Touch Me Once (5 page)

We got our things and went out to the car.
It was a large, black Town Car, and when we got there, the driver’s-side door opened. A big man got out. His skin was the color of polished mahogany. He wore a dark suit and a chauffeur’s cap. Alex immediately burst out laughing while shaking his head.

“Charlie, how many times have I told you that you don’t have to wear the hat?
It’s bad enough that you’re dressed for a funeral, but come on, man,” Alex as Charlie came to the passenger side of the car.

“Mr. Westfield, if you act the part, you have to look the part,” Charlie said in a deep baritone.

Alex replied, “And please don’t start with the Mr. Westfield stuff. I told you to call me Alex.” They both grinned and shook hands like old friends. Alex turned his attention to me, “This is my friend, Kat. She’s been nice enough to agree to have dinner with me.”

Charlie’s hand swallowed mine and he said, “Aren’t you the lucky man, Alex.
And you’re a lucky lady, ma'am.”

“Thank you
, Charlie, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He opened the door and motioned me inside.
I slid into the backseat and settled in on the driver’s side. Alex climbed in next to me, and we put on our seatbelts while Charlie got behind the wheel.

It was a lot bigger inside than I thought it would be.
I could stick my legs straight out and barely touch the back of the front seat. There was a small bar next to Alex’s leg, and a bucket full of ice. I could also see that there was a partition that could be raised to block the view from the front seat.

Charlie turned his head toward us and started the car.
“Okay folks, you should have everything you need back there. If I can help, just use the intercom. I think you two could use some privacy, though, so I’ll just roll up the partition until we reach our destination. Thank you for flying Charlie Airlines.”

“You’re the best
, Charlie,” Alex said, as the black glass went up and sealed us in the back.

“He seems reall
y nice. Have you known him long?” I asked.

“A couple of years,” Alex said.
“Whenever I know I’m going to be drinking I call him. It’s too easy to get a DUI these days, so I just play it safe. Would you like a drink?”

I told him I would very much like a drink as the car pulled away from his house.
About five houses down, we passed a car that I thought I had seen before. It was a blue Ford Focus with faded patches of paint and a dent in the front left panel. I didn’t think anything about it at the time or feel the need to mention it to Alex. In hindsight, I wished I had said something.

Alex handed me my drink, turned in his seat
, and said, “So, here we are, what would you like to know?”

“I
Googled you today, so I know the broad facts. Your family started WestCorp about sixty years ago. Since then, it has become one of the largest multinationals trading on the market. Their holdings are diverse and span several industries. Mainly manufacturing, with a growing concern in the technology market. The stock is steady, and even major fluctuations in the market don’t significantly affect its value. Your turn.”

“I had almost forgotten that you’re an accountant,” he said
, laughing. “I grew up with money. By most standards, a lot of money. I went to the best boarding school in the country, then moved on to Harvard. I barely got in with my grades, but my folks gave a hefty endowment, and we both know how money talks in those situations. I had the same roommate all four years, James Robertson. But everyone called him Robo. He’s insanely smart and a computer genius. When he wasn’t acing his classes, he spent all of his time writing computer code. I think I was the only one who wanted to be his friend.

He didn’t have much in the way of social skills, but we shared the same sort of sense of humor.
Anyway, our senior year, my grandfather passed away.”

I squeezed his hand, “I’m sorry, were you close?”

He took a sip of his drink and waved his hand. “Not really. My family isn’t what you would call close. Money can solve a lot of problems, but it can also generate some weird feelings. So, Grandpa died and he left me some money. In the grand scheme of things, not a bunch of money—and I already had money in a trust fund but there were an impressive number of zeroes.

I tell this to
Robo, and he asks me if I can keep a secret. Of course, I say yes. He tells me that he has programmed some information tracking and data retrieval software that’s better than anything on the market. I say that’s great, big deal. Let’s go get a beer. Then he starts talking about beta testing and patents and a bunch of other shit that I don’t understand. He tells me how much money it would take to develop. It’s less than my inheritance, so I tell him to make it happen.

My parents weren’t thrilled with the idea,
but since I was using my money and not family money, there wasn’t anything they could do. We graduate, and I give Robo the money. He goes out to Silicon Valley and just blows the place up. He’s one of the few people who doesn’t have to chase after venture capitalists, because he has me.

Long story short, about three years ago
, he calls me and says he has a name for our company. I say, ‘company, what company is that?’ Alrotech, he tells me. I can see by your reaction you’ve heard of it.”

“Uh, yeah I’ve heard of it,” I tell him with an amazed expression.
“At the time it had the largest IPO in history. Its stock is still climbing. Are you telling me that you have stock in Alrotech?”

Alex freshened our drinks and continued.
“Robo and I have all but nine shares. He’s the majority shareholder, with fifty-one, and I have forty. The rest we split with nine people who do everything Robo doesn’t want to do. And since there isn’t anything I can do in that field, I just stay out of the way. In fact, I have to go out there tomorrow to sign some papers. I leave in the morning and come back the next day.”

There wasn’t anything in my search of Alex about any of this.
He took the term “silent partner” to a whole new level. I just thought that his family money was huge, but the amount he was talking about— with that company alone—was staggering. Like, as much, if not more, money than some small countries. It was a lot to take in.

I looked out of the window as we got off of the bridge that connects Mt. Pleasant to the peninsula that is Charleston.
It’s an astounding view of Charleston Harbor and a great way to count the many church steeples that rise from the city.

I looked at Alex and said,
“I’m a little overwhelmed here. I knew that you had crazy money, but this is ridiculous.”

