Winner Takes All

by Sandra Kitt

  “What can I do to help?”

  “Forgive me.”

  * * *

  There was no need for Patrick to give an explanation about why the incident between his SUV and a sedan occupied by three young men had not been an accident. The story appeared on the morning news as Jean was dressing for work. It was picked up by social media platforms and, in the tech language of the moment, went viral.

  The broadcast headline read Millionaire Misery, subtitle The Price You Pay for Being Rich. These together told Jean exactly how the accident had come about and why Patrick was going to be sued. By virtue of being the driver of the vehicle that had rear-ended another vehicle, the accident made him the guilty party.

  One accompanying photo showed Patrick on his cell, leaning against the hood of his very expensive Porsche SUV. Another showed him shaking hands with one of the responding officers. And the third image, just in case a reader had any doubts that the guy with the high-end car was at fault, the three young men were portrayed looking bewildered; they were just visiting from the suburbs and had gotten lost in Brooklyn.

  The rear end of their midlist sedan was damaged, not built to withstand impact from the front of a vehicle that weighed 1,700 pounds more. The bigger news was that multimillionaire and popular TV sports anchor Patrick Bennett was being charged with recklessly driving his bro-toy that left three young men shaken. And one reporter found it necessary to point out that Patrick had been taken to task earlier in the summer when a former girlfriend accused him of cheating her out of a part of his lottery win. That story was resurrected, adding to an image of Patrick that infuriated Jean. He was not careless. He was not self-centered. He had not let his sudden wealth go to his head. She now had a suspicion that far more had happened than Patrick had admitted to her. He obviously didn’t want her implicated in any way in his troubles. That didn’t stop Jean from believing she should have been there with him after the accident. There was nothing she could have done to change the circumstances, but she would have been there with support and love.

  Jean got through that Monday on text messages with amusing emojis from Patrick, but she knew immediately that he was more concerned than he was admitting. He’d been besieged for weeks for no other reason than his sudden good fortune. But his daily life was turning out to be more of a nightmare. Patrick might try to downplay the annoyance and the stress, and she admired him for the effort. But they were ever present. And Jean guessed that they were starting to take a toll.

  She’d also recognized that, in his own way, Patrick was trying to protect her, keep her out of the line of fire of incidents that plagued him and the resulting publicity.

  She took a chance and called him at the studio on Monday, knowing that he’d be at his usual routines and that the crew would protect him from aggressive reporters. But there was no way they could know for sure that she was who she said she was, and Jean had the sense she was being given the runaround by a string of handlers. Until Brian Abbott got on the phone, firm, cold, officious, doing exactly what he was supposed to do.

  “Hello, Brian. It’s Jean Travis.” She waited, but there was no response at all. “Seriously. It’s Jean.”

  She heard him inhale. “Right. Okay. Sorry about this, Jean. We’ve circled the wagons around our guy. He needs some space so he can do his job.”

  “I know. I just wanted to check in, make sure he’s okay. I know this is not a good time…”

  “Hold on,” Brian abruptly cut in, and the line seemed to go dead.

  He’d put her on hold. A full minute went by, and Jean was at the point of hanging up when the line opened.

  “Patrick” came the voice. Like Brian’s, it was firm, cold…and cautious.

  “Oh…hi. I…I shouldn’t have called. I was concerned and…”

  “Jean! Brian didn’t tell me it was you. He said it was a call I needed to take.”

  “I’ll make it quick. I read the papers this morning. I don’t understand how you knew what happened yesterday was a setup. ”

  He signed. “Someday I’ll explain the basic ground rules of scam artists and how they pick their subjects.”

  “I don’t think I want to know.”

  “I’m glad you called,” he said in a voice she was more used to him using with her.

  “I took a chance. I wanted you to know…”

  “I know. I’m really glad Brian put you through. I’ll have to put him up for a raise.”

  Jean smiled. “And thank him for me, for giving you the call.”

  “Yeah. I don’t think you two ever quite hit it off, but he’s always had my back.”

  “That’s the only thing that matters.”

  “Thanks for calling, Jean. My day just got significantly better.”

  * * *

  “Poor Patrick,” Diana Chambers murmured, sipping her breakfast coffee as she browsed the paper and found another update on Patrick’s troubles.

  It was the very next weekend, and Jean had escaped the city to spend a night with her mother on Friday. She had taken a call from Patrick just as they were sitting down to eat.

  Jean had excused herself from the table, fully aware that her mother, despite all efforts to the contrary, was quietly following the one-sided conversation, Jean’s quiet responses. When she finished and sat down again, her mother smiled in a knowing way.

  “How’s he doing?”

  “Who?”

  “Seriously?” she quipped.

  Jean shrugged. “It’s hard to tell. I think Patrick’s trying to put a good front on the situation. He seems more concerned that I don’t think badly of him because of everything.”

  “Do you?”

  “Of course not. I know him.”

  “I know all of the stuff that’s happening to Patrick came out of left field. But he’ll be okay.”

  “I hope so,” Jean murmured, buttering an English muffin.

