Touch Me Once (6 page)

Miss Margaret brought us a bucket with six cans of beer nestled in ice.
She pulled two of them out, popped the tops, and set them down in front of us. “If y’all need anything, just shout. The oysters will be out in a minute. Now, if the bugs get too bad for you, just move the party inside. Charlie is all set up, so just enjoy.”

“Thank you
, ma’am,” Alex said. “Please make sure you put Charlie on our bill. And for God’s sake, don’t let him drink any alcohol. I don’t want to have to drive him home.”

“Don’t you worry none
I already tried to give him a beer, and he turned me flat down,” she as she walked away.

We tipped our cans together and each took a big swallow.
The natural beauty that surrounded us was breathtaking, and we tried to take it all in. Herons slowly walked through the shallow water spearing fish with their bills. Pelicans sat on top of some abandoned dock piling and kept a watch out for their dinner.

“So, do you always get a private table out here?” I asked.

“Not always,” Alex replied. “Most of the time, when I get the time to come here, that is I usually sit with Miss Margaret and whoever else is hanging around. I called earlier to see if this was available, and fortunately for us, it was.”

We held hands while we drank our beer and silently enjoyed each other’s
company. Every few minutes, our eyes would meet and we’d smile. We leaned close together and pointed out different things we saw in the marsh. This feeling we shared was wonderful, but the shadow of what I had to tell Alex loomed over me.

As if he knew what I was thinking, he leaned over and kissed my shoulder, “We’ve got time,
let’s just enjoy this moment. I hope it’s one of many that we get to share.”

I looked at the sun as it began its slow dance over the horizon, “I’m just happy that we finally get to see the sunset.
We got a bit distracted yesterday.”

He gave a small chuckle, “a
nd it was one of the best distractions I think I’ve ever had.”

“Speak
ing of distractions,” I said, “is everything okay at the restaurant?”

“I’ve got the phone on, but I told Jerry not to call unless the place was under attack or there was a natural disaster.
I think he got the message. Besides, I made some calls and got the dishwashing taken care of.”

Just as we popped the tops on two more beers
, a large man in a dirty white T-shirt set down a huge metal tray piled high with rocky, grey oyster clusters and without a word, he turned and walked away. Miss Margaret came to the table with a roll of paper towels, two oyster knives, some cocktail sauce, and a cup overflowing with horseradish. She also had a bottle of hot sauce and two more beers. She plunked the beers in the bucket and grabbed our empties. “Call me when you’re ready for more. Charlie is already puttin’ ‘em away as fast as we can get ‘em to him.”

We each grabbed a cluster
, picked up our oyster knives, and went to work. If you’ve never eaten oysters like this, it can be a tricky. You have to stick the tip of the knife into the joint just right to separate the shells so you can get at the oyster. Since I grew up here, I had no problem. I was going to give Alex some pointers, but when I turned to help him, I saw him opening them with a speed most locals would envy.

I wiped my mouth with a paper towel and threw it in the hole with a number of empty oyster shells.
“You’re pretty good at that,” I said to Alex. “Some people can’t ever get the hang of it.”

“You should have seen me the first few time
s I did it,” he told me with a laugh as he wiped hot sauce off of his chin. “I cut my fingers up pretty badly. I stabbed myself with my oyster knife I don’t know how many times. Until Miss Margaret showed me what to do, I thought that eating these things was some kind of a trick the locals played on tourists. But practice makes perfect.”

With that
, he popped open a huge shell, dug the mammoth oyster out, and with the tip of his knife, he offered it to me. I opened my mouth and let him drop it on my tongue. The flavor explosion that happens when you bite into a big one is hard to describe. It’s like chewing seawater.

“
Mmm…I haven’t had anything that nice in mouth since last night,” I told Alex with a husky whisper.

“I just hope that you don’t try to get into my pants with an oyster knife,” he said
, laughing.

We dug back into the dwindling pile of clusters, pausing only for a refreshing sip of beer.
The light humidity, combined with the horseradish and hot sauce, gave my forehead a light sheen of sweat. Alex tore off a fresh paper towel and gently wiped my face. It was a sweet gesture that showed how tender and attentive he could be.

Miss
Margaret had another (thankfully smaller) pile of clusters delivered to us, and we made short work of them. Our trash can was almost full with shells when we finally threw in the paper towel. We leaned our shoulders together for support and finished the last of our beer. Alex put his arm around me, and I relaxed into his embrace. We sat there enjoying the closeness. The heat brought out his manly scent, and I could feel his bicep bulge against my back.

“Man
, that was good,” he said, patting his stomach. “We’ve got to come back here soon.”

