63. Innocence

Sunday night.

Mary took the last plate out of the soapy water and scrubbed it with a sponge. She reached into the sink and pulled the stopper out, releasing the dish water and sending it down the drain. She turned her head and watched Dennis staring out the window at a street light or the moon or both. Windows were open and a light breeze fluttered through the house. Mary turned back to the plate and then started to dry it. She never left dishes sitting in a rack. She didn’t like clutter on the kitchen counters and liked to tidy things up all the time.

Dennis sat motionless in his wheel chair. He kept his hands folded in his lap. For him, Memorial Day weekend wasn’t for family gatherings around the bar-b-q pit or sailing kites on the beach or watching a Yankees baseball game. For Dennis, it was a day of extreme sadness and pain. He remembered so many young men he knew that lost their lives in Kuwait during Operation Desert Storm. He had admitted he didn’t fully understand what led to the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait that then led to occupation of the country and his subsequent two trips over there. All he really cared about was that he was earning a paycheck to send back to his wife Margaret and their baby Mary.

“Daddy, would you like to sit on the porch?” Mary whipped her wet hands on her jeans. She ran them through her hair pushing it back. Dennis didn’t make a move. Mary didn’t expect him to. She hadn’t seen her father respond physically or verbally to her in years. The question was more for her than him. Mary stepped into the living room and began picking up newspapers and magazines she had left lying about. She turned and looked at pieces of her dress pattern lying about. She smiled. She was finished. It took her two days, but it was finally done.

Just then she stood up and looked out the window and to her shock she saw the neighbor, Mrs. Weber staring out her window and into Mary’s. Mrs. Weber quickly threw her curtain closed, trying to avoid Mary. But it was too late. Mary’s calm expression slipped off her face. She grabbed two magazines and threw them into the brown faux leather magazine holder from Target. She looked at her father, “Daddy, I’ll be right back.” She slipped her feet into a pair of flip flops she always left by the door and charged out of the house.

Knock. Knock. Knock. Mary stood on Mrs. Weber’s front porch pounding her knuckles against the glass door. Mary folded her arms and waited for a response. None. She knocked again, “Mrs. Weber!” She shouted. She turned and looked back to her house next door. She observed the beautiful plants and roses in pots on the front porch. She turned back to the door. She knocked again. Nothing, “Mrs. Weber, I saw you staring at my house again! Please stop looking in my windows!” She shouted.

The front door suddenly opened and Mrs. Weber emerged, remaining behind the security chain. Her dog yapped and barked behind her, “What are you doing here? It’s late, young lady, and I’m praying my rosary. It is Sunday after all.” Mrs. Weber scolded.

“Uh huh. Look, I caught you looking into my house again and I’d really like it if you’d stop.” Mary requested. Mrs. Weber’s eyes were wide behind her bifocals, “I beg your pardon? You had better run home and ask Jesus for forgiveness. You shouldn’t speak to your elders like that…”

“Mrs. Weber, I want you to stop looking through my windows and into my house.” Mary said it again. Mrs. Weber raised an eyebrow as Mary turned and started to walk off the porch, “Your house is dirty, Mary.” She said. Mary quickly turned, her hair flying over her shoulders, “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Your house is a mess.” Her aging voice cackled. Mary stepped back toward the door, “My house is not dirty. I clean my house every day….”

“Your father should be in a home where he can have the proper care he needs. Not with you, his jezebel daughter running around with all sorts of boys. I don’t like those boys coming into this neighborhood. They will bring gangs and violence. Boys aren’t good for nothin’ but one thing, and Mary Farmer, you know it!” Mrs. Weber shouted. Mary’s eyes were wide as Mrs. Weber slammed the door in her face. “Mrs. Weber!” Mary knocked on the glass front door. Mrs. Weber remained locked behind the inside door. Mary knocked again and the porch light went out, turned off from inside.

Mary sighed with frustration. She turned and made her way down the porch steps and down toward the front yard gate. She turned and started for her house but looked back only to find Mrs. Weber peaking out of her front room curtains watching Mary walk away. Mary began to shake her head with disbelief but continued back to her own house.

The Hamptons.

Oliver Johnson remained seated on a sofa while sipping a whiskey. He sat back and flipped through a family album. Old black and white photographs of Edward and his late wife Camille. They looked so happy and in love. Oliver studied their faces; faces of privilege, wealth, blue blood. Oliver had spent his entire life yearning for that. He spent years cheating, swindling, lying, and stealing that wealth and ended up in prison as a result. Despite having been reformed and let out of prison early for good behavior, Oliver still wanted that life, and all the wealth that came with it.

“I’m sorry for leaving to take that call. It was my grandson Randal. He’s on business in San Francisco and we needed to discuss some last minute points about the meeting he’s taking in the next few days.” Edward stepped into the Study and crossed to the bar. He reached for a silver pitcher of water and poured a glass. Oliver smiled, “No worries, Edward. I’m enjoying discovering a little about you.” He turned the page of the album and ran his eyes over a new grouping of photographs.

Edward smiled, “And what have you discovered?” He took a seat opposite Oliver. He sat back and crossed his legs. He was handsome as ever in a casual blue button down and brown linen trousers. The windows to the House remained open and the early summer breeze floated about. Oliver flipped another page, “You’re a Harvard man, that is obvious. Just look around your Study. Your degrees, certificates, proclamations. But this photograph shows you rowing crew. Impressive.” He looked up.

Edward laughed, “Those were fantastic days. I loved rowing. I still have one my college shells. I keep it I in the pool house. Quad sculls. The Charles River. There once was a time that I considered rowing for our country in the Olympics. The Games were in Rome that year. But I was a fresh out of Harvard and my father wanted me to get to work. My father wasn’t a wealthy man and he insisted I stop goofing off, as he put it, and get out of the water and into a job.” He smiled as he looked off into the distance and toward memories of his father.

Oliver watched him. Edward exuded charm and sophistication, wealth and power. None of that was learned from a text book, Olympic level rowing, or even attendance at Harvard. Edward was naturally aristocratic and Oliver envied that about him. Edward turned to Oliver, “What about your family? Your father? Where does your family hail from?”

“Oh I’m interested to learn more about you, Edward.” Oliver shifted attention back to his target. Edward sipped his water, “I’m afraid my life has been rather uneventful as of late.” He chuckled. Oliver moved in, “You mean over the last ten years or so…since you lost your son?”

Edward’s smile faded and he quickly looked at Oliver, “What did you say?” He asked. Oliver was quick, “Edward, I’m only pointing out a fact. Your son died in the World Trade Center attacks…”

“My son was killed in the World Trade Center attacks.” Edward corrected.

“Edward, I wish you’d take my suggestion under serious consideration. You have a story to tell the entire world. An Olympic level athlete comes from nothing and gets into Harvard in a time when only the elite could, and builds one of the largest real estate empires in the world and then…loses his only son on the most tragic day in American history…” Oliver watched as Edward rose to his feet and crossed back to the bar to fill his glass with water. Oliver watched him, “It’s a hell of a story, Edward.”

Edward kept his back to Oliver. Oliver knew he’d hit a nerve and decided to continue, “I worked with a film crew for a few months in Paris six years ago. They were working on a documentary about expatriates who left the States after the attacks not because they feared for their own safety…I know there was a mass exodus of out Manhattan after 9/11…but because they were a small few who felt like we got what we deserved and were shunned for that.”

“What?” Edward quickly turned. Oliver remained seated, “American occupation isn’t only militarily, Edward. We have our flag on the soil of just about every developed nation in the world. We exploit the resources of those countries, make billionaires out of the land owners and then we set the place on fire when they don’t do what we want. Capitalism, Edward. It’s killing our country and it’s killing our sons. Quite literally.”

“You’re saying the killing of three thousand innocent people was our own fault?” Edward looked up. Oliver casually shrugged his shoulders, “Innocent is relative, isn’t it?” Oliver pushed. Edward looked at him with disgust.  

“Al Qaeda Edward. They’re to blame. Everyone knows that. But their fundamental ideal was called evil because we don’t subscribe to that kind of thinking. We’re civilized Americans, after all. They hijack planes while we hijack their land, their economy, their infrastructure and disguise it as development and education and modernism. Who’s the real terrorist, Edward? Them? Or Us?”

Edward looked to Oliver, “You don’t want to have this conversation with me, Oliver. You don’t want to argue that what happened on September 11^th was anything other than pure evil; plain and simple. My son and my daughter-in-law were murdered that morning as were all those people. Now regardless of political ideas, religious extremism, or American capitalism…murder is never acceptable and it never will be. I want to suggest that you understand that if you’re going to continue to remain a guest in my house under my roof. Is that clear?”  Edward never raised his voice but tonight he had to.

