Chapter 56

Monday, June 18

Mr. Patterson led me back to the elevators and down to the main lobby of the massive office building.

“It will be just as fast to walk as drive here, too,” he said. “Unless perhaps you’d like to try double or nothing?”

“Why don’t I just give you my wallet?” I said, drawing a laugh.

He led me about six blocks in a time that in this traffic may have allowed me to exit the parking garage at his building. We stopped at a steakhouse that was known as the place for powerbrokers in the city to congregate.

At the maitre d’ stand, he received a warm greeting and we were escorted to a small alcove in the back. It occurred to me we were the only two men in the place, including the wait staff, not wearing ties. Mr. Patterson was still dressed for the golf course and I was just wearing an Oxford cloth shirt.

We arrived at a table for four where an elegant woman of maybe 50 was seated.

Mr. Patterson made the introductions.

“Gary Robinson, Meredith Metzger,” he said as he took the seat opposite her.

I instantly made the connection. There was no way I could make it to the door in time.

“Bethany Metzger’s, what, aunt?” I asked, praying again to just be fortunate enough to live through the meal.

“Oh, you are a flatterer,” she said, extending a hand for me to shake. “Arlene warned me about you.”

Jesus! Arlene was involved in this? She must be looking to get rid of all the witnesses.

“Thanks to a youthful indiscretion on the part of my idiot son,” Mrs. Metzger said, “I am the much-too-young grandmother of a teenager. I understand you’re the young man my Bethany’s going out with tonight.”

If I can live seven more hours, I thought.

“Yes, ma’am,” I said. “She wants to have dinner at The Catfish Place out on the north shore.”

“That place is still standing?” she said, sounding surprised. “It was ready for the wrecking ball when I was in college.”

I was momentarily saved by the waiter taking drink orders. I got a funny look when I asked for a pitcher of iced tea. I was going to need it.

“I’ve spent the last two hours dragging him over the coals for you, dear,” Mr. Patterson said. “He seems to think he’s the target of some wild conspiracy concocted by a group of teenage girls.”

You mean I’m not? Coulda fooled me.

“Not only are your granddaughter and my daughter part of the cabal,” he said, “the daughter of Carl Bennett, the former football player, is also scheduled for a date with the young man.”

“Just how many young ladies are we talking about?” Mrs. Metzger asked.

“Seven, counting my girlfriend and my sister,” I managed to get out. “An eighth member of their group decided she would rather date my best friend.”

“Your sister?”

“She wants my car,” I said. “I think she hopes the other girls will kill me or at least render me incapable of driving anymore. She and my girlfriend have been planning all the places they’ll go as soon as they get their licenses.”

The torture was again briefly interrupted by the arrival of our drinks and an offer to take our orders. I went with the New York strip, medium. If I was going to die, it was going to be with a full stomach.

“Sounds like she’s not the only one who wants it,” Mrs. Metzger said. “Bethany has been going on and on about some BMW convertible. Would that be yours?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said. “A Z4 roadster.”

“Your parents either have the utmost confidence in you or you’re spoiled rotten,” she said. “Which is it?”

“Try luckier than he has any right to be,” Mr. Patterson laughed, relating the story of how Dad and I both won the hole-in-one contest at the Memorial Day scramble.

I did manage to throw in that I’d settled for a 10-year-old used car to help get the deal done. Dad wound up with the much newer demo model the dealer had been only too happy to unload.

“And so a 17-year-old boy has been turned loose with a relic from someone else’s midlife crisis?” Mrs. Metzger asked as our meals arrived. “What happened to the previous owner? Death by hubris?”

Mr. Patterson actually came to my defense on this one.

“He’s actually pretty good with it,” he said. “I had him drive me in. He never exceded the speed limit until freeway traffic forced him to. He managed to stay out of the way of those coming up on us too fast and avoid slow traffic in front. I think Bethany will be safe. In the car, at least.”

“What time are you supposed to pick Bethany up this evening?” Mrs. Metzger asked.

“I told her I’d be there at 7 p.m.,” I said.

“Make it 6:30,” she said. “You’ll need to talk with her mother first.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said as I cut into my steak.

I was allowed to enjoy the meal with no further interruptions. Mrs. Metzger finished her plate efficiently, gathered her handbag, thanked us for the meal and conversation, then excused herself to attend to her next appointment.

“You did a good job with Meredith,” Mr. Patterson said as we strolled back to his office. “I have the reputation of being rich and powerful. She’s the kind of rich and powerful that buys and sells guys like me before breakfast.”

“How does she know Arlene Jenson?” I asked.

