American Legacy

43. Giving Thanks, Part 2

2011-11-28T14:48:00.001-05:00

Her shimmering diamonds reflected the candlelight of the room. She held her cell phone to her ear, and her removed diamond chandelier earring in one hand. She paced the room over the antique Oriental rug and with the amber sheen of the blazing fireplace beside her. She placed her manicured hand to her collar bone and listened intently to the voice on the other end of the phone, "Yes of course. Monday morning is absolutely perfect. I'll have to clear my morning calendar, but that would hardly be an effort. Yes, meetings, briefings, nothing entirely too serious." Catherine Barron glanced over her glorious reflection in the beveled floor to ceiling mirror across from her. The library of The Country House was one of her favorite spots, and one of the only to find seclusion from a night like this one. Her private telephone call would be just that, at least until...

"There you are..." Trevor Barron stood in the opened door to the library. He held a glass of champagne as he entered. Catherine slowly turned away from him to continue her telephone conversation, "That would be superb. Yes, indeed. I look forward to it as well. Ciao." She ended her telephone call and quickly placed her Van Cleef and Arpels earring back on her earlobe, her signature diamond collection was designed exclusively for her by her favorite jeweler. She reached for her own glass of Cristal, "Trevor, you didn't have to seek me out to say good night...really." She rolled her eyes at her assumption of the gesture.

Trevor closed the door to the library as he entered. His satin bow tie shined with fireplace light, "I haven't come to say good night. Avery and I aren't leaving just yet." He revealed. Catherine looked over her reflection, keeping her back to him, "Well you'll have to excuse me then. I have a few private calls I must attend to." She was flippant and rude, as she always was to her big brother. They were best friends, closest confidants as children. That all changed the day they realized they both wanted to be in the driver's seat for Barron, and soon discovered that that seat was only big enough for one of them.

"Catherine, I hardly consider Thanksgiving evening the right time to do business." He judged. She smirked, "I disagree, Trevor. Every evening is perfect for doing business. I don't relent, and I don't slow down...for this night or any other." She turned to him and offered a condescending grin. Trevor placed one hand in his pocket, "Our grandfather invited us to share the evening, to be a family tonight. Surely you can honor that request, his request just this once," He scolded.

"Trevor, what is it that you want."

"I think it's time that you and I declare armistice..." He answered. She slowly raised her doe eyes up to him as he had captured her attention. Her silence indicated she wanted to hear more. Trevor approached while keeping distance. He knew his sister was a worthy opponent, though a capable ally. He had seen her at her best at both, but this night he wanted an end to their war, "I know this may come as a surprise to you, but it shouldn't. We've been on opposite sides for far too long, and I think it's time to put those days behind us and move forward...together."

Catherine was ever suspicious of anyone, "What's prompted this, Trevor?" She asked. He smiled, "You're my sister, Catherine. It's very simple. We along with Rand, run one of the biggest real estate empires in the world. Though we've managed to halt any continued discussion of going public, we managed that for the time being. I predict the topic will come up again and we need to unite against that. I think we can accomplish so much more together than divided." Catherine folded her arms, "And yet you have demonstrated on countless occasions that you are extremely well versed in dividing this family..." She mocked him.

"Are you ever going to stop?" He asked.

"No. I'm not. Are you?" She responded with a question.

Trevor laughed, "Just what is it that you think I would stop? Running Barron Worldwide?" He asked. "For starters, yes. Your encore and third bow would be to admit you are inept and that you shouold take a backseat to someone who really knows how to make changes, get things done, find Sanders Black in whatever hole he has crawled into,...make some real progress, Trevor. We don't need status quo. We need invention, discovery, development..."

"You mean of course like your proposal: The Edward. Your new hotel endeavor that you so eloquently paraded before our board of directors. How could I forget? It was stunning. I remember,...I was stunned." His turn to mock her. She remained silent. "Catherine, a good leader doesn't just develop a plan. Execution, follow through are essential to the success of that plan. You do know this is."

"Now you're speaking down to me. You can pull that with Rand but not with me..."

"Further, there is the much needed capital investment. Where do you think the funding for your little project is coming from? You know we can't support this. Why would you even present this?" He asked. Catherine was bold, and went for it, "Investment. Plain and simple. We create a new company, one that offers only five star luxury resort hotels and we secure equity investment packages for each one. We build a team of financial backing..."

"No." One word from him stated his hard line unflattering opinion. Or was it an edict? "You're not even going to listen to what I have to say. You come in here wanting to sign a peace treaty, yet all the terms favor you and your agenda..." She was horrified. Trevor smiled, "Finally. You got it right." Trevor enjoyed mocking her, but loved reminding her he was in charge. Catherine furiously charged past him, "I believe it's time that I find my way out."

Trevor got one last cut in before his sister exited the library, "On your way out is exactly where you'll find yourself...if you pursue this." He grinned. Catherine turned and stormed out of the room, her dress fanned out behind her. Trevor looked upon his reflection in that beveled mirror, and he was indeed quite pleased with himself.

The television was practically full blast as Bobby Greene cheered over the touchdown on the football game before him. He had two and a half servings of turkey, mashed potatoes, vegetables, yams, and more than a few beers. He had enjoyed chatting with Mary and Jack over their Thanksgiving meal and was now kicking back with his feet propped up on top of the coffee table, polishing off another beer and making more noise by himself than the house had seen in many years.

Mary handed the wet plate to Jack. He dried the plate off and placed it in the cabinet overhead. Jack smiled as he looked at her, "Look, I should get going, get Bobby home. He's making entirely too much noise. I don't know how your father can sleep through this. I'm really sorry." Jack winced as he looked at her beautiful smile. "Jack. It's fine. I think daddy enjoyed the ruckus over the game. I don't get to watch much football with him these days. I have so much going on, school, work....I can't tell you the last time I saw a game." She grinned. Mary soaped up another plate.

"I could get Giants tickets for us." He flashed his gorgeous smile. She turned to him, "Why would I go to a Giants game when I have devoted my undying allegiance to Gang Green?"

"The Jets. Oh no. At least I didn't go for the obvious: I could be the Greene you devoted your life to." He smiled. Mary quickly turned and looked up at him. Her half smile was dancing across her face with confusion and surprise at the statement. He placed the plate down and took hold of her hands, bubbles floating up between them, "Mary, I want to tell you something..."

Just then, Bobby pounded into the room, "So, Mary, your Pop,...he don't speak? Ever? That's pretty cool not having your old man to gripe at you." Mary and Jack quickly turned and looked at Bobby. Mary's silence was an obvious indicator of her offense to the statement. Bobby went in for another one, "Where's your mom?" He finished off his beer.

"We're leaving." Jack rushed toward Bobby and took hold of his arm. "What the hell? Don't grab me like that, man!" Bobby shouted, certainly loud enough to wake Dennis Farmer from his much needed restful sleep. Mary watched with shock as Bobby tried to stay in the kitchen while Jack tried to get him out. "I don't see what the big deal is. You said there ain’t nothin wrong with him, at least physically. It's all in his head. He don't want to speak. Why the hell would he? Going off to war is nothin’ good to talk about. No one wants to come back here and talk about that stuff. It ain't no surprise that he clammed up..."

"Mary, I'm really sorry." Jack pushed Bobby toward the living room and reached for their coats. Jack quickly shoved Bobby out the front door and into the cold night, "Are you a complete idiot or just a drunk idiot? I told you that Dennis suffers from..."

"Oh shut up, man. He don't suffer. He's got her to cook and clean for him. Man, that's the life!" Bobby laughed as dogs barked down the street with the break in the cold night silence. "You are a complete idiot." Jack deduced.

"Whatevs, Jackie. Whatevs." Bobby brushed him off. Jack looked at his brother and tried to keep his voice down, "I don't know what’s wrong with you, but I won't allow you to speak to Mary like that, and I won't accept you talking bout Dennis that way either. They invited me to their home for dinner tonight and I thought I could bring my brother along. After all, today is a day to be with family and not lone, right? I wish I had known you were going to make an ass of yourself. I would have left you at home."

"You want me to apologize? You want me to say I'm Sorry?" Bobby turned and looked to the house and screamed at the top of his lungs, "I'm sorry, Mary! I'm sorry!" More dogs barked as neighbors front porch lights came on. Jack turned to the house and watched the light in the front room go off.

"Bob, I want you to make other living arrangements first thing in the morning." Jack was hard with his drunk brother. Bobby's stupid smile slipped from his face, " ...Jackie..." Bobby shrugged his shoulders. "I didn't invite you here, and I don't want you to stay here any longer. I will help you find a place to go to or give you money to fly to mom's place in Florida....but you aren't staying here. Now get in the truck and keep your mouth shut. I don't want to hear another word out of you. Got that?"

Bobby slowly nodded in acceptance. Jack quickly got into his truck. Bobby followed suit. He turned and looked to the small house with contempt and anger and hatred. He clenched his fists and gritted his teeth. He kept his angry gaze on the house as they drove away until it was out of sight.

Edward held both of Tara's hands and pulled her close for an embrace, "I'm so glad you came for dinner, Tara. Please don't be a stranger, alright?" He smiled as he looked on to her. Joanna stood by his side. Her false, forced smile was proof that she didn't care for Tara, nor did she care for the attention Edward paid to her. Earlier in the evening, Edward told stories of fun with Tara at family gatherings. He always enjoyed her spirit, her spunk and found her to be an asset at times at stuffy corporate events. He didn't know that most of those events had Tara and Rand sharing a bag or two of cocaine in the bathroom, bedroom, or even the library of the House. They'd take it wherever they could. Joanna knew a trouble maker when she saw one, and her internal Red Alert went sky high every time she was around Tara Brent.

Across the room, Trevor and Rand shared pleasantries with baby sister Jennifer. She mentioned to them that she wanted to get in some shopping down Fifth Avenue and see some of her famous designer friends for a sneak peek at spring lines. Jennifer admitted she was becoming restless with her time in the Hamptons, and was going to take a suite at the Barron Columbus Circle for a few days. They encouraged her to stay at the House with Grandpa as he loved seeing her. Jennifer needed some fun, and would only need a few nights in Manhattan...and a few New York men to give her what she was craving.

Catherine had left for the evening, and was most likely half way back home to her Tribeca townhouse.

Just then, the double doors to the library opened. George walked in as Belford followed. Belford carried in his hands a large ornately wrapped gift. Joanna gleefully gasped at the sight. George looked to Edward, "Mr. Barron, this gift just arrived for you and Ms. Joanna." He introduced. Joanna applauded the arrival of the spectacular box.

"Is there a card attached, George?" Edward asked. "Indeed, Sir." George reached out and offered the card to Edward. Edward thanked him and George and Belford quickly departed the room. George brought the double doors to a close as he stepped out of the marvelous room. Joanna quickly turned to Edward, "Who on earth is this beautiful package from?" She could hardly stand it. The first thought to cross her mind was that Edward was making a spectacle and showering her once again with the surprise arrival of yet another extravagant gift. Edward opened the envelope and revealed the card. The calligraphy was beautiful,

"Congratulations on the announcement of your engagement. All love and happiness for a wonderful life together. Arabella San Germain."

Edward read aloud, "How lovely. It's from the Princess. We spent about an hour talking about my lovely fiance’ and how happy she’s made me." He gently kissed Joanna on her cheek as he offered the card to her. Everyone gathered around. Avery kept her arm laced around Trevor's. Beside her, Jennifer offered a look that showed she was uncomfortable with Joanna's jumping for joy at the arrival of the extravagance before her. Everyone watched as Joanna tore into the gift. "My, this box is heavy..." Joanna giggled, "The gift must be huge…and terribly expensive." She ran her manicured hands along the top of the box and lifted the lid off. She rustled through the silver and red paper to get to what was inside.

She looked into the box....and suddenly let out the most horrifying scream. Joanna dropped the lid and quickly jumped back, shoving the table that the box had been set on. The box fell to the floor and out rolled the severed, bloodied head of the Princess of Anda.

Gasps and outbursts rang through the room. "Oh my God!" Edward charged forth to be sure it was exactly what he thought it was. Joanna quickly turned and shielded her face in his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her. Trevor hurried to the table, pulling linens off of it and quickly covered up the bloodied head. Avery and Jennifer both stepped back. Rand looked on with Tara by his side. Joanna could hardly control her screaming and crying as Edward tried to calm her. But it was useless.

Trevor hurried out of the room with the package and its contents, calling for George to come to immediate assistance. Edward held Joanna in his arms as he looked around the room with shock and horror upon his face.

American Legacy will return on Monday, December 5th.

42. Giving Thanks, Part 1

2011-11-26T04:22:00.002-05:00

Hoboken. Despite the 37 degree weather, his muscle built naked upper body glistened with fresh seven mile run sweat. Maroon Five came through his iPod head phones as he pounded down busy Washington Street. Bobby Greene was sure to get in a run every morning and a lift in the afternoon. His time in Iraq instilled a deeper appreciation for all things fitness and he learned to broaden some of his regimen. He wanted to take up yoga, and get back to jujitsu. He had spent a few years studying martial arts and often found himself watching demo films on line with the newest moves. He'd read up on everything he could get his hands on that had to do with fitness and martial arts.

Thanksgiving morning was never really very exciting for him, at least it hadn't been since his father died. His older brother Jack Greene took over as the man of the house laying down rules and assigning chores. Their mother didn't handle the sudden death very well and took little solace in the fact that her husband had been a decorated police officer, and made the ultimate sacrifice while attempting to stop a convenience store robbery. The incident sent older brother Jack to decide to dedicate his life to help others while little brother Bobby turned into a streetwise thug. Though never in serious trouble, Bobby ran with a bad crowd,one his brother and mother strongly disapproved of. Feeling as though his life was going nowhere but into an early grave, Bobby took advice from a school counselor and joined the Marine Corp. The advice was meant to take effect after he graduated high school, but Bobby Greene wanted instant Something and skipped out four months short of the big day. His GED qualified him for the service, and off he went.

"Where have you been? I told you we were expected at the Farmer's at eleven thirty." Jack Greene stood on the front porch of his small house dressed in a simple tie and old sports coat. Cold morning wind blew through his tasseled blond hair. Bobby removed his headphones as he made his way through the hurricane fence entrance, "What'd you say, bro?" He asked. Jack shook his head, "Forget it. Just get showered. And hurry up. We're really late." Jack scolded. Bobby stepped into the house, "My bad, man. I guess I forgot." He half apologized as he looked at his abs in the mirror.

"It's fine, just be quick. I want this to be a special Thanksgiving for Mary..." Jack straightened his tie in the mirror. Bobby laughed, "The mighty Jack Greene has finally fallen. Wow. Must be some really special girl. She pretty hot?" Bobby leaned against the door frame. Jack turned, "You remember Mary Farmer don't you? Tall, gorgeous, sweetest girl ever. She and her father live a few blocks away. He was the one who deployed to Desert Storm and was paralyzed from a roadside bomb." Jack reminded.

"Ah, another war hero like me. Nice that I have something in common with the geezer. We can trade stories about taking out towel heads..." Bobby laughed. Slowly, Jack turned away from the mirror and looked to his brother, "You will not speak like that in front of Mr. Farmer, do you hear me? He is a good man who has had a rough, hard life. He served two tours; one in Kuwait and the other in..."

"Hey wait a minute, man. Don't get all self righteous on me. I ain't seen you head out to serve like me. You don't know what it's like over there. You don't know the stuff I saw, went through. Don't lecture me on how to talk to another vet. You're the last person to tell me what to do." Bobby turned and started down the hall. Jack walked after him, not wanting any of this on Thanksgiving, "Bob, stop. Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to talk down to you. I just want you to show a little respect to them, that's all. I shouldn't assume you wouldn't ." Jack was sincere with his apology. Bobby stepped into the bathroom to take his shower, "You're right, you shouldn't assume anything." he quickly slammed the door. Jack stood in the hallway and listened to the water to the shower turn on. Things weren't off to a good start with his little brother back in town, and Jack didn't like it at all.

"I still don't care for Arabella's involvement in all of this...or Sylvie's. You receive an urgent, strange arrival and then a phone invitation revealing his whereabouts. You fly all the way to Athens and then he disappears the moment you spot him. The whole damn thing is certainly very suspect." Glamorous Catherine Barron held a nearly empty Baccarat champagne flute as she looked on to her grandfather Edward. She was gorgeous as ever in a beautiful red sequined Dior dress. Thanksgiving festivities were never anything less than a typical Barron affair - black tie of course.

The den of The Country House was Edward's favorite room. It was often said that this room was him. His spirit, his essence was indeed in this room. Photos of Edward in his debate and rowing days at Harvard filled the room, along with old photo albums of his long deceased wife, and son and daughter in law. Edward made his home office in this room, and sealed billion dollar deals in this room, and held press conferences in this room. Degrees, letters, framed photographs, the glorious tale of his life's triumphs and tragedies ricocheted off the walls of this room.

"I agree, Catherine. Something isn't right. In fact, none of it is right. You failed to mention running into Stefan. That certainly was odd, don't you agree?" He kept his arm around his beautiful fiancé Joanna as he looked on. Young Jennifer Barron stood by, ravishing in a white beaded Badgley Mishka, "What? Catherine, you didn't tell me you ran into Stefan. It's no surprise he was there. He's always where it's happening. I have ruin to him in Marbella and San Moritz. He is everywhere..."

"I'm hardly interested in hearing of his exploits and tawdry adventures, Jennifer." Catherine reached for another Cristal from a passing server. Rand Barron approached the group. He placed his arm around his little sister, "Perhaps we can discuss something much more pleasant ....like this marvelous Thanksgiving dinner we just enjoyed." He toasted his glass of water to Jennifer and Catherine's champagne. Joanna chimed in, after feeling a bit left out of conversation, "I agree with Rand. Talk of ancient history is boring to me, as are tales of men who left and hurt us. Catherine, I never knew you of all people had been dropped, so to speak, by a man." She sipped her fifth cocktail. Catherine quickly looked to Joanna, "I would imagine any sort of intelligent conversation would be boring to you, Joanna. Or would it just be your lack of comprehension disguised as boredom? I have never been dropped, Joanna. Can you say the same?" Catherine offered her gorgeous ivory smile.

Just then, Trevor took a small knife and clinked it against his crystal champagne flute. Handsome and tall in a crisp Armani tuxedo, he stood with his hand in the small of Avery's back. He called the family to attention. Avery smiled as she looked out over the family. She paused when she looked at Rand's face. She had not spent any time this evening or over dinner speaking with him and she was still a bit uncomfortable with the fact that their last conversation was her attempt to scold him in his very own home. Tara Brent crossed the room and joined Rand by the fire place. Edward reached out and planted a kiss on her porcelain cheek. Edward always cared for Tara, even told her once he'd love it if she were a part of the Barron family.

Rand watched his brother and Avery and expected what he'd mockingly call earth shattering news.

"Avery and I just want to take a few minutes to tell everyone that we are very thankful this year for our wonderful families and your love and support. We flew off to Las Vegas for a very quick wedding, and though we are very happy with our decision to have done it this way, we realized that we deprived our families of participating in the event with us. So....we have decided to have a formal wedding, right here in the house..." Trevor smiled as Avery offered her own gleaming, beaming smile. Trevor looked to Edward, "Of course that's if you and Joanna don't mind."

Edward stepped toward his grandson, "If we mind? Absolutely not." He smiled and lovingly embraced them both. Joanna, not to be upstaged was sure to add her form of congratulations to them, "Certainly you plan to do this after your grandfather and I are married?" She giggled and offered air kisses to Trevor and Avery.

Jennifer hurried to the couple and congratulated them both, "I love this. I come home from Paris for a few days and everyone has wonderful news. Congratulations." She kissed and embraced them both. Edward quickly reached for a glass of champagne from a dutiful server, "This calls for a toast..."

Everyone reached for a glass of champagne, save Rand and Tara. Edward never consumed alcohol any more, but he figured just this once it would be alright. Warmth and love filled the room. Avery lovingly looked in Trevor's eyes, "I love you so much." She replied. Trevor handed a glass of champagne to her and leaned in for a kiss.

