by Jolie Day
“Well, look what the cat drug in.” She beams, stepping aside to let me in. “To what do I owe the honor of this visit?”
She’s tall and slender, easily looking ten years younger than she is. And no matter when I come knocking on her door, it’s obvious I’ve always interrupted something. She stays busy with gardening and projects, not to mention her active social life. But the pristine mansion you see on the outside is deceptive of what’s inside.
She’s always got this aloof way about her, and she keeps her home the same way—comfortably disorganized with magazines and books scattered all over the place. She refuses to hire a maid and hates to clean, so everything’s always a little messy.
“Coffee? I made some cookies yesterday for my book club. There’s some left over, and you can help yourself. Shortbread. Your favorite.” She motions to the jar on the counter, jumping to make a pot of coffee even though I never accepted.
“I’m afraid I can’t stay long. I’m here for…a business matter, actually.”
“Why am I not surprised? Well, I want some coffee, anyway.”
As much as she teases me for not coming around more, she never seems bitter about it. It’s almost like it’s what she expects of me. Maybe because she got used to being alone even before my father died. He was hardly ever around, and I don’t think she’s let herself be open to disappointment from anybody since.
“Mom, something’s come up with the company. You know how I told you about the public stock offering?”
“Oh, yes! I’m so excited. I’ve already been talking it up to all of my friends. Several of them are waiting for it to hit the market so they can buy in.”
“Well, that’s why I’m here.” I hate to kill her enthusiasm. “There’s been a snag. It seems they can’t find several records from the year Dad was running things. There are a few other kinks, too, but that’s the one I know I can fix.” Well, I hope I can fix it, or we’re fucked.
“That’s not surprising at all. You know how he was.” There’s the slightest hint of sadness in her eyes at any mention of him, but she’s always quick to shrug it off.
“I do, but I was wondering if there was anything left around here in his things. Any records or documents that you might’ve noticed.”
“No. Why would he keep something like that here?”
I don’t want to state what should be obvious. It’s possible the records are just lost, but the more likely explanation is there’s something shady as shit hidden in those documents. And if that’s the case, he would’ve wanted to keep them somewhere safe and private—like the house he didn’t give a rat’s ass about and hardly ever came home to.
“It doesn’t matter.” She sighs with a smile. “I gave up trying to figure that man out long before he died. You can look around all you want. There are some trunks of his things in the attic and maybe a few boxes in the garage.”
“Thank you.” I take her up on the cookie offer, pulling one from the jar. “I’m in a little bit of a hurry, so I’ll get on it. But I promise I’ll be back for a real visit soon. Maybe dinner next week?”
“I know you will, dear.” But just as I’m turning to leave, she stops me. She cups my cheeks in her hands and studies my face carefully. “There’s something different about you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. I can’t put my finger on it. Just…something different.” Then she gasps suddenly. “Have you met someone?”
I scoff in defense. “I’ve met a lot of somebodies.”
“Don’t try to hide things from your mother, Joel Lucas Embry.”
I stare back at her, knowing it’s not the right time to tell her everything. And I wouldn’t do it anyway until after I’ve talked to Charlie to see if she’s even open to a relationship with me.
Looking at my mom, I can’t imagine why my dad wouldn’t have wanted to be the husband she deserved. She wasn’t like some old haggard dragon waiting at the door every night to nag him to no end. My mom’s spunky and independent—always has been. And probably would’ve been ready to jump on the bike with him if he ever let her. That’s the life she thought she was signing up for—just like Max’s wife, Reg. But he let his preconceived notions of a wife and family drive him away. He missed the wonderful woman right in front of him. And the mad dash to do anything exciting other than this, is what ended up getting him killed.
It sparks a renewed anger and hatred toward him inside, but then I realize I’ve been doing the same thing my father was, just in a different way. No. I can’t let this happen. I won’t be like him. I need to talk to Charlie if it’s the last thing I do.
“We’ll talk at dinner next week, okay? I’ve got to look through Dad’s things real quick and then tend to something else—it’s urgent.”
She tearfully tells me how proud of me she is, the way she always does, then sends me on my way. After digging through the attic and the garage for almost two hours, I finally come across a manilla folder filled with printed documents. It’s folded in the middle with an almost-bursting rubber band holding it all together.
I open it up and sift through, feeling a gush of relief when I see the documents dated the same year of the missing records. The Embry letterhead at the top, along with the financial spreadsheets mixed in, tells me this is what I’m looking for.
22
Joel
What the…?
With just a quick glance, all relief fades. I’ll have to read through the papers more carefully, but the records clearly spell out that he was embezzling money through the company. God damn it. It’s not a shock, but it doesn’t make the blow any easier. I look around the trunk where I found the documents. There’s another small notebook. It’s a handwritten ledger of payments—all affiliated with the motorcycle club.
But some of the payments weren’t made to the Hell’s.
Wait a sec.