I loved the way he made us sound like a couple, always including me in his plans.
It seemed so right being together. I didn’t want it to end, but I knew that after I told him about my problem, it very easily could. I was nervous at the thought that our first real date might be our last. I was just about to say something when Miss Margaret shuffled up to the table.

“Did y’all get enough to eat?” she asked with a big smile, clearly seeing that we were stuffed.

“Yes ma’am,” I said, “More than enough.”

“When you’re dealing with oysters, its always bette
r to have too many than too few.” She giggled, pushing everything disposable into the big hole in the middle of the table. “Here’s the damage, darlin’. I threw in a couple of beers so it won’t be so long until you come back.”

Alex looked at the bill and dug a handful of money out of his pocket.
He shuffled out what looked like way too many $20 bills and handed them to Miss Margaret. “I don’t know whether to thank you, Miss Margaret, or call the cops and have you arrested for attempted murder with a bivalve.”

She didn’t even count the bills, just stuffed them in her back pocket.
“Get up and give me a hug, then you can go wash up. Charlie is out in the car, probably taking a nap. I’ve seen a lot of things, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone put away so many of those ugly little buggers.”

“I know you hear it all the time, but that was fantastic.
I promise I won’t stay away for so long ever again,” Alex said with heartfelt conviction as they hugged.

Then
, Miss Margaret turned to me and gave me a hug. “I don’t know what you’re doing, young lady, but keep it up. I don’t think I’ve ever seen this one so happy.”

I grinned from ear to ear and said, “This one makes it pretty easy, but I’ll do my very best.”

Alex and I held hands while we walked into the building and went to our respective restrooms. He met me at the door, and we strolled out to the car. Sure enough, Charlie was in the front seat with his chauffeur’s cap tipped down over his eyes.

“I know you think I’m sleeping
, but I’m not. I’m becoming one with the environment,” Charlie suddenly said, taking off his hat and throwing it on the seat beside him. He got out of the car and opened my door for me.

Alex had gone over to the passenger side and said, “If you become an
y more one with the environment, I’ll have to call a cab for all three of us.”

Charlie started the car and turned his head towards us, “Where to now?
It’s just the shank of the evening.”

Alex looked at me
, and I just shook my head and patted my belly, “I can barely move, besides, don’t you have to get up early and go to California?” I hoped that Charlie couldn’t see me put my hand on Alex’s thigh and give it a squeeze.

“You’re right, we better call it
a night. How about taking us back to the house, and we’re in no hurry,” Alex said.

“Back to the house, no hurry, that’s my specialty,” Charlie said
as he rolled up the partition.

“Would you like something to drink?” Alex asked me.

“I don’t think that I have any room left in my body, but help yourself,” I told him.

“No, no,” he said, “If I put anything else in my tummy
, I might explode. Now, why don’t you tell me why you can’t go to California with me?”

T
he moment of truth was here. I released a deep sigh and began. “Alex, the reason I can’t go to California with you is because there is a court order that prevents me from leaving the state. If I leave, I will be considered a fugitive from the law, and a warrant will be issued for my arrest.”

CHAPTER 5

Much to his credit, Alex didn’t laugh or make a funny comment. He just turned slightly in his seat, put his hand on my knee, and said, “Its okay, tell me everything.”

So I did.
“I’ve always loved numbers. In high school, my math class was like having a free period. It just came very easy to me. Not physics or theoretical math, just basic number-crunching.

I got into Furman, which is probably the best school on the state, with no problem.
It was a no-brainer to major in accounting, and I was the best in my class. That’s not bragging—it’s just a fact.

The four years just flew by
, and I had a good time. I made some good friends and dated a little. Nothing serious, just the usual college flings. I never felt much of a connection with any of the boys; it was like I was waiting for something and it just hadn’t arrived yet.” I let out a breath and looked into Alex’s shining blue eyes. He smiled and gave my knee a tiny squeeze.

I continued, “My senior year
, I was trying to decide what I wanted to do after graduation. I was seriously considering going for my master’s degree. Near the end of the year, one of my professors told me that there was someone he wanted me to meet. I went to his office that afternoon and met a man named Burt Goodman. It turned out to be quite an ironic last name.

He was a senior partner at Goodman and Rodgers, a big accounting firm in Columbia.
I told him that I had never heard of it. He said that there’s no reason that I should, since their clients were very wealthy and liked to keep a low profile.

He mentioned some of the companies that they represented
, and I was impressed. He gave me the names of some big shots in the state and some celebrities that used their services. I was intrigued, to say the least. I still didn’t know where this was going. I thought that maybe they had an intern position or something of that nature that I could apply for.