Edward held his champagne flute aloft, "Tonight, I am surrounded by the people I love most in the world. From Hong Kong and Greece and Paris...my family is here with me tonight and I'm the most fortunate, happiest man in the world. You all make me proud, and prove to me every day why I love you and why I'm proud to know you. " Rand looked to his brother and sisters, and felt that Edward was speaking primarily to them. Rand had spent so much time, so many years, disappointing the people in this room with his grandfather at the top of that list. His issues and problems had tampered with hisrelationship with siblings Trevor and Catherine, and cost him the love of Avery many years ago, and had at times pitted him against Tara; someone who deeply cared for him. Rand felt isolated in this room of love and admiration, and wanted to slip away from it all, for an hour and for ever.

Edward turned to Trevor and Avery, "I'm very happy that the two of you have decided to be married in this house, this house I built for all of you. Trevor, you continue to impress me and fill me with pride over your leadership of Barron. And Avery, you are a welcome addition to our family. I wish you true happiness in all the days you have together. To Trevor and Avery." He raised his glass for his toast. The family followed suit and toasted the couple. Trevor and Avery shared one more kiss.

Later in the evening, Tara wandered out onto the stone terrace in search of he who had disappeared. The cold night air blew past her soft, beautiful face and floated through her long chestnut hair. She closed the door behind her. She pulled her navy blue YSL satin wrap over her shoulders. She slowly stepped up behind him. He puffed a cigarette and exhaled into the air, "Why'd you follow me out here? It's freezing." He spoke without turning to her. Rand was always one to want to be alone with thoughts, ideas, wishes or even prayers. Tonight would be no exception. "I thought I'd take in some nice Hamptons night air. Is that alright with you, Mr. Barron?" She laughed. Rand smirked, "Mr. Barron. Ha . Mr. Barron is inside the house. Trevor Barron is still in the building with the entire family fawning over him and his bride..."

"Obviously not the entire family. You're out here, and Catherine couldn't care less. Who is this entire family you speak of?" She grinned. Rand smiled as he turned toward her, "I never could stand it. I feel so juvenile, so childish. I'm not envious. I got over that when I was ten years old. I just wish....I just wish Grandpa wouldn't throw himself at Trevor's feet the way he does. It's sickening. It's repulsive."

"Edward Barron doesn't throw himself at anyone's feet. You know that. He's proud of your brother, he loves your brother. You can accept that, can't you?" Tara reached forward and brushed Rand's wind blown hair from his handsome face. "It's more than that, Tara. It's just...damn, I don't know what. I just wish Trevor wouldn't..." he stopped himself. He looked off over the expanse of the Barron estate. Tara brushed her hand through his hair once again. He remembered the softness of her touch, her loving hands, her wonderful kisses, how fantastic she was at making love with him. He longed for that connection again, he longed to feel needed, wanted.

Tara stepped closer to him. She pressed her body up against his. She slowly closed her eyes as she leaned close to kiss him. Suddenly, quickly, Rand snapped and realized what was about to happen was a mistake in the making. He quickly took hold of her wrists, pulled them from his shoulders and stepped back. He lowered his head as he looked away from her. Tara gasped with his sudden jolt away from her. She felt the overwhelming sadness of rejection and embarrassment come over here. She turned way.

"Tara....Tara, I'm sorry." Rand revealed.

She let out a small half laugh, half sigh. Her teeth chattered a bit with the chill in the air, "It's getting late, Rand." Her hair blew in the wind. "Tara..." He reached out for her arm. She swiftly pulled away, "I'll be inside. Whenever you're ready..." Tara hurried for the door and made her way back inside the house. Rand, frustrated and angry stood alone in the chilled air. He felt terribly for rejecting her when all she wanted was to make him feel better, something she used to do quite well. But Rand didn't want that, and had made it expressly clear to her that they would never have that relationship again. He turned toward the beautiful landscape of the estate and looked off into the distance.

41. Coming Home

2011-11-23T03:13:00.001-05:00

Edward Barron looked out the windows of the magnificent jet. Somewhere high over the Atlantic, he gathered his many thoughts and tried to make an assessment, some kind of idea as to what was happening in his life. He had flown half way around the world on a tip, one he had not confirmed nor found to be untrue. He had a feeling, an instinctive something telling him to go for it. And he did. He arrived in Corfu to confront the man who not only made the most grandiose spectacle in the most recent gathering of his company board of directors, but who was also responsible for the failed attempt on his life and the life of his grandson Trevor. All he could think about as of late was how to get his hands around the throat of that man - Sanders Black.

Edward planned to live out his days in the solitude and tranquility of his fabulous Hamptons estate, known to everyone as The Country House. He had long ago sold his penthouse apartment in Manhattan and took up full time residence in what was once his family summer home. His two heart attacks, strict doctor’s orders, and the tragic deaths of his son and daughter-in-law sent him to the decision to step down from the race of corporate wheeling and dealing, hand the company over to his next generation of Barron's, and take a much needed break. So far he managed to keep from following those orders; maintained his seat as Chairman of the Board of Barron Worldwide and involving himself in daily operation of the billion dollar corporation he founded in the 1950s, dodged the bullet of an exploding private jet, became engaged to the woman he loved, and now found himself several thousand feet in the air after an ill-fated attempt to bring his enemy to his knees.

"You're thinking about Sanders." His granddaughter Catherine stepped up from behind. She was casual in a black Dior pants suit and strands of pearls. She handed a glass of water to him and took a seat opposite him on the tan leather sofa. Edward smiled as he took hold of the glass and thanked her. Catherine knew her grandfather so well and at times anticipated his next move. It was times like these, when he would become overwhelmed with plans and the execution of those plans that she wanted nothing more than to be in his head, and by his side to help him.

"And you are thinking of your Stefan, yes?" He asked. "Grandpa, let's not waste time or energy speaking of him. He's a part of the past, and like that horrible party, he will remain there." She sipped champagne. Edward looked to her "Catherine, you never did tell me what happened between you and Stefan..."

"And I'm not about to. One of the wisest decisions I ever made in my life was calling off our engagement, that's all I will say about that disaster." Her diamond Van Cleef and Arpels tennis bracelets slid down her wrists as she sipped once again.

"Very well. I know when not to pursue." He grinned. "Good." Catherine smiled. Edward looked to her and took hold of her hand, "I'm glad you were there, and that we were at least able to spend some time together. So all is not lost on this trip."

"Grandpa, I want to open up conversation about my idea, the one I unveiled at the board meeting: The Edward." She had not touched on this topic since that horrible board meeting, though it been burning a hole in her head ever since. He turned and looked at her. She knew that expression, "I know this isn't the time and it surely isn't the place to discuss it. You've already given me you're blessing...and I will tell you that I'm not finished. I'm not finished with this and I do want to see the project to development and to fruition. There are those who don't agree..."

"Your brother. Trevor." Edward looked to her. She nodded in agreement. He looked into her strong determined eyes. "I'm going to use my own capital investment to build the prototype hotel..." She stated. Edward's eyes widened with this startling revelation. "Now I know that look. I have given this a lot of thought and I don't want you to try to talk me out of it. This is my biggest project, and I'm damn proud of it. I'm not going to let anything stop me...just like you never did. Going all the way to Greece is proof positive of that. You can't stop Edward Barron, and I'm not going to allow anything to stop me." She was confident.

Edward smiled. He reached forward and brushed her hair back. He placed his hand on her shoulder and smiled, "I certainly won't try to. How could I? You'd run right over me." They shared a laugh. Catherine looked on to his approving smile and knew that was all she wanted from him. He had in fact already given it to her. Now, the easy part would begin: building her hotel.

Avery Adams hurried down the cantilevered staircase of her two story showplace penthouse apartment with the early arrival of her husband Trevor Barron. Her tufted navy blue chiffon Vera Wang dress flowed along the steps behind her. Her beaming smile radiated the room. It was nearly ten in the evening, and past her bedtime. She had an early call at the studio in the morning. She would be filming a very important scene for super daytime soap opera "Gorgeous" and she had been rehearsing her lines. She was thrilled to hear just as she was preparing to head to bed that her husband was home.

"Trevor!" She screamed out his name as she leaped into his arms. He waited at the foot of the stairs for her. He was handsome as ever in his tailored pin stripe Armani suit. Avery was overcome with joy as Trevor held her tightly in his arms. "I couldn't get back here fast enough. I thought about you every minute." He spoke into her ear as he held her close. Avery's eyes welled with the very happiest tears. She wrapped her arms around him and held on for her life.

Trevor took hold of her hand and led her up the staircase. House butler Devin remained behind, tending to the Louis Vuitton luggage that came with Trevor's arrival back to New York. Trevor kept his arm around Avery. She remained with her head on his shoulder. The mere few days seemed like an eternity for both of them, still very much in love with each other. They reached the top of the staircase. Trevor stopped and turned to her. He took both of her hands in his and leaned close to her. He kissed her lips and then looked into her eyes. Without saying a word, she knew just what he meant; he loved her more at this moment than he ever had in all their life together. She felt it deep in her heart, in her soul. Trevor and Avery were meant to be together, and they knew they'd share the rest of their lies with each other, bonded in their adoring love.

Upstairs in their master bedroom, Avery watched as their housemaid tended to unpack the last of Trevor's things. Trevor stood across the room, finishing up telephone calls to his brother Rand and to his Grandpa Edward still on his jet. Trevor was all good news with word that the Chinese had lifted all bans and work stops on the Barron Project in Hong Kong and building can get underway. Trevor expected that he'd return home to New York with good news, and he had indeed.

Avery thanked her housemaid and dismissed her for the night. The timid young girl exited, closing the door behind as she left the palatial room. Avery leaned against the door, turning the lock to secure their seclusion, away from intrusion or interruption. Trevor turned to her and smiled, "I didn't only return with a solid victory for Barron..." He reached into the pocket of his black wool Burberry overcoat and retrieved a rectangular box, "...I came with a gift for my beautiful wife." He held the box as he gently flipped it open. Avery's eyes were wide as she looked upon the most incredible diamond and ruby and sapphire necklace she had ever seen.

It was absolutely marvelous, and took her breath away, "Trevor....it's stunning..." She gently placed her hand onto the diamonds. He looked into her eyes, "Just like you are the most stunning woman in the world." He gently kissed her lips. He removed the necklace from the box and slipped it around her delicate neck. She held her hair to one side. Upon his clasping of the necklace, Avery stepped to the floor to ceiling mirror and looked over her reflection. Gorgeous.

Trevor stepped up behind her and placed his arms around her and let his hands rest on her abdomen. He kissed her neck as he held her tightly, "I want to have a baby." He kissed her ear. Avery looked up to his face reflected behind her in the mirror, "...Trevor..." She wasn't entirely certain of what she had just heard. Trevor gently turned her around to face him, "You heard me. I want a baby. I want a baby with you. I love you so much, Avery. Being away from you made me realize I never want to be without you again. You're my life, and I want our baby to be Our life." He held her chin and smiled into her eyes. Avery was overcome, and moved to tears.

Trevor gently lifted her off her feet and carried her to their bed. He leaned forward and laid her down onto their massive California King bed. Her beautiful dress fanned out around her. Trevor leaned onto the bed with her. He touched her face, pushing back her hair, and touching the sweet loving tear that slid down her face. He leaned close once again and kissed her. It was the first of thousands, millions of kisses he'd bestow upon her all night, and for all the days they would share for the rest of their lives together.

Hoboken. Midnight.

Jack Greene hurried down the corridor from the ER to the Nurses Station. He received a page telling him to hurry to get to the desk and that there was an emergency. He disliked the use of the antiquated pager, but due to lack of cell service in some areas and dropped calls becoming more and more frequent, it was still the best bet to communicate between the hospital and EMTs. Jack had been on shift for the last ten hours. It was a particularly rough day. A stabbing, a few gunshot wounds, an unconscious elderly woman, and a cabdriver who lost a fist fight with a passenger who didn't pay his fare all made up the last two exciting hours of his night. He wasn't looking forward to this emergency that waited for him in the hospital.

His tall muscular frame fit snugly into his uniform shirt and fitted khaki pants. Tourists, particularly female tourists, often stopped him on the streets of Hoboken and asked him to pose for pictures with them. His very handsome good looks always turned the attention of the ladies in his direction. And it was attention he quite enjoyed.

As he got closer to the desk, he spotted his favorite nurse Connie standing at her post. She laughed and carried on with the young man who stood at the counter opposite her, with his back to Jack. Connie noticed Jack as he stepped closer. She cleared her throat and looked to the young man, as if to warn him, tell him that Jack was approaching. Suddenly, the young man turned. His dark hair, his piercing eyes, his amazingly handsome face gave him away. Jack's eyes were wide as he noticed, "...Bobby?!"

The muscle bound young man sent off a gorgeous smile as he jumped forward, "Jackie!" The two young men embraced each other tightly, slapping each other on the back. Connie stood back and watched the two of them, like big lion cubs at play.

"What are you doing here? You're supposed to be in ...Iraq..." Jack stopped himself as soon as he figured it out. Bobby Greene smiled as he turned and looked to Connie and then back to his big brother, "Well, I was in Iraq, and we, that's the United States Marine Corp and me, didn't exactly see eye to eye. We agreed to part ways and ....well, here I am. Aren't you happy to see me, big brother?" Bobby flashed his winning smile once again. Connie turned with a handful of charts and slipped away. Bobby hadn't shared that part of the story with her while waiting for Jack to show up.

Jack looked to Connie and then back to his brother, "What do you mean...?"

"How did you like the page, bro? That was my idea. I thought it would be funny." Bobby laughed. Jack set his keys onto the counter top, "I don't much like it. Calling an EMT to an emergency where there isn't one is..."

Bobby was quick "So I thought I would visit you for a few days. I hope you don't mind." He smiled. Jack stepped closer to Bobby, "When did you get back to the States? Does mom know you're here?" He asked. Bobby lowered his head and looked away. Jack figured out another one, "You haven't seen mom? Well you have called her, right?"

Silence from Bobby. Jack looked to his brother, "Alright, Bob, what's going on?" He asked. Jack's little brother was always a source of trouble and challenges. He had hoped that things would change when Bobby graduated high school, would head off to college and make something of himself. Well Bobby never finished high school and enlisted in the USMC to try and see some of the world and find out what he wanted to do with his life. Apparently, the Marine Corp had another plan; one that didn't include Jack's kid brother.

"Look, man, none of it matters. I can crash anywhere. I thought I would come see you for a few days and..." Bobby was growing irritated and hostile. His horrible temper flared, and Jack wasn't interested in seeing it, "Okay, okay. Sure you can stay with me. I have another hour before I can head home. Why don't you just hang around here for a bit while I wrap up some paper work and then we can head to my place." Jack gave in.

"Cool!" Bobby grinned from one ear to the other. Jack turned and looked at Connie, and wondered just what he was getting himself into...this time. Jack looked at Bobby. Bobby smiled, “This’ll be great. The two Greene boys together again. This is going to be a hell of a damn good time.” He pounded his fist on the counter top. Jack half smiled as he watched his brother, overjoyed with excitement and anticipation of an adventure.

40. The Siren

2011-11-21T02:21:00.002-05:00

The marvelous Villa San Germain was nearly five hundred years old. The glorious villa was high in the cliffs of Corfu overlooking the deep blue of the Ionian Sea. The villa had been a noble residence since it was built by the English as a gift for the first in the long line of the royal family of Anda, a province neighboring Monaco. The spectacular home had seen much in its four hundred years – persecuted and imprisoned royals, fire, war, royal weddings, and a fantastic annual charity gala thrown by the beautiful Princess Arabella with invited guests from the social registries from around the world. Anyone who was anyone was in attendance to this annual event – and Catherine Barron was sure to be at the top of the best dressed list.

The center of attention everywhere she goes, beautiful Catherine Barron circulated the gala in a smashing champagne Valentino dress. She had been cozied up to by foreign diplomats, international film stars and an American fashion magazine editor who was the biggest fan of her personal style. Catherine was indeed an icon, and photographed everywhere she went. This royal charity gala would be no exception.

She shared air kisses with the Princess Arabella, a dear friend. They partied at a ski chalet in Chamonix the year Catherine met her former fiancé, and Arabella was always sure to remind her of that lovely evening when it all happened. Catherine was in no mood to her that tale yet again and hurriedly avoided small talk with Arabella. She dashed over to her grandfather who stood nearby with His Excellency Nelson Mandela. Catherine and the former President shared their hellos and exchanged pleasantries before the President excused himself.

Edward, handsome and dashing in a Burberry tuxedo turned to Catherine, “How lovely you look this evening.” He complimented. Catherine leaned in and planted a kiss on his cheek, “Thank you, Grandpa. You’re looking quite handsome yourself. You should watch yourself tonight. There are very many eligible women here.” She sipped her champagne while looking out over the crowd. Edward turned and looked at her, “You’ve never made it much of a secret that you don’t approve of Joanna. I’d really like you to make an effort.” He stated. Catherine looked to him, “She makes it entirely too difficult to do so and you know it.”

“Does she?” Edward grinned. Catherine nodded, “Alright, we’re not here to discuss…Her…we’re here to find that horrible man who’s gone into hiding from you. Arabella was so good to give that warning that he would be here. Even though she is front and center of all the gossip and scandal sheets, she can be trusted. The only question is just how much to trust her.” Catherine sipped her champagne while casting a beautiful engaging smile out to the white tie and couture of the crowd.

Edward turned and looked out over the crowd; diamond tiaras, foreign military regalia, royal turbans and glorious fashion, “Not yet. We’ve been here nearly two hours tonight and there hasn’t been a sign of him. I wonder if he’s even here.” Edward hated the fact that he might be right about this. Catherine looked to him, “So let me get this straight; Arabella phoned Sylvie, and Sylvie then came to The House to tell you that Sanders would be here. Then Arabella phoned you to invite you also? Could the Princess be behind a set up of sorts?” Catherine was suspicious of everyone, despite having been good friends for many years. She knew to never let her guard down, something her father taught her at a very young age.

“Well anything is possible. I think I’m going to have a look around and see who is here. Perhaps someone has seen him. Enjoy the party, Catherine.” Edward took hold of her hand and placed a kiss on her cheek. He turned and made his way into the crowd, saying hellos to friends and colleagues, most of which he hadn’t seen in years. He was once a legend on the international party circuit, when his wife was still living. Since her passing however, he had become a recluse; at least until he met Joanna Johnson.

Catherine watched her grandfather slip into the crowd of shining cufflinks and polished family crests. She loved him dearly, emulated him, respected and admired him. She remembered reading books in his study as a little girl, absorbing his energy while working on opening a new hotel, or executing a new real estate venture. Catherine wanted to be just like her grandfather; as successful, as powerful, as big. And she knew she’d do it someday.

Catherine turned again in the opposite direction, watching the beautiful crowd. As if on command, the crowd parted and her eyes focused on a very familiar sight. Her radiant smile slowly slipped from her porcelain face. The man in her line of vision turned from his conversation and paused upon spotting her. Their eyes were drawn to each other just as they were the night they met skiing in Chamonix. Catherine couldn’t believe he was here. She didn’t think she’d ever see her former fiancé ever again. Quickly, she turned and hurried through the crowd. The tall, dark, handsome man watched her disappear into the sea of people. She slipped away yet again, but this time he’d be sure she couldn’t get very far from him.

The very handsome man who had just locked eyes with Catherine had reached for a passing glass of champagne and casually crept away from the crowd. He bounded up a grand staircase, his Ferragamo-kissed feet slapped along the marble as he did so, and hurried along the second floor. He moved quietly alongside tapestry dating to the seventeenth century, antique vases and urns, family shields with Latin inscribed mottos and creeds. Large oil paintings of nobility long gone, declarations, and objects belonging to long ago conquered opposing dynasties. This villa was a palace, and housed secrets and tales to tantalize the most learned historian.