What? No way. I almost can’t believe my eyes. They were made to…Jose Saro, the leader of our fucking rivals, Saro’s Sons MC. My dad somehow got himself swept up between both of them. The Hell’s Seven leader at the time, Alvarez, was so corrupt, it’s no wonder my dad did it. The guy probably didn’t give him a choice. Maybe this is what kept my dad on the run—being stuck between stealing money from his own family’s business and a crazed club leader who left him no other option. Throw ties to the rival gang on top of that—and he was fucked either way.
It might even be the reason why he wanted to leave the club, and why he was murdered. If he tried to stop embezzling money for Alvarez, or if it was discovered that he was also working with their rivals—either scenario would’ve put him in the ground. It’s strange that Max wouldn’t have known about this, but I guess Dad left him out of it, maybe to protect him?
I couldn’t say how my dad got himself in such a mess. But part of me feels like maybe he was trying to come around to doing the right thing. Maybe even trying to keep us out of harm’s way. What the fuck? Was he trying to get his family off the gang’s radar by not being around? Playing the free bad-ass biker with no responsibilities so we were never a target? Shit! That at least explains his sudden change in behavior. Maybe he did love us.
Oh, fuck. Dad.
My hands shake at the thought.
I’ve hated him all these years…and it seems like he was probably doing right by us…to protect us.
I shake my head. The only two people who know for sure why he was murdered are my dad and the old club leader. If only the dead could talk.
There’s a nagging feeling in my gut. It says whatever got him killed had something to do with him setting things straight.
I rush out of the attic with all the documents in hand and catch Mom in the kitchen. I tell her what I found, and the expression on her face seems relieved and surprised. “I wish I would have known this earlier.” She shakes her head. “Well, I’m glad you won’t be left with bad memories of him from now on.”
I feel confident that I can make this right. I may not know how to
settle the investors’ minds about the business’s shady ties to all the biker underworld drama, and this new revelation definitely won’t help with that. But I can be transparent and honest. More than that, I can see to it that every penny my dad ever embezzled is paid back to the company in full. Pair all of that with the sweet presentation our team’s developing for the future, and we’ll be golden. I’m sure of it.
After another quick goodbye, and another promise to meet her for lunch, I bolt out the door and call Anne-Louise back just before starting up my bike.
“I found the missing piece of the puzzle. Can you get with Hank, Thomas, and Judy, and ask Hank to call Charlie and see where she’s at with the presentation? She should be working with them to get it together. I’d like to schedule a meeting with all the investors and that team as soon as possible.”
“Charlie’s not here, sir.”
“Still out sick?”
“No…I mean, she’s gone. She’s not with the company anymore. Rumor has it she went back to London. She didn’t tell you?”
My heart drops to my ass.
I can’t even bring myself to reply. Sweet Jesus. I hang up and start the engine, barely looking where I’m going when I drive off down the street.
While I was so busy with work and trying to sort through my feelings, had I already let Charlie down? I’ve been feeling more and more confident that I was nothing like my dad, and now I’m making the exact same mistakes anyway. Fuck. Is it a curse? I can’t fucking lose her—not like this.
I speed to the office and race inside like a crazed motherfucker in an insane asylum to see it for myself. Anne-Louise stares at me in confusion like all hell’s just broke loose. But I can’t stop. I just toss her a wave. Charlie’s desk is completely empty and cleared out. I rifle through the drawers to see if there’s any hint that she returned to London, or maybe even an explanation as to why. But all that’s left is annulment paperwork in the bottom drawer—still unsigned.
“Mr. Embry?”
I whip around to see an attractive but uncomfortable-looking young woman standing there, eyeing the papers in my hand.
“Or…uh, Joel? Whatever I’m supposed to call you?”
“Yes?”
“Mind if I take those? The receptionist up front let me in to grab them. Actually, if you could go ahead and sign them first, that’d probably be best.”
I’m stunned for a second that she even knows what the documents are. I told the guys in my club, but other than that, I thought it was a secret. “Who are you?”
“I’m Nora…Charlie’s friend. You may not remember me. We met twice before, briefly. At the bar. And again at the elevator over there”—She nods to the right—“a few days back when I was visiting during a lunch break.”
I realize I recognize her, and it all clicks into place, but I immediately go back into fix-it mode. I try to calm my voice. “Where is she?”
Nora lowers her head.
“Where is she?” I repeat.
“She went back home…to London.” I can see now that she’s been crying. “She left in a hurry but sent me to pick those up. So, if I could just…”
She reaches for the papers, trying to pry them from my hands, but my fingers stay locked around them at first. She tugs a few times but I’m still not handing them over.
“Tell me where to find her.”
Her mouth drops, like she wasn’t expecting me to want to go chasing after Charlie. “I told you. She’s all the way back in the UK now. She called me when she got off the plane. I think she realized she left them behind.”
“Did she tell you where she was staying?”
“I…I don’t know. Why do you care? Her mother’s I guess.”
“Nora, please,” I ask more urgently, and she glances up at the mention of her name. “Can you tell me where her mother’s staying?”
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” she argues. But she sees the look in my eyes, then glances down at the rose in my hand.
“I’ve got to find her.”
I know she’s tempted to tell me, but not sold yet. “Wait…what? Why?”
