Make it Rain (The Montclair Brothers)

by Terri Marie

  After a bit of thought, Natalie changed her mind. She turned in the opposite direction, heading for the freeway. For every mile she drove, every hour which ticked by, she broke more. She gassed up again when she reached St. Ignace and didn't stop until she saw the sign: "Welcome to Castle Lake." Natalie pulled over and began to laugh hysterically. Here she was, after driving for nine hours, just to get the answers she already knew. Her kids had probably ordered the pizza by now, her husband, if he was home, would perhaps write more checks out for Angelique in the safety of his study. She shook her head and continued the drive to the old Montclair home.

  Natalie stared at the massive stone house where Sebastian had grown up. The ground where she'd danced with him was now a garden, and if she was quiet, she could hear the waves from Lake Superior crashing into the rocks. I bet the inside of this place is beautiful, she thought, as she'd never been good enough to be invited in. Living in the strip of small white houses, going to school with butter sandwiches, and homemade clothes sewn out of cheap polyester, prohibited an invitation to step foot inside of Castle Lake's finest. Natalie looked over towards the woods, a tear sliding down her face. That night he picked me.

  She walked up to the door and rang the bell. While Natalie knocked, she heard the garage door open and watched as a car, identical to her husbands, sped off. Angelique, with her long blonde hair, in my bed, wasn't hard to spot sitting behind the wheel. She felt a cold shiver run up her spine, as she walked into the open garage and let herself in through the side entrance.

  Chapter 4

  (Present Day)

  Tyler Montclair stood at his large office window and breathed a sigh of relief, as security escorted Denise James off Montclair Pharmaceuticals' premises. He'd met the gorgeous sales associate when she was twenty-five and fresh out of college. He had then hired her based on her qualifications and outgoing personality. Denise's beauty and charm definitely didn't hurt, but he seemed to take notice of those other qualifications more and more as the weeks went by. His attention certainly didn't escape her. It wouldn't take him long to find himself wrapped around her little finger. Tyler didn't mind, though. He'd do anything to make her happy. Within three months he'd asked her out on a date. That was five years ago. Five wasted years, he thought. He was sure Denise was the one during their first year, but now, he was sure she was the craziest woman he'd ever met. It wasn't Tyler's plan to be thirty-three and single, but it was better than being tied down to that insanity for the rest of his life.

  Not all his memories of the relationship were bad. Wining and dining Denise had been a lot of fun in the beginning. Just seeing the joy on her face was worth every dime Tyler ever spent. Even his brothers had fallen in love with her. Denise seemed to fit right in, leading them all to believe family was very important to her. Cooking exquisite meals for Sunday gatherings, and always offering a helping hand to the Montclairs, gave everyone a great impression of her.

  Slowly but surely, the surprises he showered her with became expectations. Denise always wanted more expensive things from Tyler, but not more of his heart. In hindsight, it was his brothers who had noticed her change in behavior first. He'd seen the concerned looks on his siblings' faces, and even listened to their opinions, but their warnings fell on deaf ears, especially when she moved into Tyler's house. He hated to admit to the family that they were right. He even ran out of excuses to explain her bad moods. Toward the end, any eye contact he received from Denise James was filled with her extreme hatred.

  Their small disagreements quickly built into heated arguments, mostly over money; he had it, and she wanted it. He began working longer hours just to avoid her. Denise didn't take no for an answer, but this morning she'd been told exactly that: No, he didn't want to be with her anymore and she had to move out. Tyler explained that their breakup wouldn't affect her job as long as they could maintain professionalism. He really hoped she'd act like an adult about the whole thing, but Denise showed up at eight this morning with an aluminum bat and "had at it," as his secretary described, on his black Mercedes convertible. Security caught her quickly, but not before plenty of damage had been done. They immediately confiscated Denise's ID and keys, so she couldn't get back on the premises even if she wanted to. His brother Vincent took care of the termination so Tyler wouldn't have to have contact with her again. Though dating within the company was frowned upon, there was no written policy. After today, that would change.