He cast his gaze to the left and then to the right. The coast was clear. He slowly entered the room and smiled with the entertaining sight before him. The young girl quickly reached for her pink sheer negligee and draped it over herself. She dismounted the man seated before her. He let out a sinister laugh and a puff of his Cohiba cigar while nursing his Scotch Neat. In a dashing Armani tuxedo and white tie, Sanders Black sat back and offered a satisfied smile to the young whore who he played with in his total delight, and then turned to the newly arrived young man, “I was wondering when you were going to show.” Sanders slithered.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here. Neither the Princess nor her people divulged that you had been invited.” The man folded his arms across his chest, his square jaw illuminated by candlelight. Sanders looked to the young whore and dismissed her with the wave of his hand, “Leave us. But don’t go too far. I will need you shortly.” He commanded. The busty young girl made her slow departure from the room into the adjoining quarters. She smiled to the young man, and ran her finger along his chin as she slipped by him. He watched her easily slip away. Her barely there negligee covering her nude body. Sanders rose to his feet, “Since when does Arabella need to divulge anything to you. This is her home, her party, her world. You’re but a pawn in it and…”

“Allow me to remind you that you are speaking to Lord Stefan Thorsten Wolfgang Marko of Boehm. You do not address me with the same words or breath that you do that piece of filth you have brought in here.” He placed his hands into the pockets of his Dior tuxedo pants. Sanders stood and watched and listened. Lord Boehm crossed the room to the dry bar. He removed the rounded top of the Swarovski carafe and poured a glass of scotch for himself, “I already told you, and I told your daughter, that I am not interested in the business proposition that you offered me. I assume Arabella invited you here to provide her with yet another attempt to infuriate her demented old husband, but trust, Black that I will not participate in your sickness…your illness…to drive mad those you love most. Or is it detest most? With you, one can never surely know the difference, yes?” He sipped the scotch.

“You agreed to help me in my plan against Edward Barron. Are you shaming your family even further and going against another word of honor you’ve given to someone?” Sanders stepped toward the handsome man. He turned to Sanders, “You do entertain me, Black. You always have. How would my family see any shame in my turning my back to a man like you?” He asked.

“Your family, your kind, would never turn your back on a gentleman, especially a billionaire like myself. You, your family, and probably the next two generations of your descendants owe…and will owe me not only a debt of gratitude, but upwards of two billion dollars for saving your hides, and your pathetic little nobility that should have died out with the Nazi regime…” Sanders loved reminding Lord Boehm of the horrific truth.

Lord Boehm looked up to Sanders, “I am no longer interested in this conversation. Perhaps you can call your whore back in here. She can provide the mindless entertainment you obviously crave with a ravaged hunger. I cannot contribute to your malignancy. I have a fiancé…former fiancé that is, somewhere under this roof and I am going to have a dance with her.” He turned for the door.

Sanders called out, “Even though you and I both know she’d rather dance with Satan himself. Your connections, financial and otherwise to the Third Reich nearly cost you and your family everything. I don't have to remind you that because of this fact, you know that the oh so patriotic American Barrons will have nothing to do with you.”

The handsome Lord smiled, “So we do have something in common. What a surprise.” He turned and made his departure from the room. Sanders puffed his Cohiba as his evening entertainment showed herself once again. She pushed her negligee off of one shoulder and let it slowly fall to the floor. Sanders was ready for his evening fun, and would indulge for as long into the night as he could.

Catherine Barron surrounded herself by admirers everywhere she went. Practically perched on the stone terrace overlooking the fabulously beautiful sea, she held court with ladies and gentlemen who danced on pointe with every word from her lips. Catherine was an icon in so many circles, and anyone who could be fortunate enough to behold her grace would do so in the most studied fashion. Whenever Catherine gave her approval or disapproval, branded with her distinctive signature, one took note and paid close attention. Catherine was said to be poised to launch in the stratosphere, and her success would shadow and dwarf that of her namesake Barron. Projectorats loved making severe statements like these. Catherine loved hearing them.

She cast her eyes in the direction of the dashing Lord Boehm as he emerged onto the terrace. The crowd gathered noticed who had stolen her attention and casually dispersed, leaving her alone with the Lord. He held two glasses of Cristal as he stepped toward her. Catherine turned, showing her bare back, and looked out over the night sky, filled with glittering stars. He smiled as he sauntered to her, “Ancient Greek tales speak of the sailors who were warned not to give in to the song of the Sirens, perched high on the cliffs, luring those poor unfortunate sailors to their deaths, crashing to the sea below. Those beautiful Sirens might have taken a lesson from you, Catherine Barron, on how just to lure a man…any man…closer, entranced, in love, and taken by all your charms, beauty, effervesance.” He ran his eyes over her back.

“Those sailors were like most men; foolish, unheeding, unable to turn away from the simply cast charm of a woman, any woman.” She barely turned her head toward him, still keeping her back to him.

“Ah, Catherine, you are anything but just any woman. Certainly you don’t need me to tell you this.” He grinned. Slowly, she turned. The full moon light cast itself upon her face, showing Lord Boehm what indeed did lure him close time and again, and sent him crashing against the proverbial rocks below, “I never needed anything from you,…Stefan.” She reached out and took hold of the champagne flute. She toasted her glass to his, “Tell me, where in this magnificence is Sanders Black hiding?” She sipped the Cristal. Lord Boehm looked into her eyes, “You always were the most intelligent business man I have ever known.” He grinned. She smiled at him, “You continue to underestimate me and insult me, Stefan. I’m far superior to any business man. I have yet to meet or know any man who can equal me in business or in bed.” She smiled. He sipped his champagne while watching her mouth. She continued, “Now, be a love and tell me where that bastard is hiding.”

“Love. I remember a trip to Paris several years ago when you told me you’d love me forever. What a wonderful memory.” He smiled. Catherine looked into his deep eyes, “Forever expired a few months ago, in Thailand. Remember,…love?” She mocked. “Catherine, why must you always be so sharp, so hard? You once were soft like silk, mink. Now you’re a cold shell on your trek to the top of your own Everest. Will you never allow yourself to enjoy life or love?” He asked. Catherine looked up to him, “Are you going to answer my question, or do I tear this place apart myself?”

Edward Barron quickly emerged onto the stone terrace, “He’s here.” He leaned in close to Catherine and stated in her ear. Catherine quickly turned and followed her grandfather as he stepped across the terrace. Lord Boehm turned and watched them quickly hurry off into the opposite direction.

Dashing through the crowd, Edward stepped toward the edge of the terrace and looked down onto the main drive below. Catherine stood beside her grandfather. They looked down at the tuxedo clad Sanders Black hurrying into the back of a sleek silver Maybach. “Sanders!” Edward called out. Seemingly unaware of the shouting out of his name, Sanders closed the door of the car as the chauffer sped away. Edward watched the dust kick up around the back of the car as it drove off.

Catherine looked upon the disappointment on her grandfather’s face. Slowly, she turned to Stefan who stood directly behind her. She held her champagne and stepped to him, “You knew he was here all along, didn’t you, Stefan?” She asked. His silence was the answer she anticipated. “You tried to keep me from going in search for him. You allowed him, you helped him to get away.” She deduced properly.

Stefan was silent. “I’m going to make you regret this for the rest of your life.” She replied.

“As my wife, Catherine?” He grinned.

“As your enemy, Stefan. As your enemy.” She boldly looked into his eyes. The crashing of waves sounded below amid the siren song of contempt in her heart. Her rage was obvious and mounted in her head. She finished the last of her Cristal and clutched the glass with both manicured hands like it were a weapon. She didn’t need a weapon to destroy Stefan. She’d do it from within, and she’d make him pay dearly.

39. In The Air

2011-11-18T00:13:00.000-05:00

The Peninsula Hotel, Hong Kong.

“…yes of course. Please don’t hesitate to be in touch with me again should you need any additional information. Our public relations director is anticipating your call. I just spoke with him a few hours ago. That’s right, and my brother Randal Barron will take that meeting. Thank you again. It was my pleasure, Senator.” Trevor Barron ended the call on his Iphone and turned around to look out over the view of Hong Kong, “…what the hell are you still doing here?” He asked.

The luminous Cassandra Black stood across the gorgeous hotel suite sipping on a crystal flute of champagne looking out over the dazzling lights of the city, “I’m enjoying the view, love. What else would I be doing in your suite…with all of my clothes still on, that is?” She giggled like a school girl. Trevor placed his phone onto the credenza behind him and crossed toward her, “You need to leave.”

“By the way, how is your darling brother, Randal? I know he spent some time in hospital …rehabilitation really. Poor lad, I always hoped he’d get his life back on track. We always had such fun with him.” She refilled her glass of Cristal. The sumptuous feast Cassandra had delivered from room service was still laid out before them. Trevor was completely disinterested, and only wanted to get to sleep, “Rand is great. He’s back on board with Barron and…”

“Is he still in love with that silly girl?” Cassandra asked. Trevor looked at her, “Tara?”

“No, love. Avery.” She grinned like a cobra.

“Cassandra, you weren’t invited to my suite and I have already asked you to leave.” He ignored her line of questioning. Cassandra looked over the feast, “Avery was always so sweet, so demure, and so simple.” She reached for a grape. Light reflected off her shimmering diamond bracelet. Cassandra turned to Trevor, “I always thought you were such a mismatched pair. She was so…well, boring. Trevor, my love, you need excitement, adventure. You need me, lover.” She hissed. Trevor laughed and crossed the room, walking away from her. He approached the door, “You’re right. You always were very adventurous and having you thrown out of my suite tonight wouldn’t be a first. I’ll give you a choice: I’ll have security escort you out or you can walk out all on your own.”

Cassandra turned to him, “Much like you walked out on me in London?” Her smile slipped from her face. Trevor sighed with frustration and looked away. Cassandra continued, “You never could tolerate that I was devoted to my father and our company. You loathed that I wouldn’t renounce my birth right. You hated my father…”

“No, Cassandra. Your father had done everything in his power to try and bring down my father and my grandfather and he’s still at it. Tell me, what are you doing in Hong Kong? Is it a coincidence that you are here while I’m repairing the damage that you’re father caused? I’ve unraveled his plan for the injunction, and I’ve revealed that the jet bombing wasn’t terrorism. The only alternative, Cassandra, is that your father tried to kill Edward and myself. How dare you show your face in here and bring in your poisoned food and expect that you can take a walk down memory lane or make common, meaningless conversation with me like we’re old friends. We’re anything but. You and your father are cancerous, and it’s a damn good thing I learned that truth before it was too late.” He looked directly into her eyes. Their love was fiery and passionate, and full of fights and anger. It was true; they were pitted against each other where her father and their business were concerned. But the love that Trevor and Cassandra once shared was incredible; however, not strong enough to withstand the determination of her father to bring down anyone named Barron.

“Still so full of venom, love. So full of hate. So angry with insignificance that happened a lifetime ago. You must have been carrying on this heavy heart, full of remorse, full of pain from the end of our life together. Perhaps you should look inward, dear, to resolve the heartache and loathing that is clutching your heart…and your head. I fell out of love with you a goddamned long time ago and you can’t stomach that. You never could.” Cassandra had a horrible temper and vicious tongue.

Trevor turned to her, “You’re a liar. You never fell out of love with me. You simply turned that love into hate and it’s fueled everything you’ve ever done since…since the night I walked out on you. That’s about the only thing you got right.”

Cassandra shrugged her shoulders and let out a single laugh. She turned and placed her champagne flute down, “You’ve become such a bastard, Trevor.” She replied. He folded his arms across his chest, “So some of us do change. You haven’t, however. You’ve always been a voracious bitch.”Cassandra quickly turned to look at him. “So I’ll tell you once more….Get out.” He opened the door.

Cassandra pounded her stiletto devil feet as she pounded past him and made her way out of the suite. Trevor pushed the door to a close and turned toward the view of the city. He was ready for bed, and ready to put this day far behind him.

The Hamptons Polo Club.

Richardson Black smiled and shook hands with the three polo players that stood beside him in the expansive field. Polo season was long over, but Richardson always enjoyed his workouts. He had already put the delivery in order of his Argentine polo ponies from their stables in Buenos Aires to their new home in the Hamptons. Richardson removed his riding helmet as he made his way across the field. He was handsome and dashing in his #4 polo uniform. It had been months since he was last on a polo field, and the feeling was tremendous to get back out there again. He often thought he was really of another place and time as he took great pleasure in the simplest of delights: riding horseback. He was always reminded by those in his inner circle, that there was nothing simple about riding polo ponies.

“Richardson, old boy. I didn’t know you’d be out here today.” Blair Bradley grinned as he escorted his own pony out of the barn. Richardson smiled as he spotted his friend, “I work out here, Blair. You know that. What are you doing here? I see they just let anyone into this club.” He mockingly laughed. Blair shared the laugh, “Apparently now that you’re here.”

Richardson nuzzled up to Blair’s horse, “What a beautiful filly. She’s exquisite, Blair.” He complimented. Richardson removed his gloves as he ran his hands up and down the filly’s nose. She nodded her head as if to appreciate the kind words. “This is Shasta. She’s my favorite. I have six here you know.” He boasted. Richardson continued loving the horse, “I have three of my own on the way from Argentina.” Richardson looked to Shasta, “You are a beautiful girl…”

Blair gently tugged on the reigns, pulling Shasta away, “Speaking of beautiful girls, you mentioned a certain young lady has captivated your attention as of late.” Blair was curious, and perhaps a bit envious. Richardson looked to Blair, “You’re right. I did mention that.” He placed one hand on his hip as he reached to touch the horse once again. Blair smiled, “You’re holding out on me, buddy. We’ve been friends for many years. Why haven’t I heard of this girl?”

“Well you know I like to maintain a low profile…” Richardson laughed.

Blair laughed at him, “A low profile? You? You have been captured in timeless expressions of film on six continents with naked women for years. The paparazzi have stated that you have put some of their children through college with the skyrocketing price paid for snaps of super playboy Richardson Black in action. Let’s see, was it the Princess, or the stripper, or that sheik and half his harem, or the concubine to the emperor’s grandson that almost landed you in prison in Tibet?” Blair poked.

Richardson smiled, “Alright, so I’ve had enough adventures. Well those days are over. I’m getting my act together, working for my father, and I think it’s time to settle down and find a nice girl. I think I may have done just that.” He smiled. Blair rolled his eyes, “Oh come on. I’ll believe that when I see it.”

“Why so critical, Blair? Is it impossible for me to find someone I want to spend more than a raunchy naked night with?” Richardson was growing defensive. Blair laughed, “And what the hell is wrong with naked and raunchy? You used to be the king.”

“Well not anymore. Oh, and next time you decide to indulge in all things debaucherous, leave me out. We have some fun memories, but I’m not that guy anymore, Blair.” Richardson smiled. Blair’s arrogant, billionaire smile slipped off his face, “Is that so?” He asked. Richardson didn’t quite catch on to the tone, “It is.” He reached for Shasta’s nose again. Blair was becoming angrier and more jealous, “Who’s the lucky girl, Richardson? Anyone I know?” He asked. Richardson shook his head, “Probably not. Her name’s Mary…Mary Farmer. She works at the Barron house and she goes to NYU...”

Blair broke into a round of laughter, “You mean the little maid? You’re in love with the little Barron maid?” More laughter, this time louder and insulting. Richardson’s smile faded as he looked on to Blair carrying on his laughter. Blair realized he had done enough damage, and it was time to pull it together, “Oh, Richardson,…I didn’t mean…”

“You didn’t mean what? You didn’t mean to insult me? So what, she’s a maid. What were those…girls you brought to the suite for us? Mary works hard and her work is honest. Can you say the same for those ladies you bought for the night?” Richardson challenged. Blair looked at him, “Why the tempter, Richardson. You sound as though…you might be ashamed of Mary. Are you?” He asked.

Richardson slowly raised his eyes up toward Blair and realized his friend had gone too far. Blair grinned, “I’m due on the field now, and playing the field is exactly where I like it. Too bad you won’t be there to enjoy all those ladies with me. You’ve got just one. Hope for your sake she’s the right one. See you later…buddy.” He turned and pulled Shasta along. Richardson stood in silence and watched them step out onto the large field. Richardson didn’t like the overwhelming feeling that came over him. It was guilt…and shame.

The ground crew hurried about the massive Boeing Business Jet, making final preparations before takeoff. Afternoon sun splashed along the silver hull, illuminating the world famous Barron Worldwide logo. Jet engines could be heard all over LaGuardia Airport. Millions of people passed through here in a given year. Today, however, there was one very special guest about to make a departure for a long anticipated international flight.

The sleek Phantom Rolls Royce rolled onto the private landing strip for VIP jets and came to a halt at the jet. The chauffer hurried around to retrieve the door for the beautiful Catherine Barron. She stepped out of the car, the brim of her black hat shielding her face from the sun. She was breathtaking in a Chanel suit and stiletto heels. Her hair was pulled back in a bun, allowing views of the incredible Van Cleef and Arpels diamonds at her ears. On the opposite side of the car, Rebecca Ford dismounted. She hurried to the trunk of the car to oversee the ground crew tending to the collection of Chanel luggage. Her nerves got the best of her, “Please…please be careful with these.” She was jittery and anxious and ready to get the hell out of here.

Catherine removed her sunglasses, “Rebecca, please hurry back to the office. There is a lot to be done while I’m away. I will be readily available so please phone me if there is anything you can’t handle…though I am entrusting you with a lot. Your performance while I’m away will help me to decide whether or not I’ll give you that recommendation for the management training program.”

Rebecca let a simple smile slip onto her face. This news excited her. She’d do her best, and would never let Catherine down. Catherine began to move toward the massive jet and Rebecca hurried behind. Catherine began calling out directives, “The press releases have been looked over several times, be sure they are distributed. Don’t forget the details of the Barron Foundation Gala are on my desk. They need to be attended to and communicated to the proper staff. I don’t want any snafus, Rebecca. This is our annual gala and it’s the most important event. I plan my entire year around it, and so does the New York social scene…of course I wouldn’t expect you to know anything about that…”

Rebecca reminded herself that indeed she did know all about it. She read Vogue and Vanity Fair and Town and Country religiously. “Also, Giancarlo is delivering several original designs for me in a few days. Please remind him that I want the diamonds and I don’t want anything on loan. For God’s sake why would I wear rented jewelry? He had some imbecile messenger over some river pebble emeralds last year and I told him I never want to see that trash again.” Rebecca held the laughter in. Catherine turned and looked to her, “That will be all, Rebecca. And again, I trust you won’t fail me.” She reminded. Rebecca wouldn’t dream of it, “Absolutely not, Ms. Barron. You can count on me.” She offered a brilliant ivory smile. Catherine quickly turned and made her way up the stairs. “Have a nice flight. Your broom must be in the shop…” Rebecca spoke under her breath. She found herself speaking to herself as she studied Catherine’s gliding ascent. She quickly turned and made her way back to the Rolls. She had a lot of work to do and was eager to get started.

Catherine gasped as she entered the glorious cabin of the jet, “What on earth!?” A gorgeous smile came to her face. Edward Barron remained seated on the plush tan leather sofa with his favorite lemonade in hand, “Surprise! I’d say I’m your pilot but I have no idea how to drive this thing.”

“Grandpa! What are you doing here? This is indeed a surprise.” She removed her sunglasses as she hurried to her grandfather. He rose to his feet and embraced his granddaughter, “Well I went to order this thing fueled up for a trip and I was told my granddaughter reserved it. I thought I’d come down here and find out what you were up to.” He grinned.

Catherine smiled as she removed her hat and gloves, “Grandpa, come now. You know you could have taken this jet. I can always take another one.” She watched cabin attendants hurry about. The interior of the cabin was a showplace. Fine handcrafted tan leather furniture and sleek woods had been made exclusively for this jet: the largest in the Barron fleet. This incredible jet ran at a price tag of $19,000 an hour and offered space for fifty passengers. Guest quarters, a sauna, fully capable Wi-Fi and videoconferencing were available to keep the Barron’s connected to their offices around the world. A gourmet chef always flew with the jet, as did a team of attendants, and two pilots. This was Edward’s favorite jet, commissioned and built only three years ago as a gift to his then new girlfriend Joanna.

“It would be a waste to take another plane when I’m going to the same place you are, Catherine…” He smiled. She offered a confused look, “Grandpa, I’m taking a few days on holiday in Corfu. The Princess is giving a party and I never miss this one…”

He smiled, “And that is exactly where I’m going.” He placed his hands into his Burberry chinos pockets. Catherine looked up, “Grandpa, with all due respect, the Princess and her parties aren’t the croquet or billiards set you like to frequent at the Harvard Club.” She grinned. Edward laughed, “Oh you think your dear old grandpa can’t party with the young jet set?” He asked.

She placed her hands on her hips. Edward poured a glass of champagne from the opened Cristal and handed it to her, “Let’s just say there is a very special guest that I’m going out there to…surprise. A dear friend put me in touch with the Princess hours ago and she insisted I join her. So here I am, hitch hiking…on my own plane.”