Good old Burt told me how impressed he was with my grades.
He said that my professors couldn’t say enough good things about me, and they all thought that I had quite a promising future. He asked me if I would be interested in being an associate at the firm.

I didn’t ha
ve to pretend to be surprised—I was shocked at this great news. It’s the kind of opportunity you only read about other people getting. It would mean that I wouldn’t have to pound the pavement or sit in a room with ten other people hoping my interview went better than theirs. I thought that it was too good to be true. Turns out I was right.

Burt said that as far as he—and he spoke for the firm—was concerned the
meeting constituted my formal interview. He asked me if I was interested, and without hesitation, I said I was more than interested. So, with me saying yes and a handshake, I got my first real job.

My parents were thrilled, to say the least.
And I’ll admit I was pretty proud of myself. I was going to be an accountant. I know it sounds funny to hear, but it was all I had wanted all through school, and it was happening. When I found out what the starting salary was, I almost swallowed my tongue. I could pay off my student loans twice as fast as I thought I’d be able to. I could afford a decent apartment. It really was a dream come true.

I moved to Columbia, found a place to live
, and one month after I graduated, I reported to work. I got the hang of things pretty quickly. It was harder than I thought it was going to be, but I put in the hours and worked hard. I was happy.”

I looked over at Alex and asked, “Is this boring?
I’m not sure any of this is coming out right.”

He took my hand and said, “Not at all.
I love finding out more about you. Don’t stop now.”

“Two and a half years go by and I’m doing great.
In addition to my salary, I get some nice bonuses, and I’m actually saving money. Not bad for a twenty-four year old at her first job. I’m given more important accounts, and in all of my performance reviews, I’m rated at the highest level. I deal well with the other people in the office, and they seem to like me.

Burt takes me under his wing and introduces me to the firm’s most important clients.
There are expensive dinners, and I get to attend some lavish parties. I rub elbows with politicians and influential businesspeople. Things could not be going any better.

One day
, I’m going through one of our bigger client’s holdings, and I look at some of the drafts going into the firm’s account. I see something strange in some of the transfers, so I check it again, and there seems to be money missing. It’s not a large amount and would have been easy to miss with all of the funds that get moved around on a daily basis. I review one year back and find the same thing. I go back two years, and there are the same discrepancies. I look three years back and don’t find anything. I go over the past two years again and come up with the same numbers.

I gather all of my findings together and take them to Burt Goodman himself.
I tell him that I suspect that someone in the firm is embezzling money. I expected him to be shocked and outraged. He just sat there peacefully and asked me if I have any proof, and if so, what kind.

I’m a little taken aback by his nonchalance, so I start showing him what I’ve found.
About a third of the way through, he stops me and says he’s seen enough. I tell him that there’s a lot more and that he should see all of it before making a judgment.

He tells me that he doesn’t need to see any
more and that I’ve done an outstanding job uncovering this unfortunate situation. I relax a little now that I think he believes me. Then he drops the bomb.

He tells me that he thought that he had covered his tracks better than this.
My jaw just dropped. He goes on to say how impressed he is with my diligence, and he doubts that anyone else could have figured out what he was up to. Burt says that I define the phrase “too smart for your own good.”

I’m speechless at his admission.
I did not expect this and I couldn’t figure out why he was so calm when he had just told me that he had stolen almost $2 million dollars from the firm. Then, unfortunately, I found out why he wasn’t worried.

It seems that even though he didn’t think he would be caught, he had protected himself in the unlikely event that something like this happened.
He told me that he had created a cybertrail that he could point in the direction of anyone he chose. Right now, the leading candidate was me.

I was told that I had a choice. One, I could take my story to the authorities and put my evidence up against his and see who the courts believed.
Or two, I could have sex with him then point the finger at whoever I wanted to take the fall. If I chose option two, I could remain at the firm, be on a fast track to partner, and he might even cut me in on some of the money. Either way, there was no chance that anything would lead back to him.

The choice was mine
, but I had to make it right then. There was no waiting, and once I decided, there was no turning back. No way was I going to burst into tears and give him the satisfaction of beating me. Crying wouldn’t have helped me with a bastard like that anyway. I told him that he could go fuck himself, because I sure as hell wasn’t going to do it. Then I said that I would take my chances with the authorities.

He just shook his head and waved me away.
I cleaned out my desk as my coworkers looked on in bewilderment. I couldn’t make eye contact and didn’t say a word to anyone as I left the building, went back to my apartment, and waited for the inevitable to happen.