Oliver’s eyes were wide, “Absolutely.” He replied.

Edward placed his glass of water down. He calmly placed his hands in his pockets and stepped out of the room, his Ferragamo shoes slapping the hardwood floors of the corridor as he exited. Oliver offered a please smile to himself as he remained seated. He turned back to the photo album still in his hands. He had pushed Edward and enjoyed it.  He continued to flip the pages looking over photographs of many different people who’ve obviously meant something to Edward over the years. He looked up and looked off across the room. Edward’s room. Oliver smiled again and knew he’d found the spot he came in search of. Edward is weak when it comes to his son, his family. And that was the target Oliver would aim for.

62. Louder Than Words

Mary Farmer studied the fabric store with the intensity of a rocket scientist. She had woken up early, made breakfast for her father and then hit the road in search of the perfect pattern and the perfect material. She was planning on making her own dress for Richardson’s party and it had to be amazing. She was completely thrilled with the fact that she was going to lock herself in her house and sew all day long. This was her only day off this week and she was going to make the most of it.

She had enlisted the aid of her friend Connie Jackson in scouring the fabric store. Connie was nearly overwhelmed with the seemingly thousands of bolts, some of which were stacked in perfectly built shelves reaching nearly to the ceiling. The endless rows and aisles of colors went on forever. Mary however was in her element. She loved the fabric store and would often find herself just wandering throughout admiring and gazing at all the pretty colors, designs, prints, textures. She made a lot of her own clothes and some of her father’s too. But this dress would have to be her best creation yet and she’d be sure it was absolutely perfect.

“There are so many choices. Goodness.” Connie looked up to the ceiling. Mary wore her hair straight down and peered through a pair of black glasses. She hadn’t bothered to put in her contact lenses this morning. She was determined to get an early start on this dress. She had all day after all and this was the day she’d make her perfect dress, “I like this one.” Mary extended her arm upward and began to pull a bolt of red satin. Connie took hold of the pattern and Mary’s purse as she extended her other arm to pull the bolt. Mary stopped half way through, “Wait…no I don’t.” She stopped and pushed the bolt back in.

Mary turned and continued down the aisle, scanning and surveying and studying. Connie followed behind, “You’re pretty excited about this party, aren’t you?” She asked. Mary quickly turned, “It’s all I can think about. It’s bad I know. There are so many other things to concern myself with, but….but I’ve never been to a party like this. I’ve never been invited to anything like this. Mr. Barron has parties like this all the time in his House and everyone always looks so glamorous and beautiful. I just want to look right.” She smiled. Connie reached forward and brushed Mary’s hair behind her shoulder, “You’re going to be the most beautiful girl there, honey.” She complimented. Mary blushed.

“I know it’s silly, but last night I couldn’t really sleep. I kept imagining what it would be like to actually be a guest at a party like this. I’m always serving champagne or cleaning up and this time I get to go to the party.” She giggled. Connie looked at the excitement, “Just like Cinderella, huh?” She observed. Mary laughed.

Mary slowly looked up at Connie, “I’m nervous.” She revealed. Connie smiled, “Why, baby? It’s a party. You’ll be fine.” She offered. Mary looked at the bolts of fabric and the sea of color, “Connie, these people are so rich,…so wealthy. Everyone’s beautiful and elegant and I’m….I’m just a maid.” She looked away. Connie watched her. “Richardson’s ex-girlfriend is going to be there. She’s beautiful and sophisticated and wears dresses you’d only see in Vogue, and she has everything. What…what do I have?” Mary looked up to Connie.

Connie looked on her sad face, “Baby, you have a heart. You have a good heart. You care about people and you know they care about you. Now I don’t know that girl, but I do know you. I know you see the good and you always try to do the right thing even when it’s difficult for you. You care for your daddy twenty four-seven, you clean that Barron house, and you volunteer at the hospital. You’re a good girl, Mary Farmer and don’t you ever let anybody tell you or make you feel otherwise. You got that?”

Mary smiled as she looked up at Connie, “You always know what to say to make me feel better.” She held back her tears. Connie put her arm around her, “I’m a smart lady, honey. Now let’s get your fabric.”

Mary turned and there it was. Her eyes lit with delight, “Connie, oh my gosh…that’s it.” She slowly stepped toward it. The fabulous satin bolt waited for her, called out to her. Connie peered over Mary’s shoulder. Mary was compelled to move closer. She reached out and touched the gorgeous bolt of shimmering amber satin, “Connie….” She was in awe. Connie smiled.

Mary quickly reached for the bolt and pulled it out, “I love it. This is the one.” She caressed the gorgeous fabric. She turned and placed it on a measuring table, “I think I’ll only need four yards. What do you think?” She asked. Connie reached out and ran her hand on the lush fabric, “That should do it.” She agreed. Mary turned the bolt over and her eyes grew wide, “Connie, its…its forty dollars a yard. Oh my gosh.”

“What’s the matter?” Connie asked. Mary shook her head, “Connie, oh no…Connie, I can’t afford that. Forty dollars? Are you kidding me?” Suddenly, her dream dress was shattered. Connie looked at her face. Mary sighed with frustration, “Great. Just when I find the perfect fabric….”

Connie took hold of the bolt, “Only four yards?” She asked. Mary silently nodded in agreement. Connie looked at Mary, “Alright, let’s get it.”

“Connie, I can’t. I need to find something else.” Mary was broken. Connie wasn’t, “Oh no, baby. This is the one for you. Let me get it for you. You can pay me back Never.” She smiled. Mary quickly looked at her, “What? Connie, no. That’s too much money.” Mary protested. Connie handed the pattern and Mary’s purse back to her, “Here. Hold your stuff. I’m getting this fabric and you’re going to make that dress. My girl deserves this dress and she’s gonna have it.” Connie turned, “Sales girl! I need a sales girl here to cut up this fabric!”

Mary smiled as she watched Connie take charge. Mary’s eyes filled with tears as Connie flagged down a passing by employee to get assistance. Connie turned to Mary, “You do so much for so many. Let me get this for you, baby.” Connie winked. Mary smiled and reached forth and embraced her, “I love you, Connie.” She said. Connie embraced her back, “Don’t make me cry, Mary. Come on. Let’s get you a dress.”

The Manhattan Woods Golf Club was nestled about half an hour outside of New York City. Membership in the exclusive club consisted of super wealthy investment bankers, hedge fund owners, oil billionaires, and film and television stars. Richardson Black made the rounds with a group of friends this morning hitting the links. In handsome Ralph Lauren golf attire, he surrounded himself with college buddies German Roth and Jonathan Pale. They brought the golf cart to a stop and Richardson leapt out.

Tall handsome German stepped up behind Richardson, “So we finally get to meet this girl you’ve been telling us about, huh?” He asked as he pulled his clubs from the back of the cart. Richardson nodded, “That’s correct, Sir. Mary. She’s amazing. You’ll love her.” He replied. Jonathan reached into the cooler on the back of the cart and took hold of another beer. He handed one to German and retrieved one for himself, “Finally the great Richardson Black has been tamed. Tell me, man, how’d she do it?” He smiled.

Richardson looked at his friends and smiled, “Many, many ways. She’s beautiful, she’s kind, she’s intelligent. She’s…she’s pretty much perfect.” The guys toasted their beer bottles together. Richardson turned with the oncoming of another golf cart. He didn’t recognize the driver until it got closer. His smile faded from his face. Blair Bradley dismounted the golf cart and stepped out, “Morning, boys. Lovely day for a hole in one.” He smiled. German and Jonathan hurried to Blair and greeted him with handshakes. The four were good friends and spent many years together; prep school at Choate, Yale and now working in Manhattan.

Blair removed his glove and called out, “I see the weekend long birthday festivities are in full swing, so to speak. I didn’t see my invite to this morning’s little gathering. I’m disappointed I was left off the list, Richardson.”

German and Jonathan both turned to Richardson, unaware of the animosity in the air. Richardson turned to Blair, “I wanted to relax with friends today, Blair. Not pal around with someone who pretended to be a friend.” The guys turned to Blair and then casually looked at each other. Blair laughed, “And did you tell your friends about the misfortune you’ve stumbled into? Actually that isn’t true. You didn’t stumble. You jumped. You jumped out of a billion dollar inheritance and ruined your own life.”

