Faulted

  FAULTED

  By

  Jacqueline Druga

  Faulted - By Jacqueline Druga

  Copyright 2018 by Jacqueline Druga

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any person or persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Paula Gibson and Kira R thank you both so much for all of your help and questions.

  Also to my Beta Book Group … you all rock, Your feedback is invaluable.

  Cover Art by Christian Bentulan

  www.coversbychristian.com

  ONE

  ‘You suck,’ the text message read. ‘Bring home my son, CJ.’

  First of all, CJ thought as he looked down to the phone. He’s my son, too.

  Bleep.

  She was fast. CJ barely had time to start a reply before she sent another message. He wasn’t good at texting, he always made mistakes. Often switching can’t and can. Giving approval for things he didn’t mean to.

  He wondered if that was the main reason Kylie was flying off the cuff.

  Maybe he wasn’t clear. He should have listened to his father when he told him to turn it off.

  CJ huffed. It was bad enough he was packed into the hotel lobby like a toy in one of those crane machines, but now he had to reply to her messages while keeping a diligent eye on his six-year-old son while his father was off wondering somewhere.

  ‘I thought your flight left at two. Why are you not on the plane?’

  “Are you kidding me?” CJ looked at his phone. “How many times have I already told you?” Are you that dense?”

  “Excuse me?” a woman nearby responded.

  “Oh, gees, sorry.” he lifted his phone to show her. “Not you. My phone. Sorry.” He stared at his keyboard and spoke under his breath, “It’s two o’clock pacific time not eastern time.” Then he simply replied. ‘Two this time, not yours.’

  There, he thought, that ought to do it. He looked down to his son, while the little guy shared CJ’s name of Carter James, he didn’t share the nickname. CJ refused to let that happen, and he insisted everyone call the child by his given name, Carter.

  Although his father didn’t listen.

  Carter was in his own world sitting in the chair. They had just completed their male bonding, generation vacation to Disneyland finishing in Los Angeles. The first time Kylie let CJ take him on vacation let alone out of the state. It was just the three of them. The guys.

  They were all wearing the same t-shirt. Carter sported a pair of big mouse, sparkling blue, ‘Dazzle Me’ headphones, his dad bought the same pair, he was even wearing them like Carter, but CJ made him take them off in public. Carter was occupied as he played with a small tablet. He was a good kid; quiet, often times a little backward. He was a little on the thick side, heavy for his age, with dark wavy hair that wasn’t easy to manage.

  Bleep.

  “Oh, come on!” CJ blasted and lifted the phone.

  “I told you to shut that thing off, didn’t I? She hasn’t stopped texting you,” his father Guy, approached him from behind.

  “It’s not responsible for me to turn off the …” CJ paused and sniffed. “Were you smoking weed?”

  “I was. I had to get my blaze on before the plane.”

  “Oh my God.”

  “Had a little left and didn’t want TSA sniffing me.”

  “They’ll smell you now.”

  His father waved out his hand in a ‘no worry’ manner.

  “Wait. Where did you get the weed?”

  “The weed.” He snickered. “It’s easy. All depends who you know in the kitchen.”

  The phone beeped again.

  “She’s getting impatient,” Guy pointed to the phone. “What does she want now? If she wants to know again if he pooped, tell her …”

  “Dad.”

  “Fine. She’s just ridiculous.”

  CJ finally looked and read the message asking why they hadn’t left the hotel. “Wanna know why, I’ll show you why.”

  “Oh, I know why she’s ridiculous, the sheer amount of absurd texts.”

  “No, she wants to know why we are still at the hotel. I’ll show her.” He lifted his phone and took a picture of the lobby,

  A human barricade was set up with security men. Just as the Wynne men were about to leave four high security details showed up. It pissed off CJ because he had already checked out of the hotel with an hour left. He wanted to get a cab, get to the airport and get lunch.

  Now all that was gone askew.