Catherine was suspicious, “A very special guest…at the party for the Princess?” She asked.

The handsome pilot emerged from the cabin, “Mr. Barron, Ms. Barron, we’re ready for takeoff.” He revealed. Edward smiled, “Wonderful. Let’s get going then, Steven.” The pilot nodded and returned to the cabin as attendants began securing the jet for departure.

“Grandpa, what is it that you aren’t telling me? Who’s in Corfu that doesn’t know you’re coming?” She asked. Edward turned to her and smiled. He allowed a simple laugh to slip from his mouth as he finished his lemonade, “I’ll tell you once we’re in the air. I’m quite sure you’ll love it.” Edward smiled to his loving granddaughter, and she wondered just what it was they were all in store for.

38. Caught

2011-11-16T00:26:00.000-05:00

The Hamptons.

The double iron gates opened with the arrival of the sleek black BMW limousine. Sunshine filled the Hamptons sky and offered unseasonable warmth on this mid-November day. Manicured lawns, gorgeous tall trees, and newly planted flowers lined the road to the port cohere of the house. The handsome young chauffer hurried out of the driver’s seat and tended to the door. He retrieved the back door and offered a gloved hand to his beautiful passenger.

Inside the Barron Country House, dutiful majordomo George hurried down the main corridor. Belford, the house butler had already arrived, ready to retrieve the door. George simply nodded, instructing him to open the door and greet the guest. Ravishingly lovely, the timeless beauty of Sylvie Black graced the front door. She was absolutely gorgeous in a tailored blue Escada suit with strands of pearls about her neck. A simple blazing diamond broach was fastened to her lapel. She offered her mink trimmed wrap to Belford as she greeted, “George, dahling…” She carried the scent of thousand dollar perfume and mid-morning gin.

“Ms. Black, welcome. Mr. Barron is expecting you in the Study.” He offered. He turned and stepped down the corridor from which he came. Sylvie followed him. Her gorgeous stiletto shoes hissed along the marble floor as she scurried behind him.

Inside the Study, handsome Edward Barron paced before the warmth of the roaring fireplace. He wore slate gray pants and a navy cardigan sweater. He peered through his reading glasses and onto the Barron Worldwide financial report in his hand. Despite his doctor’s orders, he busied himself with work. His concentration was disturbed with the opening of the double doors. A smile came to his face, “Sylvie, how wonderful to see you. What a pleasure this is.” He placed his papers onto the antique Chippendale desk and stepped across the room to greet her. “Good morning, Edward.” She planted kisses into the air on both sides of his face.

“Sylvie, may I offer anything?” Edward asked.

Of course she didn’t hesitate, “I’d love a dry martini, dahling.” She turned to George, giving her order to him. George nodded and slipped away.

“Sylvie, come and sit down. Tell me; to what do I owe the honor of this very welcome surprise? When you phoned you said it was quite urgent that you come immediately. I hope you’re not unwell.” He offered a look of concern. Sylvie took a seat as Edward gestured with an open palm. He stood before the blazing fireplace.

Sylvie crossed her legs, maintaining perfect posture, “Dahling, I’ve always held you in the highest regard, you know that. I’ve always admired your ability to be a perfect gentleman in every aspect of your life. You’ve been kind to me and my children, even when my husband was not so kind to you…or your family.” She never lied, and always spoke the truth. Edward smiled as he looked upon her. George quickly returned with the martini and offered it to Sylvie. She maintained silence until George could leave the room. He stepped out into the corridor and made his way toward the vestibule.

The lovely Joanna Johnson descended the staircase of the vestibule, “Ah, George. Have you seen Mr. Barron? There are so many details of this wedding I must discuss with him.” She replied with an air of frustration. George looked to her, “Yes, Miss. He’s in the Study with Ms. Sylvie Black. She’s just arrived…”

Joanna halted in her tracks, “Sylvie Black?” She turned and went toward the Study. She slithered up to the slightly ajar double doors and leaned forward. What was Sylvie doing here, and why the hell hadn’t she been informed?

“Edward, my husband has always held nothing but contempt for you and your family. He battled your son for Amanda Clarke for so many years until he finally settled for me…” She lowered her head. Edward looked to her, “Sylvie, no…” He protested.

“Dahling, please. Everyone knows Amanda was the love of his life. I was merely of a good old English family. I was the rising star and everyone around the world knew me simply by looking at my face. That’s the life of a model you know – Here today with the world at your feet, and then There tomorrow with your husband, the man you love and adore, pining for another woman he could never have. I knew it, don’t take me for a fool like he did…like the society columns did. I knew Amanda was the one, and he lost her to Phillip. But, dahling all of that is ancient history, as it were.” She sipped her martini. Edward looked to her sad face. All of the above was true, and everyone indeed did know it.

“Now I can’t speak to the unfortunate occurrences in your board room, or those on the tarmac and your poor pilot who lost his life. But I can tell you….I know where he is.” She darted her eyes up to him. Edward stood tall and at attention. He held on to her every world, “You do? Where?”

“My dahling friend Arabella San Germain phoned me this morning. She is on holiday in Monte Carlo. She’s spotted him there and has invited him to be her very special guest at her home in Corfu in just a few days. He, of course has accepted to be her guest in her home…and no doubt her bed.” She looked away. Edward took a seat beside Sylvie, “Arabella…the Princess of Anda?” He asked. “That’s the one: the very beautiful, very married, royal whore…one of my best friends.” She sipped her martini.

Edward looked at her, “Sylvie, why are you telling me this?”

“Because you want Sanders to answer for the things he’s done to you as much as I do. Unfortunately for me, however, there is nothing I can do to him. You, however, have the power to ruin him…and I want you to do just that. Surprise him in Corfu, dahling, and watch him quiver in fear. It’s the only way to play and beat him at his own game. He’ll never see it coming, and he won’t know quite what to do with himself.” Sylvie grinned at him as she sipped the last of her martini. Edward looked upon her face. Her beautiful lips were smiling, but her dazzling eyes were broken.

Joanna stepped away from the door and hurried down the corridor. She quickly stepped into the breakfast solarium and very quietly closed the door behind her. She was supposed to be working on wedding details, but this urgency was far more pressing. She wore a pair of black leather pants and stiletto boots with an off the shoulder flowing leopard print top. She had just received the last of her fall wardrobe shipment sent from Dolce & Gabbana and Versace, and she was giddy with her new clothes. She’d soon have a glorious wedding dress to add to her million dollar closet full of couture.

She reached for the wireless telephone atop a credenza. The glass walls of the room let in natural light. Beautiful plants, hanging and planted adorned the room. Topiaries lined the glass walls while the inviting scent of roses filled the air. Her manicured nails hurriedly danced along the key pad. Joanna removed her diamond clip earring and then placed the phone to her ear. She looked around the room, focusing her eyes on the door. The phone on the other end continued to ring. She was becoming increasingly frustrated, fearful, “Dammit, where are you?” She asked, still not speaking to anyone. The phone continued to ring, and just before she hung up voice mail kicked in. She listened until, “Sanders, it’s Joanna. Where on earth are you? Your alcohol soaked wife is here at the House and she’s telling Edward that she knows you’re in some place called Corfu,…whatever the hell that is. I think…I think Edward might try to surprise you and show up there. I want to suggest you do whatever you can to get out of there. He’s furiously mad and I’m not interested in seeing what he might try if he caught you. I don’t know when you’re expected to be back in New York, but I know you can’t stay away forever. Please call me and let me know what’s going on.” She quickly hung the phone up and fastened her earring back in place.

She glanced at her reflection in the mirror. Beautiful. Quickly, she turned and made her way to the door. She pulled it open and peered out in both directions down the corridor. All clear. She hurried out of the solarium and into the hallway, gently closing the door behind her and out of sight.

Inside the solarium, Mary Farmer peered out from around a nook that led to the expansive gourmet kitchen. She held a silver chafing dish tray and a polishing towel. She had been hard at work this morning polishing the silver collection in preparation for the family Thanksgiving meal next week and during the course of her duties heard the entire message Joanna left for Sanders. The secret was out, and Mary was the only one who knew it.

Nearly twenty minutes later, Mary still struggled with the knowledge she had just obtained: Joanna, affianced to the great Edward Barron, was giving away tip offs to the enemy Sanders Black. Mary couldn’t believe it. She had finished her work of polishing the silver, and was done with her shift. She was leaving for the day and she simply wanted to get as far away from here as possible.

“Dahling…” A cooing voice called out from behind.

The startled Mary whirled to the voice of the grand English woman behind her. She held a small bag and her purse and was caught completely off guard, “H…hello.” Mary replied. Sylvie Black had emerged from the Study and was about to make her departure from The Country House when she spotted Mary, “Dahling, we’ve met…several months ago at a dinner party in this very house. I’m very pleased to see you once again. I’m Sylvie Black.” She extended her hand, a gorgeous diamond and sapphire bracelet dangled about her wrist. “Yes, Ms. Black, I know who you are.” Mary offered.

Mary was confused, but reached out and fishly took hold of the hand anyway, “May I get anything for you, Ms. Black?” She nervously asked. Sylvie giggled, “Dahling, don’t be silly. I’d like nothing more than for just a few minutes to speak with you. I hope that is alright.” She smiled. Mary slowly pulled her hand away and nodded with timid trepidation.

Sylvie placed her hands on Mary’s shoulders and looked upon her hair and face and ran her eyes down and back up over Mary’s tall thin body. Sylvie took hold of Mary’s chin and turned her head from side to side, examining her bone structure, lips, nose, ears, eyes, everything. “Dahling, what is your name?”

“Mary. Mary Farmer.” She replied. Sylvie stepped back and folded her arms across her chest, “The night I say you, you were serving canapés or cocktails or something of that sort. I remember that you were…are the most exquisite creature I have ever seen.” She complimented. Mary allowed a smile to slowly slip onto her face, “Thank you.” She was quiet. The compliment was foreign to her.

Sylvie reached into her Chanel handbag and retrieved a card, “This is my secretary. Please phone her this afternoon and let her know where you can be reached. I’d like to have a lunch with you, dahling. I’d like to discuss…your future. And, dear, please stand with your shoulders back. We don’t want a slouch.” She tapped Mary on the arm and stepped away, offering a glittering smile in her wake. Mary gazed onto the card and quickly realized she had no idea what had just happened, “…Wait…Ms. Black. You want to discuss my future? My future as…?”

Sylvie slowly turned with a perfect model runway pivot, “As a model, dahling. What else?” She flashed her gorgeous smile once again and turned for the door. Belford retrieved the door as a young housemaid offered Sylvie’s cape to her. “Ciao, dahling.” Sylvie replied. Mary watched her with close attention. The hair, the dress, the jewels, the accent, the walk…amazing, impressive, stunning. Mary turned to the card once again and a wide smile came to her beautiful face.

Night. Hong Kong.

Trevor Barron followed a young bellman down the guest room corridor of The Peninsula Hotel. He went straight to his meetings earlier in the evening upon arriving in Hong Kong, and was just now getting to his hotel suite. It had been a terribly long, humid, tiring day. He was ready to unwind, look over email and retire for the night. The bellman slid the card key into the lock of the door and held it open. Trevor handed a generous tip to the young man and took hold of his luggage and briefcase.

Trevor flipped on the light switch, illuminating the fantastic showplace suite. He closed the door and stepped across the room. A large gift basket of fresh fruits had been left by management, friends of the Barrons. Drapery had been drawn back, allowing a fabulous view of the exciting city. He placed his bags down and breathed a sigh of relief to finally be able to get some rest.

His meetings with the Chinese went well, however they were only a start to what would be a long few days. He had issued a televised statement with a Chinese governmental official alongside him, clearing the Barron jet incident of any terrorist involvement. The episode, according to Trevor, was over and the company would carry on with important business matters: the building of the Barron World Hotel and Conference Center in Hong Kong at the top of the list. He was pleased that was behind him. The next few days would be meetings with the building team working on the project.

He reached into his Armani suit jacket pocket and retrieved his phone, fitted for international calling. It was still early in the States, and he wanted to call Avery before heading to bed. Suddenly, there was an unexpected knock at the door. He placed his telephone down and turned toward the door. While loosening his YSL necktie, he crossed back over the floor and retrieved the door.

Two young room service waiters wheeled a cart with shinning silver domed dishes and lit candles, fresh flowers, and a bottle of Dom Perignon into the room. Trevor stood back and watched them as they prepared the meal. “What is the meaning of this? I didn’t order this.” He stated in protest to the delivery. The young men quickly turned and made their way out of the suite.

“Wait just a minute…” Trevor called to them. Just as the men disappeared, the very beautiful Cassandra Black emerged from the guestroom corridor. She was stunning in a black Valentino dress, her hair swept up, offering an inviting gaze of her long supple neck, “Hello, lover. I thought you might be in the mood to…eat…tonight.” She grinned as she reached for the door and gently pushed it closed.

37. Reckless Abandon

2011-11-14T00:31:00.003-05:00

Edward and Rand Barron bounded through the wide open fields on the massive Great Lawn of the Barron Country House Hamptons estate. Over the rolling green hills they rode Western Saddle atop two Appaloosa mares. Edward was a known horse breeder and racer and a few of his thoroughbreds had made several appearances at Derby and Ascot, and he owned champion stallions and mares around the world. His favorites, however, he kept close to him at home, despite their million dollar blood lines. Edward wanted all those he loved beside him and near him. His horses were no exception. He pulled on the reigns and brought his mare Allegra to a halt.

Rand followed suit as he trotted up behind his grandfather high on Minerva, another sought after mare. Rand took to riding as a young boy, and enjoyed his time in the stables with the Hands, caring for colts; feeding, bathing and exercising them. It wasn’t until he left for Harvard that things changed and he discovered other interests – his studies in economics, golf, rowing, women, and heroin.

“What a fantastic morning.” Edward tipped the brim of his Austin, Texas purchased cowboy hat. Rand trotted up beside him, “The best. Thanks again for inviting me out.” He patted Minerva on her thick strong neck. He ran his hand over her, warming her and offering comfort after the long hard ride. Edward looked out over the Great Lawn. It was rural, overgrown in some parts. It was a far cry from the manicured croquet grass near the main house. Edward’s eyes soared into the distance, surveying all he owned. The trees and shrubs and fences all were his. He was often very much at peace while horseback, and most times he would ride alone on his Lawn. This morning, however, he was glad to be with his grandson, and glad to have the time to speak with him.

“So your brother left for Hong Kong…” Edward opened. Rand knew it was coming, he just didn’t expect it so suddenly this morning, “You’re right. He should have already hit the tarmac in Hong Kong by now.” He replied as he glanced at his Rolex.

“I’m expecting all good things from his trip there.” Edward stated. Rand trotted in a circle around his grandfather, “As am I. We all are.” He offered.

“Randal….” Edward started.

“Grandpa, I already know what you want to say, what you’re going to say. I’m not going to apologize for my decision to stay in New York and pass on the trip to Hong Kong. I know you’re disappointed in my choice, but I’m not. I have…” Rand looked on.

“Wait just a minute, young man. What is this all about?” Edward asked. Winter smoke breath slipped out from his mouth and into the air. The crisp Hamptons air was a chilly forty degrees at this just after seven in the morning hour.

“This is about your not being happy with my forfeiture of the trip to Hong Kong.” Rand was bold.

“Who said I wasn’t happy?” Edward asked. Rand looked up. Edward carried on, “You want me to tell you what I think you could and should do, yes? Well, you could be in Hong Kong…and you should be in Hong Kong. How’s that? Nice? Happy with that? How long have we known each other?”

Rand laughed and lowered his head. Edward looked up, “Randal, you have chosen to stay in New York for reasons that are yours, not mine or your brothers. Yes, I want you committed and involved in Barron…it is, after all, yours…as it is Trevor’s and your sisters. But Randal, I’m not going to push or shove or tell you what you could or should. You’re a grown man, and I know, I trust that you have your reasons as to why you chose to stay.”

“It’s Tara, Grandpa. She’s terribly ill. I couldn’t leave her. I couldn’t go all the way to the other side of the world and leave her here. She needs me and I need to be here for her. It’s quite simple.” Rand replied. Edward looked up and tipped the brim of his hat, “Life should be so wonderful that our choices are always that: Simple. Tara has always loved you, and I know you always cared for her. You can’t worry about not being involved, not being a part, or doing what is in fact expected of you. There is plenty of time, and plenty of years for that. There is always going to be a place for you at Barron. It’s yours…by birth. But there may not always be a Tara for you. Take care of her, be with her for as long as you need to, but don’t forget Me or Barron, ok?” Edward smiled.

Rand looked up, “How could I do that, Grandpa?” He smiled. Edward patted Allegra’s long neck and shoulders, “You can’t. Let’s go.” He slapped the reigns and Allegra quickly charged off. Rand smiled as he watched his Grandpa hurry off. He followed suit and charged his horse to run into the distance. Morning sun shined overhead. The bright late autumn sun offered hope that today would be a good one.

The main casino floor of the Monte Carlo Resort was packed with black tie reckless abandon. Overflowing champagne, sparkling diamonds, platinum cuff links swirled amid handshakes, air kisses, and boasting over yachts, million dollar real estate in the French Riviera, and grandstanding of the most impressive kind that only power barons like Sanders Black can pull off. In a crisp handsome Armani tuxedo, he circulated through the room. He had played a few hands of Black Jack and had won big on the roulette wheel. He always did well with the roulette game of chance. He stepped away for a bit to assess the scene, and was on the lookout for the best pair of diamond laced breasts money could buy.

Beside him paraded the peacock feathers of the equally arrogant Sam Rathburn. His trip to Monaco to rendez vous with Sanders was a bit of an escape from all the horrendous activity happening back in the States with Republican Presidential candidates and Occupy Wall Street. His consulting firm had found itself neck deep in trying to come to the aid of those in need, to spin controversy and scandal. There was only so much spin one could put on those stories until it eventually would spin out of control. Sam took the high road and got the hell out of town…but only for a few days.

“I’m not entirely convinced of your plan, old man. I need to hear of a Plan B from you.” Sanders spoke to Sam without so much as turning toward him. His eyes scanned the room for a willing accomplice in tonight’s sexual adventurers. Sanders was a known philanderer, much to his wife’s dismay. He had spent many years in the jet set, smothered in cleavage, and had been the recipient of women throwing themselves at him. Sanders would hardly complain. He left that to his wife.

“I didn’t come all the way out here to listen to you make demands, Sanders. I already told you that Edward and I have had to make an about face in our plan to take a meeting…ever since you blew up his jet..” Sam sipped his bourbon. Sanders quickly stopped and turned to Sam, “I had nothing to do with that.” He pointed a finger in Sam’s face. “Of course you didn’t And I have a palatial suite on reservation for me at the gates of Heaven. Save it, Sanders. Everyone knows you did it.” Sam pushed.

“Listen to me damn it, I had nothing to do with that jet explosion, and that’s what the investigations ruled. You saw the Barron chief counsel on international news stations…you know that there weren’t any ties to me…” Sanders held his Scotch Neat in one hand and contempt in the other. Sam laughed at him, “There was a bomb found on the jet, for God’s sake. Who the hell did it if you didn’t?” He sipped. Sanders smiled as he looked upon Sam, “You have quite the vendetta to settle with our boy Edward Barron. Perhaps you did it.”

Sam nearly choked on his bourbon, “What in God’s name are you talking about?” His face reddened.

A soft diamond studded hand reached out and danced across Sanders’ back. He turned with the arrival of a friend thought long forgotten. “Sanders, my love…what on earth brings you to Monte?” The very glamorous, beautiful Arabella San Germain cozied up to him. Sanders lit with delight upon the sight of an old flame, “Your Highness, you are as beautiful as ever.” Sanders took hold of her hand and planted a kiss on her wrist.

She wore a stunning red original Valentino. Her diamond earrings floated about her face, catching the light of the crystal chandeliers overhead. She was the reigning queen of the social scene in Monte Carlo and all eyes floated about her, and Sanders was once her favorite plaything. Sanders spoke, “Sam Rathburn, I’d like you to meet Her Highness Arabella San Gremain, the Princess of Anda.” He reached over to include Sam in the conversation. “Your Highness, how do you do?” Sam grinned. The Princess extended her gloved hand to Sam and replied, “Very well, thank you. Are you enjoying Monte Carlo?” She asked. Sam replied, “Very much indeed.”