“I’d hardly call getting a job with Edward Barron and his foundation ruining my life.” Richardson boasted. Blair’s smile slipped from his face. He didn’t know the latest developments and he was instantly envious. Richardson smiled, “Oh, I left you off that list too. You see the less you know about anything I do, the better I feel. You never were my friend were you, Blair? All those years at Yale, all over Europe and now here. You’re just a fake. A joke.”

Blair laughed at him, “I’ll tell you what’s the joke,…that girl you’re dating. That maid who cleans up after Us.” German and Jonathan both turned to Richardson. Richardson stood tall and watched Blair continue, “Why the surprised look on your faces, boys? What,..he didn’t tell you? You didn’t know Richardson Black is in love with a girl who cleans up after the rich? Well she does. She’s a maid for Edward Barron. It really is very sweet of you, Richardson, throwing a bone to a deserving poor young girl like her. Tell me, buddy,…what other bones are you throwing her?” He laughed.

Richardson charged at him and grabbed hold of his Burberry golf shirt. He clenched his fists, but German and Jonathan both intervened and grabbed hold of him before he could do any damage. Blair backed up and laughed at Richardson.

“You’d better get the hell out of here before I kick your….” Richardson shouted.

“This is hilarious. I’m golfing with my father and some of his colleagues and I see you over here holding on to the last bastion of your station in life.” Blair turned to his cart, “Hold on to it while you can, buddy. Your days at the top are numbered. Dating the wrong girl,…filth in fact…will pretty much ruin your reputation and you won’t be able to show your face anywhere.” He continued to laugh as he stepped into his golf cart. The guys released their hold on Richardson as he gathered himself.

Blair looked up, “By the way, tell your mother I said hello. She extended an invite to your party even if you didn’t. I’ll be sure to be there. Far be it for me to turn down anything your mother asks.” He laughed again and drove away. Richardson stood and watched Blair leaving the green. The guys looked at Richardson as kept his eyes on Blair driving away.  

  

The overcast afternoon didn’t keep Jack and Bobby Greene from heading out for a long run along Hoboken’s riverfront. Jack had two New York City Marathon’s behind him and was planning on participating again this year in November. Training with long runs was a usual weekend activity for him. His brother Bobby decided to tag along. Practically everyone around turned and noticed the two handsome muscle bound young men running alongside each other on the crowded river front. Which was better to look at; the Manhattan skyline across the river, or the two brothers working out?

“Hey, Jack, wait up!” Bobby called out as Jack ran a few feet ahead of him. Jack rounded onto the pier and headed out leaving his brother behind him. Sweat slid down his bare chest as he pounded the end of the nine mile run. He realized he was getting ahead of Bobby so he slowed to a trot and finally a stop. Bobby hurried to catch up and also stopped, “What’s gotten into you, dude? Chillax.” Bobby leaned forward placing his hands on his knees and to try and catch his breath.

Jack kept pacing. He looked at his watch and placed a finger on his pulse. Bobby looked around at girls walking by taking notice of his incredible physique. He smiled and waved to one or two of them. Giggles from the girls filled the air while Bobby showed off his body.

Jack looked out over the Hudson River and toward the city. He kept quiet while lost in thought. Bobby noticed something was wrong, “Hey, so you want to tell me what’s going on?” He asked. Jack turned and looked to his brother, “No. I don’t.”

“Well I think you should. You don’t have a problem talking to me when I’m up to something. So come on,…spill it. What’s eating you?” He asked. Jack looked to his brother. He didn’t want to unload his problems on anyone, especially someone he was trying to set a good example for. But he needed to get it out. He needed to tell someone, “It’s Mary. I can’t get her out of my head.” He revealed. Bobby smiled and placed his hand on his brother’s muscled shoulder, “Ah. You’ve come to the right person. You’re in good hands, my friend. I am an expert with the ladies…”

“Bob, I’m serious. She’s met someone…someone else and she and I are no longer…seeing one another.” He lowered his head. Bobby’s playful smile slipped off his face, “….oh.” He looked at his brother. Bobby always knew Jack as a strong role model with all the right answers, doing the right thing the right way. He had never seen him like this. Jack turned away and looked at the city skyline, “She’s met a very rich guy who lives out there in Manhattan and she likes him…a lot. She told me she doesn’t want to see me anymore because she wants to see him.”

Jack turned to Bobby, “Now I’ve done everything I can. I treat her well. I listen to her. I care for her. That’s what guys are supposed to do, right? I mean we’re supposed to be nice and good and strong and I’m all of that…

“You’re all that and a bag of chips?” Bobby laughed and clapped his hands at his own joke. Jack turned to him, “Bob, I’m not kidding.” He was stern. Bobby looked up at him, “Ok, ok, I’m sorry.”

“The guy showed up at the hospital and invited me to his big deal formal birthday party tomorrow night. She’s going to be there with him. What is he trying to do, show off in front of me? Show me that he’s better than me?” He looked away. Bobby looked at his brother, “Jackie, no one’s better than you.” He was finally serious and honest. Jack turned and looked up.

“Jack, you’re always telling me to do the right thing and take responsibility and work for things if you want them. You’re always saying that hard work pays off and going after what you want is what you should do to have a good life,…to be happy. Right?” He asked. Jack lowered his head. Bobby smiled, “So you said you were good and you treated her good and you were there for her. Yeah, you did all that. But does she know how you really feel? Have you told her?”

Jack looked up and off in the distance.

Bobby placed his hands on his hips, “Maybe in this case, this once… actions don’t speak louder than words. Have you told her you love her?” He asked.

Jack slowly turned and looked at his brother. He slowly began to shake his head, “No. I haven’t.” He stated. Bobby smiled, “So then you haven’t done everything. Have you?”

Jack smiled and let his eyes wander with his thoughts. Bobby was right. Jack knew it. He slowly turned and looked out toward the Manhattan skyline. He knew it was true. He hadn’t done everything. He hadn’t told Mary he loved her. He hadn’t even told himself. But he realized it and knew it was true. He loved Mary and he knew he had to tell her.

61. Another Step

Ground crewmen hurried to the Barron helicopter as it touched down on the Country House estate helipad. Early morning sunlight shined off the silver hull, practically blinding anyone around. Two men assisted with opening the door and one extended his hand to help Catherine Barron disembark. She wore a gorgeous black Galliano dress and stilettos with sunglasses over her face. She held her briefcase in one hand and a clutch purse in the other. She smiled to the crewmen as they helped her hurry away from the whipping wind of the helicopter propeller blades and toward the main house several hundred feet away. Helicopter travel to and from the Country House was typical for Catherine and she enjoyed the luxuries of her life.

Her gorgeous thick chestnut brown hair bounced at her shoulders as she made her stride down the main corridor. She spotted the familiar face, “George, good morning.” She flashed her mega watt ivory smile. George nodded, “Good morning, Ms. Barron. Your grandfather is in the breakfast room with Ms. Joanna.” He informed. Her smiled slipped from her face, “Lovely…” She sighed.

Breakfast was served promptly at seven-thirty every morning. Cook outdid herself daily offering a surprise of Eggs Benedict, or Salmon, or her fabulous French toast. Fresh fruits and pastries and fabulous flowers were on strict order to be present every day. This morning would be no exception. Edward remained seated with his back to the door to the room. Joanna sat to his left. The fantastic breakfast room was decorated in hues of morning blue. The dominating four-and-a-half foot French antique crystal chandelier in the center of the room was shipped from Paris just for this house and was the first piece acquired in the Barron collection.

“Grandpa, good morning.” Catherine’s face lit with delight as she stepped into the breakfast room. She leaned forward and planted a kiss on Edward’s cheek. He smiled, “Catherine, welcome back.” He greeted. Catherine stepped toward a chair and took a seat, “Thank you. I’m glad to be back.” She didn’t acknowledge Joanna sitting opposite the table from her. It was no secret Catherine loathed her. Joanna remained seated, dressed in a gorgeous red Chanel dress, “Nice to see you, Catherine.” She lied.

Catherine slowly raised her eyes toward her, “…Joanna…” That was all she could muster.

A young kitchen server hurried to Catherine. She looked up to him, “I’ll just have soft boiled eggs this morning please.” She smiled. Edward sipped his juice, “You look absolutely wonderful, Catherine. Louisville always does wonders for you.” He recalled her trip. “Well, Grandpa, you know I love Derby.” She smiled as she poured a glass of water. He looked at her. He was so proud of her; her soaring spirit, her effervescence, her strong work ethic combined with her ongoing pursuits to enjoy her life, “Tell me…how was everything?” He asked.

