24. Matthew
24
MATTHEW
I rushed into the cab after getting an urgent text from Holden. I had given my driver a much-needed break until— if —I decided to go back to work.
Meet me at Sonny's. ASAP!
Holden’s text had read.
When I tried calling Holden, the phone went right to voicemail, so I trekked all the way to the restaurant in the middle of the afternoon. Shouldn’t Holden be working?
Holden flagged me down as I made my way to the hostess stand, motioning for me to come over.
As I approached the table, I saw we weren’t alone. Inside the booth sat a casually dressed Holden, a smirking Bridget, and an older bearded suit-clad gentleman who I did not recognize.
I looked at Holden, questioningly, waiting for him to reveal why it was so important for me to rush down here. “Hey bro! Guess what?” Holden boomed. The table next to us gasped at his boisterous tone.
Bridget gave him a slap behind his head, motioning for me to sit. “Holden.”
Holden gushed, winking at his girlfriend. Then the strangest thing happened—Bridget giggled. Giggled. The Ice Queen giggled. Had Hell frozen over?
I rolled my eyes and stared down at the older man, skeptical of this stranger.
“Holden?” I raised my eyebrows, still hoping to get some answers as to why I was dragged down here under the guise of an emergency.
Holden and Bridget were nipping at each other’s lips, so I groaned, palming my forehead before cautiously sitting down beside them.
Holden turned his head sideways. “Oh right, we’re engaged!” Holden squealed like a twelve-year-old.
Bridget pursed her lips and looked a little apprehensive, even nervous.
I shook my head slightly and smiled at my crazy best friend and his bitchy fiancée. “Congratulations to you both. Cherish each other,” I cheered, genuinely happy for them. If Holden was happy, I was happy.
Hugs were exchanged as the older man sat, fiddling with his phone. I grew tired of waiting and asked bluntly, “Who’s that?” I crooked my thumb toward the older man sitting across from Holden.
Holden huffed and crossed his arms, looking at his fiancée.
Bridget wiped her mouth, lipstick smeared from her make out session with Holden, wearing a cat-that-ate-the-canary grin as she made introductions. “This is Silas Abernathy. He’s a private investigator and lawyer, specializing in corporations. He’s also my uncle.” Bridget looked at Silas tenderly. Bridget looked at someone besides herself tenderly. Yep, Hell had indeed frozen over. “Not by blood but in every way that counts. Sonny, my grandfather, who I named the restaurant after, was partners with Silas. My dad died when I was ten, and my mom worked two jobs trying to save money to send me to a good school. Uncle Silas picked up any slack,” Bridget gushed, adjusting the floral arrangement in the middle of the table.
I couldn’t believe my ears. Was Bridget actually trying to help with my predicament? I wanted to ask what was in it for her, but instead I kept silent. A private investigator would be useful in finding out more information about Wyatt and his alleged dirty dealings.
“We thought it would be best to have an outside perspective. Your lawyer is friends with Wyatt, right?” Holden inquired, taking a drink out of his coffee cup. I nodded. “I hope you don’t mind me telling Bee, but I can’t hide things from her.” Bridget and I exchanged a guilty glance, seeing as how I had Bridget hide Cassie’s sudden rehiring from Holden.
He continued his speech, narrowing his eyes at me. “It’s not a sound idea to be in contact with anybody from Adams Point. You need to find out the truth and help Parker before Wyatt puts this craziness into motion,” Holden informed, grabbing a box of files from the floor and sliding them to me. “Here’s everything Silas came up with so far. Oh, by the way, I quit.”
This revelation was shocking. “You quit? I thought you loved your job,” I surmised, looking over at Bridget to gauge her stance on all this. I wasn’t thrilled that Holden brought her into the fold, but if roles were reversed, I knew I would have done the same.
“Nah. I just stuck it out because I knew no woman would love me without being successful. But now that I’ve got my woman, I can pursue my real dream,” Holden announced, grabbing Bridget’s hand once more.
“Which is?” I prompted, my stomach grumbling. I looked around for a waitress, hoping to order something to tide me over. Of course, the waitress I was really looking for wasn’t there.
“Opening my own food truck, of course. It’s going to be an extension of Sonny's on 5th. Instead of steak, it’s going to be chicken and eggs. I’m thinking of naming it Sonny Side Up. Get it?!” He chuckled.