“Arlene and Meredith’s ex-daughter-in-law were best friends growing up,” he said. “Meredith made it her mission in life to take care of Jan and Bethany after her son flaked out. He was way too young to make a marriage work back then. He’d give his left nut to have a woman like Jan today.”

Things fell into place for me. Jan was the girl who got pregnant in high school that Arlene had told me about. She must have been a sophomore when it happened. I’m sure Meredith Metzger’s mission today had been to determine just how likely I was to make history repeat itself with her granddaughter.

I’d better get my ass to California before any more of the Gang of Eight turned out to have rich and powerful relatives.

It was well after 2 p.m. when I returned Mr. Patterson to his Mercedes, having somehow survived nearly four hours of interrogation by those who would determine my worthiness to escort their young female offspring for an evening. Conversation on our drive back out centered on my modeling prospects and just how serious I was about pursuing a career in sports broadcasting.

I thanked him for the lunch and life advice. He thanked me for the ride in such a fine machine.

“I’ll have Staci call you,” he said. “Based on what the two of you have said, July 2 may be the best bet before the holiday. I know the cheerleaders have high hopes for that weekend. It could go a long way in determining just how big a check I have to write to help them reach their fundraising goal.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, shaking his hand before he climbed into the Merc.

Once inside, I just flopped on the sofa in the family room and let my brain cool off. That had been as intense an experience as any of my final exams a month ago. Like the weekend I’d bounced my head off the pool deck, it hurt to even think. And Staci Patterson was the common denominator.

I roused myself after a couple of hours and began to formulate a plan for the evening. I’d need a clean shirt, but the slacks should still be good. I’d swap the socks and loafers for deck shoes. I laid out what I’d need on my bed and prepared for another shower. I could still smell exhaust fumes after driving all that way in heavy traffic with the top down.

I was ready to go by 5:30 and sat on the sofa with my tablet to kill some time. I used the map app to plot a route to Bethany’s house. She and her mother live in a newer neighborhood that was farther out. I had never driven out there. It would require taking some county roads to get from there to the lake.

Mom and Kacie arrived home from the club just as I was getting ready to leave. Mom, of course, admonished me to behave myself with my sister’s friend, like Meredith Metzger would leave anything for Kacie to deal with. I managed to get out of the drive before Dad made it home and headed off to meet my fate.

The development the Metzgers lived in was just enough higher scale than ours to notice. Everything was just a little bit bigger and newer, from yards to houses to driveways to garages. I noticed several homes with pools, something that was rare in our subdivision because so many residents had access to the club.

I pulled up to a split-level that may have had as many as five bedrooms. The front door was hidden inside a little entry courtyard set off by brick columns and a wrought-iron gate. I rang the doorbell and waited to be admitted. I was gobsmacked when a blonde goddess answered. If this was Arlene Jenson’s partner in crime, I was in a world of trouble. They’d better not have a brunette friend.

Jan Metzger was maybe 5-6 with an hourglass figure that could have graced any magazine cover she wanted. The hair, eyes and nose were almost the same as her daughter’s. There were subtle differences in the chin and cheekbones. That she was dressed in baggy sweats and an oversized T-shirt didn’t matter one bit.

“Are you Gary?” she asked. “Come on in. You’re early. Bethany’s going to be awhile.”

“That’s all right,” I said. “Your former mother-in-law told me to come early so I could speak to you. I guess she forgot to mention it to you.”

“Really?” she asked, leading me into the living room. “Where did you see Meredith?”

“I had lunch today with her and George Patterson,” I said.

“Aren’t you a bit young to be running in those circles?” she asked.

“Yes ma’am, but I think it was Mr. Patterson’s idea,” I said. “They took turns interrogating me about why I should be allowed to take their precious treasures out on dates.”

“They didn’t really say ‘precious treasures,’ did they?”

“No ma’am, but it was pretty clear I was being judged,” I said. “I was asked about my summer job, my car, how many fillings I have. They were pretty thorough. They must have been feeling generous because I’m still alive.”

“What about your car?” she asked.

“A BMW Z4 roadster,” I said. “Mr. Patterson had me drive him to his office downtown.”

“I’ve got to see this,” she said, jumping up and heading for the door.

I followed her down the walk, fully prepared to hear that I was not taking her precious treasure for a ride in such a deathtrap. She surprised me.

“When can I go for a ride?” she asked.

“I’ll have to check my schedule,” I said. “That whole gang of girls wants to ride in it, too. Bethany will make the fourth of eight.”

“So I’m No. 9 on the list?”

“No. 10,” I said. “Arlene Jenson has already had a turn.”