She began, “Well I met with a Syndicate rep that showered me endlessly with stories of a gorgeous new filly. I’ve arranged for them to have her flown out in a few months so you can take a look at her and we can…”

“I meant with Boston, Catherine.” He interrupted her. She quickly halted her speech and slowly raised her eyes up to him. She remained silent. Joanna darted her eyes back and forth between the two of them, keeping her mouth shut, but her ears wide open. Sanders did tell her just last night to consider other options, perhaps this would lead to just that. “I see Trevor’s informed you.” Catherine replied.

“He did. Why didn’t you?” Edward was stern. He was fair, but never let his grandchildren get away with anything. Catherine maintained perfect posture at all times and sat up straight, “Grandpa, I needed to get a look at the hotel for myself. I couldn’t wait…I wouldn’t wait for Trevor to issue the paper work, look at financials, read stock reports. We don’t have time for diplomacy. We need to act. Every Major in the world is looking at that property and to drag our heels on this would be to allow it to slip away.”

Joanna quickly intervened, “Perhaps I should give you two a few minutes alone…” She looked at Edward. He reached over and took hold of her wrist, her diamond Bulgari bracelet shined, “You don’t need to leave. Stay.” He replied. Joanna turned and looked at Catherine. She’d have a ring side seat and she loved it.

“Catherine, I understand and I appreciate your passion. We all do. But there is a protocol and your brother is the CEO…” He began. “Grandpa, you didn’t achieve success by waiting for it or hoping that it would stumble upon your door. You made it happen every time. Why shouldn’t I?” She asked.

Joanna looked at Edward, wondering if he’d spill any secrets. Edward smiled, “Catherine, there are ways of doing things and then there are ways of doing things. I need you and Trevor to work together. I’ve said it hundreds of times. Divisiveness never accomplished anything. If you’re going to take matters into your own hands like this, you’ve got to at least inform me. I can’t have you going off unprepared and without the consent…”

“Consent? Grandpa, I’m not asking to stay out past curfew. This is an incredible opportunity and I don’t want to let it get away from us.” She replied. She was determined to make her point and Edward knew it. He also knew there was more to her agenda, “Catherine, are you certain you didn’t want to see the property for yourself in the event you’d one day go on your own?” He took the step he was dreading. She tossed her hair behind her shoulder and looked up at him, “Grandpa, Trevor shot down my concept for the new hotels after you approved it. I have a global vision for positioning our hotels on top and all I need is a green light from you to pursue it. Well you gave me that, but Trevor vetoed it. Now tell me, who the hell runs this company?”

“Look, Catherine, I won’t have infighting at the top of my leadership team. We are a family and we are a united front. We will all work together or we won’t work at all. Now I support your plan because I thought it was nothing short of genius. Your brother saw otherwise and he is the Chief Executive. You’re not going to accomplish anything by fighting with him. You need to work with him and he in turn must work with you.” Edward advised. Catherine looked at him and sighed with frustration. There would be no budging on this for Edward. Catherine knew she’d have to do the heavy lifting and she didn’t like it. Joanna sat back in observance and took it all in.

All heads turned as daytime television super star Avery Adams walked through the executive office corridor of Barron Worldwide. She wore a beautiful Calvin Klein dress. Her stilettos clicked on the marble floor as she turned and entered the reception area. Elaine greeted her with a smile, “Good morning, Ms. Adams. You’re looking quite lovely this morning.” She complimented. It was true. Avery was in fact beaming. She could hardly contain herself. She looked to Elaine, “Oh thank you.” Elaine smiled, “Let me tell Him you’re here.”Avery smiled as Elaine reached for the telephone. Avery looked at the small beautifully wrapped gift she held on to. She couldn’t wait to tell him about her surprise.

Seconds later, Avery stepped into the palatial office. She was quiet as a mouse as Trevor stood behind his desk across the room. He held his cell phone to his ear as he motioned for her to come in. He was handsomely dressed in a tailored Armani. He wore his reading glasses and glanced over a report before him. Avery made herself comfortable as Trevor continued his conversation, “This report tells me absolutely nothing. I asked for an assessment, not a regurgitation of what I already know. I’ve asked for a thorough feasibility on the market. No, I’ve been all Hong Kong but I asked your people to look into a new build. I don’t want to acquire or renovate a hotel. Barron doesn’t do that. We raise our buildings out of the ground. Now if I can’t get you to conduct a proper survey of the luxury hotel market in Havana I will find a firm that will. You have twenty-four hours.” Trevor clicked his phone off. He placed the phone atop his desk and stepped out from behind, “Well, this is a nice surprise. Good morning.”

Avery hurried to him with delight and joy on her face and a spring in her step. She threw her arms around him and embraced him, kissing his mouth. He placed his hands on her tight trim waist, “You should surprise me at the office more often.” He smiled. Avery grinned as she looked into his eyes, “Havana. Fascinating.” She commented on his conversation. He looked onto her beautiful face, “It is. There are some fantastic hotels there; mostly independents with a scattering of branded properties. I’m interested in building there.”

“But there is already so much going on with Hong Kong.” Avery replied. Trevor poured a cup of coffee at the silver service, “This is true. We also have Boston to think about. But don’t worry. We can handle it.” He turned to her and offered a reassuring smile. Avery stood in the center of the room, still holding her gift. She was ready to burst and couldn’t hold off any longer. Trevor noticed, “Avery, what’s going on?” He asked. She placed the purse down and stepped across the office toward him and handed the box to him, “I have a gift for you. Well, it isn’t really for you but….Here. Open it.” Avery handed the box to Trevor.

He placed his coffee cup down and took hold of the Tiffany’s wrapped box. He smiled as he looked up at her. He quickly unwrapped the box and lifted the lid open. His eyes grew wide, “What?” He excitedly asked.

Inside the box was a beautiful silver baby rattle.

She beamed as she smiled to him, “Trevor, we’re going to have a baby. I’m pregnant.”

“Avery! A baby!?” He reached for her and wrapped his arms around her. Laughter and joy filled the room. Avery was completely thrilled. Trevor kissed both sides of her face and then planted a kiss on her lips, “Avery, this is tremendous news.” Small puddles of tears filled up in her eyes as she looked on to her handsome husband, “I haven’t entirely been feeling well so I scheduled an appointment this morning with my doctor. I told her about how I have been feeling and she ran a few tests and she confirmed that I am absolutely, positively pregnant.”

Trevor embraced her once again and held her close, “Oh, Avery, this makes me so happy. A baby. We have to tell Grandpa…”

“Wait a minute. Not yet. It’s really still too early and anything can happen. I don’t want to tell anyone just yet. I haven’t even told my parents. Can we wait just a few weeks?” She asked. Trevor placed his hands on her face, “We can do whatever you want.” He kissed her again. She held his hands in hers. “I’m going to ask Elaine to clear my schedule so I can spend the day with you…” He turned to his desk.

She stopped him, “Oh no, you don’t have to do that. I have a photo shoot at the studio in a few hours and I’m on the set this afternoon.” She looked at him. He smiled and stepped back over to her, “Avery. Avery, we’re going to have a baby.” He smiled. She nodded. He leaned forward and kissed her once again. They were overcome with happiness. Everything was right in the world and they had each other’s love to conquer anything.

The Ascot Building.

“Dahling, I absolutely detest roses. They’re so goddamned common. Hydrangeas are lovely, full, lush. So full of life. So Sylvie Black. Don’t ever let a single rose happen upon my eyesight. Is that clear?” Sylvie Black stood in the center of the lavish den high in her gorgeous palazzo penthouse high over Fifth Avenue overlooking Central Park. The stunningly sexy Rafael Rodrigo sat on the large tufted sofa looking on. Sylvie stood motionless as two tailors pinned and sewed a fabulous dress on her. It was her final fitting before her son’s birthday bash, heralded to be the party of the year for Manhattan’s super social scene.

Rafael rose to his feet and hurried about the room moving toward the dry bar. He reached for the gin and began making Sylvie’s fifth martini. He glanced at his Breitling watch. It was ten in the morning.

“Where is my drink, dahling?” Sylvie shouted out from where she stood, her body trapped in Givenchy couture. Rafael, dressed in tight while Bonobos pants and a linen shirt buttoned to his navel hurried back with the martini. His iPhone rang and chimed with new voice mails and text messages. Sylvie expressed her dissatisfaction with the tailors as they practically pinned the dress to her body, “Do you think it would be at all possible to keep from drawing blood from me?” She asked. They headed her warning and quickly tended back to the dress.