My shoulders drop. There’s no use in denying it anymore. “Because I love her.”
Her eyes light up, and it makes me wonder what Charlie’s been saying about me.
“Okay, I’ll text you her mom’s address. But Joel, promise me something.”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t go unless…unless you’re really sure how you feel.”
23
Charlie
The sinking feeling of failure only gets worse as my plane descends into London Heathrow Airport. A cab drops me off on my mother’s cobblestone street, and of course, it’s raining cats and dogs as I drag my wheeled luggage along the bumpy stone. The rows of tall compact townhomes painted in bright colors look different to me now. I guess because everything is different now.
My mother is one of the most caring people alive, and you can see it in her eyes. I expect the sight of her to fill me with a warmth that will chase everything else away, like it always does, but instead, her shocked and concerned face only makes me burst into tears all over again.
“Charlie?” she gasps. “What happened? Here, come on in. Let’s get you out of the rain.”
She shuffles me inside and tosses my luggage aside. After a long hug, she plops me down onto the booth seat of her corner kitchen table and immediately sets herself to the task of whipping up something for me. It’s like she knows whatever has brought me here in this state is going to be much too big to spit out in the entryway of her home. It requires a cup of Earl Gray. Maybe a glass of vodka (make that two—okay, four), but then I remember I can’t drink.
After silently making her way around the kitchen with a ruckus of clanking dishes, cabinets opening and slamming shut, and the steaming pot on the stove, she sits down across from me. A tray with a yummy-looking sandwich and a steaming cup of tea is sitting in front of us. “Fancy a cuppa?” She also graciously brought over a cup of water, which I chug down first. Mother really does know best.
She’s mostly silent as she watches me get my bearings and drink down my water—just waiting until I’m ready to talk. With her worried eyes glued to me, she props her chin on her hand, her elbow resting on the table, waiting patiently. I wonder if I’ll ever be as good of a mum as she is, and the thought only makes me cry more.
“Come on, dear. Shhh, it’s all right.” She reaches across the table to take my hand in hers. “What’s going on?”
“I made…a huge mess of…everything in America—that’s what’s going on,” I weep dramatically in a way I haven’t since high school. Only now, my display of emotions is much more accurate than it was then.
“That’s rubbish. It can’t be all that bad.” She continues stroking her thumb across my hand while I gasp between sobs. Her eyes study me carefully, and then it’s like a lightbulb goes off in her head. A gentle smile eases across her face. “A baby isn’t a huge mess, anyway. It’s wonderful!”
I freeze and turn to her with wide eyes. How could she possibly know? Mrs. Loughty. The pregnancy test packaging. The alien birth magazine. She saw it all. Or, was it Nora? She must have told Mrs. Loughty, and Mrs. Loughty called my mother, but why would she do that? Or—
“You’re my daughter, Charlie. Of course I can tell. Even though you’re distraught, your cheeks are still glowing. There’s something about you…I just know. And you look more terrified than you ever have in your whole life, which is a dead giveaway for a new mum.” She chuckles.
She knows, and yet she seems oddly calm. She hasn’t started lecturing me or threatening to disown me. I feel like a teenager, not an independent woman.
“What’s his name?”
“Joel.”
Mum wraps her arm around my shoulder. It helps me to cry it out a bit more and then calm down enough to tell her the whole story (I leave out the parts about throwing myself at Joel in the locker room and the other…juicy bits). But I explain my
poor decision to have a relationship with my boss, then cringe as I reveal that we drunkenly got married in Vegas, and now…I’m having a baby.
I’m out of breath by the time I finish telling her everything, and my hand shakes a little as I reach for my cup of tea to take an urgent sip. Telling her feels different than telling Nora. I actually do feel lighter now rather than a bigger bundle of nerves than before.
All that’s left to do is brace myself for her reaction. I imagine her calmly preparing a room for me in the basement and keeping all the blinds and curtains shut. We just won’t tell anyone. I’m back, and she’ll never have to explain to the gossip circuit of the neighborhood what her brainless daughter has gone and done.
“I know you may not see it now, but everything is going to be just fine. We’ll get through this together.”
“We will?” I sniffle, taking another drink of tea.
“Of course, child. I raised you alone, and we can raise this baby alone.”
I wait for her to add something to indicate we’ll be doing so in shameful hiding, but she never says it.
“I’m sorry I’m such a huge disappointment.”
“Oh, don’t talk tosh.”
“I was supposed to go to America and come back with a booming career. I imagined all of the biggest design houses would want to work with me when I returned. And instead, I barely managed to stay employed, and then I ruined the one good job I found by sleeping with my boss.”
She laughs a little. “It takes two to tango, my dear. You didn’t end up in this situation entirely on your own. Speaking of which, what is this Joel’s last name? I intend to look him up and write a strongly worded letter.”
“No, Mum. I’m a grown-up. I have to fight my own battles now.” I stare off glumly. “Besides, it’s not entirely his fault. Well, sure, maybe a little. But he was honest about what he wanted. I should have just let things be, but…” I trail off, throwing my face in my hands.
