by Dara Girard
Which meant the Ashfords had a fake. Her father had sold them a copy. Oh God! The deception was an anvil, crushing all that was left of her revered memories of him. His sense of honesty and integrity crumbled at her feet. He was as fraudulent as the pendant he had sold. Did she continue the lie? Did she let generations of Cliftons hold onto this secret shame?
Did she let them carry the burden of possible exposure and humiliation? How could he have done this to her? For years she had agonized about how to get the pendant back and he’d known the truth. She’d been on a yellow brick road to an ineffectual wizard. Everything had been a lie. She didn’t know what to do or think or say. So she did the only thing her chaotic mind could think of. She screamed.
Michelle and Teresa rushed into the room.
“What happened?” Michelle asked.
“Are you hurt?” Teresa asked.
Jessie held up the pendant. “Dad sold the Ashfords a fake.”
Michelle took it from her. “I don’t believe it.”
Jessie wrung her hands. “Here I am telling Kenneth the virtues of living honestly; lecturing on high ideals and my father actually sold the Clifton integrity for cash!”
“Calm down.”
“Calm down? I risked the man I love for my father’s sense of honesty and he’s a forger!”
“Look there’s more,” Teresa said, pulling out a box and list of names, descriptions, histories and prices.
Jessie squeezed her eyes shut. “There’s more and we can’t tell anyone. He’s forcing me into the very secrecy I abhor.”
“Let’s not panic,” Michelle said. “We have time.”
Teresa nodded. “Right. Let Mrs. Ashford think she has the original.”
Jessie bit her nails. “What if she gets it appraised?”
“Then we have to steal it back.”
Michelle sent Teresa a look of disgust. “Oh, that sounds brilliant. Let’s correct forgery with thievery.”
“Well, it gets worse.” Teresa held out her hand. “Tell me this is not the Arand necklace. The very one Mrs. Donovan is giving to the Historical Society Museum.”
They stared at each other. If they didn’t do something fast, their father’s forgery would be exposed for the world to see.
Chapter 28
Nathan had never believed in the power of the pen until it stabbed his best friend in the heart. Nathan paced, watching Kenneth who sat at his desk with the newspaper spread out in front of him. He hadn’t moved in half an hour. Nathan wasn’t sure he was breathing.
“It’s just a story,” he said casually, hoping to get a response. “All you need is an unscrupulous reporter and a slow news day and ‘Bam.’” He punched the air with his fist. “It becomes news.”
And it was big news. It had made the front page of the Caribbean Times and Daily News and had a significant write up in The Journal. Mr. Kenneth Preston wasn’t the honored son of Charles Preston, but the illegitimate son of Pierre Chevalier a repudiated womanizer, drunk and con artist and the teenaged girl he’d raped. The article exposed Kenneth’s early childhood run ins with juvenile authorities and even revealed that he had recently been seen in the company of legendary call girl, Leticia Mason. Now the board members had the ammunition they needed to remove him as CEO.
Nathan read his thoughts. “I know the meeting’s in three days, but there’s no reason to worry. I’m sure this will die down. Rodney’s still searching for our thief, our accounts are on track.” He stopped pacing and stared helplessly at his friend. “You’ve done a lot for this company. They can’t hold this against you.”
Kenneth knew they would. He knew the true nature of people. They were as fickle as the wind. The one person he’d allowed himself to trust had betrayed him. But what more could you expect from a hooker who probably remembered one’s dollar amount rather than one’s name?
Someone knocked on the door.
“Come in,” Nathan said.
Brooke walked in, a cool figure in dark blue. “I’ve solved our computer problem.”
Nathan shoved his hands in his pockets. “If you’re expecting applause, you’re going to be disappointed.”
Kenneth pushed away his own concerns. “Who’s our thief?”
Her eyes slid to Nathan then focused on him. “Rodney.”
Nathan blinked. “No, he’s not.”
“It’s true. I found him last night at one of the terminals and he confessed everything.”
