Saint Wilder

Saturday Afternoon

"I hope you can talk sense into her, Wilder," said Sheriff Jimmy Taylor as he drove north out of town. "I know this is an imposition for you, but you knew her family. I gotta move her today. Got a court order, you know."

"I know Jimmy. I'm a lawyer, remember. I know what a court order is. You explained the situation to me, and I'll do my best." Over the longest fucking lunch of his life, the fat lawman had set himself down and asked for his help with the slowest story of all time.

"Hey man, don't call me Jimmy anymore, would ya? I'm the sheriff now, Wilder. You're not the only one who's come up in the world." Jimmy was a few years younger than Wilder, but they grew up in this same small town. Both played on the famed high school football team. Jimmy was a bully in high school, but he never tried any shit with Wilder, who just assumed he was smarter than he looked, or generally acted.

"OK, Sheriff,' Jimmy said, punctuating the word with all the sarcasm he could muster.

Wilder Betterman had practiced law in this county for more than 20 years. One of his first cases was that of Frank Neville, a small time grifter who tried to con old folks out of their life savings with an investment scheme. There wasn't much Wilder could do as the guy got drunk and bragged about his caper to all his friends at a local bar. The case was more shut than open.

Years later, Neville's wife got caught selling drugs and Wilder tried to represent her, too. However, she was too stubborn and too crazy to take any advice at all and was also convicted. That left a little girl on her own, so Wilder helped get her into a decent foster home. It was about all he could do at the time.

Now, that little girl was a 23-year-old woman living in a broken-down RV out on a plot of land she did not own. Her new husband had been recently arrested on federal charges of drug smuggling fentanyl halfway across the country and was not coming back anytime soon. To make matters worse, the owner of the land she was squatting on wanted her gone.

Everyone knew Crystal Neville. She grew up well. The best possible outcome of her parents. She was, to put it mildly, beautiful and the golden girl in high school. Even Wilder noticed her.

While maybe not the best student, she was popular. Crystal starred as a cheerleader and all-state soccer star and went off to college fully expected to conquer the world. However, something went terribly wrong, which explained the RV she refused to vacate.

"Is she sick or crazy?" Wilder asked. "Her mother was a complete nut job.'

"Ain't nothing wrong with that girl. Fine a piece as you've ever seen; I'll tell you that. Gorgeous face and a fuckin rockin body. She could work if she wanted to. Landsdale offered her a job, you know, but she turned him down."

"How surprising. Was the job offer for the position of stripper or whore?" Bill Landsdale ran a gentleman's club on Airport Road. He and Wilder had slammed into each other legally on a number of occasions. It was no great surprise that vulture was picking on the remains of Crystal's life.

"Stripper, I think, but he wants her just like everybody else. He offered her the moon, but she won't have no part of him. Picky little thing."

"How peculiarly discriminating." He was giving her points for courage if she would rather live in a rundown RV on the edge of nowhere than sleep with a fat 60-year-old lecher in the lap of luxury.

They passed a ramshackle roadside stand with an obviously-homemade but artistically-drawn sign. It read 'Hot Girl Fruit Stand.'

Just after the stand, they turned left onto what might be called a dirt road if it was twice as wide and less overgrown. In a few miles, they came to a dead end at a grove of apple trees holding what Wilder guessed was a 20-foot Winnebago of a 1970s vintage. There was a carefully tended and rather large garden in the field on the other side of the road.

Sitting under a faded camping canopy was a breathtaking brunette. He first noticed the long, tanned legs stretching out from an old lawn chair. Her bare feet were propped up on a massive tree stump that seemed to serve as a combined ottoman and coffee table.

Crystal was wearing cutoff jean shorts and an over-stressed white halter top. The exposed skin of her body was deeply tanned and damp from perspiration. She wore no makeup on that defiant face. Who did she remind him of? Raquel Welch in '100 Rifles? Maybe.

She turned her head to them as Jimmy parked a few yards away, and the dust floated by missing her all together. The weather gods knew not to mess with that special brand of female perfection. Jesus, what a woman.

They got out of the car, Jimmy waving the court order. "Crystal, honey, this time you gotta go. This paper says you don't have a choice."

She didn't say a word. Just looked away.

"Crystal?" he shouted.