  The office staff looked at him with sympathetic eyes and voiced how horrible he must feel to end a long relationship. Tyler knew his family would be there to support him, as the Montclairs were very close, but his heart wasn't hurting. If anything, he was both relieved and pissed. He was on the phone getting the locks changed at the house when his office door opened. His younger brothers came bounding in with a Champagne bottle in hand.

  "Welcome to the single world, bro!" yelled Sean, one of his three younger siblings.

  Tyler quickly motioned for them to be quiet, as he took care of protecting his house over the phone. His youngest brother Vincent, the corporate attorney, was sending out a registered letter to arrange a date and time for Denise to pick up her belongings. She'd also be presented with a restraining order as soon as she left Tyler's property. This would surely send her over the edge even more. They'd definitely have to make sure the cops were there. Security had called the police after the incident, but Tyler doubted Denise's crazy display on his car with her bat, would be repeated, so his Mercedes was safe. Besides, destruction to his car again, was the least of his worries. Tyler knew that his body and his house were next.

  Having Vinnie in the family business had proved to be personally beneficial on several occasions within the Montclair brood. Not that they weren't law abiding citizens, but once in a while situations would arise. Like now. He hung up the phone, and then gladly accepted the glass from Sean.

  "What a damn fiasco." Tyler shook his head in disbelief. "My car for God's sake. Was that supposed to hurt me?"

  "I already ordered a rental while yours gets fixed. Your fast track to single status is the talk downstairs," said Jacob, a Senior Scientist and their brainchild down in the lab. He was also Sean's fraternal twin.

  "Why must you encourage them?" Tyler sighed and glared at Jacob.

  "Ty, this is some funny stuff. Seriously, you should have seen her wailing that bat around." Jacob laughed without trying to stifle it.

  "I did. Pretty good swing, eh?" Tyler chuckled.

  "I'd bet on her," added Sean.

  "Thanks for the celebration, but I have to meet Vinnie and get my signature on a restraining order. Not that I'm worried, but…"

  "She'd kick your ass and you know it. You should be very afraid." Jacob loved Tyler and would never tolerate someone bringing him harm. It took everything he had not to go running outside earlier and take that bat from her hands. Had security not have stepped in as fast as they did, that's exactly what he would have done. But he couldn't resist the urge to rub it in. He'd known how imbalanced Denise was for years, but didn't hold it against his big brother. He was more than aware of the power of a woman.

  "Yeah you're right. I'll be back in a bit. Try not to blow the place up while I'm gone." Tyler grabbed his suit jacket off the back of his chair and headed out the door. Fresh air would do him some good.

  ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

  It was sixty degrees outside in Southfield, Michigan on this April morning. Tyler was grateful the weather was nice and he could walk the two blocks to the restaurant where he was meeting his brother Vincent. I can't believe she attacked my car, he laughed to himself, but was thankful Denise hadn't decided to make his body her target. She could have easily gotten inside the building. Tyler tried to shake off the disturbing thought by briefly closing his eyes and tilting his head back as he walked. The sun was much appreciated and even calming as he let the bright rays and warmth caress his face.

  As he approached the corner, he saw construction up the street. He'd have to go around a differ
ent way to get to the restaurant. Tyler sighed heavily, wishing Vinnie would have warned him about the detour. The loud construction sounds broke through his serenity, as he hurried to get up the street and away from the loud commotion.

  To the right, sitting up against the wall dividing the houses from the businesses, was a kid he'd become familiar with over the last couple of years. He couldn't be any older than sixteen or seventeen and he normally sat outside on the corner near Montclair Pharmaceuticals, playing his guitar for change. Tyler didn't know his name because the boy never spoke, even when asked a direct question, but Tyler always gave him some cash when he saw him and offered a compliment on his talent. The kid was very good. He should be in school, thought Tyler, but could only imagine the life he had to lead. Today, the teen was strumming for money up along the detour route. Tyler walked over, and was just about to reach in his pocket to drop some bills in the can, when he felt someone with large gloved hands grab at his Rolex. Without thinking, Tyler swung and knocked the man to the ground. The boy got up quickly and took off running with his guitar in hand.

