by S. L. Scott
Her eyes open and she gently stretches. “What are you doing up already?”
“I couldn’t sleep. I got some work in.”
“Now I feel lazy.”
“No,” I say, stroking her hair. “You heal when you sleep, so you, my sweet Firefly, need to get all the rest you can.”
“I might lie in bed all day and watch movies or read.”
“Sounds like exactly what you should do. I’ll have Neely bring you some breakfast.”
I start to get up, but she grabs my wrist. “Hey, where are you going?”
Sitting back down, I reply, “I won’t be gone long. I need to run by the penthouse and run a few errands.”
“Alexander Kingwood running errands.” She pokes me in the side. “I might need to see this.”
Chuckling, I slide down to kiss her on the temple. “Ha. Ha. Don’t worry. I won’t be gone long.”
“An hour?” She waggles her eyebrows. I love seeing that smile.
“Two or three.”
“Fine, but I really wanted you to stay in bed with me today.”
“I won’t be long.” After one more kiss to her head I get up. “I promise.”
I grab my wallet and my phone from the nightstand and shove them in my pockets. When I reach the door, she says, “I love you, Alexander.”
“I love you, baby.”
Making sure to skip out before I get caught up talking to my “cuz” and April again, I’m swift in my exit. I head to the garage and hop on my bike. I text Neely to check on Sara Jane and then take off. I’m off estate property in two minutes. That might be a record I’m proud of.
I stop at a red light on the outskirts of downtown and think over the confusing morning. My mind keeps thinking back to the ring. Another mystery. Although, it does make me consider going to the jewelry store on Center Boulevard, and looking for a wedding ring for Sara Jane. I think she’d like a little surprising today.
The streets are fairly empty in this area but as soon as I make the turn, I’ll be stuck in that morning commuter traffic. A black car, late model seventies by the design, stops next to me. I look over and the driver’s window rolls down. A guy with dark sunglasses and balding temples leans on the door and says, “Alexander Kingwood, right?”
It happens too fast to escape.
A van skids up on the other side of me, the door slides open, and two guys jump out. I have a gun to my head in seconds, and I’m pushed roughly into the back of the van. Before the door is shut, I feel the hit to the side of my head and the world goes black.
28
Sara Jane
Garvey Penner stands in the middle of the formal living room. According to Neely, he was here this morning “visiting his aunt,” but why on earth is he back again now? His gaze bounces from one expensive piece of art to the furnishings—a couch that cost more than my car, three paintings that would make a museum envious, to a vast view of the land out back that ebbs and flows to the lake.
I don’t understand his role or his interest in the place, another misstep on my part. I’ll probably pay for underestimating him. What is with his slicked-back hair, plaid pants, the popped collar of a Polo shirt, and the golf glove that’s still molded around his hand as if he came right off the putting green?
He laughs too hard, makes himself at home too fast, and treats me like I’m nothing more than another decorative ornament here for pleasure. His pleasure. I stand with the coffee table between us and watch him, wishing I had never come downstairs.
Beads of sweat dot his hairline, and he shifts nervously on his feet. I hate him already because he’s related to that wretched woman. They don’t resemble each other physically, but they’re identical twins personality wise. “Will my aunt be down soon?” he asks as if I am here to serve him.
“I’m not sure. She was told you were here.”
“I’m thirsty. I’ll take a club soda with two wedges of lime and a splash of grenadine.”
I’m not even sure what grenadine is, but I have a feeling the manor would stock it. Obviously it’s something rich people drink. Walking into the kitchen, Neely says, “Sorry, I was speaking with the gardener. I’ll get his drink.” She moves about the kitchen on edge, something I’ve never seen from her before. The lime is cut, the blade hitting down on the cutting board loudly.
“Are you okay?”
Looking my way, she says, “Fine. Everything’s fine. I’ll bring the drinks out.”
“Thank you.” I’m not sure I want to go back in there, and I’m concerned Neely’s upset, so I ask, “Are you sure you’re okay?”
A small smile brightens her expression. “Yes, thank you.”
The tips of my fingers drag along the cold stone counter as I begin to leave, but I stop. “Neely, I appreciate you and all you do for Alexander, myself, and everyone else here. I know it’s your job, but it’s done with love and we know that. Thank you.”
“It’s my pleasure, Sara Jane. I’m so glad you’re back.” I watch her pour a rich red liquid into his drink. She giggles, and adds, “It’s just a red sweet syrup. Odd drink order for sure.”
“I think it says a lot about him. Odd.”
She laughs louder, my reaction trailing hers.
I’m feeling much more myself today. Last night with Alexander was amazing. Everything feels good again, so right. We’ve let so much come between us in the last couple months. So much pain and damage born from decisions we’ve made and some that were always going to happen, but it’s time to put that behind us and start living our lives, together.
Although, as I walk back to the other room, I’m left wondering what errands he was running off to after he disappeared earlier this morning. After last night, I had dreams of waking up together, maybe even lounging in bed all day. I hope he gets back soon. This cousin of his is totally creepy.
When I return to the living room, Garvey says, “There you are. You were gone so long I thought you were avoiding me.”
