Village. I felt like an idiot for not wearing jeans though.
“Tell me you’ll get over this woman,” Chuck said. “I’d hate to see you go down that path again, man. No, wait. You don’t want to talk about it.”
“Right.”
The rest of the evening, we talked about old times, fishing in the Mississippi River, and women we’d met while in uniform. So many women all over the world, I lost count. No wonder I’d had a reputation when I got stateside.
W
hen the girls showed up, two women who looked only slightly classier than hookers, with faux fur jackets and too much eye makeup, I swallowed my last shot, threw another hundred on the table and left.
AFTER STOPPING AT HOME Depot and purchasing fifty different sized boxes, I slammed my Range Rover into gear, drove the three-and-a-half miles to my condo and stomped up the stairs, cussing and talking to myself.
What the fuck was my problem! I’m thirty-five years old. Been to Iraq, Afghanistan. Places I didn’t even know existed. From a pampered little rich kid, I’d jumped into what I thought would be an exciting lifestyle. It hadn’t turned out the way I’d expected but so what.
I remembered it all. After seeing what I saw, experiencing the gore in incredible detail, something inside me broke apart. I stopped sleeping, hardly ate, shed fifteen pounds just like that. Loud noises made me jump, but the worst thing were the nightmares.
Terror! I’d never known what that was like before. Witnessing such unimaginable horrors. Even after I was discharged. Fact was, staying up late at night with Charlotte had filled a need. An excuse to do what I was already doing. I hadn’t slept more than two hours straight in longer than I can remember. So what did I do? Like an ass, I let Charlotte think I was this sweet, suffering lover boy who made sacrifices to be with the woman I loved. Then I’d taken credit for everything and anything.
I grabbed the roll of packing tape, formed the sixty boxes into cubicles.
I started with my clothes. Pulled them off hangers. Dumped them on the bed. Emptied drawers. Dug through laundry I hadn’t sent out in weeks. Emptied the medicine cabinet, my shaving stuff, toiletries I’d seldom used. Everything went into boxes.
I threw it all in. Shirts and suits, underwear and socks, fifty-four different ties. Twelve pairs of shoes and seven pair of sneakers. I picked up a pair of blue canvas hi-tops I had stuffed in the back of the closet. Same sneakers we won the basketball state championships with in high school. Also the last game my father attended before having the heart attack that killed him.
Seated on the edge of the bed, I stared at the shoes. What had dad always told me? If you want to be a success in life, do something you love and success will find you. Well, I sure as hell fucked that up.
My heart felt sick and I was living on antacids. I needed advice about how to get Charlotte back. What would Dad tell me to do?
Tell her the truth, then beg her forgiveness. If you don’t, you’ll regret it the rest of your life.
He’d be right in his advice, but there was something I needed to do first. I needed to move out of the condo Margo felt so at home in that she even had her own key. I needed to get as far away from that woman as possible.
I felt lost, lonelier than I’d ever felt in my life. A bolt of thunder alerted me to the rain outside. Hail fell in long piercing streaks, pelting the windows with a clickety-click.
Carrying two large boxes, I clomped my size thirteen feet into the kitchen leaving chunks of mud that had been caked on the soles of my shoes in my wake.
From a rack above the stove, I pulled down my Copper and silver Williams Sonoma saucepans, wrapped each in newsprint. Next I wrapped my Le Cherry red enameled cast-iron cookware, filling five boxes in all.
I scanned the room. Nothing I valued was left to pack. I could do without the furniture, I decided.
“What are you doing?”
I turned to find Margo standing in the doorway.
“I don’t see how any of that is your business,” I said coolly.
For a moment, she appeared taken aback by my words. Ignoring my obvious insult, she attempted a smile but as always, it never reached her eyes. “I’m here to help with whatever it is Mr. Remington has landed on your lap this time. You got lucky before, but I doubt that will happen twice.” Her eyes narrowed. She scanned the room. “Going somewhere?”
“I’m selling the condo.”
“Oh. Well, that’s good. You need a place more fitting for the president of a Fortune 500 company anyway.”
Did she just say what I think she said?
“Or CEO,” she continued. “Honestly, I don’t think he’s decided yet.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Realizing I’d forgotten my large ladles and spoons, I picked up another box.
“You don’t think Mr. Remington will be CEO forever, do you? What with a child eventually being born? I doubt that wife of his will stand for all those long hours. Not when it almost cost them their marriage. She’ll keep him on a tight leash.”
How the hell did she know that?