“The venue is ready for your final run through this afternoon at three and Page Six is already running headlines that this will be the social event of the season. We haven’t heard back from Mr. Bloomberg’s office regarding his RSVP, but both Mr. De Niro and Ms. Foster have both responded that they will be in attendance.” Rafael read a text on his phone and looked up to Sylvie. He remained seated on the tufted French antique sofa.

“Splendid, dahling.” Sylvie sipped her martini. Perfect. She had taught Rafael early on to make the perfect drink. Sylvie was pleased that he followed instruction so well. “Your son should be here before noon for lunch and your husband’s office phoned and replied that he’d more than likely make an appearance at the party. Shall I send a statement?” He looked up at Sylvie. With one hand on her hip and the other clinging to her life preserver martini, Sylvie slowly turned toward Rafael, “No, dahling. Sanders will show when he shows…as he’d like to. No response is necessary.” She sipped. Rafael turned to his iPhone and began sending emails and text messages

Suddenly, the double doors to the room opened and the very tall, very handsome Blair Bradley entered. He was dashing in a black Calvin Klein suit. His bright pink pocket square lit up the room, “Mrs. Black…?” He practically asked for permission. Sylvie slowly turned to the sound of the voice calling her name while Rafael quickly looked up and took notice. The behemoth of gorgeous muscle stood in the door frame holding files and papers in his hands, “Marguerite said it would be alright if I come in. I hope I’m not interrupting…” He stated.

“Dahling Blair. Please do come in.” Sylvie smiled as she floated her arms and hands about. Rafael hurried to him to offer assistance with the papers. They gave each other a knowing look. Blair turned to Sylvie, “Is this your dress for Richardson’s party?” He asked. Sylvie noticed how tight his pants were, “It is. But you mustn’t tell the press. I want to see their faces when they gaze up God’s finest creation. Not me, dahling. The dress.” She giggled as she sipped her martini.

Blair smiled at her. The dress was well fitted and she looked amazing in it.

“Rafael, a martini for Mr. Bradley.” Sylvie commanded. Rafael hurried to the bar. Blair stopped him, “Thank you, No. I have to return very quickly to Catherine Barron. She keeps me on a short leash at the office. I only wanted to drop by a few things Richardson left at my apartment. I hope it’s alright.” He stated. Sylvie smiled, “Of course it’s…alright, love.”

Rafael turned to his iPhone and began to adjust the volume down low. “Everyone, give me a few minutes with Mr. Bradley, please.” Sylvie dismissed the two tailors and Rafael. The group hurried out of the room. Sylvie relaxed her arms with the closing of the door and the disappearance of the tailors. Blair smiled, “You look incredible in that dress…if I may say.” He smiled, adjusting his tie.

Sylvie grinned at him, “You may.” One more sip. Blair stepped toward the bar and began to fashion another for Sylvie. “It’s been entirely too long. How have you been?” Sylvie asked. Blair poured into a fresh glass, “Well, thank you. Catherine has me busy on several projects and the excitement never stops at Barron.”

“Excitement never stops here either.” Sylvie replied. Blair slowly turned and looked at her. She ran her hands over her tight body, “We haven’t been alone together in ages, dahling. I’ve missed you.” She smiled. “The feeling is mutual, Sylvie.” He sipped from the drink and slowly began to cross the room to her. He handed the martini to her. She ran her Elizabeth Arden manicured hand over his and took hold of the glass and brought it to her Diablo red lips. She sipped the martini and then handed it back to him.

Blair took the glass and placed it down, out of the way. Sylvie reached for the top of the dress at her bust line and pulled the dress off her body. Blair watched the fabulous gown fall to the floor. He slowly turned and looked up at Sylvie; completely nude. Naked. Ready.

“Now how does the dress look, now that it’s on the floor?” She smiled at him as she placed her hands on her hips. Blair ran his eyes over her delectable body, “I like it even more.” He stepped toward her and placed his massive hands on her soft, tight hard body. He placed his hand in the back of her head and pulled her forward toward his mouth.

Sylvie began kissing his neck and undoing his tie. He looked over her shoulder and in the distance spotted his accomplice Rafael quietly cracking the door open. Rafael pulled out his iPhone and began clicking photographs of nude Sylvie with her hands and mouth all over Blair. Blair turned, hiding his face from the camera.

Blair turned Sylvie so that his back was now to Rafael and the camera could get a clear shot of Sylvie’s face. They continued to engage in their lust while Rafael snapped one photo after another. He peered at the image that showed up on the phone and then looked back at Sylvie about to engage in what will become tabloid fodder.

Another click. Another photo. Another step closer to complete disaster.

60. Gone Too Far

Joanna Johnson admired her stunning reflection in the fabulous antique mirror before her. She sat, perfectly postured, nude before the mirror save the fabulous Cartier Panthere diamond necklace. The incredible necklace was hand-made with diamonds, onyx, and emeralds and set in platinum. She ran her delicate hands lightly over her chin and down her long neck, then further down between her bare breasts. She offered an easy pleased smile to herself. She loved gazing at her own reflection and most especially with radiance of brand new diamonds about her. She reached back to the hands that caressed her shoulders and neck. She tilted her head back and to the side as Sanders Black leaned forward and began licking and kissing her soft neck.

Joanna closed her eyes, allowing him to envelope her in his touch and his mouth. The sexual chemistry between the two of them was electric. Joanna felt overwhelming heat every time they were together. She’d come to him, he’d take her. They’d travel to ecstasy and back. She often wondered if he were the billionaire she should have set her sights on. Despite their floating sky high together during their ravenous sex, she’d always come back to earth and remember that she really did have feelings for Edward. That point would certainly solidify itself when he’d lavish a brand new gorgeous Cartier necklace around her fabulous throat.

Sanders nibbled her earlobe, but pulled himself back with the fresh taste of new diamonds in his mouth. He stopped for a moment and turned to their combined reflection in the mirror. Joanna offered a lusting smile to him. He returned the grin. She slipped away and rose to her feet. Her Gucci stilettos kissed the lavish carpet as she stepped toward the bar. Open drapery offered a view of the city skyline from high in the Waldorf=Astoria Hotel. She reached for the bottle of Dom Perignon from the platinum chiller and poured another glass. Sanders glanced at his Yacht Master II Rolex, “Look at the time. You need to get back to Edward and I need to….well…”

“Sanders, why do you treat your wife so poorly? Would it hurt you terribly to be civil to her once or twice in your life?” She asked, turning toward him. Sanders ran his eyes over the beautiful sight of her nude body. He laughed at her, “What’s this? Joanna Johnson has developed a conscience?”

“I just don’t see what it is about her that pains you so. I mean I don’t particularly care for her, but you are married to her. She’s beautiful, she’s worldly, she’s educated and she’s connected…and she is the mother of your two children.” She sipped her champagne. Sanders sighed with frustration, “Suddenly water boarding seems so much more appealing than going home…”

“Perhaps you can put her to work for you somehow? Make her make money for you.” She suggested with a grin. Sanders looked at her as he reached for his Ralph Lauren suit pants, “I’d rather you doing the work…on me.” He smiled. She rolled her eyes and turned away.

Sanders zipped his pants as he looked for his shirt and silver engraved cufflinks, “Speaking of work…tell me again about what you found in his study.”

Joanna’s smile slipped away, “I’d rather not. I detest the memory. It’s as if it burned its mark in my brain implanting the horrible sight.” Sanders laughed, “Joanna, you simply must be slipping these days.”

She quickly turned to him, “You’re going to joke about this? My future is at stake. I want what I’m entitled to as Mrs. Edward Barron…”

“Well that would be Not a Damned Thing. You aren’t married to Barron yet. Therefore your entitlement is zero.” Sanders slipped into his crisp Armani shirt. Joanna sipped her champagne, “My name appeared nowhere in the document, Sanders. How is that supposed to make me feel? Like he doesn’t love me…”

Sanders turned to her, “Joanna, stop fooling yourself. He loves you. Look at this thirty thousand dollar necklace he gave you. Edward Barron doesn’t keep girls around. He wants to marry you. You live in the House for God’s sake.” He slipped his cufflinks into place. Joanna turned and gazed out the windows, “Sanders, I’m worried. I’m worried about a pre-marital agreement.”

He slowly raised his eyes up to her, “Has he mentioned anything about it yet?” He asked. She sipped, “Not yet. But since there is no mention of me in the Will…that’s certain to come, isn’t it?” She asked. Sanders crossed to her and placed his hands on her shoulders, “Nothing in life is certain accept for death…” He stopped. Joanna slowly turned and looked up at him, “Sanders, I’m not doing this again with you. I’m not going to discuss…”

“Joanna, relax. Relax. I’m not telling you to kill him. He’s an old man after all….a very old man.” Sanders smiled.