I wish. “No, Neely was making your drink. Is April not down?”
“Please don’t speak of me as if I’m not right here, Sara Jane.”
Both of us turn in unison to see her descending the stairs, the colorful green and gold caftan flowing behind her. She’s almost unrecognizable. Tanned. Hair styled and colored. Makeup thick, bright lipstick, and dramatic eyeliner has covered her dark circles and brought color to her face. Bold-statement earrings and an even larger turquoise necklace. Her gold sandals catch the light coming in through windows. What the hell is happening? She looks every bit the part of a wealthy socialite. I’m wondering where she got the money.
Alexander was working from home this morning. What’s that office like these days? Must be time to find out. In other words, hide. I glance to Neely. “I’ll be in the office if you need me.”
She nods again, quiet in her duties. I leave without another word, and neither April nor Garvey protest. Thank goodness. My gut twists every time I come down this hallway, the paneling seeming to trap me in the dark secrets they hold. Memories of overheard conversations, that still hurt to think about, haunt me with each step, but I’m determined to overcome them.
An errant thought about brightening the wood up by painting it white one day crosses my mind and I smile. I won’t let the negative back in. I won’t let it win. I won’t let Alexander Kingwood III or his ghost control my thoughts.
I open the door to the office and peek inside before walking all the way in. Being in here gives me the heebie-jeebies, but I take a moment to look around, really look at the space. A picture framed in silver of Alexander’s mom is the only touch that says someone with a heart once used this office, maybe even a soul that could love. I don’t want to give his father too much credit, but the love he had for Madeline is undeniable. Why did he cheat on her though?
Male ego?
Drunken night?
Weak demeanor?
I’m thinking all three.
Dragging my finger across the spines of the books that appear to
be there for show, I end up in front of the window. The garden makes me smile. The pretty rose bushes and manicured lawn showcase the grandeur of the impressive home. The sunshine dots the rippling water of the lake in the distance. I pull back the heavy drapes the rest of the way open and then sit in the leather chair behind the desk. Spinning to face the window, there are clouds but the sky is the perfect blue. Just like Alexander’s eyes.
When I roll back, the wheel of the chair hits a snag. I look down to find a piece of wood leveraged awkwardly, like a puzzle piece not quite fitting its spot. I lift the wood and see a safe with the door ajar. Sitting up, I stare down, but debate. I shouldn’t be snooping.
The promises Alexander and I have made were from love and even protection. He trusts me like I trust him, so I need to stop feeling like a visitor in what is obviously my home now. I bend down on my knees and open the safe. Inside the shallow box, I find an envelope and money—thousands in large bills.
Why is the safe open?
Why was it not closed?
“Who opened this?” Why am I talking to myself? I laugh while pulling the envelope out and taking the papers with my hand. I flip through a few—marriage license between his parents and a death certificate of his grandfather, but what makes me smile is when I see Alexander’s birth certificate.
Alexander Roman Kingwood IV.
My heart.
My love.
My soul.
My smile falls away just from seeing her name on this document.
Mother: April Louise Dorset
Father: Alexander Roman Kingwood II
Date of Birth: July 9th
Place of Birth: Regional Care Hospit—my gaze slides two lines back.
Father: Alexander. Roman. Kingwood. II.
The second.
My eyebrows cinch together as my mind fights the confusion.
Alexander Kingwood IV—my Alexander. I smile.
Alexander Kingwood III—that twist is felt deep inside—my thoughts caught between hate and contempt.
Alexander Kingwood II—my Alexander’s grandfather. Died when Alexander was little. I’ve only heard a few stories, none exactly flattering, but not as bad as the stories about his dad.
They forgot the little extra I that follows the other two roman numerals. How weird.
“Sara Jane?”
I jump, startled by my name being called, and hit my head on a knob. April and Garvey stand on the other side of the desk staring at me. Shoot.
Rubbing my head, I mumble, “You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that.”
She asks, “What are you doing down there?”
“None of your business.” I stand up.
Holding the paper so the printed side is facing me, she eyes it, as does he. Garvey finally says, “My aunt has told me so much about you that we thought it would be nice for you to join us on the terrace for a drink.”
My eyes shift from him to her, perplexed why they’re even talking about me, much less wanting to spend time with me. But I need to get them out of the office and hide the certificate until I can ask Alexander about it. “Um, okay. I’ll be right there.”
April says, “Splendid,” but her eyes read otherwise.
I don’t take long after they’ve left. I grab a large coffee table book on the Grand Canyon and tuck the certificate inside. After pushing the lid to the safe down and punching buttons until it locks, I stay there and replace the wood so it’s back in place before closing the office door and joining them on the terrace.
A glass of champagne awaits me. April leans in when I sit, and says, “I feel like we’ve gotten off course. We started out as friends. In the middle of something awful, you were so kind to me. Now I worry you hate me, but I’m not sure why.”
I’m not sure I want to tell her either, but with both of them waiting for me to reply, I have to say something. “Everything’s fine.” Never show your cards.
“Aunt April tells me you eloped recently.” Why is it that even his voice annoys me?
Hold the cards tight to my chest. “We did.”
