by Nic Tatano
“Okay.”
“I need Will Becker’s tax returns for 2005. And I’ll need any documentation of large money transfers.”
He furrows his brow. “What, you checking on his net worth? It’s pretty common knowledge that he’s got millions from his father’s business.”
“No, not that. I got a tip that there might be something… well, that something unusual happened during that year, and I want to check it out.”
“What exactly are you looking for?”
“Not sure. Missing money, large transfers, weird expenses, crazy tax deductions, could be anything. But I’ll know it if I see it.”
“Where did you get this tip?”
“From a guy who used to be Becker’s best friend who says he is not who he seems to be.”
Dale grows a worried look. “Cassidy, this doesn’t sound like something from a girl in love. Don’t you trust the guy?”
“I do, and I seriously doubt I’ll find anything. But Becker’s former friend gave me another tip that actually checked out. And sometimes, as you know, where there’s smoke, there’s fire.” I look down and exhale. “And then there’s Sam.”
“Uh-oh. Sam doesn’t approve?”
“When he met Becker his bullshit detector went off. Big time. Like a friggin’ red alert on the Enterprise. And it’s usually spot on.”
“True.”
“If that’s not bad enough, Ripley’s not sure about Becker either.”
He slowly nods. “She’s a good judge of character as well. So what was the tip that checked out?”
“Becker basically was off the news grid for about three months in 2005, right before he announced his candidacy for the Senate. He had a perfect voting record during that time, but I could not find one single news item.”
“Damn, that does sound strange, especially for a guy who loves the camera. You didn’t find anything?”
“Not one sound bite, not one quote in a newspaper, not a single photo. Then, poof, he magically returns with the Senate campaign and is everywhere.”
“Hmmm. Well, I can get the returns for you. Shouldn’t be a problem. I’ve got a friend at the IRS and if anyone asks I’ll say the President’s campaign was saying something about it.”
“Thanks, Dale, I owe you.”
“You don’t owe me nothing, kid. You’ve always been the daughter I never had.”
“And you’re the dad I lost. I’m lucky to have so many people who look out for me.”
“Cassidy, you owe it to yourself to be happy, and to be one hundred percent sure about the guy.”
“Right now he’s got a ninety-nine percent approval rating with me. It’s the one percent I’m worried about.”
***
The wonderful aroma hits me in the face as I walk in the front door. I drop my suitcase and run to the kitchen, knowing Sam’s got one of my favorite dinners going.
He looks up from the cooking island and smiles. “Hey, how was Chicago?”
“Friggin’ cold.” I lean down and give him a hug. “Yay! You’re making hot as hell shrimp!”
“Haven’t had it in awhile and I found some royal reds I’d forgotten about in the freezer.”
Sam is cooking a dish that’s actually called shrimp diablo, a blazing concoction made with olive oil, cayenne pepper, diced tomatoes, a ton of chopped garlic and these wonderful seasonal shrimp from the Gulf of Mexico called royal reds. It’s spicy as hell but delicious, and warms you like nothing else on a cold day. “Looks almost done.”
“Five more minutes.”
“Great timing.”
“I checked on your flight arrival on the Internet, did the math and figured out when you’d be home. Rather have dinner ready than have you go on a hunger rampage through the pantry.”
“That’s what makes you the best brother in the world.”
“Speaking of food, did you get your Chicago pizza?”
“I did. I had lunch with Dale yesterday. This will make you happy. He’s gonna check on Will’s financial stuff for me.”
“Good.” He looks up and me and notes I’m not smiling. “Caz, we’re just being careful. You know I’m rooting for you. I always do.”
“I know. But I also know you’re always right.”
“Maybe I’m due for a swing and a miss. The streak has to end sometime.”
“I sure hope so.”
“Oh, by the way, your new household name status has had a spillover effect. Some reporter from The Post called me and wants to do a story. I mean, it must really be a slow news day if they wanna do sidebar stories on me.”