“Who happens to be in perfect health.” Joanna reminded. Sanders turned to look for his Ferragamo shoes, “Yes, yes. Perfect health. But a fall down the stairs, a loosened cinch on a saddle. Don’t forget his doctor did advise a slow down with work.…”

“Perhaps we can plant a bomb on his jet? Oh wait, you tried that one…” Joanna questioned. Sanders turned and looked at her, “Look, I wanted you to get a look at the Will and you did that. You found that there isn’t so much as a cent in there for you. So we’ll have to think of something else. What do you think you should do to remedy that? Spend time in bed with me here in this fantastic suite, or tending to Edward Barron and weaseling your way into his Will like you did his aging heart?” Sanders asked.

Joanna slowly stepped across the fabulous hotel suite. She ran her fingers over his lips, “But you’re the best lover I’ve ever had, Sanders.” She looked up into his eyes, working her magic on him. He knew her tricks. He reached for her wrist and pulled her hand away, “Get home, Joanna. And do what you do best…what you must in order to deliver what I want.”

Joanna quickly turned from him and looked out the windows. Sanders grinned, “I have just enough time to make a stop at the Whitney benefit and then get home to that woman. I suggest you slip back into your dress and that Mercedes downstairs and drive home and make love to Edward until you render him unconscious. Don’t forget your goal, Joanna. Marry him and get everything you want, and everything I want.” Sanders reached for his jacket and tie and stepped out of the room. Joanna gazed out the window looking over the city. She sighed with frustration and anger. She turned and reached for another glass of champagne. She hated his parting words, but he was in fact…right.

The Barron Hotel Soho.

Rand Barron zipped the Hermes garment bag to a close and looked on at the young butler, “That’s the last of them. Thank you.” He said. The butler reached for the garment bag and stepped out of the bedroom with it. Rand was handsomely dressed in a white Calvin Klein suit. He turned to the digital clock on the nightstand to glance at the time. He would soon be on his way to Teterboro and the awaiting Barron Lear jet.

“Why do you insist on getting away from me?” Tara Brent leaned against the door frame. She wore a blue McQueen dress. She was barefoot and her thick long hair was tattered about her bare shoulders. Rand turned to her, “Tara, I’m not trying to get away from you. I have a business trip…”

“For Trevor, yes you told me. Last time however, it was to Boston. This time it’s San Francisco. What’s next…the moon?” She asked. Rand looked at her, “Tara, I have responsibilities to my family company.”

“And what about me, Rand? You don’t have any responsibilities to me?” She asked. She held an Evian water bottle in her hand as she pointed to her own chest. Rand stopped and silently gazed upon her angry face. He didn’t reply. She began to laugh, “Wonderful. You don’t.”

“Tara, you’re right. I don’t. I asked you to stay here so you could get better. I wanted to help you get better.” He stated. “And what you’ve done, Rand is made things worse for me. Do you know that I sit here alone night after night? I don’t go anywhere. I don’t do anything. I don’t talk to anyone. I don’t ever see you anymore because you’re never here.  You’re never in New York. You’re everywhere else doing Trevor’s dirty work…” She screamed.

“I’m not doing dirty work for anyone. I have a job, Tara. I have a company that is partially mine. That’s called having a vested interest…” He shouted back. “Don’t speak to me like I’m stupid!” She yelled.

“Well stop acting like you are, Tara. I have to go to San Francisco because I have to go to San Francisco. What don’t you understand about that? And you don’t have to feel like a recluse here. You can go for a walk. You can sit on the deck. You can….”

“How about I smoke up, Rand? I can get my hands on a crack pipe, maybe a little Crank. Some Ice. Tina. Remember how much we used to love it, Rand? You and me…nice and high. Naked. Sex for three days non-stop. Remember those days? You miss ‘em, don’t you, baby?” She smiled.

Rand was motionless. He stood still. “What do you think I’m going to do with myself when you leave, Rand? Randal? Randy? Baby? You think I’m going to watch television, a little Grey’s Anatomy, maybe something boring as hell on PBS, the Discovery Channel? Maybe I’ll hit the Lower East Side. Call up my girls; get a little party going. Just like old times, Rand.” She looked at him.

“Or how ‘bout this? I get some guys over here. Pass the pipe, remember that one? I don’t have any money so how do you think I’ll pay for it? Spread for it like I used to? It’s only HIV I got. There are meds that’ll keep me alive forever. I’m still surprised you never got it from me….” She giggled.

Rand turned and reached for the Bang & Olufsen phone. He dialed the familiar number, “Elaine, good evening, its Rand. Would you be so kind as to phone Steven at Teterboro and inform him that I won’t be making an eleven o’clock flight…?” He spoke into the phone. Tara allowed a gorgeous smile to come over her pale face. She was convinced it worked and that he’d stay with her, right where she wanted him. Rand turned to look at her while he held the phone to his hear, “Let’s move the flight back a little to one in the morning. I have something I need to get rid of before I go. Thank you.”

Tara’s smile slipped away and she darted her eyes up at him, “What are you doing…?”

He charged at her and grabbed her frail arm. She protested as he quickly, roughly led her out of his bedroom. He escorted her down the hallway over the polished bamboo flooring and into her bedroom. He released his hold on her when he shoved her into the room. “What the hell are you doing, Rand!?” She screamed.

“Get your stuff, Tara. Pack up. You’re out of here.” He looked at her. She laughed, “What!?”

“You heard me. Get your things together. I want you out of here before I leave. You won’t blackmail me or manipulate me or put any of your problems on me anymore. I have a job to do and I have a life to live and you aren’t going to be a part of it any longer. Now pack your things or I’ll do it for you.” He commanded.

“Are you kidding me?” She asked. He slowly stepped toward her with determination in his eyes, “Do I look like I’m kidding?” He responded. Tara stepped back as his formidable body moved to her. Her bare feet kissed the floor as she stepped back, “Rand, I didn’t mean that I would….”

“I want you out. Right Now.” He was calm and together. Tara was shocked, “Rand, I’m sorry…”

He turned to the closet and threw open the double doors. He stepped in and grabbed armfuls of clothing hanging from the racks. He turned into the room and threw the clothes onto the bed. He then returned to the closet for more.

“Rand, stop! I’m sorry!” She shouted. “You’re leaving, Tara. Now!” He shouted back.

“Rand, I can’t! I don’t have anywhere to go. I don’t have any money. I don’t….” She pleaded with him. He reached into the closet and grabbed a gorgeous Louis Vuitton suit case and opened it, “I want you out. I won’t say it again. Now you pack this suit case with all of your things. You have thirty minutes. I have a plane to get to and business to conduct and a life to move on with. I suggest you start thinking about what you’re going to do with yours. I’m calling an ambulance to get you the hell out of here and to the nearest hospital. I’m done, Tara. I’m done.” He turned and charged out of the room, pushing the door against the wall and banging a hole into the sheet rock.

“Rand, I can’t! Don’t do this! Don’t! Please, Rand! I need you! I love you!” Tara turned and looked at the mess of clothing scattered about her bed She had finally done it. She had finally gone too far and there was no way back. Tears ran down her face like Niagara Falls. She turned toward the bed and lost her footing. She tripped on her own two feet and fell to the floor, scraping her bare knee. Sobs of tears came forth from her eyes, “Rand! Rand, please!” She screamed bloody terror but her screams fell on deaf ears. He was finished with her and she knew it.

Jack Greene held the congratulatory letter of his promotion in one hand as he stepped lively down the linoleum of the Hoboken Hospital corridor. His hour long meeting with superiors ended earlier in the day, but he was still on cloud nine making the rounds and sharing his good fortune with just about anyone who would listen. Jack was overwhelmed with pride and was thankful that all his hard work, his assertiveness and his taking on leadership responsibilities brought him to this point.

All of that came to a resounding halt as he reached the Nurse’s Desk. His excitement evaporated when he spotted the familiar face of Richardson Black waiting for him. Nurse Connie stood behind the counter and turned to look at Jack as he and Richardson locked eyes, “Oh, Jack. You’re just in time. This gentleman has just asked to see you.” Connie revealed.

“What do you want, Black?” Jack stepped forward, his big strong chest heaving forward. Richardson stepped toward Jack, handsomely dressed in a pin striped Ralph Lauren suit, and extended his hand for a warm hand shake, “Hello, Jack. I’ve come to ask you a question. I hoped you’d have a few minutes.” He answered.

