Stand Your Ground: A Novel (21 page)

I did my own calculations, figuring he was forty-one, forty-two.

“I’m forty-eight.”

“That’s how old my mom is.”

The corners of his lips turned down once again. Dang, if I kept hurting his feelings, he’d just get up and walk out.

That’s when I decided it was time for me to go. We’d sat in this Starbucks from the end of my shift at five until the sun had bowed to the summer night.

“Well, this has been great, Wyatt.” I made a move like I was about to rise up from my chair.

“Before you go, I have a proposition.” And before the frown could completely take over my face, he added, “It’s about a job.”

A job? I sat all the way back down. “What kind of job?” I asked, thinking that this might be my chance to really rake in some good
money. Two jobs: Twin Peaks and whatever Wyatt was talking about.

He said, “Well, it’s not just any job. You’d first have to go back to school.”

“Like college?” I shook my head before he could even answer. “Then that job is out because I’m too old to go to college, not to mention the money it would cost to do it.”

“How old are you?”

I laughed. “Don’t you know you’re not supposed to ask a woman her age?”

He chuckled, but the way he kept his eyes on mine let me know that he expected an answer. “I’m twenty-two.”

He shook his head. “And that’s too old?”

“The kids who were in high school with me are graduating from college this year.”

“So?”

“Well, even if you don’t think it’s crazy for me to just be starting college, I don’t have that kind of money. So if this is a job that needs a college degree, I’m not your girl.”

“You are my girl.” The way he said that made me sit back a little bit. “I mean, you’re the girl for this. I own a couple of restaurants,” he said. “And I’m looking for a good manager.”

“What kind of restaurants.”

“Cheesesteak Castles.”

“You own those? That’s cool. But they’re not exactly the kind of places I’m used to working.”

“I’m not looking for a waitress. I have three restaurants now and am looking to open more. So, I need an on-site manger to help with the day-to-day operations. And I want to begin a foundation, something for inner-city kids. You’re young; you can help me with that.”

That was impressive, but still, I wondered. “Why me?”

“Because I’ve
seen you work.”

“Oh, I get it.” I nodded. “That’s why you came in there every day. You were checking me out.”

He only answered with a shrug and a smile and then went on to tell me everything about his business: how he didn’t attend college, but with the insurance money he received after his father’s death, he’d done something he’d always wanted to do: he opened up a business five years ago. A year later, he opened his second location and a year after that, his third.

I was impressed. There was a Cheesesteak Castle right around the corner from me and I ate there all the time. And now here I was talking to the founder. Wyatt didn’t say it, but I had the feeling that he was making millions, especially when he told me he’d just bought and renovated a house in Haverford. Those houses over there were already like mansions; what had he turned his house into?

“Your wife must be really happy she married you.”

“I don’t have a wife . . . yet.”

I was thinking that at forty-eight, that “yet” was probably getting kinda close to never. But that was none of my business.

What was my business were the plans that this man had for me, because it got even better when he told me that the training part of the program would be an all-expenses-paid ride to the Community College of Philadelphia.

“You’re kidding!”

“I’m not. The scholarship even comes with a small apartment that’s close to the main campus, so you can take classes and really take advantage of college life.”

My own apartment? That was my life’s dream!

He said, “Then during school breaks, you’ll be working at the main Cheesesteak Castle—in the back office with me.”

“I can’t
believe this.” Then I rolled back all of my happy feelings. “How do I know this is real?”

“You say yes, and I’ll draw up a contract. With everything in it. From your tuition being covered to your rent being paid.”

It was that apartment that made those happy feelings once again bubble and burst. “When do you want me to start?”

“Right now.”

“Okay. I’ll give my notice tomorrow and start in two weeks.”

He shook his head. “I meant right now.”

That didn’t make any sense. Everybody knew that an employee had to give notice.

He kept on: “It’s now or never. You start with me today and I’ll write you a check for the first installment on your stipend, and within a week, you’ll be in your apartment. The fall semester begins in a month, so you’ll have time to get settled, and pick your classes.”

“This is kinda fast.”

“I’m in the fast-food business; this is how I make my money, and this is how I live my life—fast.”

I had been searching for a way to change my life and this would be more than life-changing: this would be forever-changing.

Still, I wondered . . . but I talked myself out of my questions. It was true that I didn’t know this man, but I knew Wyatt better than I’d known any of my past employers.

So we shook hands, and the next day, I called Twin Peaks, apologized for leaving them, and prayed that it worked out with Wyatt because I’d never be able to use Twin Peaks as a reference.

That began my journey of a life with Wyatt . . .

It had been quite a ride—in the beginning. Wyatt had done every bit of what he promised, making me feel like I was the star in my own
Pretty Woman
movie.

I had my own furnished one-bedroom apartment, and I majored in English at Wyatt’s request, though I thought business management was more appropriate. But he said he wanted his manager to be well rounded, learning language and culture—whatever that meant. Since he was paying the bills, I did what he said, went to school, aced my classes, and during school breaks, I worked by Wyatt’s side.

But it wasn’t all work with Wyatt Spencer. He exposed me to a life that I’d never known existed: we went to New York to see plays on Broadway and to the Kennedy Center in Washington, DC, to see the ballet. And right in Philadelphia, we went to the Kimmel Center for the Performing Arts to see the Philadelphia Orchestra.

We did all the things that my mother called highbrow, all the things that I’d never really thought someone like Wyatt would enjoy. But he did, and so did I.

But the best part for me . . . was always the shopping sprees.

Never ever did I think I’d get to buy a purse from Louis Vuitton. Or own a pair of Jimmy Choos.

