Reckless

“It is true! You know it’s true. You’re one of the richest men in America, sitting here like Croesus on your dirty empire of shale gas. And I’m being evicted from my apartment while you live it up here in the Presidential Suite with your latest, trusting little girlfriend. No offense to you, Miss Whitney,” she added to Tracy. “It’s not your fault he’s a lying, conniving snake.”

Tracy frowned. Dirty empire. What did Charlotte Crewe mean by that? Was it just a bitter ex-wife talking? It could be, of course. And yet something seemed off. Charlotte and Cameron had h

ad a son together after all. Lost a son together. Didn’t that mean anything? For all her ranting and raving, Charlotte didn’t come across as the spiteful type to Tracy.

She found herself watching Cameron closely for his reaction.

“Charlotte, this is ridiculous,” he said curtly. “Please stop. You’re embarrassing me and you’re embarrassing yourself. No one’s evicting you. This is a complete fantasy.” He glanced apologetically at Tracy. Then turning back to his ex, he asked, “When did you last see Dr. Williams?”

That seemed to push Charlotte over the edge.

“Fuck Dr. Williams!” she yelled. “And fuck you, Cameron. You’re a disgrace. Playing these pathetic little power games, with all the money you have? Marcus would be ashamed of you.”

Something very close to hatred flashed in Cameron’s eyes. “Don’t you dare bring Marcus into this.”

“I’ll bring Marcus into it whenever I want,” Charlotte said defiantly. “He was my son. You don’t own his memory, Cameron. You can’t buy that, like you buy everything else. And you can’t fucking silence me!”

She turned back to Tracy. “Do you think I’d be here if I weren’t completely desperate? I could barely afford the flight. Please. Talk some sense into him. Tell him to pay what he owes.”

“Charlotte.” Cameron’s tone was measured but firm. “You are not well. You need help, and I will get you that help. No one is evicting you. But I need you to leave now. I don’t want to call security, but I will if I have to. Please, darling. Go home.”

He reached for her arm but she shrugged him off furiously.

“Like I have a home to go to. Don’t worry, I’m leaving. But you haven’t heard the end of this, Cameron. I want my money and I’m going to get it. You do not scare me.”

She emphasized the word “not” by jabbing him in the chest with a finger. Tracy saw a small muscle in his jaw leap twice, then go quiet. He looked positively murderous.

A prickle of unease swept over her. She felt the hairs on her forearms stand on end.

“Goodbye,” Charlotte said to Tracy. “And good luck.”

She left, slamming the door behind her.

For a moment, neither Tracy nor Cameron said anything. Then Cameron pulled Tracy into his arms.

“I’m sorry about that. You OK?”

“I’m fine,” Tracy lied. “Just surprised. I thought you said that you and Marcus’s mother had a good relationship.”

Cameron let go of her and sat down on the edge of the bed.

“We do,” he said.

Tracy’s eyebrows shot up.

“When she’s well,” Cameron explained. “You mustn’t judge Charlotte too harshly. It’s no wonder she’s mentally unstable. She’s been through hell, as you know.”

“Yes,” said Tracy. She did know. And the truth was, she wasn’t judging Charlotte harshly. The woman had seemed perfectly sane to her. Angry, certainly, and emotional. But not crazy.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen her like that.” Cameron shook his head sadly.

“Like what?”

“Well, you saw her. Delusional. Lashing out with these insane conspiracy theories.”

“So she’s not being evicted?” Tracy asked calmly.

Cameron looked wounded. “Evicted? What? No! Of course not. I would never let that happen. Financially Charlotte has more than she could ever need, and she always will.”