Remember Me

by Rainwater, Priscilla Poole

  The statement was rewarded with even louder chants.

  Silently, he motioned to his deputies, who took up positions around the rebellious group. Motioning to the maintenance man who had been commandeered with a pair of heavy bolt cutters, he watched as he nervously strode forward and went to work.

  When the chains and padlocks had been removed, two burly deputies approached Cassandra, and she offered no resistance as they handcuffed her. When she refused to stand one of them simply lifted her like a sack of potatoes and tossed her over his shoulder. The scene was nearly comical as she resumed her chant as he lugged her off. After ten more minutes of loud chants and the noises of straining, grunting deputies, the room was finally cleared of the unwelcome visitors.

  Approaching the Sheriff, he thanked him for his help, and in a move that surprised even himself, asked that no trespassing charges be filed against them. He was then told they would be officially charged with resisting arrest and disturbing the peace, just to teach them a lesson, and that he would take care of the news crew outside.

  When the meeting had resumed, he found himself thinking about her. He didn’t know why, but he simply had to see her again. He was still mystified by the attraction. It wasn’t about race, he had bedded woman of all races and sizes. But she was different. She didn’t hang on to his every word, and give him the doe-eyed look most women did. She didn’t act like a delicate flower that needed his protection, and didn’t try use her body to get what she wanted. In the short space of their meeting, he could tell the woman was strong-willed, passionate, and she didn’t buy any of his sugarcoated bullshit. Not only was she all that, and lovely to boot, but the woman had spunk unlike anything he had ever seen.

  An hour later he was getting into his limo, and ordered the driver to go to the police station, hoping he could find out from the Sheriff where the little spitfire lived.

  A short while later the limo was pulling up to the Sheriff’s office, an old one-story stone building that was built in the 1800‘s. As luck would have it, he saw Cassandra come strolling out of the small building just as the car came to a stop. Rolling down the rear widow, he watched as a lanky white man who was with her talked briefly with her, hugged her and kissed her cheek, then turn and walked away. Amazingly, he felt a sharp stab of jealousy. He watched as she put down the backpack she was carrying and opened it. She then pulled out an oversized baseball cap and slipped it on. He couldn’t help but chuckle at what was stenciled on the front: ‘Save Our Planet From Corporate Greed!’

  As she picked up the backpack and prepared to leave, he all but leaped out of the back seat of the limo and approached her, wearing what he hoped was both a charming and disarming smile. Stepping in front of her quickly, she had no choice but to stop, and she glared at him in defiant silence. “Hello, Ms. Ames. I’m happy to see they released you.” For a moment he thought she would simply step around him and not answer, found himself afraid of it, actually. He found himself relieved when she finally did answer, although her glare never wavered.

  “Yes, they released us. We’ll go to court in a few weeks, they‘ll fine us, and we‘ll have to spend a few weekends picking up trash on the side of the road, or cutting grass at the park.” she shrugged, as if it was nothing.

  He found his admiration for her spirit growing more and more by the second, and for the first time in his life, he grew nervous at what he was about to ask. “Ms. Ames, as crazy as this sounds, could you…would you please let me take you to dinner, right now? Just to show there are no hard feelings. I mean, I admire your principles and everything, it‘s just that…”

  His words were cut off as she looked at him, deadpan, and said, “Mr. Mortenson, we’re from two completely different worlds. We have absolutely nothing in common, and even less to talk about.”

  “Granger…” he said, knowing his smile must have looked like that of an awestruck schoolboy. It certainly felt that way….

  Saying nothing, she looked at him curiously.

  “ Mr. Mortenson is so formal, just call me Granger. Besides, we DO have at least one thing in common, we can discuss Roaring Branch, right?” He felt his heart begin beating wildly as the glare disappeared, and was replaced by just a ghost of a smile.

  “Touché." she replied. “Alright….Granger, but only on one condition. I want you to personally see to it that your assistant doesn’t fire those security guards like he promised he would. I don’t want them to get fired because of me."

