Chapter Five

The next morning, outfitted in my best running clothes, I tried to blend in with the locals as I jogged along Whittaker Street. At 7 am, there weren’t many people stirring in the Historic district, so I figured it was a perfect time to do a little spying on Mr. Jackson Marshall.  It was only my first full day in Savannah, but I wasn’t going to waste any time.

As my feet pounded the already scorching pavement, I wasn’t exactly sure what I was looking for. I mean, it wasn’t like I was expecting Emmett Marshall to be hiding out in their guesthouse or something. But getting Jackson’s license plate number might be helpful, especially if his dad was on his car title. Of course, if I was really high tech, I could put a GPS device on his car to track where he was going. But unfortunately, I didn’t have the funds for something quite that excessive. So, it was back to tailing him old school style.

When I got to his house, I hid behind a blooming hydrangea bush. Peering over the petals into the driveway, I saw that his car was already gone.

Jeez, where could he have gone so early in the morning? But then I remembered he attended a military prep school. I’m sure he was more than used to getting up at the ass crack of dawn. And that meant if I wanted to tail him anywhere, I was going to have to get up extra early myself. Ugh.

I continued on, keeping my eye out for a taxi. I needed to get downtown to talk to Raye about any leads he had on the Marshall case, and there was no way I could ask Andrew to chauffer me down there. I hailed one on the corner of Whittaker and Harrison, then glanced down at the text Dad had sent me with Raye’s address. “81 Seawright Avenue,” I told the driver.

The Chatham County jail was on the other side of town, a world away from the Historic District. Posh mansions faded into the more urban area of Savannah. The further we went the more I realized that the cab ride was going to be costly, but luckily, I’d stuffed a wad of twenties into my sports bra before I headed out.

The driver eased up to the corner and let me out. Raye’s bonding company was in a seedy strip mall filled with pawn shops and quick loan businesses. As I pushed through the office door, a bell tinkled over my head and a blonde secretary with cleavage jacked up to her chin glanced up at me from a magazine. “Yeah?”

“Um, I’m Jules St. James, Raye’s cousin. He should be expecting me.”

She arched her bleached eyebrows at me. “I’ve met all of Raye’s family, and I ain’t never met you before.”

Fabulous. I was getting the third degree from some flunkie secretary who looked like Dolly Parton’s lost twin. “That’s because I’m from Texas.” When she continued to look skeptical, I said, “If you must have the family tree, our grandfathers are brothers, and my dad’s a bondsman in Waco.”

She finally appeared convinced and offered me her hand.  “Oh, you’re Nathaniel’s daughter. Well, I’m Sherry, Raye’s girlfriend.”

I shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

With a jerk of her head, Sherry said, “Raye’s in his office,”

“Thanks.” I could feel her eyes boring a hole in my back the whole way down the hallway.

When I reached Raye’s door, I rapped lightly. A voice boomed, “Come in.”

I drew in a deep breath and opened the door. Raye was sitting at his desk. He looked exactly the same way he had the last time I’d seen him. He was probably 6’6, 250 pounds, and with his bulging biceps, he looked like he could choke the life out of a dude just by putting him in a headlock. 

When he glanced up at me, Raye’s face broke into a wide grin. He immediately rose from the desk and was in front of me in two long strides. “Little Julianne,” he said, as he grabbed me into his burly embrace.

“I’m not so little anymore,” I said, my voice muffled against his pecs.

“I can see that.” He pulled away and grinned at me. “You’re still the spitting image of your mother.”

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. “So I’ve been told.”

“Take it as a compliment. She’s a beautiful woman.”

Changing the subject, I said, “Dad tells me you might have some more information on Emmett Marshall.”

Raye nodded as he sat back down into his massive desk chair. “I tried to put together a few leads for you.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I can’t say I totally agree with Nathaniel putting you up to this.”

“Because I’m a girl?” I huffed.

Raye shook his head. “No, it’s more because you’re a kid.”

“I’m sixteen.”

“Like I said. A kid.”

I leaned in on his desk, my face inches from his. “Yeah, so what if a kid can get more out of informants or trail a jumper because no one gets suspicious of them?”

We stared each other down for a few seconds before Raye grinned. “You got balls, girl.”

