I overslept. Fighting consciousness, I tried in vain to remain in dreamland. I was kissing Seth, his hands all over my ass while he pressed me up against the stainless steel cabinets in the first class galley. Cups and glasses rattled on the shelves around us as we created our own turbulence. I was close to cumming in my pants when I was startled awake by a faint ringing, my cock throbbing under the sheets. Why do the hottest dreams always have to end just before the climax?
The sun was shining around the edges of the drapes and I was momentarily disoriented in the strange room. I heard my pitifully weak watch alarm going off on the nightstand, muffled by a pillow I must have tossed on top of it during my wild fantasy tryst with Seth.
I pressed the button to silence the alarm, then saw the time—8:25 a.m. Crap! Billy was picking me up at nine. I was so screwed.
I flew out of bed, used the toilet, and jumped in the shower. I was bummed because I didn’t have time to really enjoy it, but the Bvlgari shower gel was astounding—I smelled like a million bucks. As much of that shower gel as I could cram into my duffel bag was coming home with me. I did a fast shave, brushed my teeth, spread some deodorant under my arms, and threw the wet towels on the floor.
I didn’t know exactly when we were to meet the judge, so I skipped the suit. I pulled it out of the closet, realizing I had forgotten to put it in the bathroom while I showered. It was still horribly wrinkled, so I hung it on a towel hook on the wall next to the shower. Maybe some lingering steam could work out some of the kinks during the day.
I put on my Thursday work uniform, found my shoes where I had kicked them off the night before, and with one final check in the mirror, decided I was as ready as I would ever be. I grabbed my jacket and headed out.
Wonderful aromas floated through the hallway, wafting in from the Club Lounge. My stomach ached for some attention, but there was no time. I had five minutes to get to the lobby and the hotel was huge. Keep moving, Jack.
Thankfully I didn’t get lost—my internal GPS guided the way. I stepped outside just as a gleaming black sedan pulled up. Billy was at the wheel and when he saw me, he gave me his signature megawatt smile. I took a deep breath and tried to relax. I didn’t realize how tense and nervous I was in the rush to get ready.
Billy was out and holding the rear door open for me in a flash—I think he wanted to beat the bellman to the task. This man was serious about his job.
“Good morning, Jack. Sleep well?” he asked in a chipper voice.
“Like a baby, Billy. Best night in a long time. I overslept. Guess I didn’t want it to end.”
“I hear ya, man. If I had that bed, I’d never want to leave it either.” We both chuckled as he got back behind the wheel.
“Here we go. Next stop, the office.” He pulled into heavy morning traffic and we trickled past towering downtown buildings. I gazed out the window at throngs of people on the sidewalks around us, walking quickly to get to their appointed tasks, and tried to ignore the rising anxiety spreading throughout my body.
After a short drive, we pulled into a parking garage underneath a mid-sized building. Billy pulled off his sunglasses as he maneuvered the car around the turns, moving up a couple of levels before pulling into a spot reserved for Wilson, Matthews and Associates.
As I had no idea where we were going, I waited for Billy to open my door—I think he liked that part of his job a lot—and I followed him toward a bank of elevators about twenty yards away. I zipped up my jacket as there was a definite chill in the air.
We rode up to the seventeenth floor and I trailed Billy to Suite 1701, stealing glances at his muscular butt moving under his tight black suit pants. Magnificent ass!
The entrance was shielded by floor-to-ceiling glass walls and doors with polished brass fixtures, and an engraved plaque announced the firm’s name. As we entered, a young blond woman wearing a too-small blouse and a tad too much makeup looked up from her desk. She smiled at Billy and put her book down. My eyes watered from her excessive perfume.
“Good morning, Billy. It’s great to see you again.” I could have been mistaken—I’m no expert in these things—but she appeared to be flirting with Billy. She totally ignored me.
“Mornin’, Shelly. We’re headin’ back to see Mr. Watson.” He didn’t bother to introduce me and she paid me no attention. Her eyes never left Billy. He barely seemed to notice her.