  “I’m all over it.” he replied almost giddily. Pulling out his cell phone, he put it on speaker, dialed Devin’s number, and instructed him to not fire the guards.

  Looking surprised that he had actually did it, she stammered, “Ok, NOW we can discuss the development, over dinner.”

  While he had no intention of changing his mind about the development, at the moment he would do whatever it took just to spend some time alone with her, so intoxicated he was by her mere presence. Grabbing her hand, he tugged her in the direction of the limo. As the driver opened the rear door for her and she climbed in, he winked furtively at him.

  Crawling inside and shutting the door, he waited until the driver was behind the wheel, then pushed the intercom and said, “Ed, we’re going to the Golden Room, could you call ahead and have them ready my table?” Turning to look at his lovely companion, he winked and said, “Like I said, just to show there’s no hard feelings..”

  “"No thanks, I can’t go into that swanky place dressed like this.” she said as she waved her hand over her body. “Besides, that place is an hour away. If you’re taking me to dinner, I prefer it be close to here.”

  His eyes raked boldly over her, enjoying what he saw. “Well, it wouldn’t be a problem if you want to go to The Golden Room, I am Granger Mortenson, after all. No one will refuse you because you’re with me.” he said smoothly and somewhat arrogantly. The snobbish comment was answered by her rolling her eyes. Hastily, he added, “But if you’re uncomfortable with the way you’re dressed, we could find someplace else. You know, a lady like you really shouldn’t dress like that, anyway.” he finished with what he hoped was a comical leer, although the truth was, her mere close proximity was doing things to his body that he hoped and prayed wouldn’t show.

  “Well, let’s go to the little café’ next to the book store, the one at the town square. They serve great sandwiches and coffee.”

  Agreeing, he told the driver where to take them.

  It only took five minutes to get there. All of the buildings looked like the old store fronts that were common in the fifties, in fact, most of them were actually built in the fifties. He knew they made an interesting contrast as a couple, and wasn’t surprised at the stares of several people as they stepped out of the limo.

  Stepping inside, she led the way, and it struck him how regal she looked as she slid into the booth. Smiling warmly, she greeted the older waitress, asking how her grandchildren were. He could tell she was a people person, as several patrons and employees stopped at the table and greeted her, telling her they heard about her latest activities, and wishing her success in her plight to save the mountains. None of them seemed aware that he himself was the person she was fighting against, and the fact she didn’t blow the whistle on him right there on the spot humbled him and made his admiration for her all the more profound..

  When the last of the greeters had drifted away they placed their orders. When they were alone, she looked at him earnestly and said, “Mr. Mort….Granger… would you please, PLEASE consider not developing Roaring Branch? Like I told you, I’ve done my research on you, and your companies are making so much money, you don’t need this resort. It’s a drop in the bucket for you. My goodness, you’re making HUGE profits in all your other endeavors. You could write the land off if you made it a wildlife preservation, or a wilderness camp for kids.”

  “Cassandra, you have to understand, I would lose millions now if I don’t follow through with it. Even I have people I have to answer to. Stockholders, for instance.
”

  His amazement was supreme when she looked at him tearfully and pleaded,

  “Why can’t I get you to understand what you’re destroying? Saving this land is so important.”

  ‘This woman really is sincere’ he thought with wonder. Over the years the cutthroat people he had dealt with had hardened him and made him cynical, and he had met precious few people as pure, as nakedly honest, and passionate as she was in her convictions. Studying her in silence for a moment, he finally answered, “Tell you what, let’s both go to Roaring Branch tomorrow, and we’ll do our best to figure out a way for both of us to get what we want.” And for the first time since meeting her, she rewarded him with a breathtaking smile, one that sent shivers of delight throughout his entire being...

  Snapping back to the present, he looked at his wife again as tears fell down his cheeks, unchecked. His heart broke as he remembered the terrified look on her face when she had seen him outside her apartment building. He wondered if he would ever see her smile at him again, wondered if he would ever be able to hold her. She had touched a part of him no one else ever had, other than Regan. He felt so raw, so empty, and so alone.