I nodded and forced out a smile despite the terrible name. After our talk in my office, I was attempting to be more supportive.
Bridget interjected, “The name needs some work, but the sentiment is great.” She smiled at Holden, threading her fingers through their already clasped hands.
As the two lovebirds got lost in future plans, Silas decided now would be a proper time to introduce himself. “Mr. Adams, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He outstretched his hand to shake mine.
“Thank you, sir. As you can imagine, this is a very delicate situation, but regardless of my familial association, I just want to know the truth. Also I need to do all that I can to prevent Parker going down for Wyatt,” I admitted. I had come to realize I couldn’t protect my family anymore. Especially when it was starting to look like they weren’t deserving of it.
Oddly enough, I also found I didn’t want to turn a blind eye and trust so freely. If Wyatt was in fact as corrupt as the files and his pompous attitude made him out to be, I would gladly stand by and watch as the authorities doled out the proper punishments.
Sure, I yearned to believe my adoptive parents were stand-up individuals who did no wrong, but I knew that was naive, and I had to be logical. They were only human after all. They were bound to make mistakes. However, this was far outside of the typical blunders a parent makes over time. This was messing with people’s lives and freedom. This was potentially them ruining the only real family I’d ever had—which was Cassie. She was the only “real” family I ever had. The only real family I ever needed. I was just too cowardly to accept that. I allowed my weakness to ruin us, but I wouldn’t be powerless again.
“I want everything you can find on Wyatt and his business dealings. Find out all the ins and outs of Nardini Industries. Try to see if you can track down the broker he uses in the Caymans.” I solidified my decision. Justice would be served if Wyatt was as shady as we deduced.
“Look who finally got some balls!” Holden boasted, slapping my back.
“Speaking of balls, I’m thinking of making meatballs for the engagement party next week. Should I put you down for a plus one, Matthew?” Bridget asked sweetly, tying her hair into a tighter bun.
“Bee, I didn’t get to tell him about the party yet. And you know he’s only obsessed with Cassie. Are you going to have her working that night? Oh why don’t you give her the night off and invite her?” Holden volunteered, going on and on.
I sucked in a breath, finding myself unable to answer, so instead shook my head. I didn’t want to take away Cassie’s choice. If she wanted to see me, she would. She should be free to attend places she wanted to without any ulterior motives attached.
Excusing myself to the bathroom, I cursed how unsettled I had become while trying to compose myself. I was haunted by her. No matter how I tried to distract myself, it always came full circle to Cassie.
In my haste, I wasn’t looking where I was going and knocked into someone as I rounded the corner.
“Fuck!” she yelped, holding her hands out steady herself. “I’m so sorry.”
Cassie.
She shuddered and her face fell in her hands. “I’m definitely getting fired now.”
“I can promise you aren’t,” I said, with a smirk.
Cassie’s head whipped up to face me but she quickly dropped her gaze from my expectant gaze.
“It’s fine. I’m fine.” I hoped the double meaning wasn’t lost on her.
I nodded when Cassie muttered her apologies again, her eyes cast down, before I walked around her. There was nothing more to say. She knew where I stood.
“I’m not here to bother you,” I called over my shoulder. “I had a business lunch.”
“I don’t own the restaurant, Matty.”
She called me Matty. I couldn’t fight a smile as I entered the men’s room.
I sped down the tree-lined highway, feeling exhilarated by being in control of something for a change. It had been a long time since I’d driven my car. Living in the city, I never really needed to. Besides, having a driver really solidified not needing to drive myself anywhere. I forgot how therapeutic driving had been for me. The freedom I felt. The memories attached, both good and bad.
Jersey would always be a place filled with a mix of happiness and sadness for me. Cassie and I forged our connection there. We fell in love, and ultimately we fell apart there. I shook my head, trying to rid my thoughts of her and the past. This trip wasn’t about her. It was about Charlie.
She texted me earlier as I was leaving lunch with Holden and Bridget.
“SOS. Please come to Jersey. Hurry.”
I texted her a few times then tried calling but got no response. I jumped in the car and headed to her house. I was growing more and more concerned. I couldn’t fail another person.
I turned onto the main road, knowing this part of town all too well. I could probably drive around blindfolded.
