Wilderwood Ch. 09

It's Saturday, so I go into Pop! like I usually do. I'll see Emma later, up at Lauren's, but right now I just want to act like everything is normal. It's a young crowd that hangs out there - from high school and college mostly - and I tell myself that they won't be that interested in the society drama of last night.

I'm such a fucking optimist.

Zack has the day off but Tina is there, working the cafe counter with a couple of part-time staff who come in when it's busy. As the mayor's daughter she was at the event, with a ringside seat at the same table as the Lakes and Penny Knight. Now she keeps giving me these worried, nervous looks and after a while I start to feel really bad for her, because Tina's one of the nicest people I know and the scene last night must have made her super uncomfortable. I wait for a lull at the counter and then wander over to talk to her.

"Hey, at least the food was good and the cat was cute, right?"

Tina blushes and nods and gives a little half smile. She stammers out a few words and asks if I'm okay and if Emma's okay and if Mom's okay, and I spend a few minutes playing it all down and acting like it's no big deal. Eventually she relaxes and can actually look me in the eye again.

Trent and Kenny on the other hand...

it's not like I expect much from Kenny, and Trent subscribes to Trowley's channel, so when those two roll in around midday I know what's coming.

"So hey, did you know your dad's been fucking his secretary?" is Kenny's subtle way of bringing it up.

"No, I thought he was too busy fucking your mom."

"Dude!"

Trent at least tries to look uncomfortable. "Trowley really went for it."

"He's got the fucking hotel bugged." It's good to think that the cops are probably going to want to talk to him about that. No one has ever taken Trowley to court over anything he's said - because it's usually too out there to be taken seriously - but he's surely gone too far this time.

"He said he got the recording from an anonymous source."

"Bullshit."

So we do a few minutes on Trowley's 'anonymous sources' over coffee before Kenny gets onto a topic they both find a lot more interesting.

"You didn't tell us you've been dating Lauren Whitley."

Oh yeah. That.

It takes no time at all to work out how this story got out. Jennifer was at the table when it came up, and since Emma decided it would be funny to act like it was a real thing Jennifer will have told her friends, and they will have told their friends, and now everyone knows it. When gossip travels this fast it's a wonder this town even needs a daily paper.

It's not that long ago that my friends were in awe of me for just having casual, friendly conversations with the Queen of the Coven, though that lessened a lot after Zack started dating Lucy and they shifted their awe (and disbelief) onto him instead. Now that look is back, and I figure I might as well enjoy it while it lasts.

"Yeah," I say as casually as I can, "she's going back upstate in a week or so... but we're still friends."

I lean on the word 'friends' just enough and reap the rewards.

"Dude..."

"Wow..."

"Yeah," I say. "Lauren's cool."

I don't even have to mention the sex dungeon Lauren is rumored to have up at her place. I know they're thinking it.

* * * * *

That's about as good as the day gets. Nobody else says anything to my face but I see some looks and hear some whispers. I don't know if I've felt quite this conscious of being a Wilderwood since Mr. Alderney took my high school class on a history walk that took us around every one of the statues of my ancestors that stand in this town.

Steve says nothing about any of it and spends most of the morning either in his office at the back of the store or prowling around giving his customers looks that are disdainful even for him. He brightens up in the early afternoon though when one particular customer walks in.

Slim and blonde, about thirty, with piercing blue eyes behind her steel rimmed glasses, the director of the Newley Institute is widely agreed to be the hottest woman in town, except maybe for Officer Rydell. We don't count the Coven. They're girls. Dr. Reinmar is a woman.

She's in here only ocassionally, and I've talked to her a few times when she's come in for a coffee. She's friendly enough, but I won't deny she intimidates the hell out of me. It's not just her movie star looks or that she's so obviously the most intelligent person I've ever met, it's that her eyes are like lasers and whenever they lock onto me I feel like she knows everything about me. She's dressed casually today, in a loose patterned jacket and skinny pants, but the glasses still give her an air of authority. Dr. Reinmar is super hot, but she scares me too.

Which is also hot.

Steve leaves off from glowering at some high school kids who've been nudging each other and giggling in my direction and walks over to greet her as she comes in.

