Strings Attached (26 page)

What the hell was going on?

He looked from his uncle to his aunt and back again. They wore identical adoring smiles.

But why was Bill tapping his foot?

Of course! He changed my grades.

He couldn’t tell how or why, but he had. Maybe he’d paid someone. He thought about what his mother had told him.
Does he want me on the other side of the country for four years so I’ll be out of his way?

“Aunt Katharine, Uncle Bill. There has to be some mistake,” he said. “These are my transcripts. I mean, these have my classes listed, but these aren’t my grades. Someone…” he had to proceed carefully if the man was as dangerous as his mother claimed “…someone must have made a mistake when they sent my records down from Fresno. They must have gotten them mixed up with someone else’s. My actual grades aren’t nearly this good.”

“Jeremy, darling, are you certain?” She was obviously crestfallen, and it crushed him. “How could that be if these are your classes?”

“I don’t know, Aunt Katharine, Uncle Bill. All I know is that the last time I checked, I had about a straight C average.”

“But that’s not what you indicated to me earlier,” she said, her annoyance evident. “You said, ‘I don’t know what my exact GPA is, but I would be surprised if I couldn’t get into any school you wanted to send me to.’ Can you tell us exactly what you meant by that?”

“I figured…I figured I could get in because you’re all so wealthy and no school would say no to a Tyler.” He had to confess quickly before he changed his mind. “And I thought that by the time I graduated I would’ve already made a name for myself with my swimming.” He dropped his head and stared at his shoes. “I’m sorry I misled you both. I hope you’ll be able to forgive me.”

Katharine stepped forward and took his hand. “Clearly your uncle and I are disappointed, but let’s not worry about it tonight. You and I can go to the school tomorrow to figure out what’s happened.” She looked at him squarely. “In the meantime, we both appreciate you being so honest with us. Most other young men would never have done what you just have.” She patted his hand reassuringly, lovingly. “These things always have a way of working themselves out. Just know that we’ll do everything we can for you, for your future.”

“Yes, Son,” Bill echoed. “We’ll each do everything in our power.”

Their eyes met, and for the first time Jeremy saw the darkness behind the old man’s stare. How could he have missed it before now? And Bill saw something familiar seething now beneath the boy’s penitent expression. Fear, or loathing perhaps. That look—he’d seen that exact expression on Jonathan’s face!

That bitch told him everything.

“Thank you both,” Jeremy said blandly. “Is it OK if I still go out with my friends tonight?”

“Where are you going?” asked his aunt.

“A coffeehouse. I’ll be back by bedtime.”

“I don’t have any objections, do you dear?”

“Of course not.” Bill shook his head agreeably. “Go have yourself a night to remember with your chums. You deserve it.”

Please…don’t…start…raining…yet,
she pleaded silently while climbing the stairs, feeling as if malicious little fairies or gnomes were piling more invisible weights onto her feet with each step she took. She knew she needed to reach shelter quickly, as years of beachside living told her that this storm wouldn’t pull any punches. Eventually, she made it to the flagstone pad at the top where she’d left her borrowed pumps, just in time to feel the shock of the first drops sprinkle her nose. She scanned the blackened sky and curled her lip in disgust, then pushed her feet into Katharine’s shoes in spite of her sand-encrusted stockings.

Two flagstone pathways diverged before her, leading through beds of barren rosebushes and crisply shaped boxwood hedges that formed the massive cruciform, with its central Florentine carved fountain, which crisscrossed the grounds between the cliff and the main house. Everywhere she looked now, raindrops littered the flagstone like carelessly dropped pennies. She ducked her head and began the long march to the guesthouse, but after the climb up from the beach, her stamina collapsed, so she made for the nearby gazebo instead.

Eighteen years before, they’d been married here, on this very spot. Then, after Jeremy had been born and Jonathan had forbidden her smoking in their quarters, she’d lolled—hypnotized by the shimmer of the sun on the sea—for hours each day in one of the wicker lounges, with a Virginia Slim hanging from her lips like a burning soda straw, sending her cigarette ashes into the breeze and her butts conveniently over the cliff. She saw now that the lounges had vanished and the structure had been all but emptied; only a rusty little wastebasket remained.

How fitting.

She crossed directly to the banister overlooking the ever-swelling waves, scanning north to south, then north again, at clouds so ominous they seemed to suck water from the very horizon.

A rolling movement caught her eye. Anchored a hundred yards or so offshore, a single-mast schooner, nearly invisible in the thickening nightfall, bobbed naked of sail. She figured the skipper had probably been caught unaware by the storm and had wisely dropped anchor here rather than attempt the additional miles south to Marina del Rey. His position in the water was judicious—shallow enough for a last-minute swim to safety, yet deep enough for the craft to avoid the swollen crest of each shore-bound wave.

So was anyone on board? It didn’t look like it. Perhaps they’d already gone ashore in a skiff.