  The cab driver showed up, he even called that he couldn’t get into the driveway.

  “No worries, dude, I can’t get out of the hotel,” replied CJ.

  He was told it was only going to be a few minutes.

  Last time he checked it had already been forty-five.

  He sent the picture to Kylie with the words, “This is why. Personal security detail.”

  ‘Holy crap!’ She replied with several exclamation points. ‘Is it the president? The Queen?’

  ‘No. Mindy Snow.’

  ‘The aging pop star? Tell them she’s not important enough to miss your flight for.’

  At that point CJ was boiling. Couldn’t she just pick up the phone? He could have told her he tried. CJ was better at talking on the phone, aside from making lots of text typos, he was pretty passive when text messaging.

  ‘I’ll try.’ He wrote, then added, ‘phone is gonna die’

  It wasn’t. He just was done.

  And he was done waiting, too. It was pushing the time limits to make it through airport security and race across the terminal to the gate with a six year old and a near senior citizen to make the flight on time.

  “Where are you going?” Guy asked.

  “To get us out of here,” he said.

  CJ walked forward and approached the security guard. A younger guy, not too big. He looked more suited for the FBI with his tight black polo shirt and sunglasses.

  “Hi, excuse me.” He tapped him on the shoulder. “Oh, look you have a name tag, how cute. Roger. Excuse me, Roger. We really have to leave.”

  “It’ll be a few more minutes.”

  “It was a few minutes, forty-five minutes ago.”

  “Miss Snow does not like anyone in the lobby when she comes through. She doesn’t like the smell of alcohol or …” he sniffed. “Marijuana.”

  CJ lifted his shirt to smell it, he was going to kill his father.

  “She’ll be down shortly.”

  “Wait. Wait. She’s been in this hotel? How is this the first time I saw you guys?”

  “Maybe you weren’t here, maybe …” He peered over to Carter lowering his sunglasses. “At Disneyland?”

  “Maybe, but look, here’s the deal,” CJ said. “This is our first vacation together since me and his mom broke up. First. Actually, this is the first time I’ve been allowed to take him out of state. But … besides being stuck with my stoner father another day, if I don’t get him home on time, if I miss the plane, if I blow this, well, my ex married a lawyer … so I’m screwed.”

  Roger exhaled heavily, looked at Carter then said, “Hold on.” he walked over to talk to another guard.

  CJ gave a thumbs up to Carter and his dad. Neither paid attention.

  “Alright,” Roger said as he returned. “Because I feel you as a single dad, and having a stoner father, I’ll make you an offer. You can catch a ride to the airport with us, go through private security …. If … you tell everyone we went to high school together in Cleveland, don’t throw me under the bus, and give me those sparkly blue, mouse headphones for my kid.”

  CJ looked at Carter. He wasn’t about to rip the headphone
s from his son, but he certainly would from his father. “Deal.” CJ held out his hand.

  Roger shook his hand. “Don’t go too far.”

  CJ lifted his hand signaling he promised he wouldn’t and spun around. He hurried to Carter and tapped him on the leg. “Hey, check this out. We’re getting a ride to the airport with the important people. Maybe I’ll do a selfie with Mindy and your mom will get all jealous because I’m with a pop star.”

  Carter lifted his one ear from his headphone. “What’s a pop star?”

  “Don’t worry about it.” CJ placed Carter’s headphones on again.

  “How’d you manage that?” his father asked.

  “Simple.” CJ smiled. “Give me your Dazzle Me Headphones.”

  TWO

  Ruben Beginski was used to being pre-judged. He had been a driver for a long time. His clients were upper class and generally they musically stereotyped him the second they stepped into his vehicle. They’d look at him and his olive complexion, hear the name ‘Ruben’, and jokingly say, “Can we not listen to that merengue music or salsa?”

  They assumed because he looked Hispanic, that he was. Technically and genetically speaking, Ruben was Latino. However, by heritage, he was Polish and proud. He was adopted at age one by fantastic parents, and they gave him a smothering babci.

