Chapter 18 - Grant
O nce the veil’s been lifted, it never settles back the same way.
Hours of sleep after making my wife come over the phone last night? Two.
Conversations with my wife since she pulled her O-and-Go? Zero.
I flick to the tracking app again. Still at home. No response to my messages. I could call the house line but she didn’t call me back as I asked. I’m not going to keep calling her. Anyway, I’m at work. I’m busy.
But not too busy to duck out of this never-ending meeting when I get a call from Anders. “Sir… she did it again.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to fire the driver when I realize what he’s saying. “Her phone shows her at home.”
“She didn’t bring it. Said it got wet last night and she put it in rice to dry.”
Right, rice. I’d forgotten how Max rolled and knocked her phone into the tub. Treacherous pink bastard. My jaw clenches so tightly I think my teeth could crack. “Where are you?”
“The Tenderloin District. I’ll send you the address.”
What is my wife doing there? And, why the fuck is she sneaking away from Anders in such a potentially dangerous area of the city? I’m not fond of how chummy they seem but at least I trust that Anders would do his best to make sure she doesn’t come to any harm if he were with her.
Tearing through the city, I pull my car up behind the Rolls Royce. Scanning the street, I note the homeless people everywhere. It admittedly makes me uncomfortable, especially to see so many in one place though they’re keeping their distance for now and, while I may not be a former Navy SEAL like Jameson Reynolds, I am in good shape.
Anders points to the building where he thinks Daisy might’ve gone to pay her back rent a few weeks ago. Fucking hell, did she live there? It’s a depressing dump of a place. I’m starting to regret not gathering more intel about my wife before she became my wife.
I send the driver home with a dire ‘I’ll deal with you later.’ My phone is ringing, my assistant. I send it to voicemail. Work can wait.
As I approach the entrance, I see a sign – Shady Acres Retirement Housing. S.A.R.H., those were the initials of the place she made payments to but Daisy is only twenty-four. One wizened man is sitting on the front stoop watching a bedraggled cat stalk a rat. “A fucking rat,” I grumble, shaking my head. I’m shaking my head harder when I see the front door’s lock is broken. You could simply push your way right inside. The interior is no better. Drab paint, cracked glass and faded carpet that’s bumpy as though it had been mislaid in whatever decade it was installed. The air is stale with the stink of cigarettes. A group of old women are huddled around an ancient television, speaking in hushed tones and looking uneasy.
Anders must be mistaken. Daisy couldn’t possibly…
My train of thought derails and my jaw drops. That’s my wife alright, walking with an elderly woman up to an attendant’s desk. I feel an unanticipated rush of excitement seeing her for the first time since last night but I’m soon distracted from those memories by our current surroundings.
“Excuse me, could you help us? My grandmother’s hot water isn’t working. It wasn’t working yesterday either. Do you know when-”
“I told you they’re working on it,” the attendant says to the older woman. It’s plain as day from his nasty attitude that the problem is not only not being worked on today, it’s likely it won’t be worked on tomorrow either. He looks like a real piece of shit and his face reminds me of a weasel. He takes a long drag of the cigarette he’s holding and blows the smoke in Daisy’s face. Anger stirs in my chest but also pride because my Daisy is not easily daunted.
“Yes, that’s what you told her yesterday but-”
“Then, what’re you two bitching about?”
Daisy’s friendly smile disappears and I’m reminded of the fierce girl who accosted me on the sidewalk that day after she was fired by that asshole janitor. “I’m bitching about the fact there’s no hot water. There are laws to protect the elderly and even slumlords have responsibilities to their tenants. You receive government funds to help run this place and make it decent for human habitation so-”
“Your granddaughter better watch herself, Mrs. Potter,” the attendant says with a cruel smirk. “Abusing the staff isn’t tolerated kindly and they say what goes around comes around.”
Fury dances in Daisy’s blue eyes but her grandmother pales and clutches at her arm as he makes a fist. Is that weaselly little fucker actually threatening the old lady and my wife? Oh, I think not.
Striding up to the desk, I join them, ignoring my wife’s shocked ‘Grant!’ when I address the garbage masquerading as a man at the desk. “I’m going to need your name.”
“Who the fuck are you?”
“The man who’s about to throw you through that television set over there after I call the authorities to shut this place down and press charges against every single member of the staff who has been taking advantage of or mistreating your residents, that’s who the fuck I am.”
∞∞∞
“I just knew you must have a beau, Daisy,” her grandmother says pleasantly, grinning from ear to ear as I walk her across the street. My Aston Martin is still there I’m glad to see as I search the street for any trouble. No one seems to want any. “You’ve not been coming to see me as often lately, not that I’m complaining. He may have a spicy tongue but who cares when he’s such a handsome specimen?”
Beau? Spicy tongue? Specimen? Daisy giggles at her grandmother. “I am not her beau, Mrs. Potter. I’m her husband.” Daisy stops giggling at that.
“Husband?” Mimi gasps. “You got married?! Oh, Daisy, why would you do such a foolish thing?!”
“Foolish?” I repeat, offended.
“Oh well. I suppose every Potter lady is destined to have one divorce under her belt eventually,” she continues, patting my arm. “This young man wins the prize for most impressive of our lot at any rate if you simply had to marry him.”