Pulling up to the small house, I parked in front and cut the engine, growing confused as I noticed Nia’s car in the driveway. She was never home during the day. Nia had been working night shifts before Charlie was placed under her care, but she had switched so that she could be home in the evenings. Though lately, her schedule was much less consistent. Charlie had told me that Nia had agreed to work doubles, leaving the girl on her own more often than not.
I adjusted my Ray-Bans and marched to the door, hoping to get some answers as to Charlie’s strange behavior lately and her sudden decision to dodge my calls.
“What are you doing here?” a voice from behind me called. “Did she put you up to this?”
“Twice in one day, lucky me.” I pursed my lips and shook my head. “Charlie and her fucking games.”
“She texted you?” Cassie asked, looking up at me from beneath her long eyelashes.
I nodded. I assessed the area and didn’t spot another car nearby. “How did you get here?”
“Train,” she said simply, “Do you want to do the honors?” Cassie nodded toward the door.
I took a deep breath as I rang the doorbell. It was a few moments later when Nia answered the door. She’d traded her signature scrubs for casual jeans and a t-shirt.
“Hello, Matthew.” She looked me up and down then to Cassie and gasped, giving her a curt smile. “Cassandra, long time, no see,” Nia greeted.
“Call me Cassie,” she offered through gritted teeth.
I held back a snort. Cassie hated being called Cassandra. Too many memories of our fucked-up childhood were associated with the name.
“Nia,” I announced evenly, peeking around the door to try to spot Charlotte. I found it odd how she didn’t invite us inside. “Is Charlie home?”
“I’m sorry, kids, but now is not a good time. I appreciate you being concerned for Charlotte, but she needs time. Time away from everything and everybody,” Nia apologized, looking uncomfortable with this conversation.
“Nia, I just need five minutes to talk to her. I’m worried about her,” I pleaded, peeling my sunglasses off to get a better look at her.
Just as Nia was about to say something else, Charlie walked by. Gone was the pin straight hair, the smudged black eyeliner, and fringed cropped top and tiny shorts. Charlotte’s natural waves were back. She was barefaced and wore a long sleeve sweatshirt that covered all her skin. I was stunned speechless at this transformation.
“Hi Matthew. Hi Cassie,” Charlotte acknowledged meekly. She stood a safe distance away from the door and us.
“Charlie, are you okay? What the hell is going on? Why did you text us that SOS, and why are you dressed like that?” I shouted, not giving a fuck about pretenses any longer.
Nia gave Charlie a stern look then turned her attention back to me. “Charlotte needs to rest. I think it would be best if you go.”
“Can we just talk to her for a minute?” Cassie reasoned, looking between Charlie and me.
“I haven’t been feeling well, Matthew. And as for not calling you back, I’ve been grounded.” Charlie gave a dirty look to Nia as she said a quick goodbye and closed the door.
Cassie and I exchanged a concerned glance, at a loss for what to do. Something was off. I wanted to bang on the door and get answers. I wanted to do something, anything.
“Don’t,” Cassie warned, shaking her head. “You don’t want to get her in any more trouble, or yourself for that matter.”
I pulled a Charlotte and rolled my eyes. Cassie could always read my mind. So I did what I was always forced to do—walk away. Empty-handed.
“Can I give you a ride back to the city?” I offered, twirling my key around my index finger.
Cassie hesitated but shook her head. “No thanks.” She started off down the road, wrapping her arms around her middle.
“That’s it, huh?” I asked, taunting her.
Cassie turned around, as I leaned against the car door. I wasn’t going to chase her anymore.
“So what if it is, Matty?” Cassie spat.
“When things get hard you just run away?” I bellowed, not giving a shit who heard. “I mean that’s what you did all those years ago. That’s what you did after we fucked in the alleyway. I guess that’s who you are.” I shrugged. “You’re a coward.”
Cassie made her way to me, pointing her finger in my face. “You don’t get to speak to me like that.”
“Well I apparently don’t get to speak to you at all. It’s all about what you decide right,” I replied, narrowing my eyes.
“Just like you decided things for me ten years ago. Well your father did,” she accused.
“Like what?” I asked. “Going to events with me?”
