Love After All (21 page)

So what did he actually know to be true?

The answer came, frank and simple—nothing. His mother was dead, he was sure that Jessie was just as much in the dark as he was and there was no way his father would talk about it. So the only other people who could shed some light were Lincoln, whom he didn't trust and had no idea how to contact, and Samantha, the woman sleeping in his house.

He looked up at the sky and watched a red balloon bounce and float on the delicate breeze. The playful dance reminded him of the past few days. Wayward and out of control, he was afloat on thin air, without a clue as to what was really happening.

“Enough of this,” he said aloud. He needed to get back home and confront Samantha. He wanted some answers and she was the only one who could provide them. He hurried back to his car and drove down the coastal highway. As soon as he pulled into his driveway, he saw a familiar bright lipstick-red convertible Lexus parked in the second space. His sister was here.

Hurrying inside, he checked the living room and kitchen and was just about to retrace his steps when he heard laughter and then talking coming from outside.

“Good morning,” Jackson said slowly, seeing Samantha and his sister out on the deck drinking coffee and talking. He walked over to his sister and kissed her cheek. “Hey, what are you doing here this early?”

“Good question,” Jessie said brightly. “We were supposed to get together this morning for breakfast at the inn. So since you didn't show and I have never been stood up, I decided to drive up the coast and see you. I'm glad I did,” she said, turning to Samantha. “Samantha and I are having a wonderful conversation.”

“Is that right?” Jackson looked at Samantha. His expression showed slight concern. He'd never told her about his sister or that he didn't want Jessie involved.

Samantha smiled sweetly and something in her eyes instantly laid his fears to rest. Jackson immediately understood that she hadn't told Jessie anything about what was actually going on. Relieved, he walked over and kissed Samantha on the lips casually, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “So what exactly have you two ladies been chatting about?”

Jessie opened her mouth, then closed it. This was the first time she'd ever seen her brother show any type of public affection. “The weather,” she finally said, still slightly stunned by his uncharacteristic demonstration.

“The weather?” he asked, then looked at Samantha.

“The weather,” she confirmed.

Knowing that there was more to their conversation than just weather, he decided to drop it for the time being. He wrapped his arm around Samantha possessively.

“So,” Jessie said, hoping to finally get a few answers, “you two are together now, I gather?”

“Sometimes, then sometimes not so much,” Samantha said, still evasive.

Jackson smiled. Apparently, Samantha had taken his sister on the same no-direct-answer that she'd taken him on for nearly two days.

“I don't suppose you'd like to elaborate on that answer?” she asked her brother.

“Nah.” He turned to Samantha, leaned down and kissed her briefly. “That pretty much sums it up.”

“Oh, you two are impossible.”

“Now, where have I heard that before?” Jackson asked as Samantha smiled at what appeared to be a private joke.

“Okay, awkward moment, I get the hint, I can see that you two want to be alone and I have an appointment in two hours, which gives me just enough time to do a little shopping beforehand.” She walked over to Samantha and air kissed her cheek. “It was a pleasure finally meeting you and don't forget we have a lunch date next week.”

Samantha nodded and agreed happily, knowing that she wouldn't be there.

Then Jessie grasped Jackson's arm and asked him to walk her to her car. He did, nodding to Samantha as he left.

As brother and sister are prone to do, they teased and joked about her shopping until they reached her car. Then Jessie changed the subject.

“The press has gotten wind of something.”

“What?”

“I don't know,” she said. “I had dinner with my friend, Paul Garfield, the reporter for the
L.A. Chronicle.
He told me that rumor has it there's something in the wind involving Dad and George Cooperman. And since we already know that the federal government is looking at George for tax fraud and illegal business practices, this isn't exactly the best time for Dad to buddy around with him.”

“Was Paul specific?”

“No. But he did mention that they're looking at all avenues, including George's family and close friends.”

“Who exactly?” Jackson asked.