“Um, thanks, I guess.”

He laughed. “I see why Nathaniel puts so much trust in you.” He swiveled in his chair and picked up a blue manila folder, then  motioned for me to sit down in the chair across from the desk. “A white collar jumper is an entirely different animal from your usual lot. For one, you don’t have a bunch of low life squealers willing to turn over a friend or family member for a few bucks.  Marshall has the dough to hide in concealed places and buy people off to keep quiet.”

“So you think he’s bribing people?”

Raye nodded. “You can bet on it. Marshall’s family owns property all over Savannah, Tybee Island, and South Carolina. We’re talking big bucks. He’s only third generation money, which some society snobs will turn their noses up at, but it’s still big money.”

“Great, he sounds practically impossible to find.”

“Every jumper has an Achilles heel. You just have to find it. And for Marshall, it’s his sons.”

My eyebrows shot up. “Sons? Dad only mentioned Jackson.”

“That’s because most people only know about Jackson—the perfect son.” Raye slid a picture across the table. I picked it up. A sweet faced young man with Down Sydrome smiled out at me. “That’s Evan—Marshall’s oldest son and Jackson’s half brother.”

As I slid the picture back, I asked, “Does he live with Emmett?”

Raye rolled his eyes. “No, neither one of Marshall’s socialite wives wanted to deal with Evan—including his own mother. For most of his life, he’s spent his time between Marshall’s parents’ home and a group home in South Carolina. But just after Emmett’s arrest, he was pulled out and placed somewhere else.”

“Let me guess, that’s where I come in.”

“Getting close to Jackson as well as finding out Evan’s whereabouts could really help you.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Yeah, that’s going to be a little harder than I originally thought.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Because he’s dating my rich bitch cousin, Bryn.”

Raye leaned back in his chair, a smirk stretching across his face. “And all is fair in love and war. Why can’t you make a play for him?”

“Jeez, you sound just like my Aunt Vivian. Doesn’t fidelity or monogamy mean anything anymore?”

Shrugging, Raye said, “It’s not like they’re married, Jules. You guys are all just kids. It’s perfectly normal to play the field when you’re young.”

I toed a frayed piece of carpet with my tennis shoe. “Look, I don’t have a lot of experience with guys. Okay, it’s more like I have no experience with guys. I suck at flirting and putting myself out there. I have absolutely no game, and Bryn is a master player. She’s this goddess that always looks perfect.” At Raye’s skeptical expression, I said, “Trust me. She’s Tiffany’s and I’m Target.”

He snapped his fingers. “And that might be your ticket in the door with Jackson. You may look just like your mother, but you’re totally different from her and that society world. That may be just what draws Jackson to you.”    

I gulped and shifted in my seat. Raye smiled. “Don’t sweat it too much, Jules. You’ve already been given an easy setup to the Marshalls with your mom’s society connections.”

Heaving a sigh, I rose out of my chair. “Okay, well, I better get back home before they miss me.”

Raye stood up to walk me to the door. “Listen, I may have been skeptical about your abilities at first, but I’d love to have you research some leads for me—if you can find some time to spare.”

I nodded. “That would be awesome. Anything to drag myself away from society central.”

Raye laughed. “So call me anytime you need me.’

“Thanks, I will.”

As I started out of his office door, I glanced up at his wall of felons. “Wow, that’s an attractive one,” I exclaimed, as my eyes honed in on a heavily tattooed man’s picture.

Raye shook his head. “Yeah, we like to call him Tattooed Timmy. Loves to pickpocket tourists. Every time I bail him out, I swear I’ll never do it again.”

“I don’t think he’s one I’d like to help out on.”

“I don’t blame you.”

I gave a quick wave to Sherry before walking out into the sunshine. I hailed another cab back home and made sure to have the driver let me out about a block away from the house. I didn’t want to run the risk of being caught and having to explain why my morning run involved a cab ride.

When I got back to the house, Mom and Aunt Vivian were eating a late breakfast. Fortunately I didn’t see Aunt Lenore or Bryn. “I’ll just go catch a quick shower,” I said, as I grabbed up a piece of toast and some bacon.   

Mom nodded. “And after you finish, we’re going shopping.”