“I know I’m throwing a lot at you,” he told me.
“I’m still the same guy I was last night. I’m the same person you made love with a little while ago; it just so happens that I have a lot of money. That’s why I came down here and opened the restaurant. So I could feel like I’m doing something worthwhile.”

“That’s admirable;
I can see why you would want to keep that under wraps.”

“It’s just easier dealing with people if they don’t know my net worth,” he told me.
“There are some people who have to know—my attorney, my banker, those kinds of people. Some suspect that there’s more going on, like Jerry. And now there’s you.”

“Thank you for being so honest,” I said,
looking hard into his eyes. “I guess that means we don’t have to split the bill tonight.”

We shared a laugh, clinked glasses
, and settled into one of our comfortable silences. He reached over and took my hand in his, our fingers locked together as we sipped our drinks.

“Hey,” Alex said out of nowhere, “Why don’t you come to California with me?
Like I said, it’s just a day trip.”

I gave his hand a light squeeze and said, “I would love to, but there are some things I need to tell you
, and one of them is why I can’t go with you tomorrow, as much as I would like to.”

“That
sounds a bit ominous. We’re almost to the restaurant though, so unless it’s absolutely necessary, can we wait until after we eat?”

“No problem. B
elieve me, the last thing I want to do is spoil our time together.”

We were on the road that leads to Folly Beach.
It’s the more laid-back beach option in the Charleston area. We turned down the small road and headed to the tip of the thirteen-acre island where the restaurant is located. We could see the pristine marsh on either side of the road. It was low tide and the tangy smell of pluff mud filled the air. You could also smell the salty sea air that blew in from the ocean barely a half-mile away.

Alex and I held hands and marveled at the natural beauty surrounding us as the car rolled down the bumpy road.
We passed several large private homes that housed the lucky few who lived on the island. Charlie pulled the car into the parking area, shut off the engine, and rolled down the dark partition.

“Here we are,” Charlie said, “Bowens Island restaurant.
Founded in 1946 by the Bowens and run by their grandson Mr. Robert Barber. You kids go have a good time, and don’t rush. I’ll be right here when you’re done.”

“Charlie,” Alex said through a chuckle, “You must think that I’m a heartless bastard.
There’s no way we’re going to let you sit out here while we stuff ourselves stupid on oysters. Come inside with us and get a table, dinner is on me.”

Without missing a beat, Charlie replied, “I was hoping you were going to say that.”
He got out of the car and opened my door for me.

Alex got out on his side and looked
over the roof of the car at Charlie, “That didn’t take much convincing.”

“Never turn down oysters, especially if they’re free,” Charlie told him as he helped me out of the car.
“That’s one of the many things my Mama taught me.”

We crunched our way to the door and went inside.
Graffiti covered several walls, and tables filled the dining room. About half of the tables were full, and the salty smell of roasted oysters wrapped itself around us. The sound of oyster knives cracking shells open was followed by the chunk of those shells being thrown into trash cans that were underneath a hole cut into the middle of the table. It was a welcome, happy sound.

“Well
, there’s a sight for sore eyes,” a plump woman wearing faded denim clothes said as she came up and hugged Alex. “Where have you been hiding yourself?”

“Miss Margaret, you’re not the only one
who works all the time. If it makes you feel any better, I haven’t been cheating on you with any other restaurants.”

“That’s because you know better.
If I found out you were shucking oysters someplace else, I’d stuff you in a crab trap and throw you in the creek,” she told him as they released their hug.

“Miss Margaret, I’d like you meet my friends.
This is Charlie, the nice man who drove us here,” Alex told her. “And this is my good friend Kat.”

S
he took my hand in both of hers; they were rough and calloused, hands that had seen their share of hard work. “Nice to meet you both,” she said. Miss Margaret turned her warm, brown eyes on me and gave me a long once-over. “You better behave yourself, Alex, because this one looks like a keeper.”

“I’m on my best behavior,” he said
, and gave me a sly grin that made me think of his behavior just a little while ago. “I’m going to do my best to hang on to her.”

“Well
, ma’am,” Charlie said as Miss Margaret released my hand, “I know these two don’t want an old fool like me eating all their oysters, so I was hoping that you might have a table for one.”

“There’s no fool like an old fool.
You play your cards right, and I’ll make it a table for two,” she said and gave Charlie a wink. “You go on inside and get yourself a table, I’ll join you in a minute. Alex, I know it’s been a long time but I’m sure you remember the way to your table out back. You two go on, and I’ll put your order in. I assume you’ll be having the usual.”

“Yep, oysters, and keep ‘
em coming. I’ll have a Bud in the can, and the lady will have…” Alex left me an opening to order.

“I’ll have a Bud in the can
, too, and keep ‘em coming.”

Alex led me out of the back door
, where we almost ran into a man holding a big shovel full of steaming oysters. The view from the back of the restaurant was magnificent. We were surrounded by marsh, and a tidal creek flowed with a small amount of water as it waited for the incoming tide. Alex led me to a table like the ones inside, with a hole in the middle and a trash can under the hole to catch oyster shells.

“What you did for Charlie was very nice,” I said to Alex as we sat down next to each other and looked out over the marsh.

“It’s no big deal. I couldn’t just let him sit out there in the car. Him being able to smell all of this good food and not able to eat would’ve just been cruel. I do hope you don’t mind that I didn’t ask him to join us.”

“Not at all,” I told him.
“Being nice is one thing, but I don’t think we need a chaperone.”