Arabella’s gorgeous ivory smile radiated throughout the room. Her principality neighbored Monaco, and she was often spotted traveling between the two and photographed by the press. She was a legendary beauty, known around the world for her stunning fashion sense and good works with charity and international relations. She was a social maven, and traveled around the world and back for a good party. She was hounded by the press, and adored by many.

“Would you both excuse me? I see someone I must say hello to. Your Highness, a pleasure meeting you.” Sam smiled at her, and offered a scowl to Sanders. Arabella grinned as Sam turned away, “Your friend seems jumpy. What the hell have you done to him, Sanders?”

“Done? What makes you think I’ve done anything?” Sanders smiled at her. She giggled as she looked up at him, “Have you forgotten how well I know you? You used to do many things to me. I’m assuming you’ve done something to him.” She sipped champagne. Sanders looked to her beautiful face, “Well I’ve done nothing to him that I once had done to you, my dear.” He smiled.

“Sanders, love, how long are you in Monte?” She asked. “Only for a few days. I have been on a trip around the world conducting business and overseeing projects.” He replied. “Ah, no doubt hatching a few plans.” She offered. “Arabella….” Sanders smiled.

“I’m having a marvelous group to my villa in Corfu in a few days. I’d love it if you would be my guest.” She smiled as she sipped more champagne. Sanders was uncertain, “I would love to, Arabella, but I really must get back to Manhattan..”

“Darling Sylvie. How is she these days?” She reminded him of his drunken crazed wife at home. He quickly raced through the thoughts in his head. Why the rush? He needn’t hurry home! “Sylvie is…well, she’s well. Richardson is back in New York for a bit, and Cassandra is still working in my London office. She’s traveling on business right now. I was wondering if I’d run into her on the Continent somewhere.”

“You always were so proud of your brilliant daughter.” Arabella complimented. “Indeed. I’m equally proud of my son.” He offered. Arabella stepped closer to him, “Sanders, please come to my villa for a few days of frolic. The group won’t be there for the entire week. You could stay and we could…rekindle our romance…if only for a few days.” She smiled. Sanders grinned, “I don’t think my wife would care for that…”

“Of course she wouldn’t, but when the hell did that ever stop you? Besides, my husband wouldn’t care for it…so we’re on equal ground.” She toasted her champagne flute to his Scotch Neat. Sanders smiled as he looked into her eyes. He remembered all the fun, the reckless outrageous insatiable sexual appetite Arabella brought to him time and again. She’d meet him in London, Berlin, Tokyo, anywhere he had business just to enjoy endless nights of voracious animal sex. She had promised him more with just the glimmer in her lusting eyes. He agreed, “Very well. I’d love to join you in Corfu.” He replied. She grinned from one ear to another. The trap was set.

Later that night, Arabella entered her gorgeous suite high in the Hotel Metropole. The view from the opened windows was marvelous. The French Riviera was her favorite vacation spot in the entire world. She placed her beaded clutch purse and hotel room key onto the table in the foyer and glanced at her perfect reflection in the mirror before her. Beautiful. She turned and crossed the room. The suite was massive, impressive, decorated in the most fantastic classic French style of furniture, art work, ornamentation. She reached for the champagne from the chiller and poured a glass for herself. She retrieved her cell phone and flipped through the list of telephone numbers. She hit the Call button:

“Well good morning in America. I trust all is well.” She spoke into the phone as she looked out over the view from her suite, “Yes of course. Monte is absolutely wonderful. It always is, love. This is where the action is after all. Everyone is here. Everyone including your wonderful husband. You were right, love. He is indeed here.” Arabella held the phone as she paced beside the windows, “I’m giving a party in Corfu in a few days and he’s agreed to be my special guest. I see he’s slipped out of the leash you once held around his neck.” She reached for her champagne. A smashingly gorgeous smile came to her face, “Do what you will with that information, love. I know there is a certain American hotel billionaire looking for him, and I know you’d love to get your claws into him too. Don’t worry, love, I won’t hurt him too badly…” She clicked the phone to a close.

On the other side of the world, high in the Ascot on Fifth Avenue, a martini slinging Sylvie Black clicked her phone, ending her call with the Princess of Anda, one of her oldest and dearest friends. She looked out over the expansive view of Central Park. Contempt consumed her face and anger was building up in her drunken head. Her long flowing silk robe swayed in the chilly morning air. Fury had set in, and she was going to be damn sure to do something about it. She flipped through her phone and dialed the familiar number. She waited a few minutes until, “Hello. This is Sylvie Black. I’d like to speak with Edward Barron please…”

Her beautiful eyes rose up toward the horizon line and a very satisfied smile made its way across her face. She would indeed do something with her fury, and she’d set out to ruin her husband.

36. Veterans Day

2011-11-12T03:42:00.000-05:00

Morning. Jack Greene pulled his black Ford pickup truck into the spot in front of Mary’s house. That truck had been around the world and back, figuratively. Jack purchased the truck from his uncle who rebuilt it with spare parts he accumulated from a junkyard in Weehawken. He was incredibly proud of the truck, and left it to his baby nephew Jack Greene when he died. Jack took incredible pride in caring for the truck and promised he’d never part with it.

He reached for his hand me down black leather jacket and bounded from inside the cab of the truck. He was running a few minutes behind, and he figured running up to the front door would help make up for it. He wore his faded old Levi’s, fitted at every inch of his body, and a white t-shirt, seemingly painted onto his muscles. He ran his hand through his hair as he knocked on the front door. He was all smiles, and filled with excitement and anticipation. Today was going to be a big day. The sun was shining. The weather was perfect. Nothing could dampen his spirit today.

Mary Farmer slowly opened the front door. Her face was sullen and long. Jack’s smile slipped off his face as he realized something was wrong, “…Mary?” He asked. Mary pushed the screen door open, allowing entrance for Jack. He slowly stepped into the house. It was quiet inside. Mary breathed a sigh of frustration, “He isn’t feeling very well. He was up most of the night. I thought I heard him at one point crying…sobbing in fact. I probably shouldn’t tell you that…”

“It’s alright.” Jack placed his hands on her shoulders as he looked onto her beautiful face. He touched her chin, “Is there anything I can do?” He asked. Mary looked away, “I don’t think so, Jack. He’s really down. He gets like this every year on Veterans Day. He used to say that his life wouldn’t have become what it is now had he not gone to the Middle East. He blames himself for…well…you know.” She lowered her head.

Jack looked at Mary as he stepped through the house and into the kitchen. Dennis Farmer remained in his wheelchair, quiet and motionless as usual. Jack smiled as he stepped around and in front of Dennis. With his eyes entranced on the Nothing on the small black and white television before him, Dennis Farmer remained in a state of near paralysis. He was near catatonic, comatose. He hadn’t bathed this morning. Mary helped him some days in the bath, but she tried to give him his space and privacy, and allow him to hold on to some shred of dignity. This day was always particularly hard for the Farmer’s, and Mary hoped tomorrow could come sooner than today had.

“Morning, Dennis. Nice day for a parade, dontcha think? It’s Veterans Day out there. It’s your day, Dennis. Don’t you want to celebrate?” Jack lowered himself to his haunches as he leaned forward and took hold of the small American flag Mary placed on the wheelchair earlier in the morning. Dennis maintained his silence as he looked onto the fuzzy black and white static on the small television.

Mary stepped into the kitchen. She was clearly worried for her father. He was so down, depressed this year. He became more and more sad with each passing year, and each year Mary found herself unable to do anything for him.

“We’re going to miss a good one if we don’t get a move on. The bands, the tanks, the clowns, the jugglers. My favorite is the hot dog vendor from Coney Island. I don’t really think he’s all the way from Coney Island, but who knows? He used to give us kids one free dog because we were Catholics. Can you believe that? A free hotdog just because you’re a Catholic. Pretty great, huh, Dennis?” Jack looked up onto his face. Silence.

Mary came into the kitchen, “Daddy, you don’t really want to miss the parade do you?” She asked. Jack turned and looked up to her. He could see that she was on the verge of tears. She was beside herself and growing worse with each passing minute. Jack knew he needed to do something…fast, “Let’s get your Cover on you. It’s a little chilly this morning.” He turned and looked to Mary, “Cover means hat.”

“I know what a Cover is, Jack.” She revealed. Jack smiled, “Ok, well I didn’t know that. Where is it? We can’t take US Army Private Dennis Farmer to the Veterans Day Parade without the Cover.” He said. Mary was confused as she watched Jack stand up and hurry into the living room. Mary turned and watched him go.

Dennis listened to them as they looked around the living room for the Cover, and he remembered a similar event a very long time ago. He looked out the window to the blue sky overhead. It was a day very much like this one, and it was a day he’d never forget.

“Dennis! Dennis, honey, we’re going to be late.” Margaret Marie Farmer rushed into the house from outside. She wore a beautiful white dress and her blond hair fell about her shoulders. She wore a shawl over her shoulders, crocheted by her mother for the occasion. It was red and white striped with blue stars. Margaret fussed over it, telling her mother it was tacky and she nearly didn’t wear it. But she gave in at the last minute, and decided to show a little patriotism. After all, it wasn’t every day that she and her family would accompany her husband to Fort Dix for his deployment to the Middle East and Operation Desert Storm.

Dennis Farmer, tall and handsome emerged from the bedroom and came through the kitchen, “I’m coming. I’m coming.” He stated. He held his Cover in his hands as he hurried through the kitchen. He stopped in his tracks as he looked upon the sweet young face of his breathtakingly beautiful wife Margaret. He smiled as he tried to catch his breath, “Margaret…”

She looked up at him. He was handsome, dashing, striking in fact in fatigues and combat boots, his decoration and his Cover. Margaret was only eighteen, and swore he was the most handsome man she would ever know. Dennis loved that she was so complimentary of him, especially when she saw him in uniform. He blushed as she hurried to him. She leaned forward and planted a kiss on his cheek, “Dennis, I hate this. I really hate this.” She fought the tears.

Dennis looked down onto her face, her trembling lips, her moistening eyes, “Margaret, it’s only for nine months. I’ll be home before you know it. You’ll be too busy to miss me anyway. You have our little Baby Mary to take care of.” He smiled. With that, the tears sprang forth, “Oh Dennis!” She threw her arms around him and held on for dear life. Her sobbing was louder this time than it ever had been, and Dennis knew today would be a tough one.

“Honey, look. We’ve been through this. I have to get to the base so we can ship out. You know I can’t be late…” He reminded her of the numerous discussions they had over and over about his deployment. He was being sent to Kuwait, and as General Infantry that meant he would be on a tank riding ahead, or on foot looking for explosives or engaging the enemy. The terrible news of Saddam Hussein’s regime and dictatorship and outrageous abuse of power led the Allied Forces to make their entrance. The Iraqi invasion of Kuwait was not acceptable by world governments, oil was being burned sky high and the very livelihood of the American economy was threatened. Allied Forces were desperately needed to maintain order and fight for democracy and justice in Kuwait. Dennis Farmer knew his job and he was prepared to do it.

“Dennis, just give me a few minutes, ok?” Margaret pleaded. Dennis smiled as he held her in his arms, her head against his chest. He kept his arms around her and one hand on the back of her head. He loved the fresh berry smell of her hair. It was a fresh summer smell he knew he’d never forget. He loved her more than his life; he loved her and their Baby Mary more than his own life. Going to Kuwait was only going to be for a few months. He’d return in no time, and he’d be with his wife and baby girl again. This was his job, and he had to do it. Dennis took incredible pride in being in the United States Army and he looked forward to fulfilling his duty to serve and protect. This deployment was going to be hard, but it wouldn’t last forever. He was informed that it would only be for nine months, and he’d be home in no time; back to his wife and child.

Margaret reached for his Cover and snatched it from his hands, “I love this hat…” She looked at it while holding it in her hands. Her simple diamond wedding ring on a gold band shined with the light coming in through the small windows. “Dennis, I don’t know how I’ll get through the night, sleeping alone, in our bed…without you. With you, Dennis. I never thought I’d be without you. You and Mary are everything to me. You’re my life, Dennis. You’re the life that I always wanted, and hoped that I’d have. You, Mary…” Tears welled in her eyes again. Dennis smiled as he took hold of her hands, “You’re everything to me too, Margaret. You know you are. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you and Mary. There’s nowhere I’d go without my girls unless I had to, you know that…”

“I know that, Dennis.” She lowered her head. Dennis touched the top of her head, “I have to do my job, but I’ll be back in no time and we’ll be a family…just the way you want us to be.” He smiled as she looked up at him. He leaned forward and gently kissed her lips.

Their sweet tender kiss seemed to last an eternity, but the honking of the horn outside broke it up. They shared a laugh. Dennis looked at her, “Your daddy is an impatient man. We should get going.” He smiled. Margaret held the Cover in her hands as she turned for the door. She stood for a moment. Dennis stopped as he stood behind her. Looking out from the front door, they could see the majesty of the marvelous iconic twin towers of the World Trade Center in the distance, far away on the other side of the Hudson River in Manhattan. Margaret turned to him once again and looked at him, “You hurry up and come back to me, Dennis Farmer.” She commanded.

“Yes, ma’am I will.” Dennis smiled again. Margaret turned and opened the door and stepped out of the house. Dennis stopped for a second. He turned and looked around the small living room. His eyes stopped on a black and white photograph of his baby Mary. He realized that though he never wanted to leave her, he knew he had to. But he’d be back and everything would be wonderful all over again. Dennis turned and pulled the door to a close behind him as he stepped out.

Mary stepped into the kitchen, with the Cover in her hands, “I found it, Daddy.” She smiled as she approached him. She placed it onto his head. Slowly, Dennis turned his head and his gaze from out the window and looked up to his daughter. She looked just like her mother – tall, young, beautiful. Dennis remembered holding his wife, Mary’s mother, Margaret just before leaving for deployment, and promising her he’d come back to her.

He had no idea that after suffering the torment and hardship of war in Kuwait, he’d return home to Hoboken to find that she had gone, left him, drained his savings account, and abandoned Mary with her own parents. Margaret wanted out, and had planned it for weeks before Dennis deployed for Kuwait. Margaret would be gone when he’d return, and he would be left to pick up the pieces of a broken marriage and a broken heart. He’d be left with the care of an infant baby Mary, and he’d have to be father and mother to her. He would have no idea how to do that, and he’d struggle for years to be the best he would ever know how to be.

Mary looked into her father’s eyes. He had been near catatonic for years. He finally gave her a sign that connected them; showed her he knew, he heard and he understood her. Mary’s eyes filled with tears. Jack stood behind her as she took hold of her father’s hands, “Daddy…” She leaned forward and threw her arms around him. Dennis slowly raised his arms to hold her and return the embrace; something he hadn’t done in over ten years. Mary’s eyes filled with tears as she realized she had her father back, on this most incredible day of remembrance and thanks for Service, on this Veterans Day. Not only had Dennis survived deployment to war twice, he survived the war and torture of the love of his life leaving him and taking him for almost everything he had. She took his money, his livelihood, his will to live. But the one thing she would never take was their daughter. Their daughter Mary was his forever and he’d never let go of her.

35. Ladies and Gentlemen

2011-11-10T08:37:00.000-05:00

Three hundred of New York City’s most fashionable, beautiful, super rich packed the incredible Villard Ballroom of the historic New York Palace Hotel. The Metropolitan Opera Fund brought together investment bankers, finance and oil barons, political honchos, and American aristocracy for fundraising for the Metropolitan Opera. Socialite superstar Sylvie Sanders was a major donor and contributor to The Met. She was always in the scene, and always on hand to lend her support and her husband’s money to a wonderful cause. All eyes were on her, as always. She paraded past the line of paparazzi on her way inside, and only stopped for her favorites for an interview. She was photographed everywhere she went, made headlines with her stunning fashion sense and style, and always had a champagne in hand.

Sylvie sauntered about the room in a breathtaking original black Givenchy. Diamonds and sapphires kissed her ears and neck. She flashed her massive diamond cocktail ring when hugging and air kissing friends. She held her Cristal like a life preserver. She was a sight to behold, and everyone did just that.

“Sylvie, what a wonderful gala. You’ve certainly outdone yourself this time.” Catherine Barron in white beaded Bottega floated up to Sylvie with her beautiful little sister Jennifer right behind. Sylvie gasped at the sight of the gorgeous girls and offered air kisses, “Catherine! Jennifer! I saw your names on the guest list last week. I’m so pleased you could come to lend support.” She looked over their dresses. Jennifer kissed Sylvie, “It’s been several years but you still look amazing, Sylvie.” She grinned. The light of the candles atop the tables reflected on her shimmering blue Valentino dress.

“Dahling, I am thrilled to see you again. When did you get back from the Continent?” Sylvie asked. Jennifer looked at Sylvie, “As soon as I heard about the incident with the jet. I’ve been keeping myself out at The Country House, tending to Grandpa and spending some much needed quality time with him.” Jennifer’s diamonds shined. Sylvie reached for each of their hands, “I know your Grandfather declined attending tonight. I trust he is in better spirits these days.” Sylvie hoped. Catherine smiled, “He is. Thank you, Sylvie.” She placed a warm hand on Sylvie’s shoulder. “Do give Edward my love.” Sylvie requested.

“Sylvie, I’m going to break all rules of social protocol and ask you the most inappropriate question: where the hell is your husband?” Her smile slipped from her beautiful face. Sylvie looked up to Catherine, “I’d like to know the answer to that myself, dahling. When your Grandfather finds him, ask him to spare his head. I want that piece for myself.” She giggled. Catherine wasn’t buying it. Though she thought the world of Sylvie, and knew her to be among her social set, she didn’t trust her. Catherine knew a fake when she spotted one, and knew that Sylvie was indeed hiding something.

Catherine nodded, “Sylvie, please excuse me. I see a dear friend, the Congressman. He owes me a conversation, and several million dollars.” She giggled as she excused herself. Jennifer held her beaded clutch purse as Sylvie looked to her, “Dahling, your magnificence is astounding. What on earth have you been occupying yourself with in Paris?”

“All things rich and decadent, of course. You know all about the scene in Paris. I don’t have to tell you about the all night dinner parties, couture, the art world…men.” They shared a knowing laugh. Jennifer tossed her long chestnut brown hair over her shoulder. Sylvie leaned in close, “I certainly hope, Jennifer, that you’ve left room on your already sought after dance card…and in your heart…for my sweet Richardson. You know I always adored the two of you as a couple, and longed for the day you’d become another daughter to Sanders and myself.” Sylvie cooed.

Jennifer looked to Sylvie, “Your husband, with all due respect, isn’t anyone I want to welcome as a member of my family, Sylvie. Surely you know that my Grandfather has launched an investigative search all over the world to track him down…”

Sylvie rolled her eyes and finished her Cristal, “Dahling, indeed I know. I certainly didn’t expect to have this conversation with you. Trevor or your sister, yes. But you?”

“What concerns Barron concerns me. I no longer live in Manhattan, but I will always maintain loyalty to my family, Sylvie.” She sipped her cocktail. Sylvie smiled, “I wouldn’t anticipate anything else, my dear. However, one must remain loyal to their heart as well, don’t you agree?” She asked. Jennifer gazed about the room and spotted the very handsome tuxedo-clad Richardson Black in the distance, entranced in a sea of beautiful young women, “Sylvie, your son…Richardson…was the great love of my life. There have been many men, many lovers since. But…but so many events transpired between the two of us and I regret to inform you that he and I can never be…ever.” She lowered her eyes with feigned sorrow.

Sylvie wore a horrified look of sadness, “Dahling, please don’t say such things. Love, true love conquers all and I have no doubt that in time, wounds will heal, and perhaps there might be another chance for you and my Son. Richardson loved…loves you deeply, dahling. The true love and pure heart of a good man is not one to easily let escape you. Please don’t do a disservice, dahling. A marriage between you and my Son is very desirable…”

“Desirable? For whom, Sylvie? Certainly not I. Not after what your Son has done.” Jennifer sipped from her Baccarat glass and cast her eyes away. Sylvie turned and looked off into the distance upon her surrounded Son. The sweet sounds of the orchestra filled the room, while fear of irreparable damage filled her head.