“Can’t wait,” I called over my shoulder as I headed up the back staircase.

Mom and I were back on speaking terms. Last night after I’d gotten in from my walk with Aunt Vivian, I’d marched up to Mom’s room to apologize. She seemed genuinely appreciative, even if she might have guessed Aunt Vivian had something to do with it.

After I got upstairs, I took a quick shower and made myself as presentable as I could. I actually donned some capris rather than my usual jeans. When I got downstairs, Mom and Aunt Vivian were waiting on me in the sitting room.

“Ready?” Aunt Viv asked.

“As ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose.”

My lack of enthusiasm wasn’t due to a hatred of shopping or clothes; I have actually been known to enjoy both, under the right circumstances. It was more that I hated anything that took time away from what I saw as my only purpose in Savannah—the Marshall case. And then there was the fact that I would rather have a root canal than step foot in high-end, designer stores or wear expensive designer labels.

Andrew brought the car around. Mom and I piled into the backseat while Aunt Vivian slid into the front seat next to Andrew.

“This is going to be such a fun outing. Three generations of Percy women unleashed on the streets of Savannah,” Aunt Vivian gushed.

Mom and I looked at each other and rolled our eyes.  After a short drive, Andrew pulled up in front of a boutique with a green striped awning. The women coming in and out of the store were high class and highbrow. We’re talking serious money.

“Aren’t you coming, Julianne?” Aunt Vivian asked.

I shook my head. “This is one of those stores that’ll take one look at me and not let me shop. You know, like in Pretty Woman.”

Mom laughed. “Honestly Julianne.” She turned to Aunt Vivian and shook her head. “She’s inherited the drama gene from you.”

Aunt Vivian grinned. “I would tend to agree.” Waving her hand at me, she said, “No one will keep you from shopping in here. They know how much all the Percy women spend.”

Sighing, I slid across the seat. “Okay, if you say so.”

As we entered the glass door, a man behind the counter glanced up from the catalogues he was perusing. At the sight of us, a broad grin stretched across his overly tanned face.

While I hung back trying to hide behind a mannequin, Mom barreled on up to the counter. “Good morning, Gerard,” she said pleasantly.

“Good morning to you too, Miss Annabel. How are you this fine morning?” He leaned in and air kissed Mom on both cheeks, then moved on to Aunt Vivian.

Mom smiled warmly. “Just lovely. Thank you so much for asking.”

“And what can I do for you today?”

“Today we’re on a special mission for my daughter, Julianne.” Mom turned but didn’t see me behind her. She swiveled her gaze until she honed in on the mannequin. With a jerk of her head, she motioned for me. Busted, I stepped out from my hiding place.

As he sized me up, Gerard’s dark eyebrows shot up, and he slowly shook his head from side to side. “Oh my, you’ve certainly brought me something interesting.”

“She needs a wardrobe for the summer. You know, some items that are casual, some that are more formal.”

Gerard pursed his lips. “I think we can handle that.” Tapping his finger against his chin, he closed his eyes and appeared deep in thought. “I see some pastels—some lavenders and pinks. But with her hair and coloring, I think some striking primary colors like red and green would do quite nicely as well.”

Mom clapped her hands gleefully. “That sounds fabulous. I put her in your very capable hands.”

Gerard whipped out a tape measure. Before I could step back, he started invading my personal space by wrapping the tape around my chest. Fighting my instincts to throw a disabling move or give him a karate chop to the head, I kept my hands pinioned at my sides. Once he finished feeling me up, he moved on to my waist and hips. He scribbled down the measurements and then gave me a beaming smile.  “Lovely figure, darling.”

“Oh, um, thanks,” I replied.

After immersing herself in the racks, Mom glanced up at Gerard. “Now I want something very, very special for this Friday night. Do you have anything fresh from a designer? I want Julianne to have something unique and not off the rack.”

Gerard bobbed his head. “I have just the thing. It came in on Monday, and I haven’t put it out yet. It might need some alterations, but we could make it work.”

He disappeared into the back room, and a moment later an enormous light pink dress emerged from behind the curtain, followed by Gerard, who was straightening and fluffing the dress as he approached us. The dress was strapless with a tight fitting bodice filled with intricate beading. It had a full, poofy skirt with a satin bottom. The same sequins and beading were woven into designs along the dress’s skirt. It was like something out of a fairy-tale.

