The Bet, page 14
Chapter 15: Marshal
Uncle Isaac never called me, so I was surprised to see his number flash up on my screen just before midnight on Saturday night. It was probably Aunt Shay using his cell phone.
I saved the document I was working on. It was Talia's game plan for winning Rising Stars.
"Hey, Aunt Shay," I answered. "How are you holding up?" I'd been making sure to call her each day. She'd returned to work on Wednesday after being off since September when Christy first slipped into a coma.
"Marshal," came Uncle Isaac's voice. "Why would you think my wife would call you at this time of the night?"
The way he said 'my wife' annoyed me. I knew Aunt Shay was his wife. Did he seriously think I was interested her? She was way too old. And she was my aunt. That would be so wrong. I wasn't like my dad.
"You never call me so I just assumed it might be her," I told Uncle Isaac.
"Well, it isn't. It's me."
"Right."
"I need money."
I frowned.
"I'm thinking of setting up a scholarship in Christy's name. She was into dancing so it'll be a dance scholarship."
"Oh. That's a great idea."
"I'd like to offer five scholarships a year. I was wondering if you could foot the bill for this year, then from next year I should be able to do it. I'll look into what government funding and grants it'll qualify for."
"I'd love to, but I've pretty much cut ties with my dad so I no longer have access to that kind of money—"
"Well, Christy is dead now. If you ask him for money, he no longer has any reason to decline. He'll give it to you."
There was something in Uncle Isaac's tone. Bitterness?
"I'll need to pay someone who'll draw up the criteria and set up the Christy Aaronson Foundation. There are also legal things to take care of. In total, it's going to cost almost half a million bucks."
I sighed. I didn't want to speak to my dad, but since this was for something in honor of Christy I would. Or maybe I'd just ask Mo. Mo had been my butler, but he'd moved back in with my dad when I moved out of the house my dad bought for me. I could ask Mo and he could ask my dad.
"So?" Uncle Isaac prompted.
"I'll see what I can do."
"Ask him now. I want to get the ball rolling right away. I'll send you the account details I want you to send the money to."
"Okay."
There was a click as Uncle Isaac hung up. I wondered what was so urgent about it. Maybe it was one of those sudden brainwaves that compelled you to act immediately; strike while the iron was hot.
I texted Mo, asking him to transfer half a million dollars to my account. Ten minutes later I received a response from him: Approved.
Gravel filled my belly. My dad hadn't even asked any questions. He didn't care what I wanted to spend it on since I couldn't spend it on Christy. I wanted to throw something.
Instead, I suppressed my anger and signed in to my online bank account. I was about to transfer the money to Uncle Isaac's and Aunty Shay's joint account when I remembered that he'd said he'd send me the details for a different account.
My phone buzzed just then with a message from him containing new account details.
That's a bit odd.
Didn't he want Aunt Shay to know? There was no way he could set up a foundation in honor of Christy without her knowing.
He must want it to be a surprise.
I transferred the money and then got back to work, pushing my anger at my dad to the back of my mind.
Chapter 16: Kurt
Eli's flashy Lamborghini rolled through the gates of his exclusive Lucky Star Casino in Las Vegas at one a.m. I watched it emerge onto the main road and pass by my car.
I switched on my car and followed at a reasonable distance in a different lane so he wouldn't know he was being tailed. It made sense that a man like Eli Aaronson would choose Las Vegas as his second home. Sin city. Here he had casinos, strip clubs and every form of adult entertainment on his doorstep.
Why didn't he just stick to prostitutes, or single women? Women who were free agents? It wasn't like he couldn't get them. They would happily oblige. But no. He had to poach other men's women. He liked them married, unavailable. Maybe it made the chase more exciting for him and sweetened the thrill of the capture.
Isaac had offered me half a million dollars, but I'd rejected it. I didn't need an accomplice.
