by Terri Marie
"Come in," said Tyler.
"Tell me you went home and got some sleep?" His desk had been moved to the window, and Emma couldn't help but notice the dark circles under his eyes.
"No, I couldn't sleep. I got here a few hours or so ago."
"Why'd you move your desk?" Emma looked around the room. Nothing else had been moved.
"Em, I can't even think of anything else besides this kid. I'm always looking down at the street, so at least I'll be comfortable now." Tyler gave a sad smile and tapped his arm rests.
She nodded in understanding and then quietly left to get her boss some coffee. Emma wished she could make all of this go away for him. She was going to try and do her best to make this cookout a success. After giving Tyler his coffee, she headed to her office. She let out a moan and then picked up the phone and pressed a button.
"Jacob Montclair, speaking."
"Did you do all the things I asked you to do?" Emma demanded.
"Emma, good morning!" Jacob replied brightly.
"Did you?" She asked again with an even firmer tone.
"Yes I did, and the advertisements have already begun. How are things—"
Emma hung up the phone. She wrote out a to-do list for the day, and her priority would be to make sure the caterer was on schedule. Hopefully the meats and other supplies have already been ordered. Nothing could delay this event, even if it meant she had to do it all herself. Emma reached in the lower drawer of her desk and pulled her purse and keys out. Emma couldn't just sit around and assume things were getting done, regardless of how dependable and good Sugar and Spice Catering had been at their past events. She walked across the street to Montclair Park.
Emma would often take her lunch breaks underneath the Elm trees or let the sun warm her face at the picnic tables. The park wasn't fenced in, so lots of folks visited; it was probably, just the way Natalie and Sebastian would have wanted it. She often wondered what Tyler's parents were like. He didn't have much to say other than they were taken way before their time. Emma fished the keys from her pocket and opened the large structure, which was used as a kitchen and supply area. When the door opened she nearly screamed. She didn't expect to see another person inside.
"You scared me!" exclaimed Renee, as she brought her hand down from her chest.
"I'm so sorry, Renee, I didn't mean to scare the crap out of you like that," laughed Emma.
"I was just here to double check everything. All the supplies were delivered about fifteen minutes ago. This gives me two days to right any wrongs in case something got overlooked. Has the event changed as far as menu or headcount?"
"No, we just need to make sure this event goes according to plan. Did I give you enough money for the supplies?" Emma knew the items necessary to pull the barbeque off would be expensive, so she had written Renee a hefty check for the deposit.
"I'm good with money so far. Is there another reason for this cookout besides helping out the homeless population? Like, do I need to get a birthday cake made or anything?" Renee took out a small pad of paper and a pen, ready to write down any further instructions.
"There's nothing extra included for Saturday." Emma paused for a minute before continuing. "I want to ask you something. Have you ever seen a homeless boy roaming around who plays a guitar? Late teens, blonde hair—"
"Yeah, I normally see someone matching your description, in the mornings, when I'm out running. Now that you mention it, I haven't seen him in some days. Is he a friend of yours?" Renee asked Emma with a concerned expression.
"Renee, would you like to sit outside with me for a few minutes so we can talk?"
Renee nodded her head and followed her friend outside to the picnic tables.
Emma took a deep breath and told Renee the whole story. She wasn't sure Tyler would approve, but at this stage in the game, they needed all eyes, and all the help they could get. She watched Renee's face closely for signs of disapproval, or of wanting to flee, but all she saw was sympathy.
"I'll help in any way I can. I may not know all of the Montclairs, as I've only dealt with you or the other staff, but what has happened to him isn't fair. As a matter of fact, it's criminal. Homeless or not, there are other ways to survive besides blackmail or to falsely accuse someone like this." Renee shook her head and looked down at the ground.
"That's my take on it. I think Mr. Murphy wants a big fat wad of cash in his pocket. The funny thing, though, is if Roger Murphy would have just asked Tyler for money, or for his watch for that matter, he'd probably have been handed whatever he wanted. Now, Tyler is facing a very long prison sentence." Emma wiped the corner of her eye.
