Bottom Feeder (7 page)

“
The wedding came only two
days after I presented the idea of a storybook life. Grace’s daddy
disapproved of our marriage from the beginning. The old man tried
to make my life nothing short of hell, and damn near succeeded. He
passed away after Maddy was born. Unfortunate for him. Fortunate
for me.” He smirks at the memory.

“
Now don’t get me wrong, I
was never a one-woman-man. If Grace didn’t know this when we
married, she learned quickly. It took its toll on her when I came
home at night with the smell of another woman on my clothes.
But
she
was my
wife, not the other women. The money, house, clothes and jewelry
were enough to suffice.” He stares intently at the ceiling. “I
thought they were, anyway.”

“
Shortly before Maddy’s
eleventh birthday I began seeing another woman regularly. She was
younger than me—about twenty—but already a widower. Her husband had
been killed in some sort of boating accident. Months later when I
found out the other woman was pregnant with my child, I realized I
loved her. I loved Grace, too, but this other woman was a pursuit
of something that someone told me I could never have. Plus,
attaining her almost ruined me. Sometimes the thrill of the chase
is just as good as the capture.” No, I don’t like this story at
all.

“
Grace knew about her from
the beginning. She wanted to leave. I refused to ruin the
Carrington reputation by divorcing Grace and admitting to everyone
that I wasn’t Maddy’s real father. Including Maddy. Up until that
year she was always such a sweet, obedient child but I just . . .
stopped liking her.” Cordell shrugs at this, like it’s completely
okay to stop liking the child you raised from birth. Maybe that’s
what happened with my father: he just stopped liking me. Is it
really that simple?

“
All was going well in my
life. Grace, being the sensible woman she was, stopped eating at
the restaurant where my new girlfriend waitressed. She went back to
her usual routine of being my wife. One Monday evening, after a
business weekend in Hilton Head, I came home to an empty house. A
note from Grace was posted on the kitchen counter stating Maddy was
at the Jarrett’s house after her dance recital and dinner was in
the oven. I didn’t even know Maddy had a recital that night. I
wasn’t paying much attention to her at that time. She was acting so
strangely, distancing herself from everyone except that Jarrett
kid. Besides, I was preparing to have my own daughter and didn’t
care much about the one that wasn’t mine. Anyway, I ate dinner and
went upstairs where I discovered Grace’s limp, lifeless body in the
tub. Her hair was fixed in an intricate up-do. Her eye makeup was
done in rich, dark browns and a fire engine red shone brightly on
her lips, making her porcelain skin appear glossy. All that makeup
on her face, yet her body was completely naked aside from every
piece of jewelry I had given her over the years scattered on top of
her. This note was in her hand.” He passes me the folded piece of
paper he retrieved from the fireproof box.

The lies come so easily that I am in a
constant state of shame, draped in jewels of deception. Underneath
it all I am clothed in the grace God has given me. The pursuit to
buy my silence was not done in vain, as you will never hear from me
again after today.

As I read Grace Carrington’s words,
the realization of why he is telling me the details of his family’s
history settles in. This is Cordell’s way of reeling me into a deal
I cannot back away from. I have been set up to be part of something
I should have never known about. He is showing me details of his
life and his home to trap me into silence.

I fold the letter carefully, handing
it back without making eye contact.

“
I called the sheriff
personally. I wanted to keep things quiet so Grace could avoid
embarrassment. The sheriff brought the coroner with him to
pronounce her official death. A handful of pills and a bottle of
Tennessee’s Finest apparently did the job. Hell, I didn’t even know
she drank. Because Grace took her own life and this little incident
would raise too many questions about
me,
I asked the coroner to make it
look like she had a heart attack. We cleaned up the bathroom and
cleaned up Grace, even put clothes on her.” Cordell shrugs like
it’s no big deal to have a sheriff and coroner in your back
pocket.

“
People are easily bought,
Jackson. You see, son, I acquire money like other people acquire
junk mail. Toss out a few thousand here and there, invite them to a
few parties and people are clay in your hands, waiting to be molded
into anything you need them to be.”

Cordell’s solemn,
controlled voice rises to an excited pitch in his next breath. “I’m
getting married, Jackson. My future wife had a beautiful baby girl
just a few months after Grace died. She is everything Maddy could
never be. We are moving away from Savannah as soon as Maddy is out
of my life
for good
. That child has been a thorn in my side since the day she
was born. I’ve given her everything she could ever want but the
girl is . . .
strange
. She handled Grace’s death like it was another day in her
pathetic life. She was already shut down by that time anyway.
Stopped talking. Stopped wearing what I needed her to wear and
acting how I needed her to act in order to keep up appearances.
Maddy became the opposite of everything I needed her to do in order
to keep up with what a Carrington should be. She’s useless; a
bottom feeder, at best.”

I wince as he talks about this girl
like she is nothing more than dirt beneath his overpriced
Ferragamo’s. What have I gotten myself caught up in? Is it too late
to refuse his offer?

“
Important people in
charge of certain prestigious performing arts schools look well
upon generous monetary donations from fathers who want their
daughter enrolled. With that said, this is where you come in. Take
Maddy to New York City on the
scenic
route. Everything is ready for her there. Tuition and car are paid
in full. The apartment is, too. It’s a nice high-rise with views
overlooking the city. The building is under renovation so I only
dropped four point two million. I’m guaranteed double on my
investment when Maddy is gone. Money will be deposited into her
bank account each week. She’ll have everything she needs to stay
out of my hair. This house sold two months ago. Everything will be
cleared out, shut down and shut off within two weeks. All calls
will be directed to my business partner, Larry Duvall. He agreed to
communicate with her so I don’t have to. Eventually Maddy will get
the hint that she is not wanted.”