  His entire childhood centered around keeping the Polish tradition. Even the food he ate. Ruben mastered cooking and made a mean Bigos.

  He had never experienced any type of Mexican food until he was a freshman in high school when they served tacos.

  Never did he find people’s attitude toward him offensive. He was used to it and found it funny at times.

  He had a great sense of humor, he had to. He started driving his father’s airport shuttle at the age of twenty-one, so he had seen all types of people come and go. Twenty-five years later, he was a private driver. He would have driven the airport shuttle until he himself retired, but his father ended up selling the business.

  His current driving gig was an accident and a blessing … sort of. He didn’t make a lot of money, but he saw the world.

  He was picking up a client at Washington Dulles, a Senator. The Senator told Ruben he recommended him for a special, secret job, and asked if he were available. The driver who was supposed to do it was sick.

  Ruben said, “Sure.” Once he dropped the Senator off at the hotel, Ruben headed over to the Music Center and pulled around back.

  He had no idea who he was picking up. At first he thought it was the scrawny guy who slipped into the back seat.

  But it wasn’t. That man was the instruction guy.

  “Security will escort her into the car,” he said. “They will shut the door. At no time are you to get out. Do not look at her or speak to her. Keep the privacy window up unless she puts it down. Take her straight to the hotel around back. Security will get her from the car. Again, no talking. Got that?”

  “Sure.”

  “Good.” He handed Ruben an envelope and left the car.

  Once he was gone, Ruben started counting the money. He debated on taking a couple days off after seeing the amount of hundred-dollar bills. Fifteen to be exact. He was in the middle of enjoying it when he heard the crowd screaming. Before he could register what was going on, he set the envelope on the front passenger seat, the back door opened and they pretty much shoved her in.

  He squinted in the rearview mirror to get a look.

  He saw her for a few seconds. He recognized her right away. Mindy Snow. She was a hot mess. At one time she was an adorable teenager, singing songs for girls who wanted to be just like her when they grew up. As she grew up she tried to be more adult in her music, but no one took her seriously. Then she went on a complete spiral downhill. People still paid for her concerts, though. When he first met her, she was a thirty year old woman, a decade after her glory days, trying to be what she was in her youth. There she sat in his limo, her hair matted from sweat and hairspray, her eye makeup smeared under her eyes, wearing clothes too young for her and too tight for the weight she had gained in weird places.

  Not long after the back car door closed and Ruben peeked at who it was, she slowly slid sideways and passed out on the bench seat.

  Traffic around the music center was insane, and Ruben knew another way. It would take longer distance wise to get to the airport hotel, but shorter in time.

  To Ruben, Mindy Snow wouldn’t even notice, she was out of it. He tilted the mirror to watch her in case she rolled off the seat. It wasn’t long into the drive before he noticed she hadn’t moved. Even with the bumps in the road.

  Against his instructions he lowered the privacy window. “Miss Snow?” he called to her. “Miss Snow?”

  He did that a few times with no reaction from her and concerned he pulled over. He immediately went around to the back of the car and opened the door. A strong smell of urine and alcohol hit him as Mindy lay semi on her back. After calling out to her once more, he reached down to touch her. Her legs felt clammy and cooler, her skin color was pasty.

  He closed the door, went around the passenger side nearer to her head. It was only a few seconds, but by the time he opened that door, not only was she vomiting, she had begun choking on her own regurgitation.

  Ruben grabbed onto her immediately, first turning her to her side before raising her up and hitting her hard on the back several times.

  The contents in her throat emerged and she coughed. Coughing was good, at least she was breathing.

  Still, Mindy Snow was unconscious and any reaction was pure reflex. He thought about calling 911, but knew he was only a couple blocks from the hospital. He could get her there faster than calling for help.