  "Help!" yelled the man.

  Tyler noticed that the thief, lying on the ground, looked disheveled and dirty. He appeared to be around fifty, and his unruly red hair and long ratty beard were matted with filth; his nose and mouth were bloody.

  "Someone help me!" he continued to yell.

  A woman ran out of a nearby house with a phone in her hand. "Stay right there, I've called the cops! Don't you dare run. I know what you look like!"

  "Yeah, call the police lady, this man needs to be arrested," said Tyler as he resisted the urge to hit him again.

  The man continued to lay on the ground, unmoving. When the police showed up some minutes later, they asked what had happened.

  "This guy tried to steal my watch, and I hit him." Tyler raised his wrist to show his watch.

  "I don't see any marks on your wrist," said the officer.

  The man on the ground didn't skip a beat. "I was walking along, and he gave me dirty looks as I went by. He called me names, then hit me! I can't move. Take me to the hospital. I've been assaulted!" The man wailed.

  "That's not true. There's a boy who was sitting here playing a guitar. He saw the whole thing," explained Tyler, as he shook his head in disbelief over the blatant lie.

  "Do you have a name for your witness? All we know is the caller saw you punch this man."

  "No, I don't know his name. I think he's homeless. He's around town all the time playing his guitar for change." Tyler was immediately kicking himself for never reporting to the police that the teen wasn't in school, but he figured he was running from something; if the family cared enough they'd look for him.

  After some more fruitless conversations with the police, Tyler Montclair was searched and his small pocket knife was confiscated. They cuffed him, and he was roughly placed in the back of the squad car. An ambulance took the disheveled man away as he cried out in pain, but Tyler could have sworn he saw the guy smile.

  "If you'd have reported this child to the police, he'd be in our system. I see you're fine with a kid alone on the streets." The cop gave Tyler a dirty look through his rearview mirror.

  "It's not like that!" Tyler let his head fall, and tried to slide his hands out of the handcuffs. They weren't budging.

  I can't believe this, thought Tyler as they drove right past the restaurant. He saw Vinnie sitting in the window. Hope you answer your phone…

  ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

  "Tyler Montclair, in here please," said a guard as he pointed to a room. They strip searched him, made him put on an orange jumpsuit, and then took his mug shot and fingerprints.

  "What are you doing with my watch? It's evidence," pleaded Tyler.

  "Go sit down." The guard opened the door of bars and pointed.

  Tyler walked in and scanned the room, as he heard the clank of the jail door shutting loudly behind him. He was livid. There were three young punks and a few grown men, who'd spent more money on tattoos then on dental work, in there with him,. He closed his eyes and rested his face in his hands.

  ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

  Several hours later, he was escorted to a small room, where Vincent Montclair was already seated.

  "Get me out of here, Vinnie," said Tyler through clenched teeth. "Fix this!"

  "I wish I could, but you have a pretty big assault charge against you, not to mention the hate crime the prosecutor's going for. I haven't gotten any information regarding the man's medical status, and you could be looking at prison. Do you know where I can find the boy?"

  "He's homeless."

  "I'll hang out on the streets where you last saw him. Hopefully this won't end up on the news. As soon as a bond hearing is set, I can get you out of here. I think I saw that kid a year or more ago, but can't quite remember the details. Give me a description."

  "He's in his teens, tanned complexion, long blonde hair, blue eyes…"

  "Okay, got it. He looks like every other kid. I'll need to comb the streets and gather every male teen." Vincent shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Give me something more to go on, Tyler."

  "Wait, his guitar has a dirty blue strap, and the front of it has some serious scuff marks. Yeah, long black scuff marks."

  "I think the guitar is the only thing that'll make him stand out. If he's just walking around, I doubt I'll recognize him in a crowd."

  "This is unbelievable. Un. Freakin'. Believable."