“What, you don’t want to do it?”
“What’s the point? They want to profile me as the possible brother-in-law to the president and they think it’s interesting that we share a home.”
“It could be a good thing, Sam. You could be a real inspiration to people with challenges.”
“They did that story years ago after the accident.”
“Yeah, but that’s ancient history and it was a local story. This would get picked up by the wires and go national. I’m telling you, it would have a positive effect. Remember how down you were when you first learned you couldn’t walk, and how all those other people in wheelchairs supported you, showed you how much you could accomplish? Maybe your story inspires someone who’s in the same situation you were in. You’d be paying it forward.”
“I hadn’t thought of it that way.”
“And it will give your famous sister the chance to brag on you and tell millions of single women why you’d be such a catch.”
Sam sees the water is boiling and throws the pasta in. “I don’t need millions, just one.”
And I know which one he wants. “I know, but it wouldn’t hurt to have a nice selection from which to choose. Besides, America needs to know why I turned out so normal.”
“I think you have our parents to thank for that.”
“I guess you forgot I was kind of a party girl before I moved back here. Haven’t been to a club since. You settled me down, made me finally grow up. People need to meet my big brother.”
“Uh, I’m ten years younger in case you forgot.”
“Sweetie, it’s not about age. You look after me, protect me, take care of me. I’d be nothing without you and God knows how I would have ended up if you weren’t around. You’ll always be my big brother, and it has nothing to do with a birth certificate. I want to marry a guy just like you.”
***
I’ve never been to the opera, though I do like the music. So on my first trip I’m decked out in an elegant turquoise gown.
Will Becker, looking perfect in a tux, could easily be cast as the world’s most famous secret agent.
“You look like James Bond tonight,” I say, as the Lincoln town car whisks us through Manhattan Friday night traffic.
He turns to me and raises one eyebrow. “The name’s Becker. Will Becker.” He pulls out his cell phone as I laugh. “Moneypenny, I’ll be tied up all night, so hold my calls.”
“Very funny. At least I don’t have one of those famous suggestive names all Bond girls have.”
“Yeah, some of those were hilarious. Holly Goodhead was my favorite.”
“Hmmm, I wonder why?” I reach over and take his hand as he blushes a bit. “I’m glad you could finally carve out some time for just us, away from the campaign.”
“Hey, you’re important to me and I haven’t been able to give you as much attention as I’d like. I hope you’ve noticed I’m crazy about you.”
“Yeah, I kinda picked that up, and the feeling’s mutual. But really, Will, I understand your time constraints. It’s a unique situation.”
“It will slow down after November. I promise.”
“You think the White House will have a slower pace?”
“No, I mean all the travel and campaigning. That’s what wears you out. When I’m in Washington just being a Senator not running for anything it’s not exhausting like this.”
The car pulls u
p at the Metropolitan Opera an hour before the performance as he wanted to do a meet-and-greet with high rollers. I see about a half dozen photographers and a few TV cameras waiting at the curb. Word obviously got out that America’s lovebirds have tickets. The TV lights turn on. I reach for the door handle but he takes my arm. “Wait a minute,” says Becker, who gets out of his side of the car, walks around to my side and opens the door for me. I step out into the bright lights and give my best smile for the cameras and for a moment I’m at the Academy Awards on the red carpet. Reporters shout a few questions but Becker puts up his hand. “No sound bites tonight, guys. Just wanted a nice evening with Cassidy.” They grumble a bit but follow us like the Pied Piper as we walk into the building.
We’re instantly surrounded by a well-heeled crowd, resplendent in black tie and evening gowns.
Most of the people want to meet me, not the next President.
I feel like royalty.
We’re still glad-handing a half hour later when Becker’s cell rings.
“Geez, I forgot to turn this off,” he says. “Can you imagine if the thing rang during the opera?” He pulls the phone from his pocket and looks at it. “Hang on, gotta take this.”