“I don't know and he wouldn't say. I faked disinterest, so I didn't press him for details. He wanted an exclusive. I dissuaded his interest, of course, but to tell you the truth, I don't think he's that far off the mark. There's definitely something more going on with Dad and George,” she stated. “What do you know about his cable company deal?”

“Not much. Have you talked to Dad?” Jackson asked.

“Yeah, but you know Dad is stubborn. Talking to him was like talking to a brick wall. I got nowhere. All he can see is dollar signs. He doesn't have a clue.”

“What else did Paul say?”

“One of his sources told him that the government knows that George is sitting on a numbered account worth billions in the Cayman Islands.”

“That's not surprising,” Jackson said. “The government has been after him for years on tax fraud. They can't prove anything because the bulk of his cash is offshore. If they could get their hands on his account that's jail time.”

“Exactly,” Jessie said. “But Dad's renewed friendship with him has him way over his head. And with Mom not around to veto his plans, Daley Communications will most likely be caught up in George's drama, and that's the last thing we can let happen. We need to protect him from himself.”

“Don't worry, I'm already on it,” he said.

“What can I do to help?” Jessie asked.

“Nothing right now, but I'll let you know.”

Jessie eyed her brother suspiciously. He was definitely hiding something, too, but coming from a family of secrets she expected nothing less.

Jackson smiled and hugged his sister. Underestimating Jessica had always been their father's downfall. He always said that she was just like their mother. He just had no idea how much. She was brilliant in business and an unmovable competitor in anything she wanted. God help the man who tried to use her, and thank God she was on his side.

“You know, of course, that she's hiding something,” Jessie said honestly, changing the subject again but not taking Jackson off guard.

“Yeah, I know,” Jackson admitted freely, knowing that Samantha was the subject now.

“Anything I should be concerned about?”

“No, she doesn't know it yet, but she's on our side.”

“Good, 'cause I like her.”

“Do you?”

“Yes, she's cool, relaxed, even if she can't answer a straight question to save her life. She's quick to think on her feet, protecting you instantly. I like that about her, too.” She nodded. “She's natural and unpretentious, not like those brain-dead starlets and Beverly Hills brats you used to bring around and pass off as dates. Your taste has finally improved.”

“By all means, Jessie, tell me what you really think,” he joked as she playfully punched his muscled arm, nearly breaking a nail in the process.

“She'll be good for you.”

“Did she tell you that?”

“No, call it sister's intuition. You might consider keeping her around.”

“I don't know if I can. She's a free spirit.”

“I could tell, and I could also tell that whoever hurt her in the past did a hell of a job. She's angry and scared.”

“You got all that from a twenty-minute conversation? Who's the psychology major here, you or me?”

“It wasn't what she said so much as what she didn't say.”

“Meaning?” he asked.

“It's in her eyes. Oh, she hides it well enough, but when she's off guard, which apparently is seldom, she's really hurting. I was making another pot of coffee and I looked and saw it in her face. She covers it well with jokes and evasiveness, but she's scared.”

Jackson turned and looked back up at the house. His sister had noticed something in the few minutes they'd been together that he hadn't seen in almost two days.

“Keep her around. Like I said, she's good for you.”

“I'll see what I can do.” Jackson opened the car door and Jessie climbed in.

“Make sure you do that,” Jessie said as she put on her sunglasses. “You know what, I think that Mom would have adored Samantha. I just know it. That's it, there's something about her that reminds me of Mom. Isn't that odd?”

Jackson didn't answer.

“She likes you and you, dear brother, obviously like her.”

“She told you that?” he asked as she turned the key and started the engine.

“Again, didn't have to, neither one of you did, it's all over your faces. I'll let you know if I hear anything else. Oh, I almost forgot the other reason I stopped by. Dad called and said that your phone was turned off again. He needs to speak with you and he wants us over to the house for dinner this evening. He said that it was important.”

“I'll bet,” Jackson said skeptically. “I think I'll pass.”