We moved further into the inner sanctum, Billy walking quickly along the interior corridors, nodding occasionally to someone sitting at a cubicle or desk as we passed. As we made a right turn and entered into some kind of executive wing, the décor was more refined, with dark polished wood accents and a thicker carpeting under our feet. The musty smell of the law books on the open shelves we passed reminded me of my days working in the college library.
The ambient office noise diminished in deference to the more important work being done here by more important people. We passed a couple of doors on our left with names on them—probably partners with the firm. In the open area directly across, two mature, elegant women worked in subdued movements, answering phones and typing at computers. They both smiled as we walked past then returned to their work.
Billy never slowed down as we made one more right turn and entered a small lobby of sorts. It was oval shaped, reminiscent of the Oval Office in the White House minus the priceless paintings and secret service detail. In the center of this space sat a long desk fronted by a curved wooden panel. It looked big enough for three people. Whoever worked behind it probably acted as a sentry to the two doors barely visible in the wood-paneled wall behind it.
Billy stopped and looked around. There was a large conference room to my right behind another floor-to-ceiling glass wall. Inside, I could see a huge cherry wood conference table with various pieces of communications equipment sitting in the middle. I wondered if any of it had been purchased from my company. That would have been a “small world” moment for sure.
A large credenza sat at the far end of the conference room with a silver coffee and tea service adorning the dark marble top. Fresh pastries and cut fruit rested on serving platters with a stack of fine china plates at the ready. I couldn’t tell from where I was standing, but I was willing to bet the napkins were linen, not paper.
I heard a door click and a beautiful woman exited one of the offices immediately behind the big desk. She walked around toward us, the dark skin of her face shining in the ambient light coming from above. She looked like an angel. She wore black pants and a frilly off-white blouse with lots of ruffles which struggled to cover what my Aunt Helen would have called her ample bosom.
“Mornin’, Mama,” said Billy. This was his mother?
“Morning, baby,” she replied sweetly, receiving his gentle kiss on her cheek. He had to bend down to give her the kiss. I was somewhat hidden behind Billy, large as he was. He stepped to the side and reached back to usher me forward.
“Mama, may I introduce you to Mr. Jack Schaeffer.” I would have been amused at his sudden formality if I hadn’t been surprised by his greeting. She smiled at me, and I immediately knew they had to be related. She had the same incredible, all-the-way-to-the-eyes smile as Billy’s, and for a split second, I could see something familiar in her eyes as well.
She inhaled sharply and looked at me like she was seeing a ghost. She stared at my face for several seconds, studying every detail. I started to get uncomfortable but she seemed to recover herself and her smile returned.
“Jack Schaeffer, it is an honor to finally meet you. I’m Sharon Adams. We spoke on the phone yesterday. Welcome to Denver.”
“Thank you, ma’am. I’m glad to be here—I think.” With her warm greeting, my nerves settled a bit.
“Has my son been taking good care of you? He may be big, but I could still turn him over my knee if he doesn’t do right.” Her eyes danced with humor and we all burst out laughing at the image she had just painted. Billy was the most amused of all.
“Mama, you’re too much.” He looked at her with obvious love and respect.
She was looking at me again with studious wonder. “So, Jack, I’m sure you have a million questions running through your mind, so why don’t we get you settled here in the conference room where you’ll be more comfortable while we wait for Clyde to finish his call, okay?”
We moved into the conference room. “Have you had breakfast? Would you like something to eat?” At that moment my stomach made a gurgling noise which echoed in the room.
She laughed and said, “I’ll take that as a yes. I know young men such as yourself need to eat often to keep up your strength. My Billy could eat enough for ten men when he was your age.” Small wonder—the guy was huge. And strong.
I followed her to the credenza and selected a couple of pastries and some fruit, placing it all very delicately onto the china plate she handed me, along with a napkin. I was right—linen.
I declined coffee, accepting the offered water bottle instead, and took a seat at the table near the center where I could look out through the glass wall into Sharon’s domain. I preferred to have my back to the rear of a room—fear of surprises, I guess. I didn’t recognize any of the communications equipment adorning the table.
“Jack, I have a couple of things to finish up for Clyde so will you be okay here for a few minutes? If you need anything, I’ll be right outside there at my desk.”
“I’m fine, ma’am. Thank you.”