"This kid's the only witness?" asked Renee.
"A woman in a nearby home saw Tyler punch the guy, which was in self-defense, but she doesn't know about the attack by the homeless man. The kid we're looking for saw the whole thing. He's Tyler's only hope at freedom."
Renee reached over and squeezed Emma's hand. "I'll help in any way I can."
After Emma hugged Renee and said goodbye. She walked back to her office and replaced her purse and keys in the desk drawer. She stood up, fluffed her hair, and checked her makeup in a hand mirror. Emma didn't want Tyler to know she'd been upset. She walked towards the large, corner office and knocked softly.
"Come on in," said Tyler, sounding distant.
As soon as Emma smiled and stepped into the office, she was barraged with the same questions her boss always asked lately, which she was getting tired of answering 'no' to.
"Anyone spot the kid? Do we have a name for him yet? Have we heard from Roger Murphy?"
"I'm sorry Tyler, but nothing's changed." She knew it'd do nothing but upset and frustrate her boss, if he became aware that she'd discussed the situation with Renee. Emma wasn't going to do anything to add to his worries. She didn't regret her decision to talk to Renee, as it had helped her feel better on the inside, and made available another set of eyes on the streets.
"Could you come to me right away if you hear anything?" Tyler asked with a look of desperation on his face.
"You know I will." Emma got up and gave him a hug. "How about we hop in my car and go for a drive, so you can take another look around the neighborhood."
"You'd do that?" Tyler stood up and began to slip on his casual jacket.
"Unless you have something else for me to do?" Emma smiled the best she could.
"Just the cookout stuff. That has to be the number one priority," said Tyler.
"The event is moving along as scheduled, Sir, so let's go!" Emma grabbed ahold of his hand and pulled. At least this way she could take him to a restaurant with a drive-thru and make him eat, while they looked around the area.
∞ ∞ ∞ ∞
Renee walked into the apartment and cringed. She immediately wanted to throw the recliner in the trash. The visible evidence of what she'd had to live with sickened her: a dark spot where his head always rested, the cushions permanently indented where the weight of his body always flopped, and tons of food crumbs littered what was left of the fabric. Renee heard cursing in the kitchen. She set her purse down on the floor by the door. When she rounded the small corner, she spotted her husband rifling around in the cupboards and refrigerator.
"Are you looking for something, Robert?" she asked, trying to keep her voice calm. He'd knocked a bag of flour on the floor and it had spilled open. She knew she'd have to be the one who cleaned it up.
"What the hell? Where's all the food?" he answered as he slammed the cupboard door shut.
"There's chicken breast in the freezer, veggies in the fridge—" Renee was cut off by his angry voice.
"The chips, and stuff. Where's the beer? Don't tell me we're outta beer!" He towered over her and screamed.
"Listen, Robert, with the little money I'm able to bring in, I have to focus on nutrition and paying the rent and utilities. Junk food and beer are on the bottom of the list. If you want extra in the house, you'll have to help me make more money." Renee put her hands on her hips a
nd stood her ground.
Robert took off to the living room, picked up Renee's purse and dumped the contents out. He grabbed the twenty dollar bill she had for gas, and the business checkbook. Luckily, he didn't look inside and see the three hundred and forty-four dollars in the Sugar and Spice account. It was money she had left over from the deposit and it needed to go towards their rent.
"Stop!! You can't take that twenty dollars, or I won't be able to drive anywhere!" Renee thought about snatching the bill out of his hand, but knew it would be a bad decision.
"It's poker night! Go get some beer and snacks for the guys and stop being such a bitch!" Robert pushed the cash and checkbook at her ribs so hard, she nearly fell backwards. There was no way she could stomach was another poker night of obnoxious men, a smoke-filled apartment, and being belittled in front of people again. It was a vicious cycle. Tomorrow they'd be broke, and Robert would take out any of his losses on her. He'd called her names for the last time, and had probably left a bruise on her abdomen. It's now or never. She returned the twenty dollar bill back to her wallet, and then replaced the checkbook and other contents, from the floor, back in her purse.