And then she saw a spark. She squinted, making out the ghostly silhouette of a man as he reached up to hang a flickering lantern from the boom. She gathered from the quick way he bent and reached and stepped around the tiny craft that he was young, maybe Jeremy’s age or a little older. He kept himself busily occupied for some time, lashing ropes and checking knots, vanishing into the cabin briefly only to reappear moments later on deck to continue his capable work. Suddenly he stopped his work and froze, still as a statue, facing the cliffs.

Does he see me?

She was so used to feeling invisible here.

As if reading her mind, he raised one hand and waved.

She leaned against the sturdy wooden railing, its beam pressed hard into her pelvis, her torso thrust forward in the billowing gale. She then raised both arms above her head smoothly, like a high diver readying a flip, hands skyward.

He copied her exact movements.

Her dampened skin flushed with a wave of goose bumps that tingled from the back of her head down to her knees and up again. Was he only mimicking her gesture? Or was he signaling her because he needed help? She remembered the time when Jonathan had been caught out in a squall on his sailboat off Catalina and someone had saved his life by notifying the Coast Guard. So she decided to call 911 once inside, and then congratulated herself on her newfound resolve to help others.

All at once, the clouds opened, and the storm broke loose. Icy winds whistled through the oaks, and raindrops ricocheted upward from the ground. Her teeth chattered. She knew she couldn’t stay here until the tempest passed; this was sure to be an all-nighter.

Her mission to get help for the young man bolstered her energy, so she waved frantically again before turning to leave, then tottered hunched and panting along the rain-varnished pathways toward the safety and warmth of the guesthouse.

She threw open the door and hit the light switch, swathing the interior in a yellow glare, and then locked herself in. The old place looked almost exactly the same as when she and Jonathan had lived here, except for Jeremy’s missing crib.

She called 911 and was transferred to a handsome-sounding Coast Guard dispatcher, to whom she reported the boat and its approximate location off their peninsula. The phone call only took a minute or two. She was amazed at how easy it was to do a good deed and vowed to do more.

She padded then to the bathroom and shucked Katharine’s suit into a soggy pile on the tile floor, shivered as she tied on her bathrobe and started the shower, then tiptoed to the living room to hunt for her cigarettes. She was ravenous, but couldn’t put anything in her stomach without first executing her tiresome blood sugar routine. She knew a smoke would take the edge off her hunger, so she located her pack next to the sofa, drew one out, lit up, and with a single gasp pulled the delicious heat hard into her lungs.

Water should be hot by now.

The scalding stream bounced off her back and shoulders while half-extinguishing the cigarette clenched between her teeth, and as the nicotine revived her body and the heat from the shower chased the cold from her muscles, her thoughts turned to the young man on the boat. He reminded her somehow of Jeremy, and seeing him so precariously alone made her afraid for the safety of her son. She tipped her head back and closed her eyes, letting the water course down her face and neck while dousing the cigarette once and for all. She spat the butt between her feet and watched it spin clockwise in narrowing circles until it finally rested in the hair trap.

She turned off the water with a trembling hand, grabbed a towel, and stepped out of the tub enclosure, alarmed by how badly she was shaking. She needed to eat. And to call Bill. She threw on her robe and went to the kitchen.

The heavy crystal vase on the counter was filled with a dozen Easter lilies so crisp and white they looked to be made of construction paper. She didn’t remember seeing them when she’d arrived this afternoon. Had someone delivered them while she was at the beach? She snatched the envelope from between the leaves and ripped it open. Inside was a florist’s card with a brief handwritten message:

Congratulations on your new beginning!

Call me on my private number:

386-3725

B

She grabbed the phone and tapped the digits.

It rang once. “Yes?”

“Thanks for the flowers. They’re lovely,” she droned.

“Please, don’t mention it.”

“Could you come over so we can talk face-to-face? It’s been such a long time, and we have so much catching up to do.” She grabbed her cigarettes and lit another.

“I’m afraid I’m engaged at the moment,” Bill stated politely.

“Then I’ll come there.”

“That would be lovely,” he began, “but I’m afraid it’s out of the question. How about tomorrow at noon? If the rain’s stopped, we might lunch in the gazebo; I see that you still love it there.”

So he had seen her this evening. She wondered if he used binoculars to spy like most creeps or had devised some spooky closed-circuit camera system. She shuddered, looking around the room.
Is that smoke alarm really what it seems?
She threw the device an obscene gesture, just in case.

She should put her cards on the table.
Now
. “Thanks for the money. But you mentioned something about an agreement. What do you want?”

“I’m certain you can recall.”

“You know, my memory’s a little fuzzy on all that; booze’ll do that to ya. Why don’t you remind me why you’re paying me to keep my mouth shut.”

“I’m sure you’ll recall all those silly suspicions you had at one time about your husband’s accident and that nonsense he’d been saying about my involvement in certain illegal activities.”