  Leaning forward and resting his elbows on his legs, he whispered softly, “Cassandra, please. Please remember me.”

  “She will, just give it time, son.”

  Startled, he looked up to see Jocelyn standing in the doorway, and smiled softly, his eyes silently thanking her. Looking back at his wife but speaking to his mother-in-law, he said something that would have shamed his parents. “Jocelyn, will you…will you pray with me?”

  “I think you know the answer to that dear.” she replied softly.

  Chapter 11

  Raidon watched from his Hummer as Buddy Martin stumbled from The Boobie Trap, a dingy, seedy strip club. It wasn’t happy hour. In fact, it wasn’t even noon yet, it was a few minutes after ten in the morning, and he was already three sheets to the wind. The low-life who called himself a private investigator had answers, and he planned on getting them.

  Getting out of the vehicle he closed the door quietly and followed the waddling man as he stumbled a couple of blocks, then stepped inside the dilapidated building that housed his office. Stopping right outside the door himself, his intuition told him to wait several minutes.

  A short time later he stepped inside, and scrunched his nose in disgust at the smell of the tiny office. It was a combination of stale air, old spice, moth balls, cigarettes smoked long ago and recently, and the smell of liquor.

  Putting forth his best neutral expression, he looked around and spotted the receptionist, a woman who looked as if she had led a hard life. Her dry and brittle hair was dyed an unnatural, loud shade of red, and hung limply down around her frail looking shoulders. Her tanned skin had the look of sun-cured leather, and she was chewing a piece of gum like it would be her last. Forcing a smile in place, he approached her and asked pleasantly, “Hello, I was wondering if I could speak to Mr. Martin?”

  He flinched inwardly as her laughter, which sounded more like the bray of a donkey than anything else, echoed in the room. “Mr. Martin! That drunk bastard ain’t no mister, honey!” she said, popping her gum loudly. Picking up a nail file, she gestured to the hallway on his right. “He’s back there, probably passed out. Go on back, suga‘. And while you’re back there, tell that Boss Hog looking son of a bitch I’m calling it a day. Tell him I’m taking my pay out of the petty cash, bastard hasn‘t paid me in two weeks!” She then waved what was probably Buddy’s wallet around in the air, then winked and gave him a smile he guessed was supposed to be seductive, but ended up looking more like a jack-o-lantern wearing a red wig.

  Grimacing inside, he nodded and headed down the hallway. Not bothering to knock, he opened the door and stepped inside, closing it behind him quietly.

  Looking around, he saw Buddy was reclined in his tattered leather chair, with both stubby legs propped up on the desk. He was out cold, snoring, his hands clasped over his gut, head back, and mouth wide open. With grim amusement, he thought the secretary was right, he did look like Boss Hog, all that was missing was the white suit and hat.

  Walking over to the chair, he hooked his foot on the back, then yanked the chair back hard, sending the sleeping man crashing to the floor.

  Buddy let out a startled yelp as he struggled to get up, but quickly found it was impossible to do, with Raidon’s black, steel-toed combat boots planted in his corpulent gut. Gulping in fear, his face turned beet red as struggled to breathe. “Bishop! What the fu…..” he tried to scream as the pressure on his stomach doubled.

  “Shut up, you steaming pile of monkey crap! Before I even ask you this question, I want you know that I’m aware of the fact you sell fake papers to illegal aliens. I have friends in the FBI and the State Police, and if I even THINK you’re lying to me, I’ll call them before you can say Sheriff, I want those Duke boys arrested!”

  “Whaaaa…?” he wheezed in confusion.

  “Never mind. Point is, if I make that call, you’ll be going to jail for a very long time, understand?”

  “Yeah yeah!” he sputtered.