In other words, it was way, way over the top, and certainly nothing I would consider ever wearing. 

“Oh, Gerard, that is amazing,” Mom cooed, running her fingers over the material. “Julianne, you will look exquisite in this gown.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I replied.  

Both Mom’s and Gerard’s faces fell. “What don’t you like? The color? The beading?” Mom asked.

“No, it’s not the color or the beading or the...poofiness.”

“Then what?” Gerard asked.

I narrowed my eyes at Mom. “Don’t you remember anything about what I liked or didn’t like? This dress—it’s not me. I’m sure it would be right up Bryn’s alley, but I’m not her. You can’t just dress me up and make me into what you want me to be.”

And with that, I turned around and stormed out the store. When I got out on the sidewalk, I realized that A). I had no idea where in the hell I was going, and B). I had just thrown a hissy fit in the middle of a high end store, and acted like a two year old having a tantrum on Toddler’s and Tiaras. I’d been in Savannah all of twenty-four hours, and I’d been acting like an asshole for most of them.

“Julianne! Come back here!” my mother shouted behind me.

Instead of facing Mom and my issues, I chose to do the completely immature thing and kept stalking down the sidewalk. Mom must have been secretly doing cross training or something because she quickly caught up with me. I whirled around to face her.

“I can’t believe how childish you acted in there over clothes,” she panted, then took a moment to catch her breath before she spoke again.  “I thought after last night, things were going to be better between us.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Yeah, well, that was before Gerard and the rich bitches clothing store.”

Mom shuddered slightly. “Julianne, we are on a public sidewalk. Do we really have to have this discussion right now?”

“Yeah, we do. I thought I was coming out here to ‘reconnect’ with you or whatever it is that Dad wants me to do. Since the moment I’ve been here, you’ve haven’t been at all interested in me—the girl who loves horses and dogs and doesn’t care about fashion or being a girly-girl. It’s all about packaging me into something you can be proud of at some fancy ass party or making me appear presentable to your friends.”

Glancing around, Mom checked to see if anyone was openly staring at our tirade. Finding no one, she stepped closer and whispered, “I don’t know how in the five minutes you’ve been back you’ve gotten in it your head that I want you to be Bryn. That is totally not true. You are my daughter, and I love you just for you. Okay?”

I weighed her words for a moment before nodding. Pushing my hair back, Mom rubbed her hand on my cheek. “Julianne, I do love you. I always have, and I always will. You have so much more to offer the world than Bryn does.”

“Give me a break.”

Mom shook her head. “You have a wonderful heart and a fantastic mind. You’re beautiful inside and out, sweetie.”

Wow, I wasn’t expecting that one at all. “Thanks,” I murmured.

Mom smiled.  “Now about the clothes...it’s perfectly clear that we aren’t going to see eye to eye on them, so can’t we find a compromise?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. I’m kind of rusty at this parenting thing.” Before I could say anything, she wagged a finger at me. “Yes, I know that’s no one’s fault but my own.”

I held up my hands. “I didn’t say anything.”

“But you wanted to.” She paused, clearly inspired by a sudden idea. “What if we agreed that after Friday night you don’t have to go to any more parties this summer?”

My eyes widened in surprise. “Really?”

“Yes, really. I want you to be happy while you’re here, Julianne.”

“Okay, so no more parties and no more society stuff where I’m put on display,” I countered.

Mom appeared to be contemplating my offer. “Okay, that sounds reasonable. But, you will agree to a ball gown and to let me buy you some new clothes to wear while you are here.”

“Fine, I’ll wear the stupid ball gown. But I get to veto any other clothing choices that I think are too fancy-schmancy for my tastes.”

Mom stuck out her hand. “Deal.”

“Deal,” I replied, as I shook her hand.

“Can we go back to the shop now?”

I nodded.

When we got back, Aunt Vivian and Gerard pretended they hadn’t been craning their necks out the door to see what was going on.

“So?” Aunt Vivian asked.

I smiled sweetly. “So, I think the dress is pretty cool, and I’d like to try it on.”