When I got home
, I finally let go and had a good long cry. I called my folks and told them what had happened and what was likely to happen in the morning. They offered to come up to Columbia, but I told them not to and that I would call the next day once the wheels of injustice were rolling.

I woke up early a
nd tried to look for lawyers online, but no one jumped out at me. I didn’t even know what kind of lawyer to get—who handles this type of case? I figured that I could just get a public defender to handle the bail part, and then I’d find someone cheap.

Just after
6:30 there was a knock at my door. I answered it, and there were two policemen standing there. They asked if I was Katherine Matthews. I told them I was, and they said that I was under arrest for the crime of embezzlement. They handcuffed me, put me in a squad car, and took me, as they say, downtown.

I was booked and fingerprinted
, then placed in a holding cell with an interesting bunch of folks to wait for my turn with the judge. Things were looking up. I would be in front of the judge before lunch. I met with a public defender and explained in very broad terms what my defense was. She seemed to understand the case well enough in the few minutes that we had together.

I went before the judge
, and the firm’s lawyer was there. The charges were read and I agreed that I understood them and I pled not guilty. The lawyer for Goodman and Rodgers asked that I not be allowed bail, as I should be considered a flight risk. Because I allegedly had an offshore account with almost two million dollars in it. The judge said that whether or not I had access to that money had yet to be determined in a court of law. He did order that account frozen, and I was told to turn in my passport and that I was not allowed to leave the state until the case had been resolved. He set bail—thankfully, in an amount I could pay—and then set my court date.

I paid my ransom and took a cab back home.
I called my parents and told them what happened. My mother kept crying but was very supportive, and my father said that they would do everything in their power to help me. It made me love them even more that they never asked me if I was guilty.

The public defender had given me some names of lawyers who had experience with this kind of case, so I started calling them and getting price quotes.
Of the four that I called, the first one was the cheapest, and I made an appointment to meet her the next day.

I stayed in Columbia for a couple of weeks until my lease ran out.
I met with my lawyer several times, and she said she had subpoenaed the firm’s records and was having some experts go through them. I told her my plans to return home, and she said she would be in touch if she had any questions and for me to do the same.

I packed up my things, tucked my tail between my legs
, and came home. I applied for a waitress job, and now I’m sitting on pins and needles wondering if a man that’s swept me off of my feet is going to sweep me out the door.”

He had said only a few words while I told my story, but as soon as I was finished
, Alex whispered, “Good God, Kat, I’m so sorry.”

I thought that
by sorry he meant that this was more than he bargained for and it was “adios, senorita.” I heard his seat belt unsnap and looked at him as his big, beautiful eyes met mine as he slid over and wrapped his strong, comforting arms around me. “I’m sorry I had to tell you this, and I more than understand if it’s too much to deal with and you don’t want to see me anymore. But I can tell you that I did nothing wrong,” I said into his shoulder.

Alex gave a tiny, almost shy
, laugh. “I know you didn’t. I haven’t even known you for two days, and I already know that you couldn’t do anything like that.” Then he kissed me. It was a kiss filled with comfort and support; it was almost chaste. It made me want to cry. So I did. Just a little.

“We’re almost home, can we keep talking about this?
I have a few questions about some of the details, and I might have a few ideas that could help,” he said, sliding over to his seat while keeping hold of my hand.

“Are you sure you still want to see me after that story?
Aren’t you shocked or surprised or cautious…something?” I asked, unable to believe this amazing man.

He squeezed my hand and gave me a huge smile, “Of course I still want to see you.
I want to see you as often as I can. As for being shocked—well, you’re not the only one who knows how to use Google. I’ve known about the story since this afternoon. It was all I could do not to get your side of the story as soon as I saw you. But we had better things to do.”

“I can’t believe you.
As far as you know, you were having dinner with a soon-to- be-convicted felon, and it didn’t even faze you.”

“You faze me.
I didn’t think for one minute that you were guilty. I knew that there was the story in the paper, and then there was the truth. Look, we’re home.”

The car came to a stop
, and the partition lowered. “Home sweet home,” Charlie said as he got out of the car and opened my door.

“Thank you
, Charlie, it was a pleasure meeting you. And thanks for taking such good care of us,” I told him, sincerely.

He smiled at me and closed the door.
“I should be the one thanking you. It does my heart good to see two young people having such a good time. Not only that, but it’s nice to see Alex smiling so much,” he said as we walked to the other side of the car.

Alex stuck out his hand
, and he and Charlie shook with genuine affection. “Excellent job as usual, Charlie, you’re the best,” Alex said, handing him a fat wad of bills.