“He wouldn’t do that. He’s been relentlessly searching for—” Nathan stared at her cold impassionate eyes. He pointed at her. “You’re lying.”
She dimpled prettily. “You can ask him yourself. Come in Rodney.”
Rodney lumbered into the room, his lanky form draped in loose trousers and a large ill-fitting shirt. He hung his head, careful not to meet anyone’s eyes.
Nathan sat down and watched him.
Kenneth put his hands together in a steeple and pinned Rodney with an assessing stare. “You’ve been busy.”
Rodney shrugged. “Yeah.”
“Why did you do it?”
He swallowed and shifted awkwardly. “Because Nathan asked me.”
Nathan exploded from his chair. “That’s a lie!”
Kenneth studied him, his voice quiet. “You always wanted to have more responsibilities. What better way than to create a problem then fix it?”
“You know I’m not like that. I’m your friend. ”
Kenneth looked at Rodney.
Nathan leaned against the desk. “He’s lying.”
Kenneth narrowed his eyes. “Why? Why would he lie about you? The very person who helped him get his position?”
He glared at Brooke who was watching the scene with studied disinterest. “Because he’s covering for that bitch—”
“Careful Nate.”
“Who’s had her eye on your job for years,” he finished. “Don’t you see? She’s trying to divide and conquer. She knows how you feel about loyalty. She’s using it against you.”
Kenneth glanced at her then him, but said nothing.
Nathan tapped the desk. “I’m going to prove that she’s behind all this. You don’t have to trust me or even believe me, but if you put your trust in her you’ll find yourself bleeding from the back.” He pushed himself off the desk. He grabbed his brother by the collar, lifting him out of the chair. “I hope the sex was worth it because your balls are mine now.” He dropped him in the chair then stormed out.
Brooke shook her head as the echo of the slammed door filled the room. “It’s a shame how that man only thinks about sex.”
Neither Rodney nor Kenneth replied.
* * *
Rodney stumbled out the office building. He felt sick to his stomach. The game was no longer fun. Nathan would never trust him again. He’d betrayed his brother. He hadn’t expected it to make him feel like shit. He didn’t even care that he didn’t know what Preston would do to him or that Brooke had promised to take care of him. It was the look on Nathan’s face that seared itself on his brain. The look of hurt. His brother had gotten him this job and he had repaid him like this. He was the wretched Cain throwing a stone on Abel’s head.
The sky held the heavy scent of rain as he walked across the parking lot. He stopped when he saw a familiar figure standing next to his rusted Toyota Camry.
“How deep are you in it?” Nathan asked, blocking his path.
“I have nothing to say.”
He pulled him close. “Speak or squeal. The choice is yours.”
“Because you’re Mr. Big Shot, right?” Rodney said, guilt making him angry.
Nathan let him go. “So this is about me? You couldn’t come to me and fight like a man?”
“I may not be able to beat you in the ring, but you’ve got to give me credit for what I’ve done. I broke into the receivable files of a huge corporation leaving it as innocent as a babe. I’ve stolen cycles costing this company thousands. You’re not smart enough to do that. I even got a beautiful woman that
appreciates me.”
Nathan jiggled the change in his pocket and stared up at the building. “She’s not worth it.”
His smug confidence tore at Rodney’s patience. “Brooke cares about me. The company should have been hers anyway. You and Preston can find other jobs, but it’s harder for a woman.”
“You’re not the first man she’s used.”
“She’s not using me. I’m the one in control.”
“You think?” Nathan dug in his pocket and pulled out a pair of diamond cufflinks.
Rodney reached for them. “What are you doing with those?”
Nathan closed his palm. “They look familiar?”
“Yes, they’re mine and you know it. She gave them to me.”
“She gave you a pair, but not these ones.” He glanced down at them. “These are mine. And I carry them around to remind me not to think with the wrong organ.” He shoved them back in his pocket and looked at him. “She doesn’t care about you. She doesn’t care about anyone. You may be clever when it comes to computers, but when it comes to women you’re just like the rest of us.”