Hoboken. Mary and Connie sat at a table with Tupperware bowls and bottled water before them. Laughter rang out through the hospital break room as Mary regaled Connie with yet another story of her adventures, “…and then the helicopter hovered over Central Park for a good fifteen minutes and he pointed out all the landmarks in the Park: the Fountain, Alice In Wonderland, the Boathouse. It was…magical.” Mary let her mind and eyes wander away from her. She breathed a sigh. Connie laughed, “Girl, you better hold on to that one.” She took hold of Mary’s hand as she rose to her feet. She crossed the hospital break room to the refrigerator and retrieved two cartons of yogurt.

Mary sat up in her chair. The room was cold, stark. Linoleum tiled floors, health and safety posters, a single clock, and instructions on how to administer aid to sick patients covered the walls. Mary looked up to Connie, “I don’t know what to do. I’m so confused.” She revealed.

Connie placed her hand on Mary’s shoulder as she returned to the table, “Honey, I don’t know about what. You have a fine young man who flies you up over New York City like Superman and you’re confused? You need to have your head checked, honey. Good thing you’re in a hospital. We can take you up to the fifth floor and get it done right now!” She giggled.

Mary laughed, “I’m serious. I don’t know what to do, Connie. Richardson is so…so worldly, and sophisticated. He’s wealthy…I mean really wealthy. His father is…”

“Honey, it don’t matter who his daddy is. All that matters is that he’s a good man and he’s good to you. Now you know I don’t have to tell you all that.” Connie peeled the top off the yogurt carton and handed it to Mary.

“Connie, I know that. But…Jack. There’s Jack.” She lowered her head. Connie looked up at Mary, “That Jackie is a fine young man, Mary. He comes from a good, hard working background. He’s honest, upstanding, he cares for you…and he has a damn fine body.” She erupted into a round of laughter.

Mary tilted her head as she broke into laughter with Connie, “Yes, yes I know.”

Connie gained her composure as she reached for Mary’s hand, “Honey, look…listen to me. You’re a beautiful young lady. You’re bright, you’re talented and there isn’t a soul around this place that doesn’t love you. You have a wonderful future ahead of yourself, and you’ll make the right decisions. I know you will. You’ll find the right man for you. It may not be tomorrow, it may not be next year. But it will happen. You have to trust your instincts, follow your heart and your head and let the Lord guide you. Let Him lead you on the way…”

“Connie, I don’t know…” Mary interjected.

Connie stopped her, “Trust, baby. Trust…and have faith.” She toasted her yogurt carton to Mary’s. She winked at her and offered a loving smile. Mary looked into her knowing eyes and wondered just what it was that she was supposed to have trust and faith in. She had had a series of let downs and disappointments in her life starting from a very young age: her mother abandoning her, and her father’s mental and physical handicaps. Mary looked on to Connie, thankful and appreciative that she had someone to confide in – someone who could be both the mother and the father that she so desperately needed.

Blair Bradley draped his arm around Richardson Black as they made their way down the guest room corridor of the glorious New York Palace. Blair laughed and nursed a glass of Glenlivet. Richardson held him up as he stumbled on his feet stepping down the hallway. They reached the bedroom door and Blair reached into his tuxedo pants pocket for the key, “It’s…here…somewhere. I know it is…” He retrieved a marijuana cigarette, “Here it is!” he rejoiced with drunken laughter. Richardson quickly reached out and took the cigarette from him, “What are you doing? Do you want to get arrested?” He placed the cigarette in his tuxedo jacket pocket.

“Oh who the goddamned hell cares? I’m Blair Bradley. You do know who my father is don’t you? He’d never allow his son to be manhandled by common hands of New York’s finest, and he’d never allow me to spend a single minute in jail. You know my father…nothing is too good for anyone named Bradley. I have more money than God…and there’s no way I could ever be arrested. Come. Let’s celebrate!” He opened the door to the exquisite guest suite.

Richardson stood in the foyer of the impressive suite. He switched on the light, illuminating the fine silk along the walls, the polished parquet floor, and oil paintings on the walls. Blair dropped the key onto the table in the foyer. He glanced at his perfect handsome reflection in the mirror, “I have a hell of a surprise for you, son. Come on.” He slapped Richardson’s back as he led him into the sunken living room of the suite. Richardson’s eyes were wide as his mouth fell open upon the sight before him.

Blair removed his Burberry tuxedo jacket and tossed it onto the back of the plush sofa before him. He smiled as he looked over the surprise, “Richardson, my friend…pick one….any one.” He placed his arm around Richardson.

Five completely nude young women stood before them. They stood tall in a row, displaying everything they had to offer for the night. Each was as beautiful and sexy as the next. They wore only stiletto heels and a smile. Blair was giddy with excitement, “This is indeed your lucky night. I know your birthday is coming up in a few weeks and I thought I’d surprise you with an early birthday gift. Alright, so I do indulge in this from time to time…but what’s the harm in boys having a little fun, huh?” Blair laughed as he reached for a glass of bourbon he had left earlier on the credenza behind the sofa. Beside the glass was a mirror with razors and enormously piled lines of fresh cocaine.

Richardson turned to Blair, “I…I don’t think I’m really up to this, Blair….”

Blair was horrified, “What? Richardson Black not up to this? This?” He raised an arm of praise to the titillating flesh before him. Richardson turned to the girls, “I’m sorry, ladies. You’re all…you’re all very beautiful but…” He turned and made his way for the door. The girls stood and looked at each other with confusion. Blair raised his hands to the young ladies, as if pleading for their patience. He turned and followed, “Richardson…what’s going on? Where are you going?”

Richardson reached the door, “Blair, this isn’t for me. I’m not…I’m not that guy anymore. This doesn’t do anything for me. Sorry to spoil your surprise.”

“What are you saying? Did you see them? They’re naked…and they’re all ours. Bought and paid for.” He smiled with excitement. Richardson placed his hands on Blair’s shoulders, “Why don’t you have the fun and tell me all about it in the morning?” He smiled.

“Richardson, I don’t understand. Why don’t you want this?” He asked. Richardson revealed, “I’ve met someone…and she’s amazing…and I’d like to think she might feel the same about me. Sorry, buddy….but I hope you do enjoy your feast tonight.” Richardson retrieved the door handle and let himself out of the room.

Blair watched the door slide to a close. He turned and looked at his reflection in the mirror. Thoughts of Richardson’s words ran through his head. The days of Blair and Richardson cavorting with every naked hottie had long gone, and Blair was feeling left out, judged, passed over and outgrown. He suddenly felt angry. Who was this girl that Richardson was developing feelings for? Who was this girl getting in the way of their fun and taking Richardson away from their entertainment with naked young whores? Who was this girl…and what was the quickest way to get rid of her? Blair suddenly remembered that the girls were waiting for him. He turned and made his way back into the sunken living room, “Who wants to party, girls?” He asked the group. Giggles rang out among the girls as Blair approached for a night of fun and a damn good time.

34. The Chill In The Air

2011-11-07T23:53:00.001-05:00

Central Park West and 72^nd Street, more commonly known as The Dakota, was one of the most exclusive addresses in all of New York City. High gables, deep roofs, dormers, balustrades, balconies all lent to the influence of German Renaissance architecture. The fabulous building was erected in the 1880s, and has been home to notable New Yorkers: Lauren Bacall, John Lennon, John Madden and Judy Garland. Now, The Dakota was home to two more super wealthy, gorgeous New Yorkers - Trevor and Avery Barron.

Handsome Trevor Barron stepped onto the landing overlooking the marvelous foyer entrance of his gorgeous apartment home. He watched the houseman before him carrying his two suitcases and make his way down the staircase. Trevor shut the door behind him and glanced at his Rolex timepiece. He followed after the houseman, “Thank you, Devin.” He replied with gratitude for tending to his luggage.

Trevor looked to the opening of the large front door. The echo rang out through the large atrium foyer. Sunlight shined in through the massive windows and reflected off the chandelier overhead. Trevor’s face lit with delight, “Avery…you’re home.” He hurried to the foot of the stairs and embraced his beautiful wife. Avery wrapped her arms around Trevor and buried her head against his strong chest. He reached for her chin and lifted her head up, “This is a surprise. I thought I was going to miss you on my way to the airport…” He planted a kiss on her soft lips.

Avery looked up at her loving husband, “I hurried home as quickly as I could. I’m glad I caught you. I’d like to go with you. I can change and pack in just a few minutes…” She was eager to accompany him on his trip. Trevor held onto her hands and looked into her eyes, “Sweetheart, I won’t have any free time in Hong Kong. I have a full schedule: meetings, more meetings. Since Rand isn’t going I have to be the one to meet with the Chinese officials, our crew, our people there…”

“Trevor, I don’t mind. I already rearranged my shooting schedule and I’ll hardly be in the way..”

“Avery, you’d never be in the way. I would feel just awful for leaving you alone in the hotel room. I really have a packed agenda. I’ll hardly have time for dinner. Besides, it’ll only be a week. I’ll be home before you know it.” He kissed her forehead. Avery’s smile slipped from her face. Trevor knew there was more. There was always more.

“Avery,…Avery, what is it? Something’s wrong?” He asked.

Avery slowly turned and looked away out the windows and over the view of Central Park, “Oh nothing, Trevor. Really. I just would like to spend some time with you. We’ve hardly spent any time together since we were married, and…well, I might be a little lonely.” She let out a simple laugh, obviously due to her discomfort with that statement. Trevor placed his leather briefcase onto the round table in the center of the foyer. A huge arrangement of flowers were on display, “Avery…” He stepped toward her and placed his hands on her shoulders.

She turned to him, “Oh, Trevor. Don’t listen to me. Now I’m being needy and pathetic. You’ve been busy. The jet, Sanders, the board meeting…I’m being selfish that’s all. I was just…I was just really frightened after the jet incident. I’m horribly afraid of losing you, Trevor.” She looked up into his eyes.

Trevor smiled and kissed her lips, “You’ll never lose me, Avery. You could never lose me.” He held her hands and brought them to his lips. He kissed each one. Her glorious diamond ring shined in the sunlight. Avery looked to him, “You were on your way out. I don’t want to keep you any more than I already have…”

The front door opened and Devin peered his head into the room, “Sir, the helicopter is ready to take you to LaGuardia. Shall I ask them to wait a while longer?” The elder gentleman asked with a hint of an English accent. Trevor and Avery looked to Devin. “No. No. I’ll be right along.” Trevor replied.

Avery looked up into his eyes, “Trevor…”

“Avery, something is troubling you. I can feel it.” He held her hands tightly. Avery smiled, “It’s nothing, Trevor. I’m alright. I’m just realizing how much I’m going to miss you.” She laughed. Trevor smiled, “Like I said, it won’t be a pleasure trip. I didn’t even pack a dinner jacket.” He shrugged his shoulders.

“Heaven for fend the faux pas.” Avery joked. Trevor leaned in for another kiss, “I’ll phone you as soon as I arrive in Hong Kong.” He pulled her close for another embrace. Avery closed her eyes as she held on for her life, “I love you, Trevor.”

Trevor pulled back and looked over her beautiful face, her sweet soft eyes, “And I love you, Avery. Forever.” He gently let go of her hands and turned for the door. He retrieved the handle and pulled it open. He looked back once again before making his departure. Avery smiled and offered an open upward palm as if to wave goodbye. She waited for the door to close behind him before turning and starting up the stairs.

Avery slowly made her ascent up the staircase. She ran her hand along the mahogany banister railing. Suddenly she stopped and turned. She looked out over the grand atrium foyer. She slowly lowered herself onto the steps and took a seat. She wrapped her hands around one of the banister pillars and leaned her head against it. She was terribly sad, and indeed lonely. She wasn’t lonely for her husband however. She was lonely for the baby she gave away, and had just spent time with at her sister’s Connecticut home. Avery thought perhaps she could tell Trevor about the baby on a trip away with him; perhaps in Hong Kong. But now that he’s left, she’d have to wait. The waiting was terrible, hard for her, but she knew she had to continue to deal with it. She ran her hands along her arms, warming herself. Alone and lonely, Avery sat on the staircase staring off into nothing.

Rand Barron loosened his YSL tie as he stepped out onto the spacious rooftop deck high over the Barron Soho Hotel. He was pleased to be home again after a near brutal battle at the Barron board meeting this morning, and then fending off the press while making his departure from the Barron Tower in Midtown. Cool November breezes kissed his handsome face before flying off over the terrace railing and out over the city. He paused for a moment when he spotted her, and then quickly carried on, “Morning...” He called out.

Tara Brent turned toward him. Her thick black mane of gorgeous long hair blew in the wind. She wore his monogrammed bathrobe, a gift she gave him several years ago. She was touched that he still had it, “Hi. Morning.” She replied. She held a china cup of coffee. Rand kept his hands safely in his Ralph Lauren suit pants pockets as he approached her. The view of the city was impressive, incredible in fact from up here. Rand relaxed out here often and was happy to see Tara out here as well, “I see you were able to get some breakfast.” He replied.

Tara smiled, “Hilda is the absolute best cook in the world. I always loved her poached salmon and homemade waffles. She’s been with you how many years now?” Rand looked up, “Four.”

“Well I love her.” Tara smiled as she sipped her coffee. Rand leaned against the terrace railing and clasped his hands as if in prayer, “You’re in a good mood this morning. You’re feeling better?” He asked. She looked up at him while running her fingers over her ear, pushing her hair back, “I am.” She nodded. He turned to her and smiled, “Good. I’m very happy to hear that.” He turned and looked out over the Hudson River in the distance.

Tara looked at him. She hesitated for a second, then…”Rand, I don’t expect you to give me a place to stay or a bed to sleep in, or even breakfast or this robe. I don’t expect anything from you…”

“Tara, you don’t have anywhere to go.” He turned to her. He looked upon her face. He knew that she knew…he was right. She lowered her head and looked into her coffee, “That’s hardly the point, Rand, nor is it true. I’m only saying that I don’t expect…”

“I didn’t let you sleep for two days because I thought you expected it. Tara,…I know you need help. I know you don’t have anywhere safe and clean to go.” He turned to her. Tara offered a smile to cover up her pain, “Rand, I have friends. Where do you think I sleep at night? What do you think I do with myself?” She asked. Rand was silent. He didn’t want to answer those questions.

“Rand, I’m not….I’m not homeless anymore. I got really sick a few months ago, I found a shelter and I was there for a while until I moved in with some friends…” She looked away. Rand also looked out over the city, “Friends? Party friends?” He asked. Tara remained silent. Rand knew the answer, “Look, Tara, how do you plan to ever going to get clean if you keep this up? You get sick, you go to a shelter, and then back into that same environment that got you sick in the first place. Why?”

“Because I didn’t want to sleep under the overpass. I didn’t want to dig in a trashcan for food. And I didn’t want to hook anymore.” She turned and looked away from him. Rand knew everything about her, and knew it was nearly as hard for him to hear this as it was for her to say it.

“Why the hell do you think I jumped when your grandfather invited me to dinner? I wanted a good meal, an amazing meal. It wasn’t because I know you enjoy my company, Rand. I know you hate me.” She lowered her head, ashamed. Rand stepped closer to her, “Tara, I don’t hate you.”

“You told me you did. You said you did.” She reminded him. “I know I did. But Tara, when you showed up the other night, I felt…I felt…”

She quickly turned, “What? You felt what, Rand? Sorry? You felt sorry for me? I don’t want pity from you. I have plenty of that from caseworkers, and nurses at the free clinic even though they say they don’t, and the junkies in the alleys where I’ve past out and strangers who look and stare and point on the streets. Do you know a family of tourists once woke me up so they could take my picture? Trust me, Rand. I have plenty of pity.”

“Tara, please…” He looked at her. She stopped and looked up at him. “Tara, stay here. Let me…let me help you.” He pleaded with her. Tara stared into his eyes. She knew he was sincere in wanting to help her. She knew Rand spoke the truth. He never lied to her, and she knew he wasn’t about to start.

“Why would you want to help me? Why haven’t you given up on me yet, Rand? After what I did? After you found out about what I did?” She looked way, fighting tears. He reached out, but pulled back, “Tara, you didn’t do anything to me. I’ve had tests. I’ve have several tests over the last year and I don’t have HIV. You didn’t infect me. And you’re not getting any better by living the way you have been. You’re not helping yourself, Tara. You’re making things worse…”

“And so what, Rand? I don’t have any family; I don’t have any real friends. I don’t have anyone or anything. You said it yourself; I have nowhere to go and nothing to live for…” Tears sprang forth from her soft frightened eyes and slid down her face. Rand reached for her and pulled her close. He held her in his arms and placed his hand on the back of her head. Tara sobbed on his shoulder, dampening his shirt with her tears.

“You have me, Tara. You have me.” He held her tightly, warming her against the chill in the air, and the chill in her heart. Tara looked out through the drowning tears in her eyes over the city. She wanted to jump from the terrace, but what she did was take a leap of faith into Rand’s arms that he would indeed help her. Though very rarely done, she prayed to God to give her the strength to let him.

33. The Unknown Truth

2011-10-30T04:40:00.001-04:00

Trevor Barron brought a china cup of coffee to his lips while pacing alongside the floor to ceiling windows of his office. He peered through his reading glasses as he looked over the latest report sent to his office first thing this morning from Barron Chief Counsel Griffin Gray. The report was good news; great news, in fact. Trevor was already planning to share the findings of the report with the board of directors, set to take place in a matter of minutes. Trevor turned with the buzzing of the intercom and crossed toward his desk, “Yes, Elaine?” He pressed the button.

“Mr. Barron, Cassandra Black is here…” She announced. Before Trevor could reply, the double doors to his office opened. In a gorgeous white Yves Saint Laurent dress and cape coat, beautiful Cassandra Black stood, “Good morning, Trevor.” She greeted.

“It is indeed a good morning, Cassandra. This is the morning we’re going to undo the mess that your father cooked up. I’m so pleased you’ll be in attendance to bear witness, even though he won’t…” Trevor sipped his coffee. Cassandra closed the doors behind herself as she stepped into the room, stilettos hissing along the floor as she did so, “Yes, that is the rumor, Trevor.”

“It isn’t rumor, Cassandra. It’s fact. My grandfather is going to present the motion. I will second and the board will vote to unseat y our father. A misguidance that was made many years ago will finally be corrected this morning. You’ll want to mark the day on your calendar so you can commemorate…or commiserate…which ever…with your father once he returns from the boon docks he’s run off to.” Trevor turned away and back to the report.

“Speaking of calendar, Trevor; doesn’t today’s date ring a bell with you?” She asked. He didn’t bother to look up at her, “It doesn’t.” He answered.

“It should. Today was the date we planned for our wedding. How you do so hurt my feelings with your inability to remember.” She giggled. Trevor slowly raised his eyes up to her, “Cassandra, what is it that you want this morning?” He asked. Cassandra placed her hands on her hips, “I’m hoping to right the wrong between us, Trevor. You can claim through eternity that my father is the devil himself, but I was once the angel you swore you could never live without. How did we let those days escape us? How ever did it happen that we fell out of love with each other?” She grinned as she stepped closer to his desk. Trevor watched her coil the rattle of her tail. He knew when she was after something. He knew her tricks, her games, and he also knew very well how to beat her at those games.

“Cassandra, as usual you’re terribly misguided and completely out of touch. I have forgotten the date we set just as I’ve forgotten you. Your father is the devil, and you’re his closest little confidant. I’m not interested in lying down with either of you in the boardroom or the bedroom. Now,…kindly turn and leave my office.” He stated. “Turn around, Trevor? You mean so you can get a look at the back of me?” She slowly turned and offered a view of her beautiful backside.

Trevor sighed with frustration.

“You do remember seeing me this way don’t you, Trevor?” She recalled their time together. Trevor stepped out from behind the desk, walked past her and toward the door. He reached for the handles on the double doors, “Like your father, you’ll be out of this building, this company any minute. Allow me to help you.” He pulled the double doors open allowing passage for her. She pouted, “You don’t really want me to leave, do you?” She grinned.

“I want nothing more.” He folded his arms across his chest. She held her clutch white Kate Spade purse as she approached, “Do your worst in that meeting, Trevor. Have your forces mounted against my father. Vote him off the board. The seed, however, has already been planted. It’ll only be a matter of time when it will begin to germinate and foster the brilliance of my father’s idea – take Barron Worldwide public. You can’t deny that your board has already begun to consider the concept and voting us out won’t help you.”