  He was fearful, after all it was Mindy Snow, and Ruben was sure her ‘team’ would not be happy. Instead of leaving her alone in the back with vomit and piss, he locked his arms under hers and pulled her from the back of the limo to the front passenger’s seat. He sat her up and buckled her in.

  The entire ride to the hospital was done, speeding, steering the wheel with one hand while holding her head up.

  He peeled around to the emergency entrance, raced out of the car and to her door. He opened it, scooped her in his arms and ran inside.

  “I need help. Someone please.”

  At first a security guard ran over, then a nurse.

  “Get me a gurney,” the nurse yelled out as she examined her. “Stat. My God, this is Mindy Snow.”

  “Yes, yes it is. She was in my limo.”

  “We got this. Do you have the number for her people?” the nurse asked when the cart arrived.

  “No, I don’t.”

  “We’ll handle it. Put her down, thank you. On her side.”

  Barely had Ruben placed Mindy on the gurney and on her side, they were moving her. As they pushed through the door he watched, then he noticed his envelope of money was stuck like glue to Mindy’s back side, adhered more than likely from the moisture.

  He stayed for a little while, until they told him she was stable. She had alcohol poisoning and drugs in her system. They pumped her stomach and she was going to be alright. Perhaps it was bad timing, but he inquired about the money envelope.

  “Look, I know this is going to sound shallow. But when I put her in the front seat, she sat on my pay envelope and it was stuck to her.”

  “You’re right,” the nurse said. “It is shallow. And I’ll let her people know.”

  Mumbling, ‘great’ under his breath, he waited longer for her people. If they did show, they didn’t come in the main door and Ruben left.

  The next morning he received a call asking him to come to the hospital. The man identified himself as Jason, and he was the one who was in the limo before Mindy. Jason sounded angry and asked Ruben to come immediately to sign Non-Disclosure forms.

  As much as he didn’t want to go, Ruben did. Outside paparazzi swarmed and a security escorted him in right away. He was brought to the fourth floor and Jason, along with three others stood o
utside a door.

  “First,” Jason said. “Don’t think for a second we’re here to thank you for your heroism. Do you know what you did by bringing her here before calling us? It was an idiot move. You’re an idiot.”

  Ruben refrained from saying anything, and even if he wanted to, he didn’t get a chance.

  “We have a Non-Disclosure for you to sign. You are not to speak to anyone about this.” He shoved a clipboard in his chest. “Sign it.”

  “What?” Ruben asked.

  “Sign.”

  “Look, my pay was stuck to her rear, can I get it back?”

  “Fuck you! Fuck you!” Jason screamed. “You don’t deserve shit right now. Look what you did to her! You’re lucky we don’t press charges against you. Feeding her alcohol and lord knows what other drugs.”

  “What?” Ruben asked again confused. “I did no …”

  “You’ll never work again as a driver,” Jason blasted.

  “Ever,” the other man repeated.

  “Never,” said the third. “You’ll lose all respect. You won’t have a job.”

  At that second the door to the room flew opened and Mindy, wearing only a hospital gown, held her IV pole. “What the hell is going on out here?”

  “Him!” Jason pointed. “We’re just trying to get him to sign this form. No worries, Tab, he’ll be gone and we will make sure he loses his job.”

  “Please do,” she said. “Because I want him working for me.”

  “What?” Jason asked.

  Ruben, wide eyed, looked at her.

  “Do you know what he did?” she asked.

  “Yes, he brought you here before waiting on us,” Jason said.

  “He saved my life. They told me I was minutes away from death. Minutes. I was choking on my own vomit, he saved me from that, and if ... if he waited for you, I would have died. So I want him working for me.”

  “He didn’t follow the rules,” Jason said. “He’s a rule breaker.”

  “Thank God for that. He will work for me as my private driver in every city. I’m tired. I have a headache. I … I’m stressed.” She looked at Ruben and not only spoke loudly, she spoke slowly. “What ... is ... your ... llama?”