Two-Faced

By Jw Grodt

What happens when two young women from different socioeconomic worlds meet and discover they have one common trait? Their friendship blossoms and they discover each other's hidden goals and secrets. A diabolical plan to accomplish each other's goals goes horribly wrong. What happens as the journey begins to unfold will keep you spellbound.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Whodunit Publishing
• Release date: Dec 6, 2021
• ISBN: 9781737542223

Book preview

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By JW GRODT

TWO-FACED

Two young women exchange identities

to get what they want.

What could possibly go wrong?

A NOVEL

SPRINGFIELD, VIRGINIA

Published by Whodunit Publishing

Springfield, Virginia

Copyright © 2022 by Jw Grodt

All rights reserved

Front cover photo by Pixabay

Back cover photo by Pexels

First published in 2022

Manufactured in the United States

ISBN: 978-1-7375422-2-3

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form whatsoever without prior written permission from the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

I

Harold and Marjorie Winston lived in McLean, Virginia — a sprawling, ever-growing suburb of Washington, D.C. Their 7,500-square-foot home on five manicured acres was self-proclaimed as Winston Manor, the name boldly emblazoned on the brick entrance to the driveway. The property was in the same neighborhood as the Kennedy estate. The all-antique-brick, two-story home with imposing, white Doric columns sat majestically on a knoll, a long, serpentine driveway leading to the five-car, attached garage.

Harold and Marjorie were well off financially — money tends to marry money and that was the case with the Winstons. Harold had inherited approximately $2 million in assets when his parents were the victims of a home invasion. Marjorie stood to inherit a vast sum whenever her mother of eighty-three years passed on. Marjorie had not worked since she and Harold married twenty-two years ago. Harold was one of several vice-presidents at the Hanson Group, a financial and real-estate conglomerate that bought and sold businesses, large land tracts, and commercial buildings. Harold oversaw acquisitions.

The Winstons had one child, beautiful, blonde-haired, blue-eyed, eighteen-year-old Wendelin Penelope. Wendy, as she insisted on being called, was a senior in high school, popular, and spoiled.

Wendy walked out of school with her best friend, Jeanne, another only child of another wealthy couple living in her prestigious neighborhood. Jeanne was another slender beauty, with fair skin, dark hair, and huge, dark eyes.

Now remember, Jeanne, if anyone should ask, you and I were studying together at the library, so don’t be home, okay?

Sure, got it.

Wendy ran off and hopped into an old, weathered pick-up truck belonging to her latest boyfriend, Jeff. She had dated a fair number of guys, but usually after one or two dates, the relationship was over.

Jeff was different from the other preppy boys, and Wendy had been seeing him on the sly since the prepvious summer. He wasn’t the prim-and-proper type from an upper crust family, the type she usually dated — and only because that was what dear mother wanted.

No poor boys from the wrong side of town for my daughter, she would say. Jeff was exactly the opposite of her mother’s taste in prospective boyfriends. He came from a lower middle-class, blue-collar family, didn’t have much ambition when it came to school, and butchered the King’s English. He dressed in jeans and T-shirts and his hair was long and unruly. He didn’t play sports, wasn’t very popular, and was a bit of a loner — a real bad boy. Wendy was smitten from the day she met him.

While most of the young men she dated drove new or late-model imported sports cars, bought by their well-to-do parents, Jeff drove an old, late ’70s pick-up truck, its original red paint sun-bleached and faded to a pinkish-gray. A hand-me-down from an uncle, it was all the boy could afford.

Early in their relationship, Wendy, wanting to be able to see Jeff openly, brought him home with her. Marjorie had looked him up and down and made it very clear to Wendy that she was not happy. After the introduction, Marjorie spoke in a stern voice: Jeff, Wendelin and I have much to do today, so if you will excuse us ...

No, Mother! Jeff is my guest, Wendy said. You and I don’t have any plans. Jeff, come up to my room.