Half a million dollars would have seemed like a huge sum of money to me once. Now, my business turned over much more than that each year—thanks to Lottie, who had ensured it did well.
I didn't care for the money, and I no longer cared much for life.
I slowed the car, letting the distance between me and Eli increase. I'd bet there was a woman in the car with him. Probably somebody's wife. It was a shame she was going to die with him. Or maybe it wasn't a shame at all. Maybe it was justice. She wouldn't die if she were where she ought to be—at home with her own husband.
Tough luck.
I'd considered leaving a suicide note for Sloane and Sadie to find, or sending Lottie a final email, but had decided not to. I'd told Sloane and Sadie that I loved them. That was enough. As for Lottie, she didn't deserve any last words from me. She could spend the rest of her life wondering. That would torture her. She deserved to agonize over it for the rest of her sorry life.
I followed Eli's car onto the Interstate.
Suddenly, doubts filled my mind. Did I really want to do this?
I thought of the divorce papers that I had still refused to sign, and the nasty letters I'd been receiving from Lottie's lawyer. I thought of the out-of-order signal I got any time I called Lottie. I thought of the silence in the house these days now that she was no longer around. The silence in our bedroom, in the kitchen.
Lottie had gone. She'd left me.
Eli had caused it.
Bitterness cemented in my heart like a rock.
The thought of him and Lottie arranging their secret rendezvous angered me until I was seething. The thought of his hands on her made me so mad I could barely see straight.
What did I have to live for now?
I'd split the money in my account between Sloane and Sadie, and I'd updated my will so that all my other assets would be shared equally between them. They would be fine.
My hands tightened around the steering wheel.
Eli's car picked up pace and shot forward once we were on the Interstate.
I switched lanes and then gave it more gas. The car engine roared as I caught up to Eli.
His car signaled to switch lanes. I followed it into the middle lane and then slammed down hard on the accelerator.
I had my gun. If the car wreck didn't kill me, I could finish myself off.
A moment later, there was a loud crash as I smashed into Eli's car.
Fire leapt to life around me. The smell of smoke and gas filled my nose. Crushing pain in my legs made me gasp.
My last thought before the world went black was: See you in hell.
Chapter 17: Sloane
Jacob looked so hot as he walked into Starbucks on Sunday afternoon, it made me feel horrible. I didn't need to see him looking so gorgeous and cheerful while I looked and felt terrible. After sleeping fitfully all night, worrying about my dad's state of mind, I just couldn't handle the intensity of his smile as he slid into the seat opposite me.
"Thank you for coming," he told me.
"You're late." I sipped my cappuccino.
"I know. Sorry. I just got out of church and the traffic was crazy getting here."
I sipped my drink again.
He glanced at my cup.
"It's just coffee," I told him. "They don't serve alcohol here."
Jacob's easy smile vanished. There was awkward silence at the table for a moment, then he cleared his throat. "I'm sorry for the way I spoke to you. I didn't mean to get on your case like that. I was just trying to help."
"I know. I'm sorry I got all annoyed about it."
"You left without even telling me."
I said nothing. I could explain why I'd been drinking, but he hadn't asked so I'd just sound like I was making excuses for myself.
"I know some Christians see nothing wrong with drinking," Jacob said slowly. "So I don't want it to come between us. But I do have an issue with how much you drink. It has to be in moderation."
Maybe now was a good time to tell him I wasn't a Christian.
He signaled to a barista and ordered a black coffee. Then he grinned at me.
I had to look away. He was just too happy today. It was making me feel worse.
"So, how was church?" he asked me.
I momentarily considered pretending that I'd gone to church, but what if he asked me what my pastor preached about, or what songs the worship band sang. "I didn't go."
His brows lifted. "Oh?"
I gave him a tight smile.
"Why?"
Why? Did he think he was my dad or something?
Irritation began to prickle in my chest. "I don't feel too great," I lied. But it wasn't necessarily a lie. I felt so low I might as well be ill.