I raised my head from the box I was packing, astounded at her audacity. I carried it into the other room, then set the box on top of the others. What the hell was wrong with the woman and why does she care what the Remingtons do in their private life?
I stood back and scratched my head, wondering if I’d stacked the boxes so tall they’d topple over before the movers got here.
Margo was behind me. “Oh I know,” she said to my back. “They seem to be having trouble in that department.”
I turned. “What?”
“The Remingtons. Sometimes people need a bit of help to get pregnant, especially when the woman is over thirty. Christ, Zac, are you even listening to me?” She rolled her eyes and flopped down in a large tufted chair. “Not to worry though. With modern medicine what it is, it’s only a matter of time until there’s a little Remington running around.” The woman was such a busy body, I almost found it humorous.
“And I should be concerned, why?”
She leaned back, arms crossed over her chest. “Because you’re next in line for his position.”
“No. I’m not, and besides, even if I was...Wait. This is the Chase Remington we’re talking about? Workaholic? Almost lost his wife over his dedication to the company? Man who eats, sleeps, and breathes in a three-piece suit. You actually think he would trade all that in to change diapers full-time?” I laughed. “Not on your life, Margo.”
“Well, maybe not intentionally.”
“It’s really none of your business.”
“None of my...!”
“I hold the controlling shares. You know that, Zac.”
“What are you saying?”
“I think it’s time we press our advantage. Make Remington see that it would be in his best interest. To step down I mean.”
“Margo, don’t...”
“Darling, with your stock and mine combined together we could...”
“No,” I said sternly. “He won’t and I won’t. And don’t bring it up again.” I opened up another box, threw in my top coat, my mohair sweater and several others with tags still on them. Then I pressed them down so I could tape the box up.
“Now Zachary... You know this was the plan for us from the very beginning.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about unless you mean your plan to get me to marry some rich heiress. That plan seems to always be on your mind. Although I see that you’ve given up on that recently. Thank the Gods for once.”
“Me? Give up? I never give up on anything. My plan was simply on hiatus. I had to wait until your little indiscretion was out of the picture. And now that she is, well, you can concentrate your affections on more suitable partners.”
“Indiscretion?”
“That little tart you brought to the Christmas Gala. Really, Zac? She was so beneath you.”
My hands closed into fists. “What did you mean by she’s out of the picture? Margo, what did you do?”
She didn’t answer right away, just sat there looking smug.
“Dammit, Margo! Tell me what you did or so help me, God...”
“Calm down, calm down. I simply did what any other loving mother would do to secure her boy’s future. “
Shit. Margo was the queen of gossip. Naturally, she was bound to find out about Charlotte and I sooner or later. Why didn’t I see that coming?
“You scared her off,” I said, finally making sense of Charlotte’s amb
ivalence toward me. “And now she won’t talk to me. Won’t talk to me because of you!”
Bam! I smashed my fist through the wall, just inches away from Margo’s head. Bits of plaster crumbled to the floor.
She jolted.
“I’ve had enough,” I yelled. “Enough of your lies and deceit. Enough of you meddling in mine and anyone else I care about affairs. Get out of my house.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Get the fuck out of my house. Go! Go now before I break something else.”
She grabbed her purse, moved toward the door, looking like a cornered raccoon.” I’d scared her so much, tears and mascara were running down her face. I should have felt pity, love, something. This was my mother for God’s sake. I didn’t.
I’d joined the Marines to be free of her manipulation long ago, only to come back and have it happen all over again. I needed to get out of here. Wipe the slate clean. Starting with her disappearing from my life.
Margo stood by the door, arms crossed, obviously waiting for my temper to come down a few notches. She’d have to wait a long time.
Without acknowledging her whimpering, I swept the bits of plaster into a dustpan, then threw it in the trash. “Oh and by the way, I changed my number so don’t bother calling me,” I said without looking up.
“But...but... if you’re moving and I don’t have your number, how will I get in touch with you?”
“I suppose we’ll be forced to see one another at work, although I may as well tell you, I’m quitting Remington’s too.”
“Now Zachary...” she began. “You can’t quit. Not now. Not when your future is right at your fingertips.”
“I won’t change my mind. I don’t want to work there anymore. It’s not what I want to do with my life.”
“What you want to do. What does that have to do with anything?”
“Oh right. Money is all you’re interested in.”
“Isn’t that why we work in the first place?”
“It’s only one of the reasons, Mother.”
“You’re talking nonsense.”
The Christmas Fix Page 13