"Don't come home without my shit!" he yelled, pointing a fat finger an inch from her nose.
With complete calm, and pure determination, she walked out the door. She had no intentions of ever returning.
"And hurry the hell up!!!" Robert was shouting as she quietly closed the door.
Renee climbed into her small rusted pickup, and it immediately hit her that she had nowhere to go. She couldn't go to Carol's because that'd be the first place he'd look. One thing was certain; she'd have to find someplace to hide her truck. He'd steal it in a heartbeat and it was in her name. Renee pulled over to the side of the road. Think, think, think! No one knew the full extent of the ugly truth about her life, other than Carol. She wasn't afraid when she'd walked out the door, but hadn't thought it all out. Regardless, she couldn't stomach seeing Robert spend their last dime, yet again, or put up with six unruly men gambling in a drunken stupor in her home all night…again.
As she headed into town she saw the sign for Montclair Pharmaceuticals. She pulled up at the security booth and asked to see Emma Ward, and showed the guard her driver's license.
"Wait right here, please," said the guard as he picked up the phone. "Okay, go on through. Stop at the desk, sign in, get your badge, and then take the elevator to the twelfth floor."
Renee did as she was told. Inside the lobby was gorgeous. There were large windows and skylights; it was obvious that great care had been taken to make this area as pleasant as possible. A pretty receptionist motioned her over right away.
"You're here to see Emma Ward?"
"Yes, please," said Renee as she signed the clipboard the receptionist held out.
"Baily will escort you up."
Renee smiled, but felt awkward being escorted to the elevators. She had no idea that he'd, not only stay on the elevator with her, but physically walk her to Emma's office, too.
The young guard knocked on Emma's door. She opened it and waved Renee in.
"Thank you, Baily," they both responded as the young guard left.
"I'm sorry, Renee. With everything that's happened here, our security is very amped up. Please tell me you came to see me because you spotted the kid?" Emma's eyes got big.
"No, I'm sorry, it's nothing like that. I feel kind of weird asking you this, but, is there any way I can park my pickup here in your lot? If I don't, it'll be stolen and it's all I have." Renee instantly regretted her words. What was I thinking, coming to this woman to park my truck?!
"Who wants to steal your truck? We should call the police, not that I have much faith in them at the moment," scowled Emma.
"My husband. Please don't say anything to anyone okay? If I can't park here, I can find someplace else. I just know he'll be looking for me soon." It felt to Renee, like the office had suddenly grown a hundred degrees hotter. Her skin felt on fire, and she hoped her embarrassment wasn't noticeable.
"Wait a minute. Does your husband hurt you?" Emma got a fierce look on her face.
"He's never hit me or hurt me directly, but he smashes things and is verbally abusive. I had to leave." Renee didn't want to say anything about Robert shoving her. The mere thought of trying to get her husband in trouble for domestic violence, scared the hell out of her. It was Renee's word against Robert's. With all the friends he had, she'd lose, and then he'd make her pay.
"Do you need a place to stay?" Emma locked her fingers in Renee's.
"No, I have some place to go." She wasn't ready for that step. Finding a place to park her truck was one thing, but taking advantage of Emma's couch, the woman who was paying her, wasn't going to happen.
"Let me call downstairs and let them know your truck will be in the lot. Otherwise they'll tow it." Her eyes looked full of worry.
Renee nodded and looked around the room as she waited as Emma to hang up with security. This was the only office she'd ever been in at Montclair Pharmaceuticals; it was spacious, and done in welcoming colors of spring green and pastels. There were wooden file cabinets, and all of the furniture matched. The Montclairs definitely treated this woman well, as they should; Emma was a gem.
"Okay you're all set. If you need to move the truck for any reason, you'll just have to show security your identification. You can bring it back to the lot anytime you want. You have to promise me that if you need anything at all, a place to stay, food, money, anything; you come to me and I'll get you help."
Renee stood up and thanked her. She wanted to get out of the office before she broke down in tears. She'd just started her friendship with Emma, and didn't want to make her run for the hills. However, she doubted her new friend would ever turn her back on anyone.
