Never Say Never (Resetter Series Book 2) Page 5

  He parked closest to the door maneuvered himself along the walkway and headed to the front door. Amelia's mother answered the door and greeted him with a fake exuberance that he always found grating. She spoke to him as if he was hard of hearing instead of crippled.

  "Oh how delightful, it's Travis!" She opened the door wider for him to wheel through. Amelia was from a large family—five brother and two sisters. Two of the five brothers were pharmacists. He hoped they weren't the ones there.

  They were, understandably, quite fascinated with his father's Pharmaceutical Company and asked him a million and one questions he was ill equipped to answer.

  The main interrogator, Ancel, was the first one he saw when he entered the house. He almost groaned audibly. And then he saw Kenton, the journalist, and he did groan.

  Amelia laughed and came over to him. She was dressed in a white pantsuit and looked quite attractive. Her arms were toned. Her pixie cut enhanced her bone structure and as usual she had that impeccable smile.

  "I am so sorry about this. I wanted this to be a brunch with just the two of us." She stooped so that they were almost eye-to-eye. "But my mother thought that this was the perfect moment to have an impromptu family get together. I will ask Kenton not to hound you for a story."

  "Thank you." Travis dredged up a smile from somewhere.

  He knew Kenton would be on his case. After all, tomorrow was the anniversary of his monumental mistake. The day when he had made the news and not in a positive way. Any journalist worth his salt would be delighted to have him as a dinner guest, to rehash his past to compare his current situation with how he used to be, to hold him up as some sort of reformed playboy who had gotten his just desserts.

  Everybody liked a redemption story and a cautionary tale.

  Most people would like to hear that the rich kid with the world at his feet that had taken advantage of every vice known to man was now humbled in a wheelchair, teaching college kids and living a life of solitude.

  He could see the headlines flashing in Kenton's eyes as he glanced at him throughout the evening. He was obviously honoring his sister's plea to leave him alone.

  But they both knew it wouldn't last. Kenton Perkins was not one of the leading journalists in Jamaica for nothing. After a large lunch that was mostly catered by Amelia's mother, there was a lull in the general conversation. Most of the men headed to the television where there was a rerun of a premier league match.

  The women were engaged in a discussion about a Valentines Day dinner at Amelia's mother's church. They were currently arguing about doing away with the traditional red and white and using blue and green instead.

  He wheeled to the end of the patio and looked over at the landscape. It was one of those exceptional days when it was not too chilly. The sun was out and golden, the skies blue and the breeze gentle. If he had functional legs he would be taking a walk.

  He needed an out from Amelia's place. He wasn't a football fan, neither did he think conversations about catering and decorating were particularly stimulating. He would rather be back at his apartment, listening to R&B oldies from the sixties and reading a paperback or talking to Skyler about her fanciful time travel idea.

  Where did that thought come from? He had dismissed it earlier.

  He looked at his palms and then curled them together. If only time travel was a reality, but it wasn't. He turned his wheelchair around. He had to find Amelia, tell her thank you for the meal but he had to go.

  His eyes connected with Kenton's, who was sitting at the opposite end of the patio by himself.

  For a big guy, Kenton moved pretty swiftly. He was standing in his path in no time, a smile on his face. He pulled up a chair, effectively blocking him from passing and laughed.

  "I was testing a theory."

  "What theory?" Travis locked the chair and sighed in defeat.

  "The theory that if you look at a person hard enough they will feel your stare and eventually look back at you."

  "How did that work for you?" Travis asked.

  "You are remarkably indifferent to a person's stare." Kenton sniffed. "I promised not to hound you about your life for a story, that doesn't mean we can't have a conversation."

  "Off the record." Travis raised an eyebrow.

  "Yes. Sure." Kenton nodded. "I am an ethical person. Off the record is off the record."

  Travis relaxed. "Your sister is coming to rescue me from you."

  Amelia was bearing down on them with a scowl on her face.

  "We are just talking." Kenton turned to Amelia.

  "You sure he is not bothering you?" Amelia asked Travis and ignored her brother.

  "Yes." Travis nodded. "I am fine. Thanks."

  Amelia nodded and went back to the women.

  "She is really into you," Kenton said. "You two are pretty serious, huh?"

  Travis inhaled and then shook his head. "We are...were just good friends."

  "Good friends, really?" Kenton shook his head. "I never pegged Amelia as a girl who would date a guy in a wheelchair."

  "I am a Jefferson, from the pharmaceutical Jefferson's." Travis twisted his mouth depreciatingly. "I am a good catch, crippled or not."

  Kenton laughed. "You underestimate yourself, man. There is the fact that you have the movie star looks thing going on. I imagine that a couple years ago you were a force to be reckoned with."

  Travis shrugged. "I'd trade the looks for the legs."

  "I imagine if I were in your position I would too." Kenton nodded and then he grimaced. "Don't take this the wrong way but I've been curious about Winston Bayer, your friend, the one who crashed into you. How is he?"

  Travis tensed. He hated to talk about Winston more than he hated to talk about his own experiences.

  "He suffered a severe brain injury." Travis sighed. "His left side is unresponsive. He is bed ridden. He cannot speak coherently."