  “He doesn’t strike me as a man who would be so thoughtless, so indifferent to other people.”

  “That’s because he’s not.”

  “I’m sorry I misjudged him when he asked to take you to his prom. But to be honest, I was concerned that he was this cute white boy who might have been using you as an experiment. Understand what I’m saying?”

  “Yes, of course I do. I was always a little skittish about what the boys especially were really thinking about me in high school. But I never felt that way about Patrick.”

  Dianna looked at her daughter over the top of her reading glasses. “Of course you’d defend him.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I think it’s fair to say you like the man, Jean.”

  “I think it’s fair to say I really believe him. Patrick is not capable of these terrible things. And the really unfair part is that all of this has happened since he won the lottery. Before that no one found it necessary to come after him, make accusations based on the…the…flimsiest of reasons. It’s ridiculous.”

  “You’re shouting, sweetie,” Diana said in a soothing tone.

  Jean took a deep breath. “Sorry.” She cast a glance at her mother’s always-peaceful demeanor.

  “Did you go through anything like that with Dad? Wondering if there was an ulterior motive to his interest in you?”

  Diana nodded, put her cup down, became thoughtful. “Absolutely. I mean I liked him, and he was polite. It was a while before I realized he was maybe actively pursuing me, trying to get my attention in a personal way. By then I knew I was attracted to him. But I still made him jump through hoops to prove he was serious.

  “Then it did become serious over the course of a year. And I began to ask what his family would think about his getting involved with a Black girl. He was honest, and that was hard for me. Your grandparents weren’t thrilled either, but they understood better that it’s my life. They hoped I wouldn’t get hurt. Or
used. Or embarrassed.”

  “What did happen?”

  Diana became quiet with a faraway look for a moment. “Seth Travis loved me. And I loved him. That was never the issue. It was a much bigger problem beyond our control at the time. We tried to stay true to ourselves, what we felt for each other. But it got very hard, and very ugly.” She smiled wistfully at Jean and playfully twisted strands of her hair. “Your father wanted us to get married, move somewhere we’d be safe. There was no such place. And then, I got pregnant.”

  Jean didn’t speak. This was the most she’d ever heard about her parents’ relationship. She didn’t want to distract her mother from the tale.

  “We had you and were pretty giddy. You were so beautiful. But it was obvious that a marriage wasn’t going to happen. I had you to take care of. Your father was accepted into law school in California. I stayed on the East Coast so my family could help with you while I finished my master’s. That’s how we got pulled apart. That’s how he became a long-distance father to you, but loving and attentive. Not the end of the story, obviously.”

  Diana patted her daughter’s hand and deftly changed the subject. “You know, your father said that he liked Patrick. Now this was after only about an hour in his company, so take that with a grain of salt,” she chuckled.

  “Then why do you think he said it?”

  “Well…like me, I think he noticed that you obviously hold Patrick in high esteem.”

  “We go back a long way, Mom.”

  “Yeah, but high school doesn’t count. You have to grow up before you really get a sense of people, their integrity, their view of the world, the way they treat people. I trust your judgment because you’ve always been a little careful of who you claim as a friend. So…your dad and I hope your belief in Patrick isn’t misplaced.”

  “It isn’t,” Jean replied, averting her gaze. She was not about to add any more as to why she believed so strongly. She knew she wasn’t wrong.

  The rest of their breakfast was spent on the subject of the new position her mother had been given as dean of students at a local college. The sudden mention of the local college reminded Jean of other recent news.

  “Mom, you won’t believe it. I got to see our neighborhood, our house from the air! I flew right over it.”

  “How did you manage that?”

  So Jean had to relate the entire magical mystery tour with Patrick by helicopter. Diana’s eyes lit up as Jean told the story. And as she finished, her mom grew wistful.

  “That sounds like it was amazing fun.”

  “It was. A great surprise, and so thoughtful of Patrick.”

  “Um. Well…I hope you’ll put in a good word for me and let Patrick know I’d love to come along for your next flight.”

  Jean laughed. “I’ll make sure to let him know. And I want to say it was so great that you and Daddy showed up for the bike race. I think I forgot to thank you.”

  “I’m glad I came, but I was worried when I saw you limping over the finish line. You looked like such a sad little rag doll,” Diana said wryly.

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  “Come on, let’s finish. I think we have about forty minutes before the next train to Grand Central. We’ll have to hurry if you want me to drive you to the station.”

  They got up and began to clear the table in Diana’s sunny breakfast nook.

  “I have to ask you something,” Jean said, following her mother into the kitchen.

  “I’m listening.”

  “What’s going on with you and Dad?”

  The dishes were carefully placed in the sink, and Jean’s mother began dismantling the coffee maker.

  “I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”

  Jean took the coffee carafe and the used filter out of her mother’s hands and placed them on the counter. She tilted her head to peer into her mother’s face. She knew she was onto something. Her mother was speechless. Her mother was never speechless.

  “You don’t? Really? Mom, I figured out a long time ago that you’ve probably never loved anyone else but Dad. Then last week when I saw the two of you together after the bike race, I knew something was going on. There have been signs. For months. For the last year.”