  “Good!” he said, then reached into his pocket and pulled out the drivers license that ‘Karen Washington’ had been issued, and threw it down on the man’s face. “This your work?” he demanded.

  Grabbing the license with a trembling hand, he studied it as his eyes grew wide.

  Applying yet more pressure to the man’s stomach, he repeated, “Remember what I said, save the bullshit. It’s yours all right, isn’t it? I can read it in those beady, shifty little eyes of yours. It’s the same quality as the ones you charge illegal aliens thousands of dollars for. You make me sick, you know that? You feed off of weak, desperate, poor people, you parasite.”

  He knew there was no use in lying, it wouldn’t work, not with Raidon Bishop, anyway. The man had a reputation for getting answers any way he had too. Fucking Asian bastard! he thought. Aloud, he gasped, “What do you want?”

  “I want to know what Brett Parker had you do.” he answered, then lifted his foot so the man could get up.

  Rising to his feet shakily, he thought, Shit what am I gonna do? “He…uhhh…look, he told me he needed some identification with the woman’s picture on it, but he told me use the name and social security number of someone named Karen Washington, even gave me an address. That’s all he wanted from me, I swear! He paid me five thousand dollars, and I needed the money!” he whined. “That was the end of our…transaction.” he finished as his eyes darted around the room nervously.

  Raidon knew there was more. He knew the grease-ball wasn’t lying, yet, but he certainly would never volunteer any information either. “Want to know the woman’s real name?” he asked.

  Shrugging, Buddy gave him a blank look. “Just another one of those….never mind..” he trailed off at the look he was getting. “She wasn’t any of my concern, I just needed the money, like I said.” he mumbled.

  Sitting on the desk, Raidon began flipping through papers idly. “Well, you should be concerned, and you wanna’ know why? Does the name Granger Mortenson ring a bell? You know, the multi-millionaire? The man who owns half this freaking state? Well, that woman…” he said, pointing at the nearly forgotten license the man still held in his hand, “…that woman is his wife, dumbass!”

  All the color suddenly drained from his face, and he just stood there, thunderstruck.

  “Yep, Mrs. Cassandra Mortenson is her real name." he chuckled, then whistled softly and dramatically. “And boy oh boy is he ever pissed! He’s just dying to know who’s been keeping his wife from him, and all those who helped!””

  With perspiration running down his forehead, Buddy tried to speak, but found himself unable to.

  He’s squirming now! Raidon thought as he watched the man gape. It looked as if he would lose control of his bowels at any moment. “How stupid can you get?" he asked. “Well, I’ll tell you this, I sure wouldn’t want to be in your shoes once he gets my repo
rt. He’s on the warpath, and you know how rich folks are when they get pissed, the cops will bend over backwards to help them. And from what I hear, already half the police department is on the case. And I want you to think about this: Dr. Parker is considered a pillar of the community, you know, his shit don’t stink and all that. He’s got some pull himself, so I’m betting you’re gonna’ be the one taking the fall on this one. Wouldn’t you agree? Buddy, they’ll love you in the pen, what with that fat cushy ass of yours. You’ll be someone’s number one bitch in record time. You know what they say…..” he said as leaned forward dramatically, “…. more cushion for the pushin’. By the time the boys upstate get done with you, you’ll be a new woman.”

  In a panic, the squirming PI began babbling in a hoarse voice he didn’t recognize himself. “Wait, WAIT! Look, I’ll tell you anything you want to know! Doc Parker came to me wanting forged documents, he wanted the whole nine yards. Fake ids, a birth certificate, passport, driver’s license, and phony court papers proving she was an orphan. Like I said, he paid me well, and I really needed the money!”

  Raidon watched with grim amusement as the bumbling fool pulled a bottle of vodka out of the top drawer of his desk. Not bothering to look for a clean glass in the filthy office, the man turned the bottle up, guzzling it like iced tea on a July afternoon. Pressing his advantage, he said, “Buddy, I suggest you tell the police the truth when they come to question you. Think really hard about what I said.”