“Fuck the events, Matthew.” Cassie seethed, her eyes conveying the fury within her. “Your father didn’t want you to move away with me so we were going to stay in Jersey. Your father wanted you to join his company so you did. Your father wanted you to get rid of me so you did. Maybe not intentionally but boy did he know what he was doing.”
“I never wanted to get rid of you,” I rebuked. “I made mistakes trusting him. Fuck, you have no idea the half of it …” I trailed off.
“I never once wanted to get rid of you,” I repeated, wanting to drive the point home. “When I got adopted, I got everything I ever wanted. But only because I had you in my life still. After you ran away, I lost everything I ever gave a shit about. I wanted nothing more than to go back in time to the shitty foster homes and be with you.”
I inhaled sharply, looking into Cassie’s eyes, which had filled with unshed tears. “Life didn’t go as I planned. I’m miserable. Everything in my life is fake. The last time something was real was with you.”
“We both made choices, Matthew,” Cassie murmured. “Now we have to live with them.”
A gust of wind hit the tree-lined block, causing Cassie to shiver.
I shrugged myself out of my sports jacket and handed it to her.
“No, I—” Cassie started, but I quickly interrupted.
“It’s just a jacket, Cass. Not a marriage proposal.” We both cringed at my choice of words.
I took a deep breath to compose myself, resigned. “I made mistakes, Cassie. We both made mistakes,” I admitted. “But you gave up on us, like we were nothing.”
“I did not,” Cassie yelled, throwing her hands up. Her jaw clenched but before she could say more, I pointed my finger at her.
“You did,” I snapped, flippantly. “I never walked away from you. I was pulled in a million directions, and yeah, people got in my head and influenced me. But you know what—I stayed and fought for us. Fuck, I’m still fighting for us. And what have you done but run once things got difficult.”
“I gave up having a fucking family for you.” Cassie hissed, the vein in her forehead throbbing.
I hated how hurt she was, but I couldn’t take the blame for everything. “I never once asked you to do that,” I reasoned. “How was I supposed to know?” I shook my head, pausing. There wasn’t much more I could say that hadn’t been said.
“Because I loved you so fucking much, it consumed me.” She yelled at the very same time as a noisy truck drove down the street. “You were everything to me and then poof suddenly, you had a whole other life.” Cassie’s voice broke, her breath shallow. “Without me.”
“You gave up on me—on us—pretty quickly though too. Even after I poured my heart out in that letter—" she retorted, crossing her arms.
“What letter?” I asked, puzzled. I had absolutely no clue what she was talking about.
“The letter I gave to your parents a month after our fight. I came by your house to return my car keys and gave them a letter I wrote for you,” Cassie spat, her voice full of venom.
I was puzzled by her revelation. After Cassie had jumped out of my car ten years ago, I spent all night searching for her. I checked everywhere I could think: alleys, parks, the diner, shelters, even the underpass. I periodically called home, hoping, praying really, that she changed her mind and went to my parents’. Every time I called her cellphone, it went straight to voicemail until eventually the number was disconnected. It was at that point that I gave up hope that I’d find her. If there was one thing I knew for certain about Cassie, it was if she didn’t want to be found, she wouldn’t be. The year after our fight, I’d been operating on autopilot, all the while holding on hope that our paths would cross again. Now she was telling me she had left a letter, a letter that would’ve helped us avoid so much heartache. What did the letter say, and what had happened to it?
It didn’t take long for me to answer the latter of those questions. I had a pretty good idea, but I would tend to that later.
Now was my turn to right for my own wrongdoings.
“I searched for you!” I bellowed. “After you left, I didn’t give up. I went as far as hiring an investigator before I realized it was pointless. You know as well as I do how to hide from the monsters that plague us. I just never thought I’d be your fucking monster.” I threw my hands up wildly, unable to control the mounting frustration.
Before Cassie could respond, the creak of a door opening sounded in the air.
“Do we have a problem out here?” an older man called from beside them, standing on his porch.
I answered quickly, shaking my head, “No sir.” The last thing I needed was more trouble.
“Take it inside, or I’m calling the cops,” the man warned, giving a second glance to Cassie. With a slam of the door, he was gone. But his words lingered in the air.
We looked at each other, chests heaving, emotions running high. The wind continued to whip and Cassie shivered, tightening her grasp on my jacket. The sight of her wearing my clothes almost made me smile, but I was too pissed.