“I met Alexander this morning. It wasn’t exactly the time and place for a toast, but maybe he’ll join us for one while I’m here. Marriage is worth celebrating.”
Keep my poker face. “Yes, it is. Are you married, Mr. Penner?”
“Garvey, please. We’re family now.”
“Right.”
“No. I’m twenty-eight. I still have some time to meet the future Mrs. Penner.”
Set down the first card. “I’m curious. Has Alexander met the rest of your family?” Watch their eyes.
“Unfortunately, no. My sister visited me a few times in the rehab center, but we’ve yet to get together since.”
Garvey adds, “My mother and Aunt April were never really close. Old family squabble.”
April’s laughter echoes around the terrace. I glance to her glass, thinking she may have had more than the one glass by how relaxed she seems. Why is she drinking, considering her situation? “She’s awful, like my mother was. I was always a disappointment to them both. She was a devout Catholic, and I was the jezebel that was her burden to bear.”
I didn’t see that coming. I’m tempted to drink just to feel less sad for her and to numb the reality that I’m even having to suffer through this get-together. I won’t let my guard down. That’s what they want, and I have no intention of giving it to them.
Garvey pats her hand. “Don’t worry, Aunt April, you’re a Kingwood now. You don’t ever have to think of them and their do-gooder-judgmental ways again. You showed her.”
My mouth falls. “Kingwood? You’re not a Kingwood.”
Eyes dart my way, searing me to the spot. Garvey smiles but there’s nothing kind about it. “I wouldn’t go questioning others when you have secrets you don’t want revealed.” What’s that supposed to mean? Who is this guy?
The sun is veiled behind the clouds, and I’m starting to relate to the struggle. I stand. “Are you threatening me?”
“No,” he replies nonchalantly. “Why would I do that? Anyway, you don’t have anything to hide, right, Ms. Grayson?”
My heart starts racing as I try to find my way out of this situation while refusing to let them see me panic.
I am strong.
I am strong.
I am strong.
Staring him straight in the eyes, I say, “It’s Kingwood. Missus.”
“Oh yes, I forgot the story that’s in play. My apologies, Mrs. Kingwood.”
Do they know the truth? Would Alexander tell them? I need to talk to him before I say anything more. I turn to leave, hating that the process puts my back toward them. Why the hell would Garvey Penner call his aunt a Kingwood? She never was and never will be. What is wrong with them?
Inside the house, I hear Neely talking to someone at the door. It widens as I walk closer, and Cruise steps inside the foyer.
“Cruise, come in.” I smile, happy to see a friendly face. My pace slows with each step I take, my smile falling when I see what looks like worry permeating his expression. My heart, which was racing from anger outside, now thuds loud and the beats become more infrequent. I expect to see Alexander behind him, laughing, giving him a hard time, or coming straight to me, but he’s not. “Where’s Alexander?”
We stop with only a foot between us. His head is down, and his eyes closed. Watching him try to gather his own strength as he scrubs his hand over his face is odd. Cruise rarely shows such open emotion.
I feel sick. My arms cover my stomach. “Where’s Alexander?” This time it’s just a whisper.
When he looks at me, he says, “Something’s happened.”
29
Sara Jane
“I don’t understand.”
Cruise runs both hands through his hair and stands from the couch. He’s struggled to sit still since we came into Alexander’s quarters to talk in private, like his insides are frenzied despite his exterior holding him together. “He’s gone. I don’t know where he we
nt, but he’s gone.”
“Just gone? That’s all I get?”
His voice is clipped matching his expression, “I don’t have anything else to give you.”
“His bike?”
“Gone.”
“How far can he ride on it?”
“As far as there is land to drive on.”
I stand and walk to the balcony doors and open them. I need to breathe in the fresh air. I turn back around and say, “I saw him this morning. He said he’d be back in a few hours. Why are you so worried? It’s just lunchtime.” My eyes look toward the bedroom, and I gasp thinking only hours before I’d been in his arms.
“Did you see him at the penthouse?”
“I wouldn’t have come to you if I didn’t think something was wrong. He’s not answering his phone.”
“I think we’re jumping to conclusions.” Despite my words, worry grows in my stomach. I shouldn’t be concerned. This is not abnormal behavior for Alexander. It’s only out of the ordinary for Cruise, because he isn’t used to it. “Tell me what’s really going on. I know you two have a code between you, but please tell me why you’re really here.”
A debate plays in his eyes. The only reason I notice it is because his nickname doesn’t reflect the concern. Control is gone, and panic has risen in his irises. “It’s me, Cruise. No one wants him safer than I do. Please tell me what’s going on.”
“The cops came by the penthouse. Well, the lobby. There’s no way they were gonna be allowed up without a warrant. But the doorman called me down.”
“Okay. And?”
“They said they had some leads on the hit on the West Side, and King might be called in. I was told to lawyer up as well.”
I come back inside and close the doors, the pretty day ruined anyway. “What else did they say?”
“They said it was three guys working together. They don’t have us tagged up with Jason.”
“That’s good, right?”
“Look, Sara Jane. King’s kept you in the dark for a reason. I’m not sure I should be the one telling you this.”