Renee walked out of the office with a thousand thoughts going through her head. The next step was to find a place to stay, which would be the hard part. Renee walked down Main Street to a large church, hoping she could ask a priest for help. She hadn't been to a service since she was a little girl. She pushed at the door, but it was locked. Anxiety was creeping into her again. She looked at her phone; it was five-thirty. Robert would be pacing the floor if he wasn't already out looking for her. Renee started to jog up the street to Montclair Park. She let herself into the kitchen building, and walked over to the dark corner. She slumped down the wall to the floor, and finally let herself sob.
Chapter 8
Tyler looked at the clock on his desk. He arrived at the office at five this morning; it was a bad habit he'd gotten himself into doing lately. Not sleeping was taking its toll. The cookout was scheduled to begin in just an hour, and he hoped the witness would make an appearance. Vinnie had called to inform him that he'd stationed everyone around the park in a strategic manner. If a boy matching the description showed up, he'd be spotted. Tyler picked up the hand-held radio which Jacob had given him. His brothers, along with the men Vincent had hired, were also equipped with a radio, and were instructed to instantly announce to the others if the witness was spotted. He pushed the office intercom and summoned Emma.
She walked in and sat across from Tyler. His despair was very noticeable on his face.
"Everything's on schedule, Tyler. Renee and her friend have been busy cooking and making the last minute adjustments. People are already arriving. Before you ask, the teen we're looking for hasn't shown his face, but I think he will!" Emma tried to sound hopeful.
"I guess I better head over there. Am I giving the speech or is someone else?"
"I asked Jacob to do it…" answered Emma with some hesitation.
"You and my brother have made up after all?" Tyler hoped they'd resolve their conflict at some point, but he had a feeling they hadn't.
"No..."
"So you told Jacob to do the speech?" Tyler let out a chuckle.
"Get ready, Tyler, we have a cookout to go to." Emma winked before walking out the door.
Tyler stepped inside his bathroom an
d changed into a nice pair of jeans, a yellow sweatshirt and sneakers. He picked up the radio and spoke into it.
"Are we ready to roll?"
"All men are on deck," replied Vinnie.
"And women!" replied Emma.
Tyler was glad his assistant had so much spunk. He walked out of his office and headed toward the park. He roamed around the wide perimeter of the grounds, smelling the delicious scents. He realized he hadn't eaten in almost twenty-four hours; Emma would kill him if she knew that.
As Tyler approached, he counted a little over a hundred people. Hopefully more would surface. When he headed to the grill, he spotted Jacob.
"You're cooking?" Tyler asked. "Shouldn't you be looking around?"
"Ty, I'm covering this area. People have to come up here to fill their plates. I'll be able to see everyone who gets food. I have the best vantage point." Jacob squeezed his shoulder. "Maybe you should mingle some. You can always ask about the missing teen, but be discreet about it."
"I need to find Emma, so she can get you introduced. You need to do the speech in about five minutes. The cookout has to start on schedule, because it's supposed to rain at some point."
"Speech? What speech?" Jacob's face went white.
"Okay, just go up there, welcome everyone, say a little about our company, and point out where the food is served. Simple."
"Why do I have to do it?" Jacob asked slightly irritated.
"Because Emma said so..." Tyler laughed, saw the look of defeat on Jacob's face, and then walked off into the crowd.
Tyler slowly made his way between picnic tables and mingled with the guests. He wasn't able to obtain any information on the kid, nor were there any sightings. Except for people giving reports from their stations, the radio stayed quiet. When his stomach was growling enough to get his attention, he managed to eat the hamburger which Emma shoved in front of him.
The leftovers, which weren't many, were handed out by Emma. By five that afternoon, everyone was gone, and Tyler's mood took a dive. He got tired of asking people the same questions. Some of the folks who had attended the cookout had mental illnesses and couldn't communicate very well, some were highly intoxicated, and some just didn't want to talk to him. The homeless were very protective of one another and their suspicions didn't take long to reach a high point.