“Oh,
that.
Now I remember.” She exhaled a plume of smoke noisily. “Of course I’ll keep quiet. But it’s gonna cost you a lot more than what was in that envelope.”

“I feel strongly that what you received was quite appropriate under the circumstances. As you know, it takes much more than mere suspicions to put someone away. You’ve no evidence for what you threatened to expose.”

“Ari told me about drug trafficking, Bill. And if I wanted to, I could have him hauled into court.”

“Ari has me to thank for the two most profitable gas stations on the Coast Highway. He’d never say a damaging word against me, in court or otherwise. On the other hand, I’m certain he would welcome the opportunity to attest to your character, given the opportunity.”

“You can’t scare me with that old crap. I haven’t done any drugs in sixteen years. Besides, Jeremy’s too old, so you can’t hold being an unfit mother over my head anymore.”

“Yes, well, you’ve certainly proved yourself in that regard,” he chuckled. “And you’re right—as a reformed woman, there is little I could say against you in a court of law.”

“Thank you. So you’re willing to cough up some more money?”

“Perhaps. How much are you thinking?”

What was the most she could think of that would be in the realm of possibility? “Two hundred thousand in cash, small bills,” she said, sounding like a black-and-white movie.

“Certainly. But you’ll have to take a business check; I’ll need to show it as a charitable deduction somehow…something orchestrated to help you and your son get settled.” He could tell her anything. It wouldn’t matter anyway. “So we have an agreement?”

“Sure.”

“Good. But just one more thing: please don’t sully poor Ari’s name anymore. He has the reputation of being one of the best, most honest car mechanics in the area. Don’t you recall? He used to service your husband’s Porsche, and he now maintains that beastly Rover your son’s driving this evening.
In the rain.
”

Her blood chilled. “Bill, tell me you didn’t have him do something to Jeremy’s car—he was the one that screwed up Jonathan’s Porsche, wasn’t he?!”

“Now calm down, Mrs. Tyler. Ari wouldn’t do anything of the kind. He doesn’t have the stomach for such treachery, at least not since giving up that unseemly side business he conducted of which you were such a steady client. In fact, his son Darius was picked up in that very vehicle this evening by Jeremy. I believe they went to visit a bar where they can meet with other homosexuals. Quite a coincidence, don’t you agree? Maybe their being perverts has something to do with parental contact with cocaine.”

“What do you mean, ‘a bar for homosexuals’? My son’s not a queer.”

Was that what he’d been about to tell me on the beach?

“But, Mrs. Tyler, I had understood that observant mothers are always the first to recognize it in their sons. I must say, I was shocked myself when I discovered the truth.” He clucked his tongue. “Such a travesty, thinking of young Jeremy, a
Tyler
no less, on his knees or bent over the toilet in some public restroom providing sexual favors for strange men. What
would
his father think? Whom, do you suppose, would he blame?”

“Don’t you talk about my boy that way, you sick fuck!”

“As you wish. I don’t mean to be insensitive. Now where were we with our deal?”

She was shaken. “I want the money tomorrow. Then I’m taking my son away from here.”

“Of course the money’s no problem. But you’ll have a hard time persuading him to leave, I’m afraid. He loves his aunt dearly; I must say she’s become the mother he’s never had. And she’s always been an advocate of that dreadful gay rights movement. Would you be as supportive?
Could you be?
”

She needed time to think. “I’ll keep everything I know to myself, as long as you pay me off and promise me you’ll leave him alone,” she growled. “If you try and hurt him, you’ll regret it.”

“Now, you must believe that your son is very important to me,” he soothed. “I have big plans for him, in spite of his unfortunate perversion. And, Mrs. Tyler, I very much resent your insinuation that I would hurt him or any member of this family, especially after all I’ve done to help you. Please assure me you haven’t tried to poison his mind with your vivid imagination. After all, I could have done the same.”

“No, I haven’t said anything…yet.”

“That’s for the best. So now that our business is done,” he began cheerfully, “I should mention that Katharine wishes me to extend an invitation to you for dinner this evening; I believe Arthur’s whipped up some of his famous lamb. I myself am off to the airport for an early meeting up north tomorrow morning, so regrettably I won’t be able to join you.”

“Gee, tell her thanks, but there’s no way I’m steppin’ foot outside again until this storm passes.” She needed time to digest the news he had so cruelly reported. “It’s really a tempting offer though.” She rolled her eyes.

“Very well. In the meantime, is there anything else you need? I’m certain Arthur is willing to bring you whatever you wish.” He had to get someone else inside that guesthouse this evening.

She threw open the freezer, delighted by the sight of stacked frozen entrees and self-rising-crust pepperoni pizzas.

“Yeah. I could use some wood. A fire would be nice.”

“I’ll send him at once. And permit me to say again how much I’m looking forward to seeing you tomorrow. I should be back by lunchtime.”

“Sure, whatever. Just don’t forget my wood tonight. Or my money tomorrow.”