Jeff blushed as he hesitated. Ah, no. I just remembered my dad wanted my help this afternoon. It was nice to meet you Mrs. Winston. Bye, Wendy. He made a hasty exit.

After he left, Wendy and her mother had a loud, heated argument which led to a one-week grounding. Later that evening, she tried to get some support from her father, but to no avail. He sided with her mother.

Wendy was forced to keep her relationship with Jeff a secret from that point forward. She would certainly be grounded if her mother ever found out — or, even worse, sent away to private school. It was only her father’s insistence that she socialize with people from all socio-economic backgrounds that stood between Wendy and some drab, stiff, school uniform.

A couple of weeks after her grounding was over, she and Jeff made plans to drive out to Burke Lake to a private spot Jeff had told her about.

Are you ready? Jeff asked.

Wendy smiled. One hundred percent.

By the time they arrived at the lake, the sun had slipped behind the trees, casting long shadows across the lake. The late September leaves were just beginning to trade their summer green for autumn colors. A flock of Canadian geese flew in their traditional ‘V’ pattern, honking loudly as they passed overhead. As soon as Jeff killed the engine, the kissing and groping began.

Jeff tried to get her horizontal on the big bench seat of his truck. Wendy bolted upright.

Jeff! Stop! You know how I feel! Then, her voice softened. I want you too, but I’m not giving myself to anyone but my husband — and even though I’m certain that will be you, I won’t take the chance now. What would happen if I got pregnant?

Oh, Wendy. That ain’t gonna happen. I got a rubber … see? He pulled the shiny foil pack from the front pocket of his jeans.

Put that away! she demanded. I want to wait, and you’re not going to force me into it. You can take me home now if you think otherwise.

Alright, Wendy, all right. Jeff leaned back against the driver’s door, stuffed the condom back in his pocket, and began to mutter.

Oh, stop that mumbling and let’s take a walk around the lake, Wendy said as she jumped out of the truck. The sun had dipped below the tree line and a mist had formed over the water. Jeff got out, slamming the truck door and running to catch up with her.

They held hands as they strolled along, talking until it began to grow dark. A fish jumped in the lake and made a loud splash. Wendy jumped. Oh, Jeff! Take me home!

Jeff laughed. It was just a fish.

It doesn’t matter. It’s late and Mom will give me shit.

They picked up the pace and headed back to the truck and hopped inside. Jeff grabbed her and they began to kiss. Before things got too far along, her cell phone went off in her pocket.

Damn! It’s my mother! Wendy said when she pulled out the phone and looked at the screen.

Fuck her! Jeff said.

Take me home now, Jeff. I don’t want her to ground me again.

Jeff sighed, shrugged his shoulders, and started the truck. He dropped her off a block from her house, giving her a quick kiss before she ran to the driveway.

When Wendy walked into the spacious, white marble foyer, her mother was standing in the doorway of the living room.

Where have you been, young lady?

Oh — sorry, Mother. I was with Jeanne at the library studying and lost track of time.

Well, clean up! Dinner’s almost ready.

Yes, Mother.

Wendy ran up to her room, smiling, as her mother seemed to buy her story. She continued smiling as she changed for supper and re-lived her afternoon with Jeff. After a quiet dinner with her parents, she was still thinking about him. She lay in her bed that night; fantasizing about what it would be like if they went all the way. But she was committed to remain a virgin until her wedding day.

II

Wendy and Jeff drove to the lake again in early October. Wendy forced him to take a walk while it was still daylight, but mostly to prevent Jeff from pressuring her. They sauntered along, pausing from time to time to embrace and kiss. Wendy picked up a red Maple leaf and carried it with her.

Afterwards, they drove to a local pizza shop, appropriately named The Pizza Parlor. It was a small place filled mostly with teens stuffing their faces with pizza and sodas while they laughed and joked around. The teens and other people grabbing take-out kept the three brick ovens busy. A jukebox in the corner played the popular tunes of the day, much to the irritation of the older patrons. After they ate, Wendy reminded Jeff to get her home before her curfew.