“Sure, we’ve got plenty of time.” I continue to smile and shake hands as the crowd files past us.
Will’s smile vanishes and he suddenly shakes his head. “Fine. I’ll be right there.” He ends the call and takes my shoulders. “Cassidy, I’m so sorry. That was Frank and there’s something I need to respond to right now.”
“It can’t wait a couple of hours?”
“He already booked me on two of the cable shows. I am so sorry.” He hands me the tickets. “Go enjoy the show. I’ll have another car come and get you.” He leans in and gives me a quick kiss. “Gotta run. We’ll talk tomorrow, okay?”
“Sure, Will. Good luck.”
He turns and quickly heads out of the building. I see him heading for a waiting car with Frank standing next to it holding the door. They both get in and the car leaves skid marks as it peels off.
I’m left by myself holding two tickets.
And I really don’t want to go in alone and sit next to an empty seat. It’s not what Kate Middleton would do. The woman would never go to a place like this unescorted.
I’m ready to head home when it hits me that someone I know lives two blocks away.
Tyler.
I pull my cell from my evening bag and call.
He answers on the first ring. “Hey, T.G. What’s up?”
“You like opera?”
“I love opera. Why, you calling to rub it in from the Met?”
“No, Becker got called away and I’m here needing a nice man on my arm. How soon can you throw on a suit and get your ass down here?”
“Still dressed from work since I had dinner with my sister-in-law. On my way.”
I take Tyler’s arm as we walk out into the night after being cornered by a society reporter. “So, T.G., that was your first opera?” he asks.
“Yeah. Won’t be my last. That was terrific.”
“That’s why I’ve got season tickets.”
“Really? Never figured you for an opera buff.”
“When I’m not hitting Star Trek conventions, I’m over here. I’m a man of very eclectic tastes.”
“Well, then call me eclectic ’cause we like the same stuff.” I take a quick look at my watch. “You tired?”
“Not really, why?”
“I was wondering if I could pay you back for saving me with some coffee and a piece of cheesecake.”
He shakes his head and smiles. “I actually think you were wondering if you could disguise your desire for food with a thank you.”
“Fine, I’m hungry, so sue me. You wanna eat, or what?”
“Sure.”
“Yay!” I squeeze his arm. “Besides, a slice of cheesecake doesn’t begin to thank you for what you did tonight. It was really nice of you to come over on short notice.”
“It’s my job.”
“It’s not your job to take care of me.”
“Didn’t you know? I’m actually a superhero, keeping the streets safe for women and children while rescuing smoking hot redheads who get stood up.”
“Ah, I see. So what’s your superhero name?”
“Haven’t come up with one yet.”
“I’ll have to work on it then. By the way, you don’t have to keep calling me smoking hot. I’m not.”
“You are to me. And tonight, in that gown, under the moonlight, you are simply beyond smoking hot. You are devastatingly beautiful.”
I’m shocked as I look at my watch and see we’ve been sitting in the coffee shop for an hour and a half. “Wow, didn’t realize it was that late.”
Tyler shrugs. “Tomorrow’s Saturday, you can sleep in.”
“I know, but I still gotta get home, and the ferry schedule at this hour is about once an hour.”
“Oh, I was going to drive you home anyway.”
“All the way to Staten Island?”
“Geez, you say it like it’s halfway across the country. It’s not a big deal.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Tyler. I can take a cab.”
“Sorry, it’s not open for discussion. I’m not sending a woman home alone at this hour and you’re a bit overdressed for a boat ride. Besides, there could be ne’er-do-wells lurking on the ferry.”
“Part of your duties as a superhero?”
“Absolutely. A complete rescue of a smoking hot redhead requires me to see her safely to her front door.”
“Hey, I thought I was devastatingly beautiful!”
“I have to rescue the women who fit that description as well. Thankfully, only one exists.”
