Forever & More: The Friend Zone series Page 23
“Well, let’s go.” Harley slides out from under Sara’s legs and begins to pick her up.
“Wait a second. So what do I do? Just withdraw a million dollars and hand it over to Jay?” Could it really be that simple?
“Now you wait. What the hell are you talking about?” Sara asks.
Skye fills Sara in over the next few minutes. Her face looks murderous, I know that she’s about to lose her shit on him and I can’t handle that right now. Harley sits her in her chair, then stands silently at her side.
“Let’s get down there. The sooner this is over, the sooner we can move on.”
Moving this along won’t deter Sara from expressing her opinion about the situation, but it will hold her off a bit. I swipe up the bank statement, grab my purse, and am the first one out the door. The three of them trail behind me, lost in their own thoughts.
I approach Skye’s Jeep and wonder if we’re going to take it or not, but Harley clicks the key fob answering my question. The guys load Sara while I climb into the passenger seat. My hands fidget nervously in my lap. Once everyone’s in the car, we set out on the short drive to the bank. Winter’s in full effect now; Christmas decorations line the streets and for the first time since I was a kid, I’m excited about the holiday.
Usually, we celebrate with alcohol and dancing, but it’s time to start a new tradition. One with ball covered trees and stockings hung by the fireplace.
“You ready?” Skye pulls me from my thoughts.
“Yep.” I grab my purse, then climb out of the Jeep and patiently wait for everyone to join me on the sidewalk.
We enter the bank and my nerves get the best of me. I hate walking into to something and not knowing what’s going to happen. My gut rolls from facing the unknown. A million and one questions swirl through my mind. Is the money from his drug stuff? Who was I kidding, of course, it was; BAR didn’t pull that kind of business. Would the government take it from me when they found out? I really didn’t care if they did. It’s nice to have, but I don’t want it if that’s where it came from. If they didn’t take it, I would donate it to a charity or something. The scariest thing that kept popping into my mind was what happens when Skye takes it to Jay. Would she kill him and then take the money? Would she let him just walk away? I knew better than that, I’ve watched too many CSI and Dateline shows to be naïve enough to think that he could just walk away.
“Can I help you?” the blonde banker cheerfully asks.
“Yes, ma’am. Can we speak to the branch manager?”
The happy teller doesn’t look so happy anymore.
“Sure,” she says with uncertainty. She turns to face away from us, phone in hand, and whispers in a low voice into the receiver. Turning back to us, she informs us Mr. Daniels will be with us shortly and directs us to wait in a tiny room to our left.
A few minutes after we are seated in uncomfortable leather chairs, a round, grey haired man in a matching smoke colored suit approaches us.
“Good afternoon. I’m Mr. Daniels.” He reaches his hand out to Skye in greeting. Skye meets Mr. Daniels’ hand with his own. “How can I help you?”
I step forward and offer the same gesture he did Skye. “Mr. Daniels, I have a few questions about my account. Can we go somewhere private, please?”
He leads the four of us in a secluded office one floor up from the room we were previously waiting in and plops his large body into the chair behind his desk. Skye sits next to me in the sage green high-backed chairs.
“Now, what can I do for you?” I reach into my purse and pull out my statement.
“I haven’t been well these past few months, so I just noticed the change. But I have funds being deposited into my account every month from an account in the Cayman Islands. Tom Anderson, a friend of mine, passed away earlier this year and has left me the beneficiary. It seems he has a substantial amount of money in these accounts that are now in my name. I’m not sure when all of this took place and that’s what I would like for you to find out for me. I also need to withdraw a large sum of money from this account, and I’m hoping that you can help me do that.” He takes the statement from my hands and then begins tapping on his computer.
His eyes go wide and pass from me to the computer screen several times before he finally speaks.
“Ms. Thomas, were you aware that you have a safety deposit box in your name at our establishment?”
“No, I didn’t. Are you sure it’s mine?” This whole bank situation is really starting to freak me out. What would be in a safety deposit box and how in the hell did he manage to do all of this without my consent?
“Yes, ma’am. I need documentation that Mr. Anderson is, in fact, passed away. A death certificate would do. Did you bring that with you today?”
“Actually no, all of this is new to me and I wasn’t aware that I would need it. I have one at home I can get and come back.”
“No. Skye, give me a few minutes and I’ll run and get it and come back,” Harley interrupts me.
“I’m not sure we have time,” Daniels says with uncertainty.
“I live just a few minutes away. He will be back before we finish with the rest of this,” I reassure him. “Harley, it’s in my room, top drawer, in the manila envelope. Just bring the whole thing.”
He grabs the keys from Skye and heads out of the office.
“Now, I need to know what is in that account and who set it up,” I inform him.
“I need three different forms of identification.”
I pull my bag into my lap and begin digging in my purse. I find my wallet and hand him what he needs. He begins tapping on the keys again.
“The account was set up June of last year by Mr. Anderson. He made you the beneficiary over the account and in the event of his death, he set up a direct draft to your account for $3,000.00 a month for living expenses.”
“How was he able to do this without my consent?” I ask.