Rodney looked away.
“It’s not your fault. She’s very good. If you want to protect her, that’s fine. That’s your choice, but I don’t think she’s worth it. So I suggest you tell me all that you two have been up or I’ll make sure you go down with her.”
Rodney’s lip twisted into a cynical grin. “You wouldn’t.”
Nathan clasped the back of Rodney’s neck in a grip that made him wince and pushed his face close. “Right now little brother, I’m capable of things you couldn’t even imagine. Now what’s your move?”
Rodney swallowed, feeling a trickle of sweat slide down his face. Even if he told the truth, Brooke would come out clean. He’d done all the stealing, not her. It was his word against hers. He thought about the diamond cufflinks in Nathan’s pocket then briefly shut his eyes, feeling like a fool. “All right.”
Nathan nodded and folded his arms. “Go ahead.”
“If you want to know everything, I guess I should start with Stephanie…”
* * *
Brooke fell on her bed and laughed aloud. Kenneth’s reputation was destroyed! The newspaper tactic couldn’t have been more perfect. After she’d read the article she knew it was the perfect time to reveal the thief—why not kick a man when he’s down and feeling betrayed?— and she’d been right. Nathan and Kenneth would soon be out of the picture completely.
Now she just needed to deal with Jessie Clifton and her meddling sisters. They’d caused enough trouble with the bracelet and now were trying to influence her sister. She was sick of hearing Stephanie talk about Jessie, now she was bragging about her lunch with Michelle. She was certain she could find some information about them that would prove useful.
She called Jack. “Find what you can about the Cliftons,” she told him without preamble. “What do you mean you don’t want to? You got the bracelet? How? Stephanie! I knew she’d come through. Was everything fine? Great! Now I want you...No, you listen if you don’t want me to start talking about your recent activities. Good. I’m glad you agree. Now just do as I say. Thank you.” She hung up and jumped to her feet. Everything was perfect. She grabbed her handbag. She needed to go shopping. She raced out the door, nearly crashing into her mother.
“Sorry,” Winifred said softly.
Brooke headed for the stairs. “Don’t worry about it.”
If she’d been paying attention, she would have notice the strange expression on her mother’s face.
* * *
He couldn’t remember how he’d ended up there: on a sidewalk in front of a DC liquor store with the smell of vomit and urine swirling in the air about him. Bottles, brown bags, paper cups and matchboxes littered the street. The smells and sights were familiar. Kenneth looked at the wine he’d purchased and held it in both hands as if it were an anchor against the storms of his thoughts. He stared up at the sky.
He had nothing to lose. His business, his reputation, everything he’d struggled to build had crumbled. Now everyone knew of his past, knew of his lies. The response had been swift and merciless.
He’d been politely asked to resign as chair of the Caribbean Council, two other organizations cancelled his membership and another asked him to leave their board. They kindly explained that he was not the kind of image they wanted representing them. He was the typical perception of the bastard Caribbean child with a drunken father and underage mother, stereotypes his community had fought hard to dispel. Overnight, the golden child had become the poster child.
Invitations had dried up as well. People who used to shake his hand now avoided his eyes. Women who had once wanted him now whispered instead of winked when he walked past. Ms. Rose screened calls from angry family members who thought he’d used the article to depict himself as the great American success story. He remembered his mother’s call clearly.
“You’re a disgrace! How am I supposed to show my face now? How am I supposed to go anywhere now that everyone knows?”
“I’m sorry,” he said tired.
“I’m the one who’s sorry. I knew I shouldn’t have kept you. I knew you would ruin my life.”
His temper snapped. “How? You could use this to your advantage. Why don’t you tell everyone what a martyr you have been by taking me in? You’re not hurt by this. Nobody knows the truth about you and you’re damn lucky they don’t. But push me enough, woman, and I’ll make sure that they do.”
Stunned silence buzzed on the other end of the line.