“Cassandra, I’m not above throwing you out of this office myself…” He replied. Cassandra reached forward and ran her manicured fingertips across his chin, “You used to love being above me, Trevor. Too bad we can’t relive the old days…the good old days.” She grinned once again as she slowly sauntered out of the office. Trevor watched her make her way out the large glass doors of the main reception area. He turned to, “Elaine, has the board gathered?” He asked. Elaine replied, “Yes, Sir. Shall I let them know you’re on your way?” She asked.

“Yes. I’m on my way…and I can’t wait.” He looked at Elaine and offered a smile to her.

Westport, Connecticut.

Avery Adams pulled the silver convertible Spyder into the driveway of her sister’s home. The Old Hill area of town is a lovely spot with beautiful homes dating to the Revolutionary and Victorian eras. Avery loved driving through Connecticut. The air was so clean, fresh, sweet. Though only an hour and a half outside of Manhattan, she often felt that Westport was a world away. She felt there wasn’t a care or worry in the world here. She felt she could be herself, hide away, not trouble herself with any of her cares back in Manhattan. Those days, however, of retreat and relaxation to Westport were long gone. She no longer sought refuge here. Ever since she made that life changing decision several years ago, she knew she could never come here for comfort or solace again, and that in fact, she really had nowhere she could go to get away. She would have to face it alone for the rest of her life, and would never escape it.

The home was beautiful. Avery was so proud of her sister, a stay at home mother, who once had a career as a professor of Humanities at Cornell. Her husband was a practicing surgeon. They made a great living, had a wonderful home, and a beautiful baby boy. Avery breathed in the air as she stepped out of the car. She slid her Chanel sunglasses onto the top of her head, pushing back her long blonde hair. She looked up at the ivy growing along the house. She stepped up to the front door and rang the bell. She waited a few minutes, rang the bell a few more times, but there was no answer. She placed her glasses back onto her face and turned for the side of the house. There was a large wooden gate surrounding the property and she knew she could get into the back yard this way.

Avery stopped in her tracks at the sight of a little boy running throughout the incredibly lush back yard. He held a toy airplane aloft and ran in circles around the young nanny. Avery’s sister Abigail chased him and they laughed and played together. A simple, soft smile came to Avery’s face as she looked upon true happiness. She wished she could perch on the fence like one of the many bluebirds that flew about and just watch the entire day with the little boy. He was small, brunette, and the cutest, sweetest little boy she had ever laid eyes on.

Abigail turned, noticing someone had entered the backyard, “Avery!” She called out. The little boy noticed also and shouted, “Aunt Avery!” He dropped the plane onto the grass and ran across the lawn to her. Avery laughed and crouched down as the boy ran to her. He quickly jumped to her, throwing his arms around her, welcoming her to his home. He kissed and hugged her, nearly knocking her over. Avery laughed with the bouncing of the boy. Abigail hurried to offer assistance, “Case, come one…give your Aunt Avery some room to breathe.” She reached for his little arms and tried to pull him back. Avery returned the embrace and held him as tightly as she could.

“Aunt Avery, I’m so glad you’re here. I love you!” He shouted as he kissed her face repeatedly. Avery laughed with the over showering of affection, “I love you too, Case.” She held him, and held back her tears. “Did you bring me anything?” He asked. Avery asked as she looked up to her sister. Abigail grabbed him and scooped him up into her arms, “Oh boy…come on…” With laughter and cheer, they stepped across the beautifully manicured lawn and made their way into the house.

An hour later, Abigail and Avery adjourned to the kitchen for another cup of tea while nanny put Case down for his nap. Avery looked out the large windows and over the spacious back yard. Large trees, beautiful flower beds, a swing set, and a small pond filled the yard. It was picture perfect, and it was what Avery always hoped she herself would someday have.

“Abigail, it’s absolutely beautiful here. I’m so happy to see you in this amazing place.” Avery sat at the pub height granite counter. Abigail tidied up around the kitchen before taking her cup of tea and joining her little sister, “You aren’t exactly slumming yourself, Avery. Living in the Dakota with Trevor Barron isn’t something to down play.” She grinned. Avery looked into her cup and reached for the tea bag, “This is true. Trevor and I…we have a wonderful life. I wouldn’t trade any of it.” She sipped her tea. Abigail smiled at her. She watched Avery’s eyes wander off back out the windows and over the yard.

“Avery, I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t noticed that something’s wrong.”Abigail looked at her sister. Avery quickly darted her eyes back, “Hey, I’m an actress. I’m supposed to be able to hide my emotions.” She replied. Abigail smiled, “Not from your sister. Sorry, it doesn’t work here.”

“I never could fool you.” Avery replied. Abigail looked on at her sister. It was true: Abigail always knew when her sister was troubled. Only a year apart, the sisters were extremely close growing up. It was Abigail who started in dance lessons, which she quickly became bored with. Avery took to those classes like a fish to water, and relished the performance stage and spotlight. Avery was cast in commercials and modeling jobs as a young child and her career as a star took off. Abigail stepped back and watched her little sister soar to stardom.

“Abigail, I…I wish sometimes…I wish sometimes that things were different. I wish sometimes that I didn’t make the choices that I made. I wish that I were stronger, smarter. I wish that I didn’t have the feeling that I should have done things differently.” She looked up. Abigail remained silent. “Don’t get me wrong, I have lived with the choices I’ve made and I understand, I know why I made those choices and I’m very happy with my life. But…but I sometimes wonder what it would have been like if…” She stopped herself.

Abigail knew the rest, “If you hadn’t given Case up to Mitchell and me to adopt?” She asked. Avery looked to her sister. Her eyes were telling, and obvious.

“Avery, you made the right decision at the time. You weighed every possible consequence. I remember. I was there with you. You not only made the best decision for you, but you gave Mitchell and me the greatest gift anyone could. You knew we couldn’t conceive and you trusted us enough to raise him as our son, our baby. We love him more than anything, Avery. He’s happy. We’re happy.” Abigail replied.

“Avery reached for her sister’s hand, “Abigail, I know. I know. I just…I just…Seeing him so happy… Sometimes I just wish things could have been different …for me.” She lowered his head.

“And you never told his father?” Abigail asked. Avery nodded her head, “I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. There was no way. He was in no condition, and I wasn’t about to allow myself to be bound to him for the rest of my life. He would have insisted we get married. That was completely out of the question, you know that.”

“I know that, Avery.” Abigail agreed. “So you’re right. I did make the right decision. It was the right thing to do…at the time.” Avery looked up into her sister’s eyes, telling herself what she forced herself for nearly five years to understand and believe. Deep down, however, she knew that she never would.

Carmel, California.

Waves of the Pacific Ocean crashed against the rocks of the cliffs along the coast. Runners and bicyclists zoomed by with walkers and dogs in pursuit. The quaint beach town is a quiet, simple one. Late autumn had settled over the beach town, cooling down surfers, sailboarders, hippy gypsy’s who had made their homes in tents in dunes on the beaches. Carmel has been home to a modern Renaissance movement for the last forty or so years. Poets, playwrights, photographers, actors have flocked to the seashore to hone their craft, enjoy marijuana revelry, and wallow in the slower pace. The arts scene was big in Carmel. Open Mic Night brought poets and activists and Wall Street protestors to coffee houses in droves. For most, the town was an easy slip into comfortable obscurity. To others, it was the beacon of hope for a fresh start away from the past and the bad memories. For one particular man, it was a hideout and safe haven from a past that he didn’t want to ever catch up to him.

“And so the coup of the decade has come to pass with the removal of M. Sanders Black from the board of directors of Barron Worldwide. The head of American Black has been out of the country for several weeks now, and was not available for comment. Occupy Wall Street protestors have stated that this is a sign of things to come, and that their hard line stance for change and an end to corporate corruption has gone noticed. The voice of the people has been carried to corporate America…finally, according to some of those camped out in Lower Manhattan. A spokesperson for Barron Worldwide has stated that recent protest activities have nothing to do with the decision to make that change to the board…”

The house was small, comfortable. It was sparse in décor. Furniture purchased second hand filled the small living room. A yellow 1950s table and chairs sat in the center of the kitchen. The warped old kitchen floor tile turned up in some corners. Time and salty air hadn’t been too kind to the old house. Wood paneling had covered most of the walls. The mid-century home was a throwback to decades gone by. Antique appliances, a plastic covered sofa, even an old big box tube television and shag carpeting made the house a home. It was still a bit musty due to having been boarded up for a very long time. It was slowly making its way back, now that He was back.

The man laid back on his bench press, pushing up the weighted bar while listening to CNN. His day consisted of a morning jog, whole wheat toast, scrambled eggs, and juice. He’d flip through the paper to have a look at the ponies down in L.A., and then get in a work out on the bench he found at a yard sale down the street. He’d have to adjust the antenna atop the television to get a picture from the pirated cable so he could keep up with what was happening in the world. CNN was his favorite way to do that. He’d been away for so long, locked up in prison. So much had happened, and some days he wondered what the hell was happening to the world. He longed for the old days when he could pull a job, a scam, and make out with hundreds of thousands of dollars. Those days, like the days when this home was in vogue, were long gone.

“Company CEO Trevor Barron released a statement to the press early this morning, claiming that the departure of Sanders Black was the amicable result of the desire for change for both parties involved. The board of directors convened shortly after nine this morning to bring about that change, that industry analysts say was a long time coming….”

He placed the bar back into the posts, ending his bench workout. Slowly, he sat up and looked to the television across the living room from him. Sunlight came in through the small windows. He could hear crashing of waves outside. It was peaceful in Carmel. His peace was long overdue.

The news report flashed to a live shot of the scene, “The Barron family has been in the press lately with the accidental explosion of one of their corporate jets at Teterboro Airport a few weeks ago. Though there was only one casualty in the incident, security has been increased for the family compound in Southampton and family residences in Manhattan. FBI and NTSB investigations have concluded that the jet incident was not terrorist related, bringing about an end to any concern with Barron projects in Europe and Asia.” He reached for a nearby towel and began to wipe the sweat from his chest. Probably in his sixties, he was fit, robust, built, and in excellent shape. His blue eyes studied the live scene of the gray suits on the screen. Barron. Just who the hell where these people?

“For the family that has experienced some setback, there appears to be good news on the horizon. The Barron Worldwide office confirmed this morning the news that company founder and Chairman of the Board Edward Barron has become engaged to long time girlfriend Ms. Joanna Johnson….”

He darted his eyes to the screen. He quickly rose to his feet and stepped closer to the television. A lovely photograph of Edward and Joanna taken while at a black tie fundraiser filled the screen. He couldn’t believe his ears or his eyes. He looked on to the television as the reporter continued, “The Barron public relations team hasn’t released any details on the impending nuptials of billionaire Edward Barron and Joanna Johnson, but we’ll be sure to bring them to you as soon as possible. Please stay with us for ongoing coverage and information on the changing developments with Barron Worldwide. In other news…”

The photograph on the screen seemed to freeze in time and space. He stared into the television as if he had never seen it before. He stopped in his proverbial tracks as he looked upon the face, that beautiful familiar face that he knew so well. Joanna. He smiled as he realized the unknown truth, “Joanna Johnson. Well I’ll be damned. How the hell do you plan to marry this man,…when you’re still married to me, honey?” He smiled as he reached to the screen and outlined her face with his fingertips. A simple laugh slipped into the air. What was it about those days of pulling scams to make money? Where they indeed behind him?

32. Wonderful

2011-10-27T02:49:00.001-04:00

Mary Farmer kept her eyes focused out the windows for the last twenty minutes. Seated in the back of the black Maybach limousine, she was in the most unfamiliar territory. She watched the morning sunlight turn into the darkness of the Lincoln Tunnel and then to daylight once reaching Manhattan. He called her to tell her that he was sending a car for her. She had no idea it was a limousine! Once she spotted the limousine outside her front door, she dashed back to her closet to change clothes again, and again, and finally a third time. She felt terrible for keeping the chauffer waiting. She settled on black dress she had found in a used clothing store in Soho last year. It had simple straps and fit her body like a glove with a flared skirt. She adored the dress, and had been dying to wear it but the occasion hadn’t presented itself – until today. She ripped the price tag off of it, nearly tearing the label that read Vivienne Westwood.

She held a small clutch purse and continued to push her blonde hair behind her ears: a nervous habit. She chewed a seemingly endless supply of breath mints and her nerves were getting the best of her. She had never been in a limousine. She had seen many of them making an arrival or departure in the main drive of the Barron Country House in the Hamptons and knew that she’d have to ride in one someday. She once hid in an upstairs guest bedroom and looking out on the drive, counted seventy-seven limousines that had arrived, delivering guests to a Barron party. She always knew it would be exciting to ride in a limousine. So why on earth was she so nervous?

Down the West Side Highway, the limousine darted through traffic. Mary looked out at the yellow sea of taxi cabs, the steel mammoth commuter buses, and pedestrians, runners, joggers, and bicycles. The morning commute in Manhattan brought all sorts out; sights Mary hadn’t seen in some time. Businessmen, young women in flip flops and skirts, skateboarders, medical students in scrubs with iPods and coffee, rickshaws, and the occasional rollerblader. She lived in a small apartment in Soho while attending NYU last summer. Though still a student, she longed to return to the city, but knew that wouldn’t be anytime soon. She often told herself that taking an apartment in Manhattan was an obviously blatant act of overreaching. She loved that apartment; that small, dark, over a Hindi restaurant apartment. But it was hers, and she loved it.

Her eyes grew wide as the limousine came to a stop. She didn’t understand just what she was doing at the Chelsea Piers. She hadn’t been here in a while. Her last visit was many years ago to the batting cages. Though a bit familiar with the surroundings, one item of note stood out like a sore thumb. It was a helicopter.

She took the guiding hand of the chauffer as he helped her step from the limousine. Her blonde hair blew in the morning air. She looked all around until finally she spotted Him. Richardson Black.

“You must have run into a terrible traffic tie up in the tunnel. I’ve been waiting forever.” He joked as he stepped toward her, a shimmering Rolls Royce parked behind him with a chauffeur standing by. Richardson wore a very handsome Calvin Klein suit and carried a massive bouquet of pink and silver roses. Mary’s face lit with delight as she spotted him, “Richardson, what is all of this…?” She turned, looking around at the limousine, the Rolls Royce, then back to the flowers and again to the tell tale helicopter.

He smiled as he presented the flowers to her, “I wanted to plan something very special for our…first date. I hope that’s alright.” He stated. Mary retrieved the beautifully wrapped roses and brought them to her nose, “It’s wonderful.” She smiled. Teeth. Shine. Beautiful.

Richardson shared a gorgeous smile of his own, “Wonderful…” He shared her word. He took hold of her hand and led her away from the limousine to the waiting helicopter. She tugged back on his hand, “Wait…what are we doing…?” She hesitated. Richardson smiled, “I can’t fly you to the moon, but I can fly you up over Manhattan. Have you ever seen the city from the air?” He asked.

Mary looked at the massive propeller blades, the sleek shinning hull, the familiar American Black logo on the side, the handsome pilot with retro aviator sunglasses awaiting their arrival. She turned to Richardson, “I haven’t.” She nodded her head. He smiled, “Good.” He pulled her hand once again and led her to the helicopter. The ground crew assisted them in getting into the helicopter and buckling them in and fastening a headset and microphone to their heads. Richardson was overjoyed with excitement. Mary was nervous as hell.

What sounded like the starting of massive jet engines roared out and the powerful rotation of the propellers overhead started with a jolt. Mary reached out and grabbed hold of Richardson’s hand as she placed her other hand to her heart. She wore a single simple strand of pearls, the only thing left behind by her mother. Richardson smiled as he clenched her hand. Mary blushed with embarrassment, however it felt great, and it felt right.

Mary gasped as the helicopter lifted off the ground and higher and higher into the air. Richardson watched the look of wonderment on her face as she gazed out at the magnificence before her.

New York City. It was never so amazing than at this very moment.

It was the most glorious sun splashed morning. The helicopter darted west out over the Hudson River and banked south. Mary looked into the distance and saw the outstretched torch of the Statue of Liberty. Tourist ferries were already en route to Ellis Island. Mary had taken that ferry a time or two on school field trips and with her father. She turned to her right. New Jersey. It seemed so far away. Her home. Her father. Her life. She turned and looked to Richardson, and seemed to thank him with just a smile. To the left was One World Trade. The behemoth building was going up nearly overnight as work crews were reported to work around the clock. The rebuilding of Ground Zero was underway, and it looked amazing.

The helicopter rounded south over Battery Park and made a full turn, pointing north toward the city. Mary looked out over the Manhattan skyline. Charging forth over the city, the helicopter carried Richardson and Mary on the most incredible first date either of them would ever have.

The Brooklyn Bridge to the east. Battery Park City to the west. Mary had been to all these New York City landmarks, had studied them in school, had read about Occupy Wall Street protests below them, watched the New York City Marathon on television going over that bridge; but nothing could ever come close to seeing the city from here. Nothing. Ever.

Mary pointed to the Empire State Building to the right, and the glittering Chrysler Building in the distance. She recalled memories of King Kong, and An Affair to Remember when looking at the Empire State Building. She looked down below at the fleet of taxi cabs, busses, traffic. How fantastic it was to be so high up, above the noise, the stress, the hurry up and go of the City. This was indeed the way to travel, the way to see everything, and she enjoyed it. It called to her. It…the City spoke to her and she was reminded of just how happy she was to live in the most amazing place in the world.

Central Park. Green. Lush. Vibrant. Bethesda Fountain. The Reservoir. Massive open areas like Sheep’s Meadow. She had laid out in the sweltering sun to work on her tan in the Park, had ridden her bike along the paths, plaid Frisbee with friends in the Park. She looked out over the high rise residential towers along Central Park West. She knew that famous people like John Lennon and Jacquelyn Onassis lived there. She told herself that she’d love to live there one day too.

Richardson kept his eyes on Mary during nearly the entire ride. She was effervescent, vivacious, aglow with wonderment and joy. He loved that he could provide this experience for her,…for the both of them. He couldn’t remember the last time he was with a beautiful young woman, so seemingly innocent, open, alive, fresh. It was a marvelous feeling to know that there was one left in the world…and she was seated right beside him.

After only an hour, the helicopter made a full turn and headed south back to the Piers. Richardson looked at Mary and asked, “Are you enjoying this?” She smiled, “Completely.”

Mary turned again and looked out over the City…her City. New York was incredible at any hour, of any day. But never had it reached out to her like it had this morning. High above New York, Mary felt herself falling in love with the City, and knew that this experience, with Richardson was one she’d never forget.

31. What Fun Would That Be?

2011-09-23T20:17:00.002-04:00

Edward Barron glanced over reports and financial analysis as he paced over the antique Oriental in his Study. Morning dew still settled on the roses outside the windows. The familiar sound of lawn mowers and gardeners filled the air as he studied the reports before him. He had made a decision at this early morning hour, one that he was firmly behind.

The knock on the door disturbed him. He turned, “Come in.” He called out. George peered into the room, “Sir, Ms. Cassandra Black is here to see you.” He announced. Edward removed his reading glasses, “Send her in, George.” He reached for a crystal carafe and poured a glass of water for himself. He turned and gazed out over the garden.

In a black Dior dress, Cassandra entered the room. She carried a massive arrangement of fresh summer flowers, “Good morning, Edward.” She spoke. He kept his back to her, eyes focused on the view out the windows. He sipped the water and remained quiet. Cassandra remained in her place by the door. George stepped out of the room and shut the door behind him. “I wanted to look in on you and see how you were coming along. I’m terribly sorry to hear about the incident. I’m pleased to see you’re alright.”

“Are you?” He asked. Cassandra set the flowers down onto the desk, “Edward, despite what has transpired between yourself and my father I always had nothing but the utmost respect and admiration for you…”

“Cassandra, I never knew you to be a liar.” He replied, still with his back to her. Cassandra fluttered her eyes, “I…I beg your pardon?” She was stunned. Edward was never one to be vicious…yet. “Where is your father?” He asked. Cassandra placed her hands behind her back, “I don’t know.”