Connie turned and looked at the disturbed expression on Jack’s face, “I’m going to take care of a few things. I’ll be back in just a moment.” She excused herself from the area and lightly stepped away. Richardson turned and watched Connie bow out. Jack kept his eyes focused.

Richardson forced a smile and turned toward him, “I hear congratulations are in order. Connie shared the good news and…”

“What are you doing here?” Jack forced the conversation and wanted to get to the point. Richardson’s smile disappeared, “Jack, I don’t want to be hostile with you. I wish you wouldn’t be with me. I’m not your enemy.”

“You aren’t my friend either. Why don’t you get to the point and just tell me what you want? Is it Mary? Is something wrong?” Jack unfolded his massive arms from across his chest. Richardson was quick, “She’s fine and No. I’m not here about Mary. Well, not directly…”

Jack sighed with frustration. Richardson reached into his suit jacket pocket and retrieved an envelope, “Jack, you and Mary are good friends. That’s obvious. The last thing I want to do is come between two people as close as the two of you are….as close friends as the two of you are.”

Jack turned and looked at him. Friends.

Richardson continued, “I want to personally extend my thanks to you for being such a good friend to her and being there when she…and her father needed someone to count on. You’ve proven more than capable to care for them and countless others in this community. So…I want to invite you to be my guest at my birthday party. It’s this weekend and Mary and I….”

Jack laughed in his face, bringing Richardson to a stop. Richardson stood silently and let his mouth close. Jack quickly looked up at him, “This is a joke, right?” He asked. Richardson was completely serious, “Absolutely not. It isn’t a joke. I want to say thank you. There isn’t anything wrong with that.”

“There isn’t much that’s right with it either, Black. I’m not interested in your birthday party. You wasted your time and effort coming all the way out here. Thanks, but no thanks.” Jack stood tall and strong. Richardson wasn’t backing down, “I’m trying to be welcoming and accepting of those in Mary’s life. I know you mean a lot to her and I think it would be nice if we could be civil to one another for her sake…”

Jack was quick, “For her sake, I hope you get a grip on yourself and realize that you and I being friends is a delusion that could never come true. You may have fooled her with your fancy car and nice suits and all the money in the world but you don’t fool me.”

“Jack, I’m not trying to fool anyone…”

“Well you’re fooling yourself, pal. Now there are a lot of people here who aren’t well and need attention so if you’re quite finished…” Jack folded his behemoth arms once again. Richardson took the hint, “Alright. I’ll go. I’m sorry things had to be like this. But for the record,…pal…I made an effort.” Richardson took the invitation and placed it flat on the counter top and turned and walked away. His thousand dollar shoes slapped the floor as he left. Jack watched him walk down the corridor and out the double sliding glass doors.

Connie suddenly appeared from around the corner. She looked at Jack while he kept his eyes focused on the invitation. She stepped toward him and took the invitation in her hand. Without a word, she turned to Jack and offered it to him. She watched his eyes as he looked at it and wondered exactly what the invitation was really all about.

59. Speechless

Morning. Hoboken.

Jack Greene reached for a white V neck t-shirt and slipped it over his head. He ran his hands through his air drying hair as he glanced in the mirror. He turned to the digital clock beside his bed. 7:30. He had a few minutes to stop at Starbuck’s for a coffee and then head to the hospital. Jack was looking forward to the day. He scheduled a meeting this afternoon with two of his superiors to discuss a promotion. Jack had an exemplary performance record and he was confident that this promotion would be his.

He reached for his button down EMT uniform shirt and stepped out of his bedroom. He looked down the hallway to the opening of the front door. It was his younger brother Bobby creeping in. Jack stopped and sighed with frustration. He folded his massive arms across his muscular chest and stood in the doorway to his bedroom, “What are you doing?” He asked with extreme disappointment. Bobby was startled. He wasn’t expecting to run into his brother while trying to sneak back into the house, “Oh…morning, Jackie.” He smiled.

Jack reached for his bedroom door and brought it to a close and started down the hallway toward his brother, “Just getting in, huh? Out all night again? Bob…”

“Look, man. I lost track of time. I was with these girls and I just decided to crash at their place. I’m just having a little fun…” Bobby giggled. Jack tossed his uniform shirt onto a sofa in the living room, “You stink.” He leaned in to get a whiff of whiskey, bourbon, vodka, beer and was that marijuana? Bobby tried to step past him and head to his bedroom, “I just need a little sleep…”

Jack turned and looked at him, “Where are you getting the money to pay for this drinking and these girls you spend the whole night with? You get a job yet?” He asked. Bobby rolled his eyes and slowly turned to his brother, “Hey, Jackie, man you want to lower your voice a little? My head is pounding.”

“Bobby, I don’t understand what is wrong with you. I already told you that if you want to stay here you need to get a job and take some responsibility for yourself. I’m not going to take care of you. You don’t get a free ride here. You’re not a kid anymore…” Jack was interrupted. “You’re right. I’m not a kid. If I were, you’d take me out behind the tool shed and beat the crap outta me like pop used to, right? Remember that, Jackie? Remember pop used to wail on us out back with his belt? That thick long leather belt with the silver buckle. I sure as hell remember the belt…” Bobby took a seat on the sofa.

Jack didn’t believe in violence, and did in fact remember that belt. He was hit with it more than too many times himself. He was pushing. He didn’t want to turn into his father. That was the absolute last thing he wanted. He looked at his brother and wondered why it was so challenging to get through to him. They weren’t very many years apart in age, but they had a world of difference between them. Jack had never been out of the country, but Bobby served in Afghanistan for only a few months before being sent back home. Jack had held down a steady job and worked hard since he was fifteen. Bobby felt entitled to have everything given to him. They were poor and grew up practically with nothing and Bobby grew up feeling deprived and angry while Jack was thankful for every morsel of food he got. Jack didn’t want to repeat the mistakes his parents made. Bobby didn’t care. Jack was serious. Bobby was flippant and just wanted to have fun and would worry about tomorrow when it actually arrived.

Jack took a seat opposite his brother, “Bobby, all I want is to see you make something of yourself. All I want is for you to succeed, to be happy and have a good life.”

Bobby looked up to him, “You mean just like you?” He mocked. Jack nodded, “Yes, just like me.”

“So you’re Mr. Perfect is that it? You’re better than me, is that it!?” Bobby yelled. Jack remained calm, “No. That’s not what I said. I never said I was perfect, but I do have a good life. I have a home. I have money in the bank. I enjoy my work and I love what I do. Do you know how many people in this country cannot say that? A lot, Bob. A lot.”

“Jack, I’m just a kid. Give me a break…” Bobby protested.

“No, Bob. You’re not a kid and you don’t get a break. You have to work or you have to go to school. We don’t have forever like we thought we did when we were twelve. No one is going to just give you anything. You have to earn it; you have to work for it. We’re not wealthy people and we didn’t grow up with money or privilege. Mom and dad did the best they could. Yes, they made mistakes, but they loved us and they were our parents and they did teach us a few things. All we can do is learn from them and decide what kind of people we want to be. I want to be happy and enjoy my life. I want to work hard and do well, but I want to enjoy myself when I can. I’ve worked for it, and Bobby, I deserve it.”

Bobby sat back and lowered his head. Jack looked at him, “And you do too, Bob. You just need to decide to take care of yourself and staying out all night with strangers partying and having a good time isn’t going to do it for you. It’s time to grow up, Bob, and only you can do that for yourself. No one else can.” Jack reached forward and placed his hand on his brother’s knee. He rose to his feet and reached for his uniform shirt. Bobby looked up, “Jack,….”

Jack turned to his brother. Bobby sat up, “Jack, I want to do good. I want a good life….like you.” He replied. Jack smiled. He had gotten through to him after all. He slipped his massive arms through the sleeves in his shirt and began to finish getting dressed, “Good. Then go out there and get it.” He smiled. He reached for the keys to his truck and stepped out of the house. Bobby sat back and stared off into space, wondering just how the hell he was going to do that.

  

Knock. Knock. Knock. Mary Farmer stood outside the bedroom door on the second floor of the Country House. She waited for a few seconds until the door finally opened and the smiling, beaming face of the beautiful Jennifer Barron shined right before her eyes, “Mary, good morning. Please, do come in.” Jennifer stepped aside allowing passage for Mary.