“He's celebrating.”

“What?”

“I don't know, guess we'll have to find out when we get there this evening.”

“Send my regards.”

“Come on, you wouldn't let me face dinner with Dad alone. Why don't you bring Samantha? He'd enjoy meeting her.”

Jackson turned and looked up at the house again and smiled. It would be interesting having Samantha out for the evening. “Okay, I'll see you later.”

Jessie nodded, stepped on the pedal and pulled off quicker than he would have liked, her arm raised up high, waving goodbye.

 

Giving brother and sister privacy and time to talk, Samantha waited a few minutes, then went upstairs and grabbed her suitcase. She was coming down when Jackson walked back into the house. He looked at Samantha with her suitcase in her hand. “Leaving me so soon?” he asked.

“It was bound to happen,” she joked, then continued walking down the stairs. “Thanks for everything,” she said, expecting him to allow her to pass.

“We need to talk.”

“Look, about Eric and whatever he has that you want. I'll take care of it and make sure you get your papers, okay?” she said, then stepped around him.

“No,” Jackson said, holding his hand out to her.

She stopped walking since he hadn't moved from the doorway. “No is not an option,” she said. “Thank you for everything. But I need to go now.”

“Hear me out first and if you still want to go and do things on your own, then fine, I won't stop you. Just hear me out, okay?”

She looked up into those glorious eyes and considered his offer. Listening wouldn't hurt. So she nodded as he took her suitcase and put it back on the landing to go upstairs. “Come on, we can talk over an early lunch.” He stepped out of the way and let her pass.

A
n hour and a half later, after the lunch dishes had been cleared, they sat out on a restaurant terrace talking about nothing in particular. “Shall we go?” he offered. She agreed. They headed back toward his car, but she asked that they walk awhile. He agreed. Like lovers on a movie screen, shoes in hand, they walked along the water's edge.

“Thanks for not mentioning anything to my sister. I'm not quite ready for her to find out about this yet.” Samantha nodded her reply. “She likes you,” Jackson continued. Samantha smiled, then looked away across the water's surface, watching the sparkle of sunlight dance. “She thinks that I should keep you around.” She still didn't respond. Jackson looked close, trying to get a sense of what his sister had mentioned. But Samantha was too guarded around him. Like an exceptional poker player she gave nothing away.

“Samantha,” Jackson said. She turned back to him as he stopped walking and removed his sunglasses. His eyes pierced right through her. “I need straight answers.”

“All right,” she said.

“Tell me about Eric Hamilton,” Jackson requested simply. Samantha looked at him, slightly surprised. Eric's name coming from his mouth seemed odd, yet it appeared that for Jackson he was the center of everything. It was only natural for Jackson to want to know more about him.

“What do you want to know?” she asked.

“Everything,” he said.

“Eric Hamilton is a con man, short cons mostly, not a very good one at times. But then again, he conned me and that should have been close to impossible to do,” Samantha said.

“But it wasn't.”

“No, it wasn't.”

“Because you trusted him?” he asked.

She nodded once, affirming his answer. “That's the whole idea of a confidence man, he needs you to trust him.”

“But he also got into your heart then betrayed you.” She nodded again. “And now?” he asked, prompting her further. She looked confused by his question. “Does he still have your heart?” She didn't answer, yet the piercing glare in her eyes spoke volumes. “How long have you known him?” he continued.

Samantha hesitated. This was hard to talk about even to her closest friend, Jillian. But she did and now here again she was about to lay open her soul to a relative stranger. “We were together for about six months, before he moved on. We met outside my father's attorney's office. My father is—was in prison,” she said boldly, expecting to shock his affluent sensibilities. But to her surprise he didn't even flinch.

“I went to the lawyer's to collect his belongings. As I left the office someone grabbed me from behind and ran off with my purse. Eric showed up out of nowhere. He ran after the guy and chased him down the street. I lost sight of them when they turned the corner a few blocks down. Eventually Eric came back. My purse had been ripped apart and the cash was gone but everything else was there.