  Back in the big holding cell, the guard and a few trustees brought dinner trays in. Tyler could tell he was in the company of a rough group. He didn't know if any of them were homeless, but just in case, he couldn't allow his story to get out. The large homeless population was a separate society, and hurting one meant you hurt many. He pushed his tray away without eating anything and leaned up against the wall.

  "Dude, you're on the box," said a young man, looking to be no more than twenty.

  Tyler got up and stared at the television. The reporter had obviously been in the lobby at Montclair Pharmaceuticals. He stared at the same portrait that hung in the entrance at work, next to the ones of his brothers and parents. The report quickly shifted to Roger Murphy, the fifty-two year old assaulted homeless man, as he lay in his hospital bed and relived his fabricated series of events for the camera.

  "He called me filth," the man cried out. "Tyler Montclair said I was a drain on society! He told me to go back where I came from…then he hit me. All I was doing was walking by. Now here I am with stitches in my lip. My neck and back pain from the impact of his fist and being knocked onto the hard cement, are so severe, I can't walk. I feared for my life!" Roger Murphy had tears streaming down his face.

  Tyler quickly motioned for a guard walking by.

  "What do you want?" he said with a scowl.

  "I need to be in my own cell. I'm not safe in here."

  "Yeah, and I bet you didn't do anything wrong. All these innocent men locked up in here, make me wanna grab a tissue. Go sit down!"

  Tyler found a book lying on the table; it only contained a third of the pages that it probably should have. He tried to keep his back turned to avoid everyone, only looking around when he heard the door open. He knew Vinnie was doing everything he could to get him freed, but this day couldn't end fast enough. I'll get a nice check cut for the homeless guy, and maybe he'll agree to tell the truth. Heck, I'll even throw in the Rolex as part of the deal.

  "Montclair!" yelled the guard.

  "Thank God," said Tyler, as he anxiously walked out of the cell and followed the guard. "It's about time I got out of here."

  When the guard opened up another cell door and nudged Tyler in, his insides turned. "Wait a minute! I'm supposed to leave."

  "When your bond gets posted I'll let you out. In the meantime, we need space in the tank. You'll be here with us for the weekend. Happy camping." The guard shut the door, his large set of keys jingling at his side as he walked off.

  ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

  Tyler got up from the
thin mattress the next morning when the cell door opened and walked to a metal table in a small common room. He was by himself, but knew that wouldn't last long as more people were booked. His back was killing him. The entire jail seemed like it was made of nothing but cement and metal. While standing, he lifted the lid off the breakfast tray, looked at the small bowl of over-cooked oatmeal, and quickly covered it back up. He noticed a payphone on the wall of the common area, but according to the rules, it was too early to use it. What the hell time is it? Frustrated, he sat down on the metal stool. When he heard the door open again, he didn't bother getting up; the trustees always returned shortly after delivering meals to collect trays.

  "Montclair! Come with me," demanded a large female guard.

  "Where are we going?"

  Without answering the question, she unlocked a small room and motioned for him to go inside. Sitting in the chair on the other side of the table was Vincent.

  "I have good news and bad."

  "Tell me I'm getting out of here today…"

  "The good news is, your bail hearing is Monday at nine in the morning. The bad news…you're splashed all over the media."

  "Damn!" Tyler was tempted to punch the wall. "For a guy who never broke the law, other than two speeding tickets—"

  "I know, I know. Roger Murphy is singing like a canary from that hospital room. He still claims all the same things happened, only more embellished. The prosecutor is William Furrow, an ass, and the judge is Weddle. He's very stern, takes no crap, but is pretty fair. Hopefully he'll see that lying opportunist for what he is."

  Tyler let his head drop onto the table.

  "Listen, Ty, I'm trying to find the kid. Think about ways we can stop him from running. Without his testimony, there's slim to no chance I can stop the judge from sending you to Jackson Prison. The other witness, the woman who ran out of that house, claims she saw you punch Roger Murphy. She may have seen you throw a punch, but obviously she didn't see both sides to this story. We have to find the little scrapper. I'm going to head out and start looking around town some more. I'll talk to you soon." He stood up and hugged Tyler, more determined than ever to clear his brother's name.