I always told Wyatt that it was too much, but he insisted that not only did it bring a smile to his face, but it was part of the program.

“You have to be glamorous and sophisticated,” he told me. “The way you look is important to what I’m building.”

So I said, “Okay,” and accepted his generosity.

In the beginning, there were moments when I wondered about Wyatt’s motives. I mean, was anybody in the world really this kind?

But I pushed my apprehensions aside because Wyatt did have me working, really learning the business. And never did he try anything with me—not a touch on the hand or a kiss on the lips. Never any impropriety on our overnight trips—we always had separate suites.

So I settled into believing that I’d been blessed with the best of two worlds: a chance to be a career woman, and the opportunity to be cherished by a surrogate father, loved for the very first time in my life by a man.

But what I came to learn was that everything was not what it seemed and now that truth was playing out in my life.

Another shout from the bedroom made me jump, made me come all the way back from my memory.

“That’s not true!” Wyatt yelled again.

I didn’t know what he was talking about, but I did know one truth that the world did not know.

The problem was if I stood up and told that truth, my husband would be in prison for the rest of his life.

Was I willing to do that? Was I willing to give up the man who’d given me everything? Would I be able to live with that? I didn’t know. I just didn’t know.

O
kay, Wyatt,” Newt said as the black SUV made a slow turn onto our street. “You have your instructions, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, you want me to stay in the house.”

“I’m not kidding,” Newt said, sounding like he was admonishing a child. “I don’t want you going to your office, don’t go to your restaurants. I don’t even want you going to church.”

“This doesn’t make any sense.” Wyatt slapped his hands against his thighs. His voice was strained, as if he were working hard to control his rage. He said, “If it’s safe for me to go home, why isn’t it safe for me to go out?”

Wyatt and Newt were in front of me, in the second row of the SUV. But even from where I sat, I could see the muscle beneath his jaw twitching.

“How will they know where I’ll be? I just don’t understand why I’m being treated like a prisoner. I should be able to go where I want. Nobody knows me.”

“It’s just because you’re stressed that you’re not thinking, but do you really think that once your name was released, people didn’t run to Google? They know where you live, they know that you’re the owner of the Cheesesteak Castles, and they know where every
single one is located. Hell, they know where Billy goes to preschool,” said Newt.

Those words made my stomach gurgle again.

“Look,” Newt continued. “I know what I’m doing. Trust me; I’m keeping you, Meredith, and Billy safe.”

Wyatt glanced over his shoulder as if Newt had reminded him about his wife and child. I smiled, but that went away as soon as his eyes left mine.

My husband bounced back in his seat and crossed his arms. But after a few moments of silence, he said, “Okay,” in a much calmer tone. “I’ll do what you say. But can we get this resolved soon? My life can’t stay on hold forever. I have a family to take care of.”

“I’ll get this resolved as quickly as I can,” Newt said. “And we’re keeping the security detail with you.”

Wyatt shook his head. “That’s fine if you want to, but I don’t need security. I already . . .”

I cringed and thanked God that Wyatt didn’t finish his thought.

When the SUV rolled to a stop in our driveway, I unhooked Billy from his seat as Wyatt, Newt, and the two guards (one black, one white) who’d rode with us unloaded our luggage.

I’d packed five suitcases when Newt told us that the police were giving us a three-hour heads-up before Wyatt’s name was released. For our safety, the police advised us to spend a few days away from our home.

Never did I believe we’d be back this soon, just a week rather than the months that Newt had told us we might be away.

“You might have to sell your home and move,” he’d even warned.

It seemed that we wouldn’t have to do that—at least not now.

Holding my son’s hand, I followed Wyatt and the men across the walkway. The moment Billy got to our front door, he broke away and dashed inside, heading straight for his playroom, which was in the back, with a wall of windows that looked out onto our pool.

Wyatt led each of the men up the circular staircase to our bedroom, and as I stepped over the threshold, I paused.

I did this often when I entered and took in the opulence that greeted me. It always took me back.

I may have been one of the oldest graduates at twenty-four, but I wore my cap and gown as proudly as any of the twenty-year-old graduates. And after the ceremony, I walked into Serendipity, Wyatt’s favorite restaurant, with my head high and my diploma in my hand.

Of course, Wyatt had a private room set up for my graduation celebration, even though it was going to just be me, Wyatt . . . and my mom.

Yes, my mother.

That was the only thing that might possibly take the sunshine out of this day.

Gloria Harris.

Not that I didn’t love my mother. It had always been just the two of us for my whole life, since I didn’t know my father. It wasn’t that my mother was trying to keep him from me, she just couldn’t tell me his name. At least not exactly. She’d been honest and given me the names of three men who could have fathered me.

“It’s kinda like a multiple-choice test. You can pick an answer, but I don’t know if you’ll be right.”

That was just one of the crazy moments with my mother, but she had really done the best she could. It hadn’t been easy for her; with only an eighth-grade education, only minimum-wage jobs were available to her and she settled mostly for waitress gigs in diners and dives.

It had always been a struggle for us, which was why when Wyatt asked me to invite her, there was a part of me that was glad. I wanted her to see that the little she’d done had been enough. I was on my way to being a career woman.

But then, she was Gloria Harris. Did I really want her around my boss?

“There’s my baby!”

I heard her squeal before I saw her. Wyatt and I had just sat down and were checking out the menu, when my mother scurried into the room.

At first, I wondered why she was walking like a geisha. But then I saw the pencil skirt that she wore, so tight, she could only take the tiniest of steps.

Wyatt and I stood at the same time to greet her and she hugged me tight.