  Kenton whistled. "At the ripe old age of thirty-two, poor guy. You got off easy!"

  "In a manner of speaking, yes." Travis gritted his teeth.

  "Winston Bayer was a science prodigy wasn't he?" Kenton asked contemplatively, "He worked at Jefferson Pharmaceuticals in the scientific research department?"

  "You know this already," Travis muttered.

  "Yes." Kenton grimaced. "His mother blamed you for the accident, didn't she?"

  Travis held up his hand. "Stop."

  Kenton narrowed his eyes at Travis. "This is still so sensitive for you isn't it?"

  "Obviously! I am in a wheelchair aren't I?" Travis snorted. "The accident was a sad occasion a decade ago that needs to be put to rest."

  "But it's such an interesting story. Your accident and the murky details surrounding it," Kenton said contemplatively. "As a matter of fact, anything about the mogul Miguel Jefferson is juicy news. His marriages, his children, his lifestyle are all fodder for speculation. There is nothing related to your father that will be put to rest."

  Travis sighed. "Trust me, my father is not that interesting. He is just my dad. A man from humble beginnings who made a cough syrup that worked and built a business surrounding it."

  "No," Kenton shrugged. "He is so much more. He is a businessman who was shrewd enough to know that one cough syrup was the tip of the iceberg. He was ruthless in business and ruthless in his love life."

  Travis sighed. "This is all so dramatic."

  "Why did you have such an antagonistic relationship with Winston Bayer?" Kenton asked, squinting his eyes and looking at Travis like they were in an interrogation room and his answer was vital to keeping him out of jail.

  Travis chuckled dryly. "That is none of your business."

  "Humor me," Kenton said grimly. "I am not going to be writing any of this. I just want to know. I have theories but I want to hear your version."

  Travis sighed. "I don't know why. We practically grew up together. His parents were close friends of the family. We went to the same schools, had the same friends, loved the same girls. When we met in the accident, w
e were fighting about Melanie Pitter."

  "The super model?" Kenton widened his eyes, "she was the reason for your accident?"

  "Yup." Travis nodded. "She loved the attention. We were both intimately involved with her. On the day of the accident we had found out that she was seeing both of us and in a stupid bid to impress Melanie had a water ski contest. Both of us were drunk.

  "And now we are both disabled and Melanie is happily married to my other friend, Duke Gillings, the only guy who was not drinking or partying or remotely interested in our competition for her."

  "Irony." Kenton chuckled. "What irony! Isn't Duke the heir apparent to your father now?"

  Travis scowled. "Yes he is, only because I don't want the job."

  "So Duke got the girl and will soon get the top job," Kenton said contemplatively. "And his mother, Arlene Gillings, wasn't she your housekeeper?"

  "So?" Travis was really curious to see where Kenton was going with this.

  "Duke has a more than passing resemblance to Miguel Jefferson, especially around the eyes and mouth. Duke Gillings looks a lot more like your father than you do!"

  "Get out of my way." Travis gritted out.

  Kenton got up unhurriedly and moved the chair out of the way. "You never suspected did you?"

  Travis wheeled past Kenton.

  "Your father had a spare healthy son, just waiting to be dusted and polish and put in his place, a son that silently plotted to succeed him. That's why your father didn't make such a fuss when you decided to pursue academia."

  Kenton continued walking beside him. "That's why, he didn't even bother to reign you in when you were a wild playboy. He had his studious perfect son sitting at home, the one who didn't drink or party or had insane competitions with love rivals."

  Travis stopped wheeling and looked at Kenton balefully. "You have no idea what you are talking about."

  "Oh yes I do." Kenton smirked. "I interviewed Duke Gillings a year ago as part of the papers series on young business men under thirty. You know what I found out?"

  "What?" Travis was curious despite the slow building anger that was pulsating in him.

  "Duke Gillings is very much aware that he is the heir apparent. He speaks about your father as if he is a proud son and about you as if you deserve your injuries. It is not a coincidence that Duke is married Melanie. It is not even a coincidence that you and Winston Bayer could never get along.

  "I think Duke in his own quiet ruthless way directed his life to exactly how it is right now. And he intended for you to be a casualty. He is happy that you are a cripple."

  Travis couldn't speak after that last statement.

  "Just thought that I would tell you," Kenton said a look of regret on his face. "I have always been meaning to say something. Sorry if I..."

  "No, it's okay," Travis cleared his throat. "I need to go home."

  He looked around. Amoy and the other ladies were nowhere to be seen, but he heard a cackle in the kitchen and then another. They were obviously in that area.

  "Say my goodbyes will you."

  "Sure." Kenton nodded and opened the front door for him. "I hope I didn't put my mouth where it didn't belong."

  "No. It is fine. I have quite a bit to consider." Travis wheeled out of the house and into his car.

  He drove out of the yard and then parked two blocks away. He had to process what Kenton had revealed to him.

  Could any of it be true?

  He covered his face with his hands and found that he could barely move from the position that he was in as reams and reams of memories about his past assailed him.

  Memories with Duke always in the background, they were barely six months a part in age. In all of his memories Duke was always around.