  Diana Chambers walked around her daughter, back to the dining table.

  “Mom, please. I’m not mad or anything. If you and Daddy still have feelings for each other, that’s great! It’s also pretty romantic.”

  Diana smiled and faced her daughter. And Jean knew in that moment that she was facing not so much her mother, but another woman…who was in love. It was definitely an odd, disorienting feeling.

  “We honestly didn’t know this was happening, Jean. It was so strange, so unbelievable. After all these years, that Seth and I would circle back and find each other again. It’s not like that first love we had for each other, but so much more now that we’re adults. When we got together in college, we honestly didn’t know what to do when I was suddenly pregnant, when our families had hissy fits about us getting married. And so many other unexpected things. It’s…it’s…”

  Jean put an arm around her mother’s shoulders and briefly rocked her to her side. “Okay, okay. You don’t have to say anymore, Mom. I get it.”

  “Do you?” Diana looked at her daughter, beseeching. “I was afraid you’d be so upset. Especially because we never married.”

  “This is what I know. You and Daddy love me. I wanted us all to be together, but I never lacked for anything. You protected me and were both always there for me. Under the circumstances I was pretty lucky.”

  “And we’re so proud of you.”

  Jean had about a million more questions to ask her mother, but having gotten a confession, more or less, about her mother’s feelings, she was content that anything else would be revealed in due time.

  * * *

  Jean was sitting cross-legged on her sofa, working on the first draft of a presentation speech she had been invited to make to an undergraduate class in communications, when her laptop began to ring…like a telephone. She realized that someone was Skyping her, and she clicked to open with the caller. It was Patrick.

  “Am I interrupting again?” he asked.

  His smile was wan and seemed forced. Jean was immediately struck with how formal he sounded with her. Her stomach churned as she speculated if they’d somehow lost ground since the most recent events forced him into the news again.

  “Hey. No, not at all.”

  “I know it’s late.”

  “That doesn’t matter.” Jean searched his face on the inadequate instrument perched on her lap. They’d only managed a few calls, a dozen texts in the last few days…and she suddenly felt like there was a yawning gulf between them. “I’m glad to hear from you. I know you’ve—”

  “I missed you,” he interrupted.

  Jean swallowed, blinked at his image. He looked so tired. And annoyed.

  “Me too.”

  Patrick sighed, combing his hand through his hair. He’d cut it recently, and the look seemed to add several years to his features. That and a second layer of facial hair…as if he hadn’t shaved in a few days. The light beard was groomed and trimmed. Was this a new look? The start of a disguise? Weariness? Jean acknowledged that whatever the reason, the changes also made Patrick look incredibly attractive.

  “Where are you?”

  “Still at the studio. Waiting for a car to take me home.”

  “What about your car?”

  “Parked in my garage. It’s a rolling billboard. I may have to think about switching it out for something less…pretentious.” He smirked.

  Jean could hear his frustration surfacing.

  “Is the lawsuit moving forward? Are you able to get the charges dismissed? Like you said, the incident was a setup.”

  “Yes. No. That doesn’t matter. My lawyer is taking c
are of it. Those guys really don’t want their day in court. A first-year law student could blow their case apart. They want money. A settlement. That’s what my lawyer recommends.”

  “It’s so unfair,” Jean muttered, touching the screen as if she could actually touch him.

  “Unfortunately it’s not about fair. It’s about having good insurance and a willingness to cave just to close the case. That’s essentially what I’m doing.”

  “I guess I don’t have to ask how you feel about that.”

  He was shaking his head, his brows furrowed. “What I feel is that this is just a distraction. I’m concerned that it might affect my work for ESPN. But so far all it’s done, like that issue with a former girlfriend weeks ago, is made people curious and boosted my show ratings! Go figure. My attorney tells me to let him handle things. Ross tells me to stay cool.”

  Jean nodded, blinking at the mention of her ex-fiancé. “Good advice. You’ve been seeing him?”

  “A few times since our initial meeting. He’s been really helpful on several issues. But he actually called me in to talk about this latest incident.”

  “What did he have to say?”

  Patrick arched a brow and silently chuckled. “He said understand that this is a game. The purpose being how to separate me from my money. He said it’s not personal but opportunistic. The lights went on. I knew he was right.”

  “So what’s the answer?”

  “Ross suggested setting up several kinds of funds, investments, shelters, et cetera. The idea being to make the money as invisible as possible. Also, not make it easily available. Then he said something really interesting. He said find a way to openly give back. And I’ve already started. He’s also helping me with something that has nothing to do with managing money.”

  “Really? What?”

  Patrick’s brow furrowed deeply on his screen image. He slowly shook his head.

  “I can’t talk about it yet. Sorry to sound so secretive.”

  “It’s fine,” Jean assured him easily.

  “I’m working with Ross on setting up something for Pete’s son. Ross suggested I not offer to pay the entire four-year tuition for college, but give enough with stipulations about what Pete needs to do to contribute. And it might mean his son having to work part-time. Ross doesn’t think it should be a total free ride.”