Page 124 of Enthrall
He offered a look of sympathy and it made me shift in my seat.
“My real name is Richard Booth Sheppard.”
My mind raced with all the reasons he might have changed it, and it was hard to settle on one. Having Googled him it made sense why I’d found nothing.
“About six years ago,” he said, “I was a successful stockbroker living in Manhattan. I loved my job. Loved my life. I had it all, or so I thought.” He broke my gaze, taking a moment. “I worked for my father. He’d always been a whiz with numbers. He was renowned as the master when it came to finance. By the time I was twenty my father had amassed an enormous fortune. I’m talking billions.” Richard paused, his expression pained. “Everyone, including my two older brothers, worshipped him. Of course what we didn’t know was my father had masterminded the most elaborate insider trading scheme the financial world had ever seen.”
I placed my cup on the table.
He took a sip from his. “You know what insider trading is?”
“I think so.”
“Employees divulge secrets about their company. Non-public information that would greatly benefit those exploring the buying or selling of a security. Stocks, bonds, that kind of thing. The investor therefore has an advantage over other investors. When a share falls, you buy it. Lots of them. I’m talking millions of them. You can only juggle the pieces of the puzzle for so long until the single fact cannot be denied: the money’s being manipulated, as are employees, along with the financial market.”
I felt terrible for him. I could only imagine the shame of having a father hurt so many people.
Richard swallowed hard. “As soon as I’d heard my father had been arrested, I drove over to the city jail to see what our lawyers could do. My father was held without bail. I was permitted a few minutes with him.” Richard rubbed his chest as though the pain from that day had found him again.
He gave a nod he was ready to continue. “The first thing you notice about prison is the smell. The second, the noise. The shouting. I was terrified I was going to throw up in front of my father. Even after all he had done I still wanted to do the right thing in front of him. You know what my father told me in those few minutes I had with him?”
I thirsted for the tea no longer in my cup.
“My father told me all of this was my fault. That he had done all of it for my mother and her three sons. That the pressure for us to attend the best schools and garner the best education had weighed so heavily he’d felt he had no choice.” Richard paused, catching his breath. “My father was unrepentant. He delivered the burden of guilt upon me. But that wasn’t the worst of it.”
A heaviness settled in my chest.
“While I drove home I went over the words that would reassure Emily, my fiancé. Reassure her I’d get all the money back her family had invested in my father’s business. It was all gone. Confiscated by the feds. I went over and over my speech in the car. It took three hours to get home. Traffic was heavy. After all, Wall Street had been decimated and New York was on its knees.” He used the next few moments to steady himself.
“That ride in the elevator to my penthouse was the longest journey I’ve ever taken. I eventually managed to get the key in the door. Emily’s handbag was on the sofa, as was her cell, so I knew she was home. The news was on, discussing my family’s scandal in the background. It was so unlike her to leave the TV on. She hated noise. Preferred music. Classical. Incriminating photos were shown just to make sure the public had a good idea of who’d ruined their lives. One of them was of Emily and I at a fundraiser. She apparently was guilty by default. She was an attorney and had nothing to do with finance.
“Our place was vast. Situated on the upper east side of Fifth Avenue. We used to sit at the window with our coffees in the morning and stare out at the park. I liked it there.” He coughed to clear his throat. “Emily was in the bath. She used to say it helped her relax. I’ve always preferred showers. When I found her she was immersed in red tinged water from where she’d slit her wrists.” Richard stared past me though he didn’t focus on anything. “Her suicide note explained everything. As I took her in my arms, begging her not to leave me, all I could think of were my father’s words, telling me this was my fault. I believed him of course, as we so often do. I’d not been attentive enough to see my father was an illusionist.”
I wanted to tell him it had been his father’s doing and not his, but all I could muster was, “I’m so sorry.”
“Within a week, I’d buried Emily, put our home up for sale, and flown to L.A. Cameron met me at the airport. I don’t remember much about the flight or those first few weeks at his place. I remember this place though.” His gaze roamed fondly. “Cameron let me stay with him. Insisted on it. He was worried about me. I was having a problem with forming words.”
“Cameron helped you?”
“Saved me. At first he referred me to a traditional therapist. She didn’t know what to do with me. The second and third therapists I went to both agreed the only treatment that would help was ECT. An electric shock to jumpstart my brain. Their second choice was a chemical straightjacket. Cameron refused to let them do that to me. He was of course reluctant at first to take me on as a client, considering we’re best friends, not to mention the nature of what he practices, but I can be very persuasive. I insisted I didn’t want to forget the pain. The diagnosis landed on PTSD. In the end we went for the lesser known treatment of facing the pain head on. Cameron’s technique.” Richard’s focus returned as though he’d joined me once more within the cafe. “It worked.”
“That explains why you’re so close to Cameron.”
“He’s always there for me. Never judges me. He proved himself as a friend when I arrived homeless and without a job.”
“Is that why you took the position at Enthrall?”
“I was having sessions with Cameron and was actually hanging out there so much I kind of slid into it.” He shrugged. “I really am happy there. I met you there.”
“Do the girls know about your story?”
“Yes. They’re discreet, but you’ve already discovered that.”
“It also explains why Cameron’s so protective over you.”
“The feeling is mutual.”
“You never use your real name now?”