"Shut up Sheriff; my daughter is taking a nap. You'll wake her with that loud mouth of yours."

"Crystal." Quieter.

"No."

"Your gonna make me handcuff and arrest you for squattin and stealin? You want your daughter in Child Protective Services? You're lucky she ain't there already, you livin out here like a gypsy and all."

"Girl's gotta make a living, Sheriff. Got a baby to feed. Nobody's been using this land for years. Everything's going fallow." Every time she addressed the lawman it was with sarcasm. Wilder liked her spirit.

"The owner has been very lenient with you, but it's time to go."

"Where'm I gonna go, Sheriff?"

Wilder stepped forward. "Maybe that's were I can help, Crystal." She slowly turned her angry blue eyes and gave him a long look. Up and down.

"Yeah, lots of men are willing to help a girl down on her luck. Such kind hearts they have," she said, dripping with sarcasm. "And all they want me to do is be their whore, ain't that right, Sheriff." She glanced at Jimmy and that made Wilder glance that way, too. Jimmy was blushing. Shit, did he try to bed her, too? Jesus. No wonder she was reluctant to leave. She turned back to the lawyer.

"And just what can the Honorable Wilder Betterman, Esquire, do to help me, I wonder."

"Well first, as a lawyer, I would advise you to gracefully vacate this property, so a law enforcement officer that you obviously hold in contempt won't be able to bodily accost you with legal sanction."

"Why are you even here," she asked. "Is this your property? Do you own it like everything else in this fucking town?" Actually, he didn't own everything, just an Italian restaurant, motel, grocery store franchise and a flower shop he bought for his mother. He also owned a BMW dealership, an insurance company, and of course, his law practice. But that's it. You could say that he was reasonably wealthy.

"I do not as I am sure you know. But to answer your direct question, I am here to offer you a position working in a flower shop. I assume you like being around plants, and I admire your entrepreneurial spirit. I will provide temporary housing for you and your daughter and help you get on your feet."

He did not know he was going to say all that, but he wanted so desperately to help this stunning young woman, and that got her attention. She sat up and looked at him like she was waiting for more. However, Wilder had been a lawyer a long time and knew when to shut up a listen.

"Doesn't your mother run that shop?" she asked with a wary look.

"Yes, but her assistant recently moved away. If you do well, as I am sure you will, you can take over the shop in a year when my mother retires. That would mean a promotion and raise."

"And just why would you do all that?" The wary look persisted now with a touch of skepticism.

Wilder looked at the other dilapidated lawn chair under that canopy. He wondered for a moment if it would hold his weight and decided to chance it. He glanced at Jimmy, who was obviously getting restless.

"Crystal, may I sit." She nodded. "Sheriff, please be patient. This will only take a minute or two, I hope." He turned back to the beauty in the lawn chair.

"You probably see me as the guy who botched your parent's legal cases, and I wouldn't blame you for that. However, what you may not know is that I have spent most of the last 15 years investing in this county and its people. I tend to hire people who need help. I treat them well, train them well and give them the authority to run my businesses. It's a strange business model, I grant you. Yet, I've learned that if you invest in the right people, they will not let you down."

She sighed. "What makes you think I won't fuck this chance up like everything else in my fucking life?" She looked so tired at that moment.

"First, I make all my best decisions in the afternoon. Secondly, I don't know why I believe in you. I just do. You will need to trust me on this. You can run a flower shop. You can get your life together, and you can raise that little girl." Crystal looked at Wilder for a long time in silence.

"That's just too kind," she finally said in a softer voice. "It has not been my experience that men do kind things for women for nothing."

"That's because you have yet to met my mother. See, we are not that different. Let me tell you a story. My father was also a less than honorable man who abandoned us when I was just a boy. I was fortunate to have a wonderful mother. She worked damn hard to raise me and put me through school. Once I began to build my businesses, she encouraged me to give back, to help people get ahead. That's what this is."

She sat and looked at Wilder for maybe two minutes in silence. He guessed she was trying to gauge whether she could trust him.

"I don't know, Mr. Betterman. Where will I go? Where will I live?"

"Do you have any money?"

"Not much. Not enough to get an apartment or anything, or I'd already be there."

"Ok. Well, there is always a hotel, but that might not be best for the child. How old is she?"

"Nine months."