"Dr. Reinmar," he drags out doc-tor into two distinct syllables. "To what do we owe the pleasure of your company?"

She arches a dark, perfect eyebrow. "Do all your customers get such a personal welcome, Mr. Whittier?" She's got this dry, impossibly well spoken accent, like even the oldest families in town can hardly pull off these days.

Steve shrugs. "Only the ones I think might steal something. This way I can keep an eye on you."

"Why would I want to steal anything of yours?"

"You tell me. Crazy people are your speciality, not mine."

They're always like this. Everyone knows that Steve has a massive crush on the doc, though no one ever says so to his face. They both seem to enjoy the back and forth though, and at least now I know my boss will be in a good mood for the rest of the day.

Later though, after Dr. Reinmar has left, Steve taps me on the shoulder and points one finger toward the back of the store. I follow him into the dark pit of his office and he drops into his chair and gives me an unusually direct look.

"You've had a lousy couple of days, haven't you?"

Steve rarely talks about personal stuff and even more rarely sounds like he's taking it seriously. He's doing both now and it's so unexpected I'm not sure how to react.

"Yeah, I guess."

Having looked at me for a good thirty seconds longer than he usually does Steve now curls his fingers and studies at his nails. "You're okay, Jamie. At least you're not especially annoying. I wasn't sure about having the Prince of Wilderwood around here but you don't seem to give a shit about that even if everybody else does, and I like that. That's my advice to you now. Keep not giving a shit, because this is a three day wonder and when it's over you'll still be you and everyone that's smirking about this now will go back to treating you like the young lord of the manor. Might as well make that work for you, because they'll do it anyway, whether you want them to or not."

"Yeah." He's probably not wrong about that.

Steve looks up from his nails. "I've been wondering though..."

Uh oh.

"You knew this was coming, didn't you? That's why you were asking me about Trowley a few days ago."

I nod. "I knew something was coming. He's been asking questions."

"Thought so." Steve sighs. "Since I'm handing out life lessons today here's another. Trowley's done a number on your family and you probably want to get even with him. Don't. Stay away from him. He's dangerous."

"'Only to my sanity.'" I'm actually quoting Steve, from our last conversation about Trowley, but he just grimaces.

"Seven or eight years ago Trowley spent six months up at the Newley Institute, in one of the rooms that don't open from the inside. They still have those, but it's kept very quiet. I don't know exactly why but he was categorised as dangerously unstable."

"I didn't know that."

"Nobody does. It was kept very quiet. Anyway, little Alex went off to the rubber room and nobody was any the wiser when he resurfaced six months later. Cured." Steve gives a contemptuous snort. "He was cured alright."

"Why was it hushed up?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. It's not like Trowley has many friends in this town. Jamie, I shouldn't even be telling you about this, but I don't want you going off half cocked and challenging Trowley to pistols at dawn or whatever it is you blue bloods do."

I smile. "I don't think there's any chance of that."

"You say that now, but I know how touchy you aristocrats can be when your family honor is impugned." He shakes his head. "It's not worth it."

"Yeah. Thanks, Steve."

"Yeah, yeah." He makes a vague, dismissive gesture. "Now get out of here. Take the rest of the day off."

"I'm fine. Really."

"I'm sure you are, but I'd still like to not spend the rest of the day fighting the urge to ban every single person I see giving you the sideeye and whispering behind your back. Come back on Monday. They'll have found something else to get excited about by then."

* * * * *

I'm not going to challenge Trowley to a duel. Now that the shock of it has passed I'm not even that pissed at him. He's taken a swing at just about every prominent family in town so why not us too? He's done two videos about Lauren and she just laughs it off. Anyway, the last thing I'm ever going to do is get bent out of shape about the good name of the Wilderwoods. I'm just relieved it was about Dad and not about Emma and I.

Steve acts like he doesn't care about all the gossip and drama and social rivalry that goes on in this town, and he's always been indifferent at best to me being a Wilderwood, which I liked. I guess he does take some of it seriously though, and just hides it behind that snarky Brit attitude.

