Chapter Twenty-Two—Cash

My head had been in the clouds after I dropped her off at the art gallery that morning. I guessed that was one of the reasons I didn’t realize who waited on me in my office until I’d already shut the door.

“Good morning, Mr. Jenkins.”

I turned and found Mrs. Henry sitting in the chair across from my desk, her fingers interlaced over her crossed legs. “What are you doin’ here?”

The question didn’t seem to faze her. “I thought I’d drop by and talk to you about our bargain. I had some ideas to help with advertisements for your company since we’ll be sponsoring you, I wanted to give you some ideas. You are doin’ such a wonderful job on your side.”

She reached toward me, handing me the paper. I snatched it from her hand and saw Shelby and me on the front page from the charity event. Vomit rose in my throat. I marched forward, tossing the paper into the trash can under my desk. “We don’t need your help with any advertisements, Mrs. Henry. I have people for that.”

She examined her nails, not making any sign of leaving. “Understandable. But I’d like to see them before you go the next step with them. Our name is gonna be on them, after all. Where is Shelby? I figured she’d be here. You two look like you’re getting—close.”

I tightened my hands into fists on the desk, leaning forward I narrowed my eyes at her. “Then why would you have come here if you thought she’d be here?”

She lifted her head. “I needed to talk to you. I don’t see why we can’t do business; she wouldn’t think anything of it.”

Cussing under my breath, I sat down in my chair, eyeing my closed door. “She would, actually. She’s not an idiot. Now, I’d appreciate if you’d get to it. I have meetings lined up in only a few short minutes.”

“Of course, you’re a busy man.” She dug around in her purse for a bit before bringing out a compact mirror. “I know my daughter, Cash. I can see she’s smitten by you, and I’m glad.” She shut the mirror hard. “That’s not the concern. I can also tell when a man is smitten, and that’s what worries me. I wanted you to date my daughter, but I never thought in a million years you’d actually fall for her.”

My heart stopped. “It’s none of your business how I feel about Shelby, ma’am.”

She slowly shook her head. “Actually, it is. I know her better than you ever will. I know she isn’t capable of staying with a man for a long period of time. See, I was hoping she’d get a good reputation from this, maybe understand that she should try to date classier men than before, hell, date at all. Just stop sleeping around.”

My jaw tightened. “Wait a minute,” I said in a whisper. “What exactly are you trying to say?”

She sighed softly, reaching forward to try and grab my hand. I retracted. “I’m trying to tell you not to get attached to her. She seems like a lot of fun now, but she’ll get bored soon. Why do you think she sleeps around so much? If you fall in love with my daughter, she’ll end up crushing you. I wanted her to get out of this partying every weekend bit she’d fallen into. I never expected an engagement or a three-year relationship from this. I wanted her to see how a wealthy, charming man could treat her. Maybe she’ll get into the habit of flying through them, and not local frat boys that give her one good lay.”

I wanted to ask her to repeat herself. She couldn’t possibly be telling me to break it off soon, so she could move on to another privileged man? I felt my teeth grind into one another; it sent chills down my heated body. I stood quickly, slamming my fists against the mahogany desk. “You don’t get to come in here and tell me how I feel, or tell me how she does. I know she cares about me. I see it in those pretty eyes of hers.” I let out a bitter laugh. “They look a lot like yours, minus the bitch.”

She straightened her shoulders. “I’m coming here as a favor to you, son. I don’t want you falling into those pretty eyes because they’ll end up ripping you apart. She isn’t made for long-term commitments. That wasn’t our de—”

“Our deal was that I give her good publicity, you didn’t specify any terms, actually. Have I given her that?”

“You—”

“Yes or no?”

“I suppose so,” she said, her eyes finding a place on the floor. “But you’ll regret taking this further than a few more weeks, a few more charity events. All it’ll take is for a handsome man, like yourself, to catch her eye at one of those events, and she’ll be underneath him as soon as you turn your back.”

I’d never hit a woman, my mother had always told me not to, but I was pretty close to laying this woman on the floor. I believe “respect your elders” had been a mistake; there was no way anyone could respect her.

“I’m making good on my part of this, what I have with Shelby from now on out isn’t your concern. You’ve got your good publicity; you’ve got your reputation. Now kick rocks before I come to my senses and say what I really want to say to you.”

She stood abruptly, clutching her handbag like I might try to steal it. “I was comin’ here to warn you, Cash. I’ve done my duties. It’s all on you now. If you let her spin her web and pull you in any further, you’ll be broken hearted soon. And I’d hate to say I told you so.”

I glanced at my watch. “Your speech ended right on time. My 8:30 is here. I’m sure you’re not senile enough to have forgotten where the door is, right?”