"I would like to make a suggestion, but you are welcome to dismiss it. You don't really know me or trust me right now, and I don't blame you."

"OK, what is it?" she said with a sigh like she expected the other shoe to drop.

"I have a home on the lake with a guest house. You can live there until you get on your feet. You will not be the first person I have had stay there. You can come and go as you please, and I can help with whatever you need."

Crystal started laughing. Wilder let her go and laugh herself out.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Betterman," she said still laughing. "You can't be this nice. No one is this nice. Who the fuck are you?"

"Like I said. You can reject that idea, and I will arrange for a place in a hotel with a room service allowance ..."

"No, no, no. I like the lake house thing. That sounded awesome. I just ... am having a hard time getting over you. The richest man in town just drove up to this fucking ... hovel ... and told me he can fix all my problems. This is not how I expected today to go. No ... one ... is ... this ... fucking ... nice! No one!"

"So you have said. I understand your reluctance to trust."

"How come I have never heard of these great acts of kindness?"

"Yes, well. That is a stipulation of accepting my assistance. You can't tell anyone. I don't want half the county at my door tomorrow looking for handouts. I can't and won't help everyone. They can read my list of kindnesses at my funeral, but not before."

"Who else have you helped in this way."

He sighed. "I could present you with a list, if you like."

"Jesus, really?"

"I don't usually do that, but then most of my, ah, beneficiaries have not been quite so reluctant to accept my help," he said with a smile.

"Are you a saint? Saint Wilder?"

"I assure you that I am no saint. I have the same desires and flaws as any man. Possibly more."

"Really," She said, eyeing him carefully. "So, you do find me attractive, desirable."

"Extremely. Any man would. I'm guessing every man you've ever met does." Wilder's legal experience enabled him to usually be very measured in any response to any question, but that just slipped out. He thought he might have just fucked this up, but she only laughed.

"Well, at least that was honest. Ok, Saint Wilder, what do we do now?"

"I suggest you pack up anything you want to take, but also know that I will provide anything needed for you or the baby. We can stop at Target before we go to the lake. Women like Target, right?"

"This is so bizarre. You're like a character out of a movie."

"Can I help with the packing?"

"You kill me. No, Rich Guy is not going to help me pack my shitty little things. Wait here." She showed the most energy in the last 30 minutes rushing into the trailer. Things started banging around. Wilder looked at a smiling Jimmy.

"Good job," he said. "I knew you'd fix it, Saint Wilder."

A baby cried. Wilder could hear Crystal stop the commotion and try to calm the baby, but it wasn't working. Suddenly, she burst from the RV with the baby on her hip and marched up to Wilder.

"Here, hold her while I pack." She shoved the dark haired baby in his arms. The chubby little girl wore just a diaper.

"What's her name?"

"Mary."

"Of course it is." Crystal went back inside while Mary stared at Wilder with big wet blue eyes. At least she stopped crying. What he did not know about babies would fill the entire universe.

--------

By the time they drove out of hell and arrived at Wilder's office, Mary was asleep in her mother's arms. They moved from the police cruiser to Wilder's car which was a massive BMW SUV and headed for Target. She was giddy with anticipation. She never had two pennies to rub together in her life. Now, she was just going to walk into Target and buy whatever she wanted. Holy fuck.

"Crystal, are you OK?"

"I'm fine, but please don't call me Crystal. I hate it. It's like my dumb fuck parents wanted me to grow up to be a stripper."

"What may I call you then."

"Crissy, please."

"Does this explain Mary's rather simple name?"

"Yes. Virgin Mary, until she's 30, I hope."

"I take it your pregnancy and possibly marriage were ... unplanned?"

"No shit?" No explanation seemed forthcoming.

"Do you mind if I ask about your husband?"

"I hope I never see that fucking loser again. The best news I ever heard was that he wasn't ever coming back, and that even beats what you are doing for me today, just so you know."

"How did you come to marry him?" She just looked at him for a minute.

"You want all the sordid details of my pathetic life. Why do you want to know?"

"If you don't mind. People do get out on bail, and I am trying to understand the chance that he will attempt to return to you and Mary."

Should she tell this smart and successful man the stupid thing she had done? It really was so embarrassing! But how does one dissemble when looking at eyes like that? Such intense amber eyes, even when just glancing at her as he was now.