“I recognized him from where we worked. He was a salesman. I was suspicious at first but he assured me that he hadn't followed me to the lawyer's office from work. In hindsight I guess I should have gone with my first instinct. But it felt good to talk about my father openly with someone.” She looked over to Jackson, then quickly back toward the water.

“Let me guess. It was no coincidence that he showed up when he did and saved you. He arranged it all,” Jackson surmised.

Samantha looked over at him, smiled and half chuckled. “Very good. You're catching on quickly. It was all a setup from the beginning. But oddly enough, he still wasn't sure if I was the right woman.”

“So he needed to make sure that you were really Robert Taylor's daughter.”

“I guess so.”

“Why?”

“He tried to get me to contact my brother.”

“Why?”

“I don't know really. I guess it might have had something to do with the fact that he used my brother's name to do a con.”

“A con, what kind of con?” Jackson asked.

“A biz-op. It's something like a business opportunity with a twist. He sold fraudulent investments in mutual funds. Targeting desperate marks, he offered to take illegal money and wash it legit, then invest it with a marked return, for a percentage, of course.”

“Why just desperate marks?”

“Felons or anyone with something to lose wouldn't complain. When you're already doing something illegal it's kind of a moot point, they're just as guilty. It would be like the pot calling the kettle black, my mother always said.”

“Isn't that dangerous?”

“Yes, extremely.”

“I can't believe this actually goes on,” Jackson said.

“Wealthy businesses con workers every day and it's all legit. They raid pensions and line their pockets with million-dollar investment funds, and when they're found out they get platinum parachutes and retire wealthy while the employees suffer. Just because you wear a suit every day and carry a briefcase doesn't make you honorable. The biggest con men in history are more than likely politicians and corporate executives. We just don't know about it because it's more acceptable.”

Jackson nodded his understanding. “So if this con was working for him, why did he move on?”

“Apparently, it fell apart somewhere along the line, so he took the money and ran, leaving me holding the empty bag.”

“People are looking for you?” he asked. She nodded. “Do you know who?”

“Yes, the police want to ask me questions, and some of his marks think I know where he is. Also, Eric took money from the computer company where we worked. They think that I helped him. He also conned some others. They're looking for him, too.”

“How long ago was this?”

“Four months, two weeks, four days, and about four hours, East Coast time.”

“You just walked away from your life just like that.”

“What was I supposed to do, take the fall for him?”

“That's not what I meant.”

She sighed heavily, “I know, and yes, I just walked away. You do what you have to do to survive.”

“What about your family?”

“My mother died a while ago. My father and brother, well, you already know.”

“Friends, lovers?”

“I don't do attachments easily, something about moving around a lot when I was younger I guess. I never had time to make friends then, and now, well…as soon as I tell someone about my family they look at you differently.”

“Is that how Eric got close to you, you told him and he wasn't fazed?” She nodded. “So you gave him a chance and he betrayed you.” She nodded again. “And after that one time you just walked away.” Another nod. “Did you ever think about giving someone else a chance, opening up to someone else?”

“What would be the point?”

“You could stop running.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it and looked at him, hearing his words and feeling the emotion. His eyes betrayed him. He was getting too close and she couldn't let him. She knew that she'd be walking away again.

“So you've been hiding for over four months?”

“It's not too hard if you know how.”

“Your father taught you?”

“More like my brother, hide in plain sight.”

“He's a con man, too, right?”

Samantha nodded and smiled brightly. It was the first ray of joyful emotion Jackson had seen all morning. “Retired. Jefferson, when he worked, was beyond your average con man. He was a master.”

“He can't be so good if he's hiding, too.”

She looked at him. “Don't believe everything you hear.”

“He's not hiding?” Jackson asked. Samantha just smiled. “You know this for a fact?” She smiled even brighter. “Can you contact him?”