She gave me a tight smile before walking toward the door. “Maybe I should have asked your brother. At least he wouldn’t have let her get too close to him. Maybe I should have just let him show her a good time for a few weeks.”

“Get out.”

She slammed the door on her way out.

****

I went to pick her up in my Beemer. Taking her myself felt more personal than having Joey drive us everywhere. Plus, Joey was still on my list. I hadn’t talked to him since Friday when he took us to the airport.

I walked into the small waiting area and found Mr. Scott standing behind the counter, leaned over a small sketch book. “Hey.”

He stood up straight, his glasses low on his face. “Oh, Cash—Mr. Jenkins. It’s so nice to see you.”

“Cash,” I said. “It’s nice to see you. Is Shelby here?”

He nodded. “In her room. She’s been quiet today.”

I made my way down the small hallway toward her room and found the door unlocked. Slowly, I walked inside. I found her with her back to me, sitting on her stool, her head cocked as she stared at the painting in front of her.

I vaguely remembered my mother painting as a child, though I had her artwork scattered around my house. The earliest memory I had of my childhood was of her painting outside on our porch. She was happier than Shelby had been. For a while. It seemed she became more distant, more saddened over the years but I couldn’t remember why.

The painting in front of Shelby looked dark for the most part, but there was a piece, in the middle, that reminded me of something. It wasn’t until she made another stroke that I realized the color. It was the color that I saw in my brother’s eyes, and the color I saw staring back at me every morning. I was no art critic, by any means. I didn’t know about art; all I knew was what I liked.

But—I could sense something about her work. It resembled what I assumed she felt on the inside. The dark gray and whites were more of a blur, a dark haze that I knew veiled her life. There was no denying the pain she felt, I saw it in her eyes, and in the way her parents treated her.

A sick feeling grew in my stomach, threatening to choke me to death. Her mother couldn’t have been more wrong about her. I couldn’t have been more wrong about her. I’d been the only person to give her any kind of emotion, anything real in years. Since her brother died. I wouldn’t let her be with anyone else after this; I couldn’t. She had a chance at happiness, it was plain as day, in her work, in her eyes.

She turned quickly; I wasn’t sure if she’d felt my presence or what, but she faced me. “Hey—what are you doin’ here?” She stood in front of the painting like a shield, hiding the piece from me.

“I thought we could grab some lunch. Are you okay?” There were evident tear streaks on her face.

She nodded, scratching the back of her neck. “I was just working, my class just ended. My next one doesn’t start for an hour.”

I watched her eyes shift and stepped forward. “Why don’t we go get something to eat?”

She licked her dried lips. “Actually,” she whispered. “Can we pick up something fast? I’d like to go to my brother’s grave today. It’s the anniversary.”

I walked toward her, gathering her into my arms. I knew by the shallow breaths that she’d break at any moment. “Of course,” I whispered. “I’ll take you right now.”

Shelby rode quietly in the passenger seat. She hadn’t touched the Subway I’d picked up for her. I didn’t think she would. We drove the fifteen-minute drive out of the city toward the cemetery in silence. Only the sound of my car motor and the wind from the slightly cracked window.

When we turned down the road, I heard a quiet sniffle, and my mind went frantic. It wasn’t from her pain, I knew I couldn’t stop that hurt, it was the familiarity of her cry. My mother’s face flashed in my mind, a jagged picture of her screaming scorched the outsides of my brain, never staying long enough for me to remember.

I sucked in a deep breath, clutching my hands against the wheel. What just happened? I tried to calm my racing heart, knowing Shelby was hurting enough already. I’d never seen my mother scream like that; I’d never seen her upset. Why was she upset? I couldn’t remember.

My turn approached, and I did my best to push back the mental insanity of what had just happened. She pointed toward the second little-paved drive, and I followed until she told me to stop.

She exited the car first, walking slowly down the row, glancing at every tomb along the way. I wasn’t sure if she wanted to be alone, but I got out anyway. I’d be there if she needed me. She stopped in front of a huge stone monument. It looked like it was built for a king. Knowing her parents it shouldn’t have surprised me.

She slowly dropped to her knees, digging something out of her pocket. Her tiny fingers placed a small sketch sheet of paper under a vase full of fresh red roses. I didn’t want to pry, but I noticed the infinity symbol sketched out in a lovely way. The same tattoo that was on her wrist. The same tattoo he had as well.

Tears began to flow down her cheeks, her sobbing broke out into the stale humid wind, her hands clutched the freshly mowed grass beneath her.

“It’s my fault,” she hoarsely whispered. “My fault.”

Her chest heaved with each sob, and I sunk down into the ground to catch her from falling. Her weight landed against my chest, and her tears were immediate on my shirt. I knew she’d been broken for a long time, but I never realized that I’d be her only light in the darkness of her life.

Or that agreeing to that bet had made me such a monster.