His parade of compliments makes me blush. “God, you are sweet to me. Tell you what, if you’re hell bent on taking me home, you’re staying in our guest room. I don’t want you driving back at two in the morning. It’s already been a long day for you. So swing by your place and get a change of clothes.”
He nods. “Okay, I’ll take you up on it. But I warn you, I sleep really late after a work day.”
“After what you did for me tonight, you can stay all weekend if you like, Tyler.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
@TwitterGirl
Enjoyed the opera last night, now waiting for the fat lady to sing for a few candidates…
It’s nearly noon and I’m starting to think about lunch. Sam and I have been up for a few hours, but we haven’t seen Tyler yet.
“You might wanna go check on him,” says Sam. “He’s got that condition, right?”
“Yeah. I’m sure he’s exhausted, but you’re right.”
I head up the stairs to the guest room which is next to mine, put my ear to the door, don’t hear any snoring, and gently tap on it. “Tyler, you decent?”
“Yeah. Come on in.”
I open the door and what I see takes me back a bit.
Tyler, still in bed, looking pale.
I rush to the side of the bed and take his hand as I sit on the edge. “Geez, are you feeling okay?”
“Sorry, I should have warned you about how I sometimes look on a recovery day.”
“But are you okay?”
“I’ll be fine. Just have to stay in bed a while longer and take things slow today. Yesterday was a really long one.”
“God, now I feel guilty about dragging you to the opera and out for cheesecake. And then I let you drive me home. You should have told me it would wipe you out.”
He offers a smile. “You’re worth it. And I got you home safe.”
“You certainly did. Anyway, you stay put and I’ll bring you something to eat. My turn to rescue the superhero. You hungry?”
He nods. “Yeah.”
“Okay, be right back.” I grab a remote from the dresser and hand it to him. “Find something on the tube and I’ll keep you company.”
Fifteen minutes later I return with some soup and a grilled cheese sandwich on a bed
tray, hand it to Tyler, and sit on the other side of the bed to watch television with him.
Three hours later I’m on one side of the bed, head propped up on a pillow while he’s still under the covers on the other side. The cheesy 1950s sci-fi movie ends and I look over at Tyler, whose eyes are a bit droopy. “You look like you’re fading.”
He covers a yawn with his hand. “I’m sorry. I could use a short nap. Maybe an hour or so and then I’ll be back to normal.”
“No hurry, sleep as long as you like.”
“I’m sorry I’m putting you out.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“No, it’s Saturday and you probably had plans tonight.”
“Uh, Becker’s in Washington, remember? It’s just dinner and cards with my brother and Ripley. You play cards?”
“Love to.”
“Good, we can have teams.” I slide off the bed, lean over and kiss him on top of the head. “Get your rest, superhero, and I’ll come get you when dinner’s ready.”
By the time dinner’s over and we head for the card table, Tyler’s recovery is complete. He’s his normal self, or at least the guy I’m used to seeing. What he goes through on his “recovery days” has both surprised me and increased my admiration for him. Like my brother Sam, he deals with the challenges life has thrown at him with grace and good humor.
Speaking of the latter, I don’t think I’ve laughed as much at dinner in years. Tyler and Sam are on the same page when it comes to wit, and they’ve been in tune all night, like they’ve been friends for years. They’ve really connected in a short amount of time. I can tell they enjoy each other’s company and will become good friends.
“So,” says Sam, arriving at the card table, “is it gonna be boys against the girls tonight? Or does my sister think she and her new partner can actually defeat the unbeaten team of Sam and Ripley?”
“Bring it,” I say, as I sit down next to him and crack my knuckles. Ripley takes the seat opposite Sam while Tyler sits down directly across from me. I’m excited because we’re playing pinochle, which we haven’t done in a long time because few people know how to play it and you need a fourth. Luckily Tyler is familiar with the game and I hope he’s a good player, because my brother and best friend are like mind readers when they team up for this game.