Christ. “I assure you she made me beg her for ages, ma’am,” I drawl, relishing the way Daisy’s eyebrows snap together when she’s peeved.
“You didn’t have to threaten violence,” Daisy murmurs from beside me.
“I got my point across, didn’t I?”
“Mimi’s probably lost her spot if the place isn’t shut down.”
“That’s no loss in my opinion. My wife’s relation staying at such a place? Unacceptable.”
I had watched Daisy help her grandmother pack her things. The shabby little room with a pencil sketch of daisies, the faint scent of peaches and a dried handful of blue flowers, the ones the clerk had given Daisy during our City Hall marriage ceremony, it all left me feeling ill at ease and guilty. So, I’d hurried into the hallway to call plumbers, a contractor and my assistant. I could buy this place and make improvements. It could be a tax write-off if nothing else. After that, I called some city politicians I know, the housing board and the elder abuse council. It’s unacceptable for anyone to be living there as it currently is.
“So, you’ll help me find a new place for her? You won’t leave her on the streets, right?”
My wife’s tremulous tone pulls me up short. What kind of monster does she think I am? “Of course not, Goldilocks. Mimi will have her own bed, bath and bowl of porridge, too. Why didn’t you tell me about this sooner?”
“I wanted to but there’s still so much we don’t know about each other.”
She’s right and, more and more, I’m regretting the fact. “We’ll keep working on that,” I promise her. “If anyone else in your family is living in such deplorable conditions, we’ll need to rectify that… before the press or Lincoln catches wind of it, God forbid.”
“The press or Lincoln?”
“Hmm. Would Mimi want a live-in companion? A caregiver? Or would you prefer she come live at the estate?”
“You’d let her live at the estate?”
“If it pleases you.”
She stares at me like I’ve grown another head - have I been such a terrible husband so far? - before she shrugs. “That would be up to her. She’s healthy and active. She just lost her life’s savings to a con man a few years ago and lost her house after she cracked her hip bone. She had no place else to go.”
“There’s no fool like an old fool but he was such a handsome devil,” Mimi sighs.
“I’m going to need his name, Mrs. Potter.” Daisy rolls her eyes as if she thinks I’m joking. I’m not joking.
“What a zippy car this must be, Grant. Does he drive fast to give you a thrill, Daisy? Your granddad was a fool for fast cars. I want to stay in the city. Can’t be too far from my doctor’s office,” Mimi calls cheerily once she’s settled in the passenger seat. “I have an appointment on Friday. And, I like being close in case your sister needs me, Daisy. That Rod is even worse than what we Potter ladies typically fall for.”
Ah, yes. The twin sister and her boyfriend. “Tell me about Rod, Mimi.”
“He’s her asshole boyfriend, if you’ll excuse my spicy tongue, Grant,” Mimi informs me.
“I’ll excuse you anything, madam, and you will not miss your appointment on Friday. I hope my penthouse will be acceptable to you.”
“Penthouse?! Ooh, la la!” Mimi’s grin widens and, damn, if it doesn’t make me want to grin back at her.
“Why did you send Anders away?” Daisy asks as I open the car’s trunk.
“Because, I didn’t realize I’d have more than one passenger.” And, because I get jealous when you smile at him.
“Your car’s a two-seater.”
“Can’t you drive?”
Her eyes grow wide as saucers. “Me?!”
“Yes, you. Did you think I was going to stow you in the trunk? I’ve called a ride to come get me. We’ll go to the penthouse from here. You can drive a stick, right?”
She’s swinging her head back and forth with a big, old negatory just as a woman nearly as tall as me comes running toward the car. Instinctively, I step forward, sweeping Daisy behind me until I can be certain she’s no threat.
“Daisy! I’m so glad to catch you! I wanted you to know the shoes were all distributed a few days ago. They were lined up before dawn and gone before lunch but you’ve helped so many folks out.”
Shoes?What shoes?
Daisy glances at me nervously as she steps back around me. “It was nothing, Tina. This is Grant, my, uh… husband. We’re in a bit of a rush so-”
“What shoes?” I ask the woman, cutting in.
She stares at me uncertainly before answering. “All the sneakers Daisy donated for the homeless shelter to give out.”
“The homeless shelter…”
“Yeah. Your wife has the sweetest soul. Even when she had nothing but the clothes on her back and a spare pencil to draw with, she was always willing to help people in the same boat as her. And now, she does this. You’re a lucky man, Grant.”
Daisy’s cheeks turn scarlet as Tina gestures toward the street around us and it hits me like a ton of bricks. The homeless. Daisy spent money on sneakers that aren’t in her closet. She was still wearing the same soiled pair from the day we met until I sent her to the stylist for that matter. She bought and then donated all those shoes when I was calling her a trophy wife.
Daisy had to catch up on the rent for that dump where her grandmother was living. Not her rent. After he fired her, that janitor asshole said I could look for her on the streets. Because he’d fired her for spilling her coffee on me. ‘The clothes on her back and a spare pencil to draw with.’
I stare at my wife, really stare at her, wondering how much more I’ve missed in my pampered obliviousness. I hold her eyes with mine, both wanting the truth and afraid of it while wishing to understand this beautiful girl better.
Lowering my face to hers to exclude the stranger from my question, I whisper in Daisy’s ear, “Where did you sleep before the night you climbed into my bed, Goldilocks?”