“Call me Sharon, baby. I won’t take it as disrespect, I promise.” She stepped out and returned to her desk.
Baby? What an odd way to talk to a client. I smiled, feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. I liked her.
I watched her chat with Billy for a few minutes. At one point he leaned in and gave her a kiss on the cheek again and she smiled at him. They clearly loved each other.
I picked at my cheese danish. I found myself feeling jealous of Billy. It appeared to me like he had the kind of relationship with his mother I had always wanted with mine. Warmth, respect, affection. My mother made sure my basic needs were met growing up—food, shelter, clothing. But there had been little affection and, to be honest, I wasn’t convinced all the time about her love for me. She didn’t hate me or even really dislike me, I don’t think. But there was no warmth or joy in the relationship. Ours was an obligatory co-existence.
I sometimes wondered if it had been different before my father left. I had vague recollections of her smiling and laughing more when my brother Terry and I were little. She would play games with us. We had birthday parties with all my cousins and they were big affairs. She was a room mother in our elementary school. Even Terry and I seemed to get along back then, as brothers should.
I actually enjoyed my early childhood. I liked to believe we had been a typical happy family—before my father gave in to his selfishness and left us in relative ruins. He tried to tell my brother and me he only left our mother, not us. But that is never really true in a divorce.
Sitting behind the glass wall, I started to feel like a lonely minnow in a fishbowl. So far the trip had been enjoyable. The plane, the hotel, the fancy office. But none of that was why I was here. It didn’t add up.
Who would spend the kind of money these people were dropping on my behalf, without expecting something in return? What did they want from me? It felt like a really big hook had been baited, and I was expected to swallow it.
I popped the last of my fruit into my mouth as I placed the empty plate off to the side on the credenza, not sure what else I was supposed to do with it. I nearly dropped it on the floor when I heard a deep voice behind me say, “Jack, I’m so glad you made it.”
I turned to face Clyde Watson for the first time. He was a trim, fit man in his early sixties. I started to return his greeting, but when he saw my face, the color drained instantly from his and he looked as if he were going to faint.
Sharon was standing next to him but couldn’t see his face. I took a step closer to reach out and help him should he start to fall but he quickly recovered and steadied himself with a hand on a chair. He seemed embarrassed by his reaction to me.
“Are you okay, Mr. Watson?” I asked, genuinely concerned.
“Yes, yes. I’m fine.” He still seemed shaky, but determined to move on. “Let’s have a seat, shall we?” He gestured to the table and I returned to my seat.
As we were situating ourselves, I noticed he stole several glances at Sharon who joined us at the table. It was a silent communication, as only two people who have worked closely together for years can do. What they were saying, I had no idea. My nerves were back. I clasped my hands together under the table to hide the trembling.
“Sharon tells me you made it in okay and Billy got you to the hotel last night. Was everything satisfactory with your room?” asked Clyde. He was shuffling papers as he tried to make opening small talk.
“Yes, sir. It was very fine. The hotel is beautiful. Much more than I expected. Also, thank you for the airplane ticket. First Class was so not necessary.”
“Nonsense, Jack. We take very good care of our clients here and you are a special client indeed.” Okay, this was the second time I had been referred to as a special client. First by Sharon yesterday on the phone, and now by Clyde. My anxiety ratcheted up a notch.
“Jack, to be honest, I’m not sure where to start. We have a lot of ground to cover in a short amount of time.” He kept glancing up at me and then back down to his papers. I think his thoughts were shuffling as much as the papers in his hands. This went on for several uncomfortable seconds.
Finally Sharon cut to the chase. “Clyde, just tell him. The boy deserves to know.”
It was a very matter-of-fact statement, but it sounded ominous. Know what? I squeezed my hands together to quell the shaking and my throat felt tight. What had I gotten myself into? Was I being played? Was this all a setup?
My thoughts started racing. What do I do now? How am I going to get back to Chicago? I don’t even know where I am, actually. I felt trapped. How do I get out of here?
Clyde’s continued silence irritated me and I blurted out, “Will someone please tell me what’s going on?” My outburst startled Clyde into action. His first words rocked me to my core.
“Amanda Franklin was your mother.”