  They had lived in the same house for twelve years until his mother had finally lobbied for Arlene Gillings to go. Travis had never understood the animosity his mom had felt towards Arlene.

  Nor had he fully understood why his father had encouraged him to invite Duke along to whatever events they were going to together.

  He had never had a solo outing with his dad while growing up Duke was always there.

  Nor had he put any meaning to the long conversations that his dad would have with Arlene when he brought Duke back home. They often had heated secret discussions while he sat in the car and waited for his dad to come back to the car.

  He had never questioned why his parent's former housekeeper, who had no job other than being a stay at home mom, could afford a house in a upper class neighborhood, or how Duke could afford the private schools that he had attended, or how he could attend university without a scholarship or loans.

  And he had never questioned why his father had bought him a car for his birthday and had done the same for Duke.

  For the love of all that was holy, he was an idiot. Travis laughed harshly to himself. He had never thought to be suspicious of any of it. He had always thought his father was just being generous to the housekeeper's son.

  He smoked his first cigarette at seventeen because of Duke. Duke had actually encouraged him to do it.

  He had tried marijuana because of Duke. Duke had rolled the blunt and given him to smoke. And sat and watched him and then asked him how it felt.

  And drinking. Duke had showed up at his house with his little posse from the ghetto to celebrate with him, with two cases of beer.

  He had missed several exams at college because of Duke. Duke had arranged parties for him at crucial times during his life. Pretending to be the good time friend while not participating in any of it.

  It was clear Duke had wanted him to be drugged up, strung out and reckless.

  It was also Duke who had suggested when they were around sixteen that Winston was jealous of him and he had swallowed the lie, treating Winston with suspicion, fighting with him over everything, turning their friendly rivalry into something sinister.

  All along it had been Duke, the chief puppeteer, who was pulling his strings and now here he was the stupid crippled marionette living his life as far away from his parents as possible because he had thought that he had messed up and everyone was better off not seeing him everyday.

  His retreat had surely made it easy for Duke. He gritted his teeth in frustration, what could he do now?

  Nothing, that's what. He had cut himself off from his father's business dashing the old man's hopes that he would carry on his legacy. He had deliberately pursued academia argued with his father that he couldn't handle running a large corporation as a cripple. At the time he had not been thinking clearly.

  He was thinking now and the bitter acid of regret spilled over in his stomach making him feeling a very real urge to howl in frustration.

  Chapter Eight

  Something was wrong with Travis. Sky could tell. He seemed off. Maybe it was depression.

  She watched him in class. He didn't smile with his eyes as he used to and he was less animated than he was at the beginning of the term.

  At home she was definitely sure that something was off. His offer of friendship had never really taken off.

  He was avoiding her. He wasn't even swimming in the mornings anymore and he had the song Dust In the Wind on repeat.

  Hearing it through the patio doors was enough to depress her in the mornings. I close my eyes only for a moment, and the moment's gone, all my dreams pass before my eyes, a curiosity, Dust in the wind, all they are is dust in the wind... The song kept spinning in her head like a litany.

  And to top it off, his mid term exams were almost cruel in their difficulty. It was as if he wanted the entire class to fail. He gave them questions about topics he hadn't even broached yet.

  It was a good thing that she had read ahead or else she would be groaning with the rest of the students in the exam room.

  By Wednesday evening, her last day of exam, she was too tired to think much about it though. She had five whole days of Easter holidays to ponder the Travis Jefferson dilemma. She would sleep all day Thursday and then head home F
riday.

  She still needed to get that book about time travel and then she would come back the same evening. There was no need to linger; there was nothing for her to do at home and nobody to hang with.

  She let herself into her apartment at the same time when she heard the other one, Travis' door opening.

  She deliberately took her time and fumbled with the key, waiting until he appeared in her line of vision.

  "Hey," he wheeled out on the corridor and looked at her contemplatively.

  "Hello, Dr. Jefferson." She tucked a stray hair behind her ears and then dropped her hand self-consciously.

  He grimaced. "It's a holiday, you are Skyler and I am Travis. Deal?"

  "Yes." she nodded eagerly.

  "Why don't you come over for dinner?" Travis smiled. "I have Chinese take out."

  "Thank you." Sky grinned, "Dinner sounds good. I was going to eat leftover soup. I am just going to take a quick shower."

  He went back inside and closed his door while she stood looking at the spot where he had been for longer than she had intended. She was now sure that there was something wrong with him. Behind his eyes had a sadness that was not there before.

  She hurried with her shower, pulling on comfortable sweat pants and a red shirt.

  By the time she pulled the comb through her hair and was on her way out, the phone rang.

  "The food is getting cold." It was Travis.

  She smiled. "I am on my way over."

  She hung up the phone and hurried through the door.

  ****

  "What are you doing for the holiday?" Travis had a plate of chow mein before him that he had barely touched. She had already gone through hers and was scarfing down a mound of rice and cashew chicken.

  The Chinese restaurant on campus was exceptional.

  "Nothing." She finished chewing her food and looked at him. "What are you doing?"

  "The same. Nothing." His voice had an edge of despair to it.

  Sky frowned. "Is everything okay with you?"