He laughed as he turned to her, “Liar.” He replied. “I resent that remark, Edward…”

“And I resent you showing your face in the most dramatic fashion in my board meeting and pulling the stunt that you and your father have concocted to bring down my company. Just who the hell do you think you are fooling, young lady? Yourself? Your father? You certainly aren’t fooling anyone named Barron.” He looked on at her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. My father invited me to…”

“To what? Help him behead me and my company? Did you plant the bomb yourself? I imagine you hired someone to do that. I know how you do enjoy a good manicure. Far be it for you to dirty your own delicate hands. Tell me something, Cassandra. What’s next? Is your father going to appear from out of thin air and cast a spell on me, or did he send his witch of a daughter to do that for him?” Edward wasn’t holding back and had only just begun.

“I can see you’re still very upset about the fact that my father saw and proposed a sound business opportunity. You want to keep your company in the dark ages, that is your mistake. He is on your board of directors, appointed by yourself may I remind you, to voice opinion and propose opportunities that will continue to make Barron a success. You’re too blind obviously to see past your family portraits to understand that there is money to be made in the global economy, and you’ll not have it. Well, Edward, that will be your undoing.” She turned for the door.

“Cassandra, the only undoing is your fathers. You see, I’ve called an emergency meeting of the board, all of whom are still in New York. I am proposing a plan to have your father removed from my board. If he isn’t in town to attend that meeting he’ll be left out and the majority will vote without him.” Edward grinned. Cassandra looked at him, “I have his voting proxy, Edward, and I will be at that meeting…”

“Very well. Then you’ll be the one to deliver the news to him that his time with Barron is over.” He sipped his water. Cassandra stood in anger and silence.

Edward approached her, “I shudder to think that my grandson nearly married you. I’m happy to see that I was right all along; that you are a vicious, ugly carbon copy of your jealous father. You’d have brought nothing to this family but pain and torment. Instead, you’ve been left alone to wallow in that pain and torment all by yourself. I trust it’s been a happy relationship…with yourself.”

“How dare you…” Cassandra was growing angrier.

Edward placed his glasses back onto his face and retrieved his files once again, “I’ve finished. You may leave now. Oh, and take those flowers with you. You see the lovely rose garden on my estate, don’t you?” He turned and motioned toward the majestic view of the roses and great lawn behind him, “Surely you know that those weeds you’ve brought in here pale in comparison.”

She hesitated. He looked up at her, “Get out of here, Cassandra.” He was determined. She was furious. She quickly grabbed the flowers and made her exit, slamming the door as she did so. Edward smiled. He was extremely pleased, and in fact had just begun.

“…and let’s be sure everything is ready by the end of the day. I don’t want anything out of place for this meeting.” Trevor reached for a cup of coffee as he stood at his desk. Morning sunlight filled the room. He smiled to his assistant Elaine. She scribbled every word on her notepad, “I’ll have your grandfather’s helicopter ready by 5.” She looked up at him. “Thank you, Elaine. I think that’s everything.” He stated. She smiled and turned for the door. Just then, the office door opened and Rand Barron stepped inside. He was fresh, handsome in a navy Versace suit. Elaine said good morning to him as she exited the office.

“I just received the notice of the emergency board meeting. Good news.” Rand replied. Trevor busied himself around the massive desk, “Indeed it is. Grandpa’s got the right idea ejecting Sanders. Dad was right when he told us all those years ago not to trust Sanders. Grandpa has always been trusting, and with his own good reason. But things have changed and we can’t allow Sanders to be on board anymore.” He looked up.

Rand took a seat in front of the desk opposite Trevor, “What’s the latest on the injunction? Has Griffin reported in yet?” He asked.

“Yes. In fact your timing is perfect. Griffin is on his way down here right now to give me the particulars. He hasn’t managed to overturn the injunction, but the Chinese will allow a continuance until we can prove that this wasn’t an act of terrorism. We don’t have dealings in that anyway, so it looks like things are on our side.” Trevor offered a reassuring smile.

Rand lowered his head. Trevor was quick, “Aren’t you leaving soon? Tomorrow in fact?” He asked.

Rand looked up, “I’m not leaving tomorrow. I’m not leaving…at all.”

Trevor quickly looked at his brother, “What? Not leaving?” He asked. Rand rose to his feet and turned away from Trevor, “I’ve had some rather important personal business come up and I won’t be able to go to Hong Kong…yet.”

“Rand, what could possibly be more important than Hong Kong? This is the biggest…” Trevor was cut short.

“I know. I know. This is the biggest hotel project we’ve ever had. I appreciate you putting me in charge and I want to be, make no mistake about that. But I have to stay in New York at least for a few more weeks.” Rand pleaded.

“Rand, you can’t. You have to be in Hong Kong tomorrow…”

“I’m not going, Trevor.” Rand was unyielding.

Trevor turned and looked out the windows over Midtown Manhattan, “Rand, don’t tell me I’ve made a mistake putting you in charge of Hong Kong. I will not allow anything to get in the way of this and if I have to…” He lowered his head. Rand folded his arms across his chest. “If I have to, I will make the necessary changes so that you aren’t involved….”

“Now you want to kick me off the project? Trevor, I just told you I have very serious personal business to take care of…” Rand shouted.

Trevor quickly turned, “I don’t care what you have to take care of in your personal life, Rand. What the hell is more important than this?”

“Tara. Tara showed up and nearly jumped off my terrace. How’s that for important personal business?” Rand revealed. Trevor stopped in his charge. He lowered his head with a sigh of frustration. Rand looked on, “Don’t you know that I want nothing more than to see us come out of this injunction and move forward? Don’t you know that I want to be a success now that I’m back and in control of my life again?” Rand asked.

Trevor shook his head, “No, Rand. No I don’t see that. I don’t see how you can devote the time and energy you need to be the success that you’d like if you’re going to drop things for Tara. I’m sorry that she isn’t well, but you have a job…”

“Do you want me to quit?” Rand asked. “Rand, what the hell does that mean? I don’t want you to quit, but your personal life cannot dictate what you do or don’t do for Barron. I flew off in the middle of the night with Avery to get married and was back the very next morning for the board meeting. Do you think I’m going to let my life get in the way of our company?” He asked. Rand was silent. He didn’t need to hear anymore about Avery. Ever.

“Rand, I need you in Hong Kong. It’s that simple.” Trevor wasn’t backing down. Rand slowly looked up at Trevor, “I’m not going to Hong Kong. Why don’t you do it?” He turned and stepped toward the door. Trevor’s mouth slowly opened. He couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe what he had just heard. He watched Rand head for the door and make his departure. Trevor took his reading glasses and tossed them onto his desk. He reached for the intercom on his telephone, “Elaine?”

“Yes, Mr. Barron?” She replied.

“Elaine, please make arrangements for me to go to Hong Kong right after tomorrow mornings meeting.” He depressed the button and slowly turned to look out the windows over the skyline. He’d soon be looking at the lights on the other side of the world.

Avery Adams stood against the windows, looking out over the rolling in of the sea and the crashing of the waves against the rocks. A single tear slipped out of her eyes and down her cheeks. She held a lace handkerchief in her hand. Her long thick curled hair was pinned back on one side. Behind her, stood a handsome, tall muscular man in a dark suit, “I…I don’t understand.” He called out. Quickly, she turned, hair flying over her shoulders, “I know I must tell you. This secret…this terrible secret is killing me. It is slowly killing me and I need to tell you. I can’t stand another day. I just can’t…”

“Cut!” Called out the director from his chair. All around, cameramen, boom operators, grips, lighting engineers, assistants and the sultry Hannah Hereford stood and watched Avery’s performance on camera. Avery quickly turned toward the director, “Bill, what’s wrong?” She asked. Make up and hair hurried over to her and began touch ups. Bill Moss, the award winning director of “Gorgeous” dismounted his director’s chair and stepped toward Avery, crossing the beautiful plywood living room set, “Avery, what’s the matter?” He asked.

Avery looked up into his eyes, “What do you mean?” She asked. “I’m not feeling it. I’m not seeing your pain, your heartache. Avery, I know your family is under a lot of personal stress right now, but I need you to be on top of your game.” He looked down onto her frightened face.

Hannah Hereford, Avery’s on and off screen rival slithered behind Bill, “Why don’t we get to my scenes next, Bill? I do make it a habit of coming to work ready and prepared.” She grinned over his shoulder to Avery. Bill turned to Hannah and then back to Avery, “Avery, take a break. Let’s call lunch and back in an hour. I need my star rested, not unfocused.” He patted her on the shoulder. Avery smiled, “Alright. Thanks, Bill.” Bill turned, holding his clip board, “That’s lunch, everyone! One hour!” He called out. An assistant echoed the command and crew began to disperse. Avery turned to watch the crowd slowly slip away.

Minutes later, Avery stepped into her dressing room. The room was lavish, well lit with a large window overlooking midtown Manhattan. She closed the left open closet door, shielding her fabulous wardrobe from the sunlight. She stepped to her floor to ceiling mirrored wall and looked over her reflection. Beautiful. The wall behind her was filled with framed magazine covers, chronicling her storied career – her days as a top model, Seventeen, Vogue, Elle, In Style, and various soap magazines and posters and promo shots. Avery was indeed a star, and indeed famous. It was no secret that she was tiring of the spotlight, and that she knew her days at the top were numbered. There were so many actresses, more ambitious, cunning, daring, wanting to take her place and dethrone her: Hannah Hereford leading the pack.

Avery crossed the room and retrieved her purse amid bags of changing clothes and gym clothes. She reached in and grabbed her cell phone. She scanned the Directory and dialed the familiar number, “Hi. Abigail, its Avery. Yes, hi! No, I’m calling you from the set. I have an hour for lunch and thought I’d call and check in.” Avery nervously paced the dressing room. She looked at her face in the mirror, practicing her actress smile, “I’d love to come out and visit you…and the kids. I can rent a car and drive out tomorrow or the next day. I know there’s a very special day coming up and I can’t make it for that, but I thought I’d come early and see everyone. Is that alright?”

Avery waited for the response. Her nervous eyes fluttered around the room. Then, the approval and smile came, “Wonderful. I’ll let you know when I’ll be there. Oh no, I’ll just come for the day. I have so much going on here and I don’t really want to be gone from Trevor for too long right now. Fantastic. Thanks, Abigail. See you soon.” Avery ended her call. She smiled to her reflection. She moved across the room to place her phone back into her purse. She spotted her Dior wallet. She slowly picked it up and flipped it open. She turned her manicured fingernails through the collection of photographs: Trevor, her parents, her sister and brother in law, and a baby: a smiling, tiny newborn baby. Avery placed her fingertip on his face and she smiled back at him.

Night. The Penthouse of the St. Regis.

Cassandra glided on air as she made her way to the door. The black tufted satin train of her Givenchy dress swayed along the marble floor. She retrieved the door. Her smile quickly faded, “Sylvie, I’m pleased you could accept my invitation, even though you are two hours late.” Cassandra stepped aside to allow entrance for her mother.

Glamorous Sylvie Black entered the posh suite. Her hair was done up, showing off her long swan neck and dazzling collection of diamonds. She was stunning in amber Galliano couture, “That was hardly an invitation, dahling. It was more like a command.” Sylvie removed her wrap and tossed it to the large sofa. Cassandra grinned as she closed the door, “I imagine you can’t stay long. I’d offer a drink but you appear to already be drunk.” She giggled as she crossed the room to her chilled bottle of Dom Perignon.

Sylvie turned toward her daughter, “You’re right about one thing, Cassandra: I can’t stay long. I’m on my way to a ballet opening. I will tell you I was surprised to hear that you had managed the nerve to drag yourself back to New York after you humiliated yourself and dashed away in shame. Brava, dahling for having the guts to show your face.” She recalled a terrible time for Cassandra. A light hearted Cassandra turned to her mother, “Sylvie, I didn’t command that you come over for a trip down memory lane. I ordered you to come here so we can get one thing straight once and for all. You see, I’m going to be here for a while, a few months perhaps,…and I don’t need you nor do I want you in my way.” She sipped her champagne.

“Your way? Dahling, you’ve always had a clear path straight to hell’s gate. I can’t imagine getting in your way…” Sylvie giggled.

Cassandra rolled her eyes as she turned to her mother, “Your sense of humor nearly rivals your seething raging alcoholism. Despite the accident at birth, you are my mother, but the one thing we need to be clear on is that I despise you, loathe you in fact,…and want absolutely nothing to do with you.”

“Such sweetness and love from my one and only daughter.” Sylvie mocked.

“I am in New York at the request of my father, who under doctors orders, has been commanded to take a break from all things that ail him – his office, those wretched Barron’s, and yourself no doubt. I don’t want to see you continue to…”

“Wait one minute, dahling. Let me remind you that I am in fact, accident or not, still your mother and that you will not take that tone of voice with me. You don’t make insistence upon me nor do you speak to me as you do any stranger on the street.” Sylvie corrected her daughter.

“Sylvie, but you are a stranger…walking the street.” Cassandra smiled as she sipped her champagne.

Sylvie had heard enough and reached for her wrap, “My car is waiting…”

Cassandra defiantly placed her hands on her hips, “A hearse?”

Sylvie laughed as she neared the door, “Dahling, you always were a wicked child. I see some things haven’t changed.” She opened the door. Cassandra called out, “I mean it, Sylvie. I don’t want to see your face or hear your voice or receive any trouble from you while I’m in New York.” She insisted.

Sylvie stopped and slowly turned to her daughter, “Well what fun would that be, dahling?” She giggled once again as she made her exit, leaving the door open in her wake. Cassandra stood watching her mother leave. She stood in silence, and prepared for the worst.

30. Electricity

2011-09-19T19:12:00.000-04:00

The Barron SoHo.

Rand Barron slowly stepped across the hard wood floor of his incredible bedroom. Shades were lifted, but light from the Manhattan skyline glittered into the dark room. He had changed out of his tuxedo and wore a pair of loose fitting Burberry pajama pants. He held a glass of water. He stopped in the door frame and looked upon the sleeping girl curled up in his bed.

Tara lay fast asleep, deeply in another world with her dreams and at peace. How soft and tender she looked. How serene, calm, childlike. Rand had loved her like this, when she was the real Tara he knew and loved several years ago. The party was always there between them; they met while high on cocaine. But he had seen a soft side, a real, honest side to Tara that no one ever knew. He longed for those days, but let them slip away when he went for his much sought after rehabilitation. Rand cleaned up his life. Tara’s fell apart.

He placed the glass down on the nightstand and sat on the bed beside her. He gently ran his hand along her beautiful face. He smiled as he looked over her. If only she were always as sweet and soft they might have had a future together.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang out. Rand jumped in hope that the sound would not wake or disturb Tara. She definitely needed her sleep, and there was nothing he would let get in her way of that.

Rand hurried down the stairs as the bell rang yet again. He bounded off the third step and hurried to the door. He quickly retrieved it and pulled it open. Avery.

“What…what are you doing here, Avery?” He stood in the door way. Avery, still in her black strapless Balenciaga, ran her eyes along the musculature of his chest, the definition of his abs, the heaving of his breath from running down the stairs, “May I come in, Rand?” She asked. Rand slowly stepped aside so she could make her entrance. Avery was gorgeous in this dress. Rand had made that observation earlier in the evening while at dinner.

“May I get something for you? Water?” Rand offered. Avery turned, hair flying in rehearsed fashion, “No, Rand. I won’t…I can’t stay long. I know I should have phoned you to let you know I was coming, but I came on a whim and I needed to see you. I’m sorry it’s so late.” She held her clutch purse. “What is it, Avery?” He folded his arms, chest flexed.

“Rand, I don’t care for the way you spoke to your brother this evening. If the two of you are ever going to make amends…” She looked upon him. “Oh, Avery, did you really come all the way down here for this?” He turned from her and shrugged his shoulders. Avery placed her purse down, “Yes, Rand. Yes I did come all the way down here for this. I would go to the ends of the earth for my husband. I couldn’t speak to you at the house because…”

“Why do you even bother, Avery?” He turned to her. She looked onto the frustration on his face, “Because I care, Rand. I care about what happens to you.” She revealed. “That’s funny, Avery, because I don’t care at all about what happens to you. You’re married to my brother and he should be your first priority…”

“He is my first priority. I’m here because you need to repair the damage that has been done to your relationship and someone needs to tell you to do that. I’m tired of tiptoeing around you, and worrying about your feelings and wondering if you’re going to jump back into a bottle again…” She hit below the belt every time.

“Where was this concern four years ago, Avery? Where was this concern when I slit my wrists and ended up in the emergency room? Where was this concern when my head nearly exploded after four days of shooting up and binge drinking? Where were you when I was…” He shouted.

“I wasn’t there, Rand! Alright? I wasn’t there. But I’m here now, and I’m not going to watch you ruin your life again or your brother’s life. You have a responsibility to..”

“Avery, get out. The one thing you’re right about is that you should have called. I would have told you to stay where you were and save your time and breath. I don’t want to hear anything you have to say. I will never want to hear anything you have to say.” He reached for the door.

Avery stood in the center of the room. He turned and looked at her. She was frail, frightened, alone, breathtakingly gorgeous. He stopped and looked at her the way he always looked at her…as though she needed him, still loved him.

“Please, Rand.” Avery pleaded.

Rand pulled the door open, “Get out.” He stood with the door open for her. Avery reached for her purse from the large sofa and stepped toward the door. She stopped and looked up into his eyes, “I never stopped caring, Rand. I never stopped thinking about you and wanting only the best for you.” She touched his face.

He looked down into the depths of her eyes, “You should have, Avery. I did.” Contempt and anger filled his face. Avery lowered her head and turned to walk out. Rand closed the door and turned the latch. He breathed with frustration and leaned his head onto the door. Emptiness and loss and sadness filled his heart and his head. He loved Avery, and would love her forever.

Slowly he turned to make his way back up the stairs. He stopped in his tracks. Wide awake Tara had risen from her slumber to witness the entire conversation. She stood at the top of the stairs, still wearing one of Rand’s Harvard t-shirts and bare legs. Her gorgeous hair was tattered about her face. She simply looked at him as he looked back up at her.

West 57^th.

Rebecca carried a pleather briefcase in one hand and a stack of files in the other. She entered the code into the keypad and made her way into the lobby of her apartment building. Her stilettos clicked along the linoleum floor as she hurried to catch the elevator. A handsome man with a dog on a leash held the door for her. They said hello to one another. Rebecca looked down at the small dog. The chime of the elevator rang out as they reached her floor. She shuffled her papers and briefcase as she exited and stepped down the corridor.

She shuffled through her purse for her cell phone and called the familiar number, “Terry, hi. Thank you again for keeping Elizabeth over night. I had no idea I would be at the office so late. Yes, I’ll be there at six to pick her up. Oh I know. I’ll pay you on Friday. Thanks again, Terry. Bye.” Rebecca hit the End button on the phone. She breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that the sitter was able to keep her baby over night. Rebecca didn’t like doing that, and had done it more than too often. The cost of keeping her child overnight was staggering, but payday was just around the corner and she would be able to pay for it.

She dropped her keys to the floor. She quickly bent over to retrieve them. She noticed what appeared to be a sheet of paper tucked underneath her door. Her eyes ran over it as she grabbed it. She quickly stood up and unfolded it, papers and files nearly falling to the floor. At the top of the folded letter was the familiar logo of the electric company.

“Oh no…” Rebecca hurried her key into the lock. She quickly opened the door and stepped in. With the light of the corridor behind her, she flipped the light switch to the foyer light. Nothing. The power had been turned off. “Oh no. This can’t be happening. I thought I had another week…”

Rebecca stepped into the apartment and closed the door behind her. She left the blinds open on the large windows, and thankfully had some light from the street outside. She placed everything down onto the dining table, crowded with folded laundry and baby clothes and stuffed animals. The charming apartment was usually a little more kept, but lately Rebecca had other things to occupy her. She had prepared for the board meeting, and made several mad middle of the night dashes to Catherine Barron’s apartment to retrieve couture and jewels for her.

Rebecca stood in the center of the room, “Damn it, Rebecca…” She said to herself. She ran her hands through her hair and let them flop down to her sides. She looked around the room. The usual blinking lights of the cable box and internet router were off. The DVD player clock was off. Nothing worked, and neither did her financial situation. Rebecca would forgo dinner tonight and slip into the cold darkness of her bed.

Morning.

Catherine Barron paced in her office high over bustling morning Midtown Manhattan traffic. Morning sunlight splashed into her office. She wore a fitting green vintage DVF wrap dress with plunging neckline and upturned cuffs. Her silver Bulgari shimmered. She wore her wireless headpiece on her ear as she walked back and forth amid the massive windows