“Well, making you the beneficiary over his accounts doesn’t require your consent, just your social and account number in this case. Account holders also do not need your permission to deposit funds into your accounts. Now, if he were trying to withdraw, then that would be a completely different story.”
My head is reeling with all of this information. Why wasn’t it in all the documentation that Skye brought home from the attorney?
“Have I answered all of your questions?” he asks.
“Actually, no. I need to withdraw a million dollars from the Cayman account. Is that something that you can handle for me?” He looks taken back by my question. I cock my eyebrow, waiting very impatiently for his response.
“Actually, Ms. Thomas, it will take some time to actually be able to take out that kind of money. Not to mention, that we are not affiliated with that bank. That’s something that you will need to process with them. You should be able to have it wired to your account if you can provide them with the necessary information. However, it will take some time to actually be able to withdraw that from here.”
I feel defeated. I’m unsure about the timeline, but I have a feeling that the hourglass is about to run out.
“I got it,” Harley pants from the doorway. He hands me the envelope and I pull out the document legally declaring Tom deceased.
“Here’s the death certificate. What next?”
He studies the document and goes back to his computer. “It says here that it’s a digital entry box.” He glances at me.
“What’s that mean?” Skye chimes into the conversation.
“Well, it means it’s a code instead of a key.”
I don’t know what the code is. I rack my brain, wondering what it could be. Would he use something as easy as my birthday or his? Maybe a combination of both.
“He also has it password protected. Ms. Thomas, what does it mean to you when Tom tells you he loves you?”
I jerk back. What the hell is he talking about? “Huh?” I scrunch my nose.
“It’s the security question. It
’s designed to prompt the password. Once you figure that out, I will be able to take you to the vault and put in the code for your box.”
“If I want to, can I take what’s in the box?”
“Of course. It will require paperwork, but that only takes time and your identification.”
It dawns on me what he was asking me. “Forever and More,” I tell him. A look of confusion crosses his face before he looks back at the screen.
He stands and we follow suit. “Ms. Thomas, only two people, not including myself, will be allowed into the vault.” He waits for me to acknowledge what he says.
“Do y’all mind waiting here?” I ask Sara and Harley. “Is that okay?” I quickly ask Mr. Daniels.
“Of course.”
When he confirms that is okay, I stand. Skye follows my motions. Mr. Daniels takes the lead as we leave the office. He takes us down the hall to the left of his office. The barren hallways are cold and uninviting. They have a sterile look and feel to them. Like you are being led to your execution. The blinding white walls reflect the sunlight that’s beaming through the floor to ceiling windows.
We take an elevator down to a restricted floor below the lobby, only accessible by Mr. Daniels’ key card. When we exit the cart, the room we enter looks like a dungeon. There are three armed guards that search us before we proceed any further. To the right, there’s a small space that holds a desk with a computer, keyboard, and a container of ink pens. That’s it. The rest of the room is steel bars and dim lighting. Behind the bars is a giant door, only lit by a glowing keypad that resembles the keys on a cell phone. A digital reader of some sorts is mounted next to that. Above the scanner is a large box and I’m not quite sure what the purpose for that is.
The room is damp and cold and reminds me of what television portrays as a prison cell.
“I’m going to need you to sign this. It’s a statement authorizing that you are indeed the box holder and that you are giving the bank permission to allow you and your companion to access it.” Without looking at the document, I sign it. Mr. Daniels walks to the computer and discreetly punches on the keys. The large bars make a humming noise. Mr. Daniels then stands in front of the steel doors and slides his card once again in the reader.
He informs us to remain where we are until he tells us to come forward. Skye grabs my hand and gives me a reassuring look. It’s so hard to read his thoughts right now. His face is impassive and hasn’t changed since we arrived. I watch with fascination as Mr. Daniels places his hand on the box and a neon yellow light runs the length of his finger and palm.
He leans forward to the strange box and a white light flashes. He pulls back and bats his eyes a few times before punching a code on the box, then sliding his card again. A screeching sound echoes through the room as the giant wheel in the center of the door turns automatically. Once the noise stops, he tugs on the door and enters the vault. I start chewing on my nails feverously. I can taste the bitter pang of blood from tearing them off at the quick.
Moments later, he exits the vault with a large box in hand. He sets it on the desk and puts in another code. The latch on the box clicks and Mr. Daniels informs us that he and the guards are going to give us some semblance of privacy. I hadn’t noticed, but there is a doorway to the left of the room. I wait until they have entered the room before I walk to the box.
My hands shake along with the rest of my body. I’m so anxious to find out what’s in the box but terrified at the same time.
I push the lid back and gasp when I see the contents. Wads of hundred dollar bills, stacked and banded neatly, rest inside. I start pulling out the bricks of bills and handing them to Skye.
“Holy shit,” he whispered. He marveled at the heaping stack in his hands. He started placing them side by side on the table next to us. I get to the bottom of the box and find an envelope. I pull it out, leaving the box empty. I break the seal and pull a folded piece of paper out.