The next morning, Wendy bounded down the back staircase leading to the breakfast room off the kitchen. The morning sun streamed through the mullion windows, bathing the yellow-painted room in a soft light. The ceramic tile felt cold on the soles of her bare feet. Her mother was seated at the table in her long, floral silk robe. Her short red hair was swept back, and her white, faintly freckled skin looked even paler in the morning light.

Good morning, Mother, Wendy said as she sat down in one of the four chairs at the maple wood table.

Marjorie Winston looked up from her magazine, peered over her reading glasses, and frowned. Wendelin, just where do you think you are going in that outfit?

Wendy gave her mother a blank stare before looking down at her clothes. She started to speak, but her mother interrupted her.

We started giving you a very generous allowance when you turned sixteen, but we did not intend for you to squander it on clothes that make you look like a slut!

Mother, I do not look like a slut! All the girls today wear clothes like this — it’s the style!

I want you to march right back up those stairs and put on something respectable! her mother insisted.

There was no use debating. Wendy turned and headed back upstairs, thinking, Damn! I’ll be glad when I’m off to college and I can wear what the hell I want.

The Winstons were sending Wendy to Barnard in the fall, with plans for her to attend Yale law school after. They even bought a small condo for her to live in, with the understanding she would find a female roommate who also attended Barnard.

Wendy returned to the table a few minutes later, reluctantly dressed in something she thought her mother might find more appropriate.

That’s better, dear. Now come have something to eat.

Yes, Mother.

Oh, and be home directly after school today, as we are having Mr. Hanson over for dinner.

Robert John Hanson was Wendy’s father’s business partner and boss, a pot-bellied man in his mid-fifties. His formerly reddish hair was now mostly gray, and his bushy red eyebrows that connected to each other gave him a sinister look. He was arrogant, demanding, loud, and, to Wendy’s way of thinking, totally obnoxious. He had a wife, Ellen, a mousey, shy woman who rarely came to the Winston home during one of these so-called business dinners. Their ten-year-old son, Robert, Jr. or JR as Wendy called him, had accompanied his father a couple of times and was extremely fond of Wendy. She would take advantage of JR’s crush to get away from the table as soon as she could. They would play video games and watch TV until it was time for him to leave. JR was so taken with Wendy that he had once asked her if he could be her boyfriend.

Sure, JR,’ she had replied, you’re my boyfriend."

The next time he came with his father, he brought her flowers he had picked from the Hansons’ garden.

The Winstons found Hanson’s visits uncomfortable, but they were forced to tolerate him. Wendy hated the occasions when she was forced to sit through long dinners with her father and his boss talking business. She was glad whenever he brought JR along. Hanson always did most of the talking and Wendy found him insufferable.

Wendy spent the day at school dreading the evening ahead. After she got home, she went to her room and did her homework before coming downstairs to find her father sitting in his study.

Daddy, she asked, why does your boss come here so often for dinner?

Well, sweetheart, he likes to talk business in person and in informal settings. It’s just his way.

Her mother walked into the room. But he never invites you to his home for dinner. Why is that? Frankly, Harold, he is the most loud and obnoxious man! Why don’t you conduct your business meetings at a restaurant somewhere?

Wendy’s father got up from his overstuffed, chintz-covered chair. He always tells me how much he enjoys dining with us. I don’t want to hurt his feelings.

Ha! That’s a laugh! Marjorie scoffed. The man has no feelings — he’s a clod, just a clod! He talks with his mouth full of food, he’s … just disgusting!

Yes, Wendy added. And I don’t like the way he looks at me. He gives me the creeps.

Oh, don’t be silly, sweetheart, her father replied. He just likes you. Anyway, he’ll be here for supper, so let’s just be on our best behavior.

Is JR coming with him?