“I already tried. He hasn't called me back, but he's around.”

“Good, I think we could use all the help we can get. So since you know how to contact him I suggest you try again.” She didn't reply but instead stared off, looking over his shoulder. “Samantha,” he said. “Samantha,” he repeated.

“There he is,” she said, nodding upward at the television above the bar area. On the screen, George Cooperman stood in front of several microphones with two of his attorneys, smiling and professing his innocence after his grand jury appearance.

Jackson turned around and looked at the image. “Lincoln said that your father was doing business with him.”

“Yeah.”

“That's pretty strange, isn't it? I mean, besides the fact that he's trying to take over your company, he's being indicted and you're still doing business with him?”

“I'm not, but my father is. Apparently, business makes strange bedfellows.”

“Why does he want your company?”

“George is an investment banker. He gobbles things up for a living. Daley Communications has huge potential and he's wanted it for over twenty years.” The camera angle changed.

“Grant,” she said, looking over his shoulder and changing the subject again. She was surprised to see his familiar face on television. She had no idea that he was connected to the Cooperman case.

Jackson turned back to the television. There was a close-up of Grant Andrews on the screen. He was listed as being a key prosecutor in the federal case against George Cooperman. “You know him?”

“That's Grant Andrews, my brother's best friend.”

Jackson turned to her, surprised. “Your brother, you mean the retired con man has a federal prosecutor as a best friend?” he asked. She nodded. “How is that possible? He's a federal agent of the court. How can he and your brother be best friends?”

“They grew up together and family is forever, remember? They were something else when they were younger, completely inseparable. You never saw one without the other. Everybody used to say that they should make a fifty-two-dollar bill just for them, Jefferson and Grant.”

“But then they went their separate ways, right?”

“I'm sorry you got dragged into all this,” she responded without answering.

“Neither one of us have much of a choice.”

“No, that's not what I mean. Eric, his thing with your father, you're not a part of the after-midnight world.”

“You're not, either,” he confirmed.

She smiled. “No, maybe not directly, but at least I know how it works.”

“Your father?”

She nodded. “And my brother.”

“You really admire him.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Even after everything he's done?”

“Yes, even after everything he's done.”

“But what he does, what he did is still all part of who he is.”

“True, I love my father and my brother, Jackson. That won't change, just as much as you love your father and your mother and what they did and do won't change anything for you.”

“Tell me about it, this after-midnight world.”

“That could take a very long time.”

“Give me the Cliffs Notes version. I think I'm gonna need a crash course if we're going to do what Lincoln wants.”

They walked back to the car and for the next forty minutes Samantha talked about cons, swindles and scams. Jackson was enlightened by the different names and the historical tradition that thrived today.

Then they drove back to his place and sat out on the deck, continuing the in-depth conversation. When she finished telling him the basics, Jackson was stunned. “There's a whole world out there that I know nothing about.”

“Not true. As I said, the con is done on all levels, government, big business, even on the inner-city and suburban playgrounds.”

“You're right.”

“The games never change, just the players.”

“So what's Jefferson like?”

“A lot like you, actually.”

“How so?”

“Jefferson is talented, intelligent, patient, polished and a bit egotistical,” she said, smiling, “but in a good way.”

“And that's a lot like me?” Jackson asked.

“Oh, yeah, definitely.”

After a brief silence Samantha looked back at Jackson. She could see him processing the information she'd told him. “What Lincoln said about your mother, do you think that she was really part of any of this?”

“I don't know. She never talked about her past. And my father refuses to even consider talking about it. It's like there's some deep dark secret. Actually, I guess you probably would know better than I.” She paused. “You're rich, right?”

“I have money, yes,” he affirmed.

“Money, big money, sometimes comes from dirty hands. The old-money billionaires of today had ancestors who did questionable things to secure a future. Money doesn't know it's dirty, but people do and most often than not they don't care.”