My dearest Chloe,
I have a lot of making up to do for the things I’ve done. I hope that the account I set up with the direct draft helps with that. Don’t ask about where the money came from, just enjoy it. I never meant to hurt you, please know that. I’ve been wrapped up in this mess for a long while now. I think that I always knew that at the end of the day, it would end up like this. That’s why I’ve planned like I have. I’ve always been there to take care of you, to make sure you always had what you needed and were happy. I failed in so many ways, and for that, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I lied and hurt you. I’m sorry I abandoned you while I was living and then in death. If I could go back and redo it all over again, I would in a heartbeat. Do you remember when we were kids and I told you I would always take care of you? Well, this is the only way I know how to do it now. Live your life, Chloe, be happy, be healthy, dance and sing in the rain. Run through fields naked on the full moon. I hope you get to do all of these things and more, but the thing that I hope for the most is that you forgive me. I hope that you have it in you, that it’s not too late. I won’t be able to rest if you don’t. I know I don’t deserve it and I’m not asking for me. I’m asking for you. I don’t want you to live out your days harboring an ounce of hate in that beautiful heart of yours. I’ve lied to you about a million things, but the one thing I have never lied about was how much I love you.
Forever and More,
Tom
Tears run down my face at a rapid pace. I could hear his voice saying these words to me as clearly as I did the night in the cemetery. My heart feels heavy with sadness for my friend. I wish I could have saved him, I wish he would have come to me so I could have done something instead of being a bystander that had no control. I didn’t know it until recently, but I had forgiven him for the part he played in all of this mess the second it had been done.
I could never hate him, not then and not now. The things that happened to me were supposed to; it made me who I am today. I learned from the actions of myself and those around me, and it’s molded me into the person standing before you today. The only thing I regret is that he’s not here to see the beauty in this tragedy. He’s not here to share my happiness and the relief that it’s over. He’s not here to grow and learn from this experience himself, and that’s what kills me the most.
“You okay, baby?” Skye embraces me from behind. I hand him the note, but he doesn’t read it. He just stuffs it into his pocket.
“How much is it?” I ask. My voice sounds like a zombie and not my own. It’s so thick with emotion that I almost choke on them.
“I’m not sure, but it’s a lot. Let me go get Mr. Daniels.” Skye leaves me standing alone.
My eyes take in the stacks of cash. What the hell am I going to do with all of this? It looks like it’s more than I could spend in a lifetime. This is like a bad Lifetime movie. Bartender gets rich from dead drug-dealing best friend. I start laughing at the obscurity of the situation. I just hope I get my happily ever after like the characters of those types of stories.
Mr. Daniels stands next to me, wide-eyed and silently taking in the sight before him.
“What do I need to do to close out this box?” I ask.
“Paperwork,” he says breathlessly, still in shock.
I stand next to him, silently waiting on him to start moving.
“Sir, if you don’t mind, we have somewhere to be,” Skye speaks from the other side of Daniels.
“Of, of course,” he stutters.
He begins pulling out drawers on the desk in search of something. He finds what he’s looking for in the last drawer. He sets it on the desk and plugs it in. Bands around the cash are being ripped off and the money stuffed in a sleeve on the device. He pushes a button and money starts rapidly shuffling through the machine. The digital numbers displayed on a tiny screen quickly climb. A guard takes over tearing off the bands and stuffing the money into the sleeve.
Mr. Daniels pulls up several screens on the computer and almost instantly, I hear a printer in the next room come to life. Several
screens later, the printer finally quiets. The other guard comes out with a tall pile of papers in hand. While one guard continues to count the bundles, the other stands in front of the elevator door at his post. Skye, Mr. Daniels, and I start going over the paperwork to close out the box.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t want to just deposit the money into your account? Or possibly invest it? That’s a lot of money to just walk out of the front door with. At least let me make out a cashier’s check.”
I shift nervously in my seat. I didn’t think about how I was going to get all of this out of here.
“No, actually that’s one of the reasons I was acquiring about the large withdraw. I have my eye on a house and want to pay cash for it.”
He looks at me like I’ve grown another head, but starts instructing me as to where to sign.
My hand cramps from all the initialing and signatures. The guard approaches us with what looks like a receipt. The numbers listed at the bottom of the paper blow my mind. 1,600,000 is displayed in bold letter on the bottom of the thin white paper, followed by the letters, USD.
I feel like I’m going to faint, it has to be wrong. How in the hell did he have that type of money stashed away? And that’s not even what’s in the Cayman account, or what’s already been transferred to my savings. My breaths become labored and Skye begins to panic.
“Calm down, Chloe, you have to breathe.” He begins to pant like they teach you in birthing classes. He’s definitely watched too many movies.
“I’ve gotta move,” I tell him.
He backs up so I can stand. One of his arms holds my elbow while the other is placed on the small of my back. Moving around helps me calm myself.
“I’m in shock, not eighty and without my walker,” I snap at him.
He looks taken back for a moment and recovers quickly.
“Are we done?” I turn on Mr. Daniels. He looks at my stomach then to my face. My guess is that my anxiety is being mistaken for labor. I mentally roll my eyes.
“Yes, well except how you’re going to transport all of this.” He gestures to the money resting on the table behind us. I look around and see nothing. Then a thought occurs to me.