“I never got a letter, Cassie.” I breathed out, exasperated, “Let me drive you home. It’s getting late.” My lips pressed into a thin line. I looked back toward the man’s house, hoping it was enough to sway her. Neither one of us needed to be arrested in Jersey.
Cassie paused, following my gaze and muttered, “Fine.”
I walked around the passenger side to open her door. I would still be a gentleman even if I was annoyed with her. I pulled away with a last glance to Charlie’s house, worried about our foster sister. I would deal with that later.
I drove for a few minutes and then looked over at Cassie, who was shaking her leg and picking at her fingernails. Her discomfort seemed more serious than her usual annoyance toward me.
“What’s wrong?” I inquired, concerned.
“Driving in cars makes me nervous,” Cassie admitted, biting her pinky nail.
“Since when?” She was never afraid of cars when we were together. I was the one to teach her how to drive.
“Since the night I ran away from you,” she said, simply.
I nodded. It seemed most of Cassie’s trauma came back to that fateful night. “Cassie, I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s nothing.” Cassie waved her hand. “I’m broken.”
“We all are,” I said, irritated at how she spoke about herself.
“I guess I don’t get over things as easily as you,” she retorted.
I scoffed and passed the exit for the highway. My eyes fixated on the road, looking for a proper place to pull over. What I needed to say couldn’t wait until we got back into the city.
“What are you doing?” Cassie looked over at me.
I just shook my head. Words weren’t enough. It was something that couldn’t be explained. I had to show her the truth.
I pulled the car over into a grocery store parking lot, cutting the engine. We sat in silence for a moment before I mustered up the strength to play my final card.
If she couldn’t see what she represented to me, I’d have to walk away once and for all.
“I don’t get over things easily, Cassie.” I warred with myself as I tried to find the right words.
Slowly, I unbuttoned the cuffs of my shirt. Cassie looked over at me, curiously.
“I have to show you so you understand,” I broached. I slipped off my dress shirt and pressed the button to the car’s overhead light.
When the car was fully illuminated, I leaned over the console to give Cassie a good look into how I never got over her.
On my upper bicep was a familiar quote, “Once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”
The half-sleeve tattoo not only had the quote taking up the length of my upper arm but at my inner bicep was a shaded version of the actual Velveteen Rabbit. The bunny was shabby, just like in the book, but you could tell it was beloved.
Cassie crashed into my life, quite literally when we were four years old and left me feeling less alone. Cassie and I were once shabby children, unlovable, but we found value in each other. It was a perfect representation of us.
My tattoos served as a reminder for me to stay real. A reminder that she was real. I wanted to have a piece of her with me, even if I couldn’t have her. I got the tattoos shortly after our breakup. Sure I had other tattoos along the length of my arms, but they were only superficial and served the purpose of covering up my scars.
Wordlessly, I showed her my other bicep which had a colorful sketch of a girl sitting in front of an easel. The girl’s long brown hair hung to the stool she sat on, a palette filled with paint and a paintbrush in hand. On the easel was a generic painting of two young kids, barely discernible because of how tiny it was on my arm.
Cassie leaned closer and covered her mouth with her hands when she saw what I intended her to.
In the corner of the easel was “C. Wright.” I always believed in her.
“I never got over you,” I confessed. “Never wanted to. I just thought you should see it.”
When I attempted to put my shirt back on, Cassie lightly traced one of my inked arms. I felt déjà vu, remembering years ago how she traced my arms as a way of trying to get me to forget about the scars.
She always reassured me they didn’t hold any meaning to my worth. The irony wasn’t lost on me. All these years later, I was trying to use my arms to prove to her how much she was worth to me.
“Thank you,” Cassie said, her voice full of emotion. “For showing me.” Cassie gulped and snatched her hand away too quickly. She turned her face to stare blindly out the window.
My shoulders slumped. There was nothing more to say or do. I had shown her a piece of myself and it wasn’t enough. I put my shirt back on, buttoning it, and proceeded to restart the car.
I never fully understood the quote in the Velveteen Rabbit , “When you are Real you don’t mind being hurt,” until that very moment. I knew I tried. Regardless of my limitless experience in the business world, I knew enough to realize that sometimes you exhausted all your moves and needed to walk away with your head held high regardless of the outcome.