I've left Pop! now and as I cross the street I'm wondering how Steve knows about the thing with Trowley since, if I've got the dates right in my head, it must have happened before he even came to Wilderwood. He couldn't have heard about it at the time and if it was all hushed up then he could only have heard about it later from Trowley himself (seriously unlikely) or from someone who worked up at the Institute then, or has access to the records now.

When the image of Dr. Reinmar pops into my head I literally stop in the middle of the street. Oh no, no fucking way...

A middle aged couple huff as step around me on the narrow sidewalk. From the look they give me I guess I must have said that out loud. Wonderful. Now they can tell their friends that the young Mr. Wilderwood is standing in the middle of the street muttering to himself like a crazy person.

As hard as it is for me to get my head around the idea that my boss might have hooked up with one of the hottest women in town it would explain a lot, like why Trowley is banned from Pop! and why Steve so completely loathes him. Trowley's always had an obsession with the Newley Institute - and I guess I know why now - but it's only got worse since Dr. Reinmar took over as the director a year ago.

Of course they might just be friends, but somehow I find that idea even more unlikely.

I need to go home and pick up some stuff for Emma before I head up to Lauren's place. At least that's the plan, but as I come up the street I see Dad's BMW parked in the driveway. I've no idea what I have to say to him, and as it turns out the answer is not much, because if the conversation I had this morning with Mom was awkward the one I have now with Dad is even worse.

He's shaken off that wary look from last night and follows me around as I go upstairs. He stands outside the bathroom while I take a shower, and outside the door of my bedroom as I change my clothes, and all the time he's coming out with the full range of Dad Speak.

"Your mom and I..." and "You'll understand that one day" and "We'll get through this, as a family" and all the rest of it. I'm hardly even listening to most of it, and answering mostly in one or two words, but he doesn't seem to notice and goes on rewriting the events of last night until he's more or less saying that everything would have been fine if Mom hadn't made a scene.

It's not an act. He really believes it. In Dad's world sleeping around is just something that men do (but not women, though that goes unsaid) and the rest of it he shrugs off as just Man Talk. He doesn't mention Morgan at all.

"You've got to show balls in business, Junior," he says, and I'm not sure he doesn't actually thump his chest as he says it. "People respect that. Your mom... well, women let their emotions run away with them. Like that girl, Lauren, right?"

Oh for fuck's sake.

I've always known Dad isn't a deep thinker - I don't think I've ever seen him with a book in his hands - but the level of self delusion here is off the fucking charts, and I can't even be bothered arguing with him about it. I had thought about asking him about what Mom said to Uncle Nathan last night, but I know if I do I'll only get more of his bullshit, so I go into Emma's room and since I can't rummage through her clothes while Dad's standing there I just grab her phone and then get the hell out of there as quick as I can.

* * * * *

It's late afternoon by the time I get back into the centre of town. I could head up to Hamilton Hill now but I'm still wondering about the story Steve told me, and I decide to do some research, so I go into the bookstore across the street from where I work.

Barton Books is smaller than Pop!, and inside it's sunny and comfortable, with a couple of couches off to one side where the book clubs have their meetings. Emma is more of a reader than I am but the owner of the bookstore, Howard Barton, has always been nice to me. He's nice to everyone, which makes me wonder how he can get along so well with Steve, who's nice to no one.

He does though, and Steve often wanders across to talk to Howard when he's in a mood. If he's talked to anyone else about Trowley it's going to be Howard. I'll have to be subtle though, since I don't want Steve to know I'm still asking questions about this.

When I walk in Howard is making adjustments to the books on one of the display tables. His wife is standing nearby, chatting with a couple of customers. The Bartons are pretty old; not as old as Uncle Nathan but not too far from it, and Mrs. Barton used to be a teacher at the elementary school before she retired. They're not actually from the town originally, though they have lived here for as long as I remember.

"Hello, Jamie," Mrs. Barton says with a smile. "I haven't seen you in here for a while."

"Hey, Mrs. Barton."

"You're a long way out of elementary school, Jamie. I think you can call me Gloria now."

"Sure, Mrs... Gloria."

Howard grunts. "Leave the boy alone. If he needs anything I'm sure he'll let us know."

"Don't mind him," his wife says. "He's just in a mood because the college released this year's reading list and he doesn't approve."