No, dear, not this time, Marjorie said.

Dinner that night was prolonged agony without JR there. Wendy yawned and stood up. May I be excused to do my homework?

Nonsense, my dear, Hanson said. Stay with us for a little longer. I have a question to ask you.

Wendy’s mother gave her a look that said, Sit still, young lady.

Wendy smiled halfheartedly and sat back down. Hanson went on with whatever he was talking about. When he finished pontificating, he leered at Wendy. There was a tense moment and then Hansen offered Wendy a job at the office as a summer intern. Her parents exchanged looks before Wendy spoke up, saying she was going to spend the summer in Australia with her uncle’s family and that the plans had already been made. Hanson tried to persuade her, to no avail. After Hanson had gone, Marjorie asked Wendy why she had lied.

I won’t work for that man. He’s an old letch.

Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Wendelin. He wouldn’t dare bother you.

She’s right, Marjorie, Harold said, I wouldn’t want her working there.

One evening a few weeks later, Wendy’s father came home with what he called great news. He had negotiated a contract for a Japanese company that would bring over a million dollars a year in net profit to the firm. He was jubilant.

Marjorie, he said, we need to plan a party for the office execs here at the house. Robert wants to make some big announcement.

What is the announcement? Wendy asked.

I don’t know, exactly, but I’m sure it will be great news for us. Either I’m being made a partner in the firm or I’m getting a big bonus … maybe both.

Oh, Harold! Marjorie gushed. That’s wonderful news. I’ll start working on the details tomorrow.

Wendy protested vehemently when her father insisted that she attend the party. After some negotiations, wherein her father promised her a new Corvette if he got his big bonus, she reluctantly agreed, provided she could slip away to her room after the big announcement. Her parents agreed.

III

When the night of the party came, there was much celebrating. Fourteen people came for a sit-down supper — all executive management personnel and all vice-presidents. Four men, one woman and their spouses, except two wives begged off, saying they were ill. The Winstons suspected they weren’t really sick, but simply couldn’t stand their husbands’ boss.

Harold arrived home just as the first guest, Marketing Director Adam Kincaid, arrived.

Welcome, Adam. Marjorie said as Adam and Harold entered. Dear, you’re late. Please change quickly — your boss is here already and drinking. Come, Adam, let’s get you a drink.

The remaining guests arrived shortly thereafter. There was Paul Thomas, production manager, and his wife, Lorain; Willis Quaid, head of technology, and his wife, Susan; Tobias Milan, head of real estate operations; and Gwen Davis, finance manager and the only female VP. Hanson always said he was an equal opportunity employer, but Gwen was the only female to ever break into upper management.

After everyone had arrived and had a drink or two, dinner was served — and an elegant dinner it was. Cold cucumber soup, followed by a Winston salad — Marjorie’s own creation — and then the main course, filet mignon cooked to order along with lobster tails.

Conversation relaxed to just small talk as the guests dined with relish. Once the meal was over, everyone adjourned to the large sitting room, set up with a full bar and two hired bartenders, and the partying began.

Robert soon called everyone to listen to his speech. It was long and filled with accolades for Wendy’s father and how he had discovered and laid the groundwork for the acquisition of a Japanese car manufacturer they were bringing to the US. Harold already owned ten percent of the company’s stock and was presented with another ten percent — the only other stockholder other than Hanson. Robert ended his speech, which was more like a sermon, by presenting Harold with a bonus check for $75 thousand. After the envious applause, the merrymaking resumed.

Wendy walked up to her father, whose broad grin only accentuated his bulbous, single-malt-flushed cheeks. May I see the check? she asked.

Her father let her glance at it. She smiled. Good deal. I’ve done my part, and now I’m outta here! Now your turn to do yours, Father dear.

With that, she slipped upstairs to her room. She quickly shed her party clothes and threw on her soft, plush robe before falling onto her bed. Taking up her phone, she sent Jeff a text, turned off the