Crissy felt the deep inner need to be honest with this man despite everything inside her rebelling against the idea. Best make a joke of it.

"This is so embarrassing. It's a story of one stupid mistake after another."

"I will not judge you." Sure he wouldn't!

She laughed. "If so, you really are a saint." She took a deep breath and started her story. "The short answer is I was date raped at college. He slipped something into my drink in a bar. As a result, I got pregnant. When I confronted him, he said he loved me and was desperate to be with me. That's why he did it. He offered to marry me. In my role as the world's most stupid and gullible woman, I agreed."

"So, he took me to his hometown to get married and then to Vegas for a honeymoon. He kept me in the hotel room for three days, banging the hell out of me and then just snuck out. Yes, I am George Costanza -- the King of the Idiots."

"Where did you marry?"

"A little town in Alabama."

"I take it you plan to divorce, then?"

"God yes. Someday, when I can afford it."

"I think we can make that happen sooner, but I would guess you may not even be married, and he just tricked you. We'll look into that first."

"My God, that's right. You're a lawyer. You do divorces, too?"

"I know people who owe me a favor or two."

"I am going to owe you my soul by the time this is done, right? That's what this is, right?"

"No Crissy, I'm not the devil either."

"I can't believe you are this nice. Pardon me, but you have a killer reputation. Everybody wants something, and I know what men want from me," she said.

In her head, she knew he was a good man. Everyone spoke well of Wilder, and she had always respected him. Yet, this was a level above anything she could have imagined.

They parked at Target and headed into the store. She grabbed a cart, laid the baby in it and headed in. He grabbed another cart.

"What's that for?" Crissy asked.

"Let's just say this is not my first time at this. You need a child seat, high chair, crib, clothes for you and the baby, special baby food, etc. We need two carts, at least."

"You are brilliant." She smiled.

"Thank you." He paused. "My only concern is how we do this without looking like a couple shopping together. Maybe we should split up."

For some reason, she found this very amusing. "Are you worried that people will think you're my boyfriend ... or worse, Mary's baby daddy? That's so cute."

He blushed. "More likely they will think she is my granddaughter."

He didn't look that old. He definitely had a dad bod, but with nice big shoulders. His sandy hair was starting to gray a little, but his face was handsome with a sharp nose and strong square chin. Overall, he was a tall and good looking middle-aged guy.

"Can I call you Wilder? Or do you go by Wiley, Willy, something?"

"Wilder is fine," he said stiffly.

"Do you mind if I ask how old you are?"

Wilder seemed flustered by the question. He was obviously not ready for the personal questions to be turned in his direction. "Does it matter?"

"It can't be that bad!"

"OK. 47, old enough."

"Same as Leo."

"Leo?"

"DiCaprio, you know, the actor."

"That is a strange fact to know, how old a specific actor is."

"I like movies, OK. So, you are the same age as a guy who dates lots and lots of young models. It's not beyond the realm of possibility that we could be together."

"I am no Leo DiCaprio."

"Leo is in the eye of the beholder," she said, smiling brightly.

He blushed again. She liked making him blush, surprised that she had that power over him.

"I'm changing the subject now," he said. "Oh look, child seats! I'm going this way." And he took off for the baby area. He really was a very nice man and really cute when he blushed.

He put a really expensive child seat in the cart and wanted to get a real crib, but she talked him into a Pack N Play instead. He insisted on getting some toys for Mary, as well as diapers, and lots of baby clothes.

Every time she thought they had enough, he came with something else saying how cute Mary would look in one outfit or another. Who was this fucking guy? She just stopped and looked at him.

"What?" he said.

"Are you gay?" she asked.

He smiled. "No. Is that OK? A guy with no babies in his life can like babies you know. This is more fun than I thought it would be."

"Sure, of course. How come you never got married?"

"Oh, I did, for about 10 minutes until she saw that the life of a young small-town lawyer isn't that great."

"I guess you showed her!"

"Honestly, I try not to think of it that way. It was just two people who didn't work together. I hold no grudges or regrets. I'm over it."

"But you never got married again? And no children?"

"It was rather painful ... the divorce. I don't like to fail. Then, as they say, the right girl alluded me. OK, enough of me. Are your ready to look at the women's section?"