Both Aunt Vivian and Gerard tried to hide their surprise. “Well, good then,” Aunt Viv replied.

Gerard nodded. “I’ll go put this away for you, and then I’ll pull some things off the racks.” He marched off to the dressing room. Once he had deposited the ball gown, he started snatching and grabbing items off the racks. After he amassed an armload of clothes, he jerked his head towards the dressing room, and I reluctantly followed.

For the next half hour, I felt like I’d been transported into the “good” shopping experience in Pretty Woman. I tried on several of the outfits and modeled them for Mom and Aunt Vivian. They tried to keep their appreciation to a minimum, but I could tell which outfits they really wanted me to get.

From time to time, I caught glimpses of myself in the trio of mirrors. Shockingly enough, I looked pretty good. Of course, these clothes would never be me. I was a down-on-the-ranch jeans and boots wearing girl who occasionally traded up for a simple dress or skirt. But while I was with Mom, I guess I could deal with them. 

In the end, Mom and her platinum Visa card settled on three sundresses, two Capri pant suits, and two skirts with matching tops.  I was also allotted two pairs of jeans, designer of course, along with an assortment of “casual” tops.

When it came time to try on the formal dress, Gerard wedged himself into the dressing room holding what appeared to be a medieval torture device. Standing in my bra and panties, I was grateful that Gerard was very apparently gay.  I mean, no guy had ever seen me like this before.

Gerard pressed the torture device into my hands. “Now hon, you’ll need a bustier for the formal.”

“Um, just what is a bustier?”

He appeared astonished at my ignorance. “A bustier helps to suck you in and push you up.” He motioned to my gut and boobs.

Gazing warily at the bustier/torture device, I said, “Fabulous.”

Thankfully, Gerard left me alone to work the bustier onto my body, and that was no easy feat. After I had grunted, wiggled and f-bombed my way into it, I was finally able to slip the dress on.

Gerard poked his head in again. “Need some help with the buttons?”

“Um, sure.”

His fingers furiously worked at the row of intricate satin buttons. When he finished, he spun me around. I stared dizzily at him. “Oh sweetheart, you are an absolute vision of perfection.”

Jerking my arm, he dragged me out of the dressing room and pushed me in front of Mom and Aunt Vivian. Both of their faces lit up. “That is simply divine,” Aunt Vivian said.

Mom nodded. “You look breathtaking.”

My cheeks flushed to match the dress’s color. “Thanks. It really is a beautiful gown.” When I turned around to gaze at my reflection in the mirror, I did a double take. I looked like a combination of Cinderella and a Civil War Southern Belle. “It’s hard to believe that’s me.”

Aunt Vivian chuckled. “Just wait until we get you all gussied up with your hair and makeup. You’ll feel just like a princess.”

“So, I suppose you’ll be taking that as well?” Gerard asked, with a smile.

Mom nodded. “I couldn’t imagine finding a better dress anywhere in Savannah.”

“Fabulous. I’ll wrap it up for you.”

After Mom paid for the dress, Gerard got several of his minions from the shop to take all my clothes out to the car. “What about the ball gown?” I asked, as they loaded up the trunk.

“They’ll deliver that separately,” Mom replied, sliding into the back

“It gets its own delivery?” I shook my head. “Nothing like the VIP treatment for my dress,” I murmured, hopping in the car.

Once Aunt Vivian had air kissed Gerard good-bye, she climbed in the front seat. “Whew, glad we got that out of the way.” She then turned to Andrew. “Please take us to the Serenity Spa.”

Andrew nodded and eased the car into traffic. “Now I’ve signed us up for a half day of beauty.”

Leaning forward in the seat, I asked, “Just what all is going to be forced on me?”

“A facial, manicure, pedicure, and an hour massage. Oh, and some waxing.”

I gulped. “Waxing? Like bikini area waxing?”

Andrew coughed while Mom shot me a look. “Don’t be vulgar, Julianne,” she said with disdain.

“Exuuuuse me,” I huffed. Sheesh, you would’ve thought I’d brought up a truly heinous word like blow job or something.

The Serenity Day Spa was exactly as I’d imagined: Lots of ladies being petted and pampered. Their idea of heaven...my idea of hell.  It was going to be a long afternoon.