Mary looked around at the beautiful clothing scattered about. Dresses, tops, furs, shoes, jewels, hats, gloves, it was overwhelming. “George said you needed some assistance?” Mary asked as she looked about the playground of couture. Jennifer giggled, “Yes, indeed. I’m so happy he sent you. I really wanted someone who had an eye for fashion. I mean your dress the other night was absolutely to die for. I couldn’t take my eyes off it. I’m assuming it was off the rack, yes?” She laughed. Mary turned and looked up toward her, “No. I made it.” She replied. Jennifer’s eyes were wide as she turned, “Oh how wonderful. You sew too? Mary, I am impressed!”

“Ms. Barron, what is it that I may help you with?” Mary asked. Jennifer fluttered around the room, swaying her tufted satin Valentino skirt and tossing her long wavy red hair about. Diamonds and sapphires shined about her ears and neck. Mary wore her yellow polo top and khaki pants uniform as usual. Jennifer grabbed a YSL top, “Well, I’ve just had my summer collection sent to me from Marie Elena, that’s my stylist in Paris. I have the new collection here. And over there, I have last season’s things. I simply have entirely too much to go through and I just can’t seem to decide what to do with last season’s wardrobe. I mean there are a few pieces I want to keep, but the rest…I just don’t know…” Jennifer’s hardship was most difficult.

“Perhaps a donation to charity…?”Mary suggested.

Jennifer grabbed a gorgeous black Valentino dress. It was simply beautiful. She tossed it to the floor like it were trash and then quickly whirled toward, “Mary, my God, you’re a genius. Yes of course! Charity!” She reached forth and grabbed hold of Mary’s arms as if to want to embrace her with a congratulatory hug. Mary forced a smile.

Jennifer hurried about the garments. The new collection was draped over the French antique sofa and still in Louis Vuitton wardrobes and trunks. The winter collection was on the opposite side of the room hanging from silver racks that Jennifer had George send up earlier in the morning. Mary ran her eyes over the dresses and coats from last season. Everything was exquisite, marvelous and breathtakingly beautiful. Jennifer noticed Mary’s attention had been captivated and she decided to have a little fun. The entire episode was concocted by Jennifer to have just that; a little fun.

“Mary, you’ve given me the most delightful idea. You suggested charity…but I don’t know any…of course with the exception of the Barron Foundation. I mean there are so many good causes out there it’s so difficult to find the right one that’s worthy of my assistance, wouldn’t you say?” She grabbed a pair of thick high black leather Versace boots, “I can’t very well just give my things away. I mean look at these – Dior, Gauthier, DVF, Armani. This dress was sent from Vera Wang herself and I have a gorgeous Chanel top that I never wore. And this Stella McCartney dress was designed and tailored just for me and I’ve never worn it. How terribly sad is that?” She made a drooping face.

Mary looked at Jennifer, “Would you like some of these dresses in boxes or would bags be better for them?” Mary wasn’t going to engage in this absurd conversation about having entirely too much.

“Mary! Wait a minute. Why don’t….why don’t you take these old things? I mean you aren’t exactly a charity but I’d be donating to the less fortunate.” Jennifer beamed with pride in her magnanimous generosity. Mary quickly turned, her pony tail flying through the air, “Pardon me?” She was horrified. Jennifer smiled, “Oh Mary, let me do this for you. These things could go to a good home…yours. I mean not only is it a wonderful donation, we can consider it an education of sorts. I mean where else in the world will you see such beautiful things…outside of a magazine or a film of course?”

“Ms. Barron, I don’t…” Mary tried to stop her.

“Mary, I insist. What good is it to have money and style if you can’t help those who haven’t a thing?” Her eyes were devious, sinister. She was rolling in her own cruelty and she knew she was vicious and vile. Mary slowly raised her eyes up toward Jennifer. She was speechless. She didn’t have a thing to say in her own defense. Jennifer had hit her…hard and they both knew it.

“You know what, Mary. Why don’t I go through these things myself and I’ll have George send one of the lesser maid’s up to pack them for you. There are a few things I’d like to keep, so you won’t receive them all…unfortunately. But I’ll be sure and send a few to your home. Instead of sending them to some random shelter where the poor and indigent gather, I’ll be sending them to you. Wouldn’t that be lovely?” She grinned. Mary forced an agreeing nod of her head, “Th…thank you, Ms. Barron.” She didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t formulate words.

“Well, I guess I don’t need your help packing these up after all. But you have been a tremendous help in bringing about my decision to donate these things to charity…I mean to you. Thank you, Mary. That’ll be all now.” Jennifer placed her hands on her hips. She had won. She had beaten Mary. Her only regret was that there was no audience to witness her triumph. It didn’t matter. She had put the little maid in her place and reminded her who the hell she was dealing with. Mary slowly turned for the door and made her departure. Jennifer smiled as she reached for a fabulous full length black mink coat. She brushed the fur against her face and offered a gorgeous ivory smile to herself. She was satisfied, for now. She would indeed want more and wouldn’t rest until she had broken Mary Farmer into pieces.

  

Bobby Greene took a deep breath as he pulled on the door to Wolfie’s. He could hear the music and an amazing voice and it grew even louder as he made his entrance inside. He placed his hands into his jeans pockets for safe keeping. He allowed the door to slide to a close and he literally stopped in his tracks at what he saw across the bar.

“And after all the drinks and bars that we’ve been to, would you give it all up? Could you give it all up for you? And after all the boys and the girls that we’ve been through, would you give it all up? Could you give it all up if I promise, boy to you….”

Bobby stepped behind a mirrored pillar and watched Henry across the bar. She stood atop a small stage holding a microphone and singing with the karaoke machine. Song lyrics flashed on the screen before her but her eyes remained closed. She knew the lyrics from memory and Bobby could see she felt the emotion of the song. Her face showed the feeling, the intensity of the song coming through her voice and her powerful presence on the stage.

“That I’ll never talk again. And I’ll never love again. I’ll never write a song or even sing along. I’ll never love again.”

He felt as though he were intruding on a private personal moment watching her from in hiding as he did. He was captivated by her voice and her soulful, magnetic persona. He couldn’t help but feel drawn to her. He realized that coming back here was the right thing to do.

“So Speechless. You left me speechless…so speechless. Will you ever talk again? Oh boy, why are you so speechless? You left me speechless, so speechless.”

“Some men many follow me but you choose death and company. Why are you so speechless….?”

 Henry turned and noticed him attempting to remain stealth behind the pillar across the bar. The dim lights with neon beer signs didn’t shroud him. Though the song was over her concentration was broken and she turned and stepped down from the stage. She made her way toward the karaoke machine and pressed the Off button, “We’re not open for another two hours.” She called out without looking in his direction.

Caught, he emerged from his spot and began to applaud her. She wasn’t sure if he was generally impressed or making fun of her. But her expression didn’t change. She didn’t like that he was here and she made it known by keeping her back to him.

“Wow. That was amazing. Where did you learn to sing like that?” He asked; his hands went back into his pockets. Henry grabbed the microphone cord and began to wrap it up and put things away, “I said we aren’t open for another two hours.”

Bobby realized it wasn’t going to be as easy as he hoped, “Hey, I came down here to apologize. I’m…I’m really sorry for being a jerk. You can think whatever you want about me but I’d like it if you could gimme a shot…”

“A shot at what? Taking me to bed again and then forgetting all about me? No thanks.” She kept her eyes from him. She was embarrassed for having any feeling whatsoever after the fleeting drunken fun of what was to him a one night stand, and should have been the same to her.

“Look, it takes a lot for me to say I’m sorry…and I genuinely am really sorry.” He shrugged his massive shoulders. She slowly turned toward him. “I decided to take someone’s advice and man up to what I did. It wasn’t cool, it wasn’t smart and I know that. I know that now.”

“You’re right. It wasn’t cool and it wasn’t smart. It was pretty stupid in fact.” She relaxed her battle ready stance. He smiled at her, “You have an incredible voice.”

“It’s Wednesday. Karaoke Night. Maybe you can stick around and hear some more of it.” She looked at him. He smiled, “I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”

Bobby watched Henry make her way behind the bar and pour a beer out of the tap, “Here.” She replied. He smiled as he crossed the hard wood floor and reached for the beer. She quickly grabbed it, “You don’t get no more free beer in here. This one’ll cost you.” She replied. He smiled, “Alright.”

Bobby pulled a ten dollar bill out of his pocket and laid it on the bar. He brought the beer to his lips and watched her move about the bar beginning her opening set up. Slowly she looked back at him while he cast his gaze about, looking for something soberingly familiar. She shook her head wondering if he was really sorry for his actions, or if she’d end up being sorry for her own.