I don’t know whether to be frustrated,
outraged, or thankful he didn’t ask me to commit a
felony.

I put on my best poker
face and look him in the eyes. “So you’re saying, sir, that if I
take her to New York City—scenic route
—
you will
give
me this car and ten thousand
dollars? Deliver her, go back to Fort Bragg and get on with my
life? Nothing more?”

He nods. “That’s exactly what I’m
saying. I’ll transfer everything to you today. A plane ticket will
be waiting at La Guardia to fly you directly into Fayetteville. The
Barracuda will be waiting at the airport. You will not have to
spend a single dime of your money.”

“
I won’t be driving the
Barracuda?”

“
You’ll be taking her
car.” He points to the far corner of the garage. My knees buckle at
the sight of a brand spankin’ new metallic Monaco blue BMW
550i.

I went with a friend to
look at one of these a few weeks ago. Let’s just say the test drive
was
suh-weet
. The
speeding ticket he acquired during the test drive wasn’t sweet, but
we—everyone in the car plus the officer who issued the
ticket—agreed it was well worth it.

Cordell slithers over to Maddy’s car.
“She never drives it,” he says, disgusted. “She prefers that damn
bicycle.”

He opens the door and gestures for me
to sit.

“
Why doesn’t she drive
it?” My male brain cannot fathom
anyone
not wanting to drive a
550i.

“
I don’t know what the
hell’s wrong with her. Maddy shies away from attention. Although
that works out great in some aspects of my lifestyle, it’s a
nuisance in others. I’m a very public man for private reasons,
Jackson.”

I shift my attention to the interior
of the BMW. Black leather seats, dark poplar wood trim, and an HD
radio with surround sound. I breathe in the new car smell, basking
in all its glory.

The Barracuda. The money. The chance
to drive this BMW for eight hundred miles up the east
coast.

“
When do we
leave?”

“
Let’s get that
paperwork.”

I follow Cordell into a kitchen that
I’m sure cost more than Mama’s entire house. My stomach growls in
neglected fury. The last time I ate was yesterday morning. I should
have taken Maddy up on her food offer.

“
You hungry, son?” Cordell
asks in a tone that doesn’t suggest he revealed dirty family
secrets to practically a stranger only minutes ago.

I sit on a high stool at the breakfast
bar and spot cinnamon rolls. Dammit, I love cinnamon rolls.
“Starved, sir.”

“
Maddy isn’t good at much,
but she can cook. Help yourself.” He lifts a platter filled with
pastries and places a napkin on the bar. I grab a cinnamon roll and
a few triangle biscuit-looking things. The cinnamon roll disappears
in three bites.

“
Mmmmm-mmm,” I muffle,
taking a bite of a something that tastes like maple and sugared
pecans. I take another bite before swallowing the first. I have no
idea what I am eating, but it’s tasty.

Cordell laughs and tosses me a
single-serve carton of milk.

“
She learned from Grace.
She makes my breakfast every morning after her run. Violet said she
brought you something yesterday?”

I salivate at the memory of gooey
butter cake. Maddy made that? “Four o’clock run?” I ask, stuffing
my mouth with another pastry.

“
Crazy, isn’t it? You
would think she’d be a little smaller in the waist with all the
runnin’ and dancin’ and that Krav Maga shit she begged me to let
her take. She eats all that organic crap but she’s always been a
fat one.” He shakes his head in disgust.

I think back to last night. Sweet
smile. Kind of curvy. Not the slimmest girl I’ve ever met, but
definitely not fat. Not my type. But not fat.

I cram another pastry in my
mouth.

“
Let me get those papers,
son. Then we’ll discuss some things further.”

I sneak a cinnamon roll and a few more
pastries on my napkin, stuffing the last one in my mouth seconds
before Cordell returns.

He places a pen and the papers on the
counter. “Just sign. I’ll deal with the rest.”

I wipe crumbs from my mouth and gulp
down the carton of milk. As the ink from the pen flows over the
paper I can’t help but wonder if I’m signing over my
soul.

“
Now on with the rest of
it.” I stare at the plate of pastries longingly before following
Cordell out of the kitchen.

Claustrophobia settles in as the heavy
oak door to his office closes behind me.

Cordell walks to the east side of the
large room and punches in another keypad code, like in the garage.
Again the wall slides back to expose a cutout in the secondary
wall. Only this time there are no security cameras. The hidden
compartment reveals an arsenal. Pistols, revolvers, shotguns,
rifles and several small arms decorate the concealed
wall.

What the hell? Is he planning anarchy
or forming a coup against the government or something?

He removes a Smith &
Wesson .38 Special DK pistol from the wall. I tense when the
magazine shoves into place with an ominous
click.
There are two options if he
points that thing in my direction: him or me. I guarantee it will
be him.

How will I explain
something like this to my First Sergeant?
“Oh, I was just having a meeting with a mob boss, Sergeant
Wotley. Just a day in the life of Specialist Jackson Monroe. No
big.”

Before I formulate an escape plan to a
foreign country without extradition, Cordell tucks the pistol into
the back of his waistband underneath his jacket.

“
Wow. That’s um, some
collection you got there, sir.”

“
You can never be too
careful or too aware, son. I’m sure with your line of work you can
relate.”

I nod.

“
I need you to be
interested in her,” Cordell sighs, sitting in the oversized leather
chair behind the desk. His face is solemn, as if he is sorry I have
to do this.

Wait. What am I doing?

“
Excuse me?” I try to fix
my face so it’s not mimicking his.

I know what you might be
thinking: this is one of those stories where the guy falls for the
girl and they live happily ever after despite her crazy father and
blah blah blah. Uh, no. I do
not
do relationships.