The back and forth between them reminds me weirdly of Steve and Dr. Reinmar, except that it's much more obvious that it's all meant in fun. I try to imagine Emma and i talking to each other like this fifty years from now but I can't get my head around the idea. We can play around and chat about our long term plans but I don't think either of us think of any of that as entirely real.

"I criticise three titles and she makes it sound like I want to burn the lot," Howard is saying now. "You could help me with this, instead of just loitering around pestering our customers."

I leave them to it and go and browse among the shelves. A book with the title 'Master of Her Heart' makes me think of the conversation I had with Emma up on the roof of the hotel last night. I pick up the book and sure enough it looks just like the ones my sister used to read. There's a big dark house with one window lit upon the cover, with ominous clouds in the sky and a woman in a long dress looking agitated. Like there always is. I flip the book open at random and read a few lines...

...his gold flecked eyes glittered dangerously in the flickering candlelight. Arabella trembled beneath that unwavering auric gaze and her breasts heaved against the imprisoning lacing of her red velvet bodice. How she yearned to be free, free of these feelings that tormented her so, free of the mysteries of her past and the uncertainties of her future, free of the unbreakable chains that his every word and gesture forged more tightly around her heart. Dark and terrible secrets hung like a thunderous black cloud over this place, a place to which she should have never come again, and yet...

...Yeah, it's definitely in the same style.

I browse through the rest of the Romance section looking for a copy of 'The Master of Wilderwood Hall' but I don't find one. Emma said she read it years ago but the way she was talking last night it definitely made an impression on her and I am curious about it now. Also there's the stuff about riding crops and yeah, I'm curious about that too, though I seem to remember that there was never any actual sex in those books. All the good stuff always seemed to happen in between the end of one chapter and the start of the next.

Howard does sell old, second hand books as well, and I think about asking him if he's got a copy of that one, but the thought that he might have read it puts me off that idea. I can imagine the looks I might get if I ask them about a romance novel involving two characters with the exact same names as me and my sister.

So I don't ask, and I'm still wondering how to ask the questions I want to ask. So I do some more browsing.

The display tables all have little signs standing on them. 'New Fiction', 'New Non-Fiction', 'Best Sellers' and so on, including one that says 'Local Interest'. I spent the whole of high school trying to avoid this subject, but I'm interested now. I'm not surprised to see the family name is well represented in the tourist guides and local histories - there's two full pages of entries under the names of various Wilderwoods in the index of a thick history of the town - and there's a couple of other titles that catch my eye.

There's a book about Jonathan Wilderwood, 'The Mayberry Letters: Jonathan Wilderwood and the Revolutionary War', and another, 'The Devil Went Down to Georgia: a biography of Colonel Ethan Wilderwood.' The cover of that one shows a sabre driven into the ground through a tattered Confederate flag against a background of a burning forest.

There's also a couple of books about the actual Wilderwood Devil - 'In Search of...' and 'The Mystery of...' as well as a children's book called 'Wildy and the Witch.' That one has a cover illustration showing the familiar form of the furry red bear-wolf next to a girl of about 12 who's wearing a witch's hat. They're both smiling (at least I think Wildy is smiling, it's hard to tell with those teeth) and it's really cheesy looking but I pick it up anyway. Emma might get a kick out of it since she's so fond of our family fiend.

The other customers who were in have left by now and when Howard looks over my way I tap the two more serious looking books on the Devil. "Are either of these any good?"

He rubs his beard. "I don't think I'm spoiling the ending of 'In Search of...' if I tell you that he doesn't find him."

"I kind of guessed that."

"There's some nice photos of the Wilderwood though."

"He just didn't look in the right places," says Gloria, coming over to join us around the table. She winks at her husband. "We met the Wilderwood Devil once, didn't we?"

"Huh?"

"Stop teasing the boy." Howard chuckles and turns back to me. "The name has sometimes been attached to certain members of your family," he nods toward the book on Ethan Wilderwood. "Like so."

"So you just meant Uncle Nathan." I'm weirdly disappointed at that.

"Oh no. We know Nathan, of course, but I meant his father. Richard."

"I didn't think you'd lived here that long."