"So you couldn't go to church but you're able to meet me for coffee."
I rolled my eyes internally. Jacob sounded like the elderly women at my church who considered it their duty to delve into other people's matters and keep everyone on their toes.
I decided to be honest with him. There was no point in us trying to have a relationship if I was pretending to be something I wasn't. "I haven't been to church for months."
Jacob's brows lifted higher. "Really? Why? I thought you were a Christian."
I shook my head. "I'm not."
"Oh? I thought…" He seemed at a loss for words.
"I've…kinda lost my faith."
Jacob looked horrified.
In that moment, I knew it was over between us. Jacob didn't want a girl who wasn't a Christian, and I couldn't pretend any longer.
I sipped my coffee, avoiding his gaze. If only I'd met Jacob while I was still a good little church girl. Pre-affair discovery. Pre-Marshal. Pre-abortion. Things could have been perfect. We could have had a sweet, little Christian relationship with no kissing and no sex. Then, we might have gotten married and had a nice little Christian marriage where we and our children went to church every Sunday and participated in church socials.
"Why?" Jacob asked.
"There's a lot going on in my life right now."
I expected him to ask what exactly was going on but he just fell silent.
Marshal would have asked.
I pushed away the thought. I needed to stop comparing Jacob to Marshal.
A barista delivered Jacob's drink. He took a sip and then looked at me. "Now, a lot of things make sense."
I pursed my lips. He wasn't going to bother to ask what was going on with me. Maybe it was just his personality; he just wasn't the interfering type. Or maybe he didn't care. Maybe when he found a girl that he truly loved, he would want to know everything about her. With me he was probably just fascinated by my looks. Although I didn't look great today.
He doesn't love me.
All of a sudden, that was glaringly clear to me.
Of course he didn't love me. We'd only known each other for a few months. Falling in love was a process. However, Jacob was nowhere on that spectrum of love. He didn't love me and he never would.
"Maybe we should…uh…" Jacob paused. He reached across the table and took my hand.
I wanted him to complete his sentence. I wanted him to just break up with me and let this ridiculous relationship—or whatever it was—be over.
He fell silent.
I looked at him and realized what he was doing. He was pausing to give me the chance to break up with him first. I figured that was actually pretty sweet of him, but I didn't bother. He could be the one to say it. "Maybe we should what?" I asked.
Jacob gave me an apologetic smile. "I think we're on completely different wavelengths. I really like you, Sloane. You're so beautiful. But I'm beginning to see that this isn't going to work."
Yeah. I was beginning to see that too.
"You're a great girl."
Oh please.
"And I hope we can still be friends."
"Of course. Why not?"
We made stilted small talk for the next few minutes. Then Jacob made an excuse about needing to be somewhere. I watched him leave the coffee shop.
I should be hurt, but I was mostly relieved.
A relationship was the last thing I needed right now. It was just more pressure. I should have learned that lesson from my relationship with Marshal. I used Marshal to deal with my depression over my mom. It didn't work. Then, I tried to use Jacob to deal with my depression over Marshal.
Maybe I should stop trying to numb the pain and try to face it. But I didn't even know where to start dealing with all that was going on in my head and my heart.
Would turning back to God help? I didn't know.
Anyhow, Marshal won the bet.
I smiled despite myself. It had been a stupid bet anyway. As if Jacob and I were going to last. Deep down I'd known we wouldn't.
I picked up my cell phone and signed in to my online banking account. My eyes widened at the balance. Sadie was right. Dad had deposited two million dollars into my account. That was sweet of him, but I decided I'd better go home at some point today and check on him.
Good things come in threes, I told myself, perking up at my bank balance. Hopefully, two more good things would happen to me today.
I transferred fifty thousand dollars into Marshal's account and then left.
◦◦◦◦◦
"How was church, girls?" I asked Grace, Rhiannon, and Taylor when I got home. They were all sitting at the kitchen table eating.
I was so glad I hadn't allowed Taylor to persuade me to go. If I had, I would have had lots to say when Jacob asked me about church and he would have thought I was a Christian. Then he wouldn't have broken up with me.
I was so glad we'd broken up. I felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders.
My breakup with Marshal had been different. I'd felt like a weight had been dropped on me and was crushing me to death. I'd felt like the world was coming to an end. I'd missed him so much my heart ached.
"Church was good," Rhiannon replied. "I had a chat with Pastor Bill after the service and he gave me some Bible verses to read to help me get back on track." She grinned. "I love Pastor Bill."
"Have you heard about Eli Aaronson?" Taylor asked me.
"What about him?" I asked.
"Jon and Garrett told us he was in a car wreck overnight in Vegas."
"Really?"
"He's in a coma," Grace told me. "He's fighting for his life."
Rhiannon's face screwed up. "I can't believe your mom had an affair with him for two years."
Grace shot her a glare.
"It's fine if you told Rhiannon, Grace," I said.
Grace looked slightly sheepish. "Sorry. I only told her because I figured you were going to tell her anyway."
"Who made the chicken?" I asked, eyeing the roast chicken at the center of the table.
"Taylor, of course," Grace said.
I grabbed a dish and loaded it with chicken and potatoes. "So, Eli's in a coma?"
"Yeah." Taylor said. "In critical condition, apparently."
"Does that mean he might, like, die?"
Taylor shot me a look.
Grace shrugged. "Maybe."
"Poor Marshal," Rhiannon said. "Didn't his mom die when he was young?"
Taylor was still looking at me so I decided to change the subject. "What Bible verses did Pastor Bill give you?" I asked Rhiannon.
I only half listened as Rhiannon told me.
Was it wrong of me to be glad that Eli was in a coma and fighting for his life? Yes, it's wrong, I told myself. But I couldn't help the sense of glee that filled me.
This was karma. For the way he trampled on others, for all the marriages he'd ruined, for Christy.
I wondered how Marshal was handling this so soon after Christy's death. Was it added stress for him or didn't he care? After all, Eli had left Christy to die and hadn't even attended her funeral. Would Marshal even bother to visit him in the hospital as he'd done with Christy? He used to visit Christy almost every day.
"Are you going to call Marshal?" Taylor asked me.
I snapped to attention. I'd thought they were still talking about Pastor Bill. They were back to Marshal? I guessed I should call Marshal but I shook my head. "I don't think he'll be that bothered. He hates his dad."
"How could he not be bothered?" Taylor asked. "His cousin died just the other day and now his dad is in a coma. Things must be hard for him right now."
I frowned at Taylor. "If you're so concerned why don't you call him?"
Taylor said nothing.
"Was he in church?" I asked.
"No."
He must have gone to Vegas to be with his dad. I sighed. Maybe I would call him. Or maybe I would wait to see if he called me.
I needed to go check on my dad. If Marshal hadn't called me by the time I got back from seeing my dad this evening, I would call him.
My cell phone buzzed as I finished eating. It was Sadie.
I tossed my dish into the sink.
"Did Sloane just leave her dirty dish for someone else to wash?" Taylor asked.
"I think she did," Rhiannon replied.
I hit 'accept' on my cell phone. "Hey, Sadie, I'm coming home for a few hours. How is dad today?"
"I can't find him." Sadie sounded panicked.
"What do you mean you can't find him?"
"I checked on him in the night after I texted you. He wasn't in his room and he still hasn't returned."
"I thought you said he was upstairs texting you instead of talking to you."
"I thought he was…"
"When did you see him last?"
"Friday night. He went out for a few hours. I saw him when he got back. I assumed he was in his room all day yesterday. I've been calling him all day today. He's not answering."
I would tell Sadie to calm down and assure her that Dad would probably return soon, but this was out of character for him. He'd been really depressed over the past two weeks.