He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. It would be so easy to hate her, but he knew he never would. “I know this will probably be the last time we’ll ever speak so I want to tell you something.”
“What could you possibly want to tell me?”
“That I forgive you.”
He didn’t know if his words meant anything to her, but he’d needed to say them. He needed to forgive all who had turned their back on him. Ms. Rose still stood by him, but he knew, in time, she would leave him as well.
The image of Kenneth Preston had died leaving only Kenny X.
He opened the bottle and rested his forehead against the lip. He had no one to turn to. As in the past he was alone. The three people closest to him had betrayed him: Nathan, Ace, Leticia. He’d failed.
You fear failure worse than death. Hadn’t Jasmine said that once? Fear. He had based his life on fear: fear of being discovered, fear of being imperfect, fear of being angry, fear of being loved. The hollowness inside him had always been based on a fear that life would punish him for what he was: a drunk’s bastard trying to pass as a blue blood. This fear had been his constant companion. It wore different guises—driving his father and brother into the arms of their liquid mistresses and him into the arms of a prostitute.
His hands tightened around the bottle of poison. It was a cool refreshing drink to some; potentially deadly to him. And into what world would fear send him now? Into what dark abyss? He threw the bottle against the wall, gaining strength as it shattered.
“Thank God.” He glanced up as his father approached him. “I’ve been searching everywhere.”
Kenneth turned away too ashamed to look at him.
“Is what you try fi do, man? Kill yourself? God will take you when he’s good and willing.”
Kenneth shut his eyes from the gathering tears. “I’m dead already.”
“No.”
“How can you talk to me?” He tightened his jaw. “I destroyed your name!”
“Come. Let’s go.”
“Leave me be.”
“Have you forgotten that I am your father?”
Kenneth sighed heavily then rose to his feet. They didn’t speak until they left the city.
“We give too much power to our name,” Charles said. “To the actions of those before us. Our heritage does not equate worth. God did not create you to carry the burdens of your people.”
“Everything I’ve ever wanted is go
ne.”
“But your past victories were hollow. An echo of your shame and sense of worthlessness. You playacted through life. Now you have a chance to live. To shatter that mask.”
“Even though I caused you disgrace?”
“My shame was that I let the deception continue. I cost my son his life for the sake of pride. The burden is lifted, now you are free. You can adopt Syrah. You don’t have to pretend anymore. She can be yours.”
Kenneth gazed out the window.
Charles was quiet then said, “Michelle Clifton resigned from the Council but not before giving a speech that made everyone feel as sweet as rotten mangoes. Those Clifton women are nice to have at a man’s side.”
“I won’t bring Jasmine into the mess of my life. I don’t even know if I’ll have a job. I have nothing to offer her.”
“Except yourself.” Charles glanced at him. “Scared that’s not enough?”
“I know it’s not enough and I’m tried of reaching for something I can’t have.”
“I see. I must have misjudged her. I thought she was the type of woman with integrity. The type who fell in love with a man’s character rather than his bank account.”
“It won’t work, Dad. We’ll never be together.” He glanced at the sky, when he spoke again his voice was barely a whisper. “Somehow I think she always knew that.”
* * *
“You can’t sit by the window all day,” Freda told Syrah who’d done just that for three days. “Your Uncle will be back. When he called me he told me not to worry. You’re not to worry either. He just needs time alone. The story in the paper really hurt him.”
“Why would someone print such a thing?”
She dusted a plant. “Americans like success stories and they also like scandal. You mix the two and it’s irresistible.”
Dion began to bark. Syrah turned to the window and saw a car drive up. She ran to the door.
Syrah, Dion, and Freda stood as a small welcoming party when Kenneth opened the door. For a moment no one spoke then Kenneth stepped forward and kissed Freda on the cheek. “Have any food ready, Ms. Rose?”
“Of course I do,” she said gruffly, annoyed by her gathering tears. “I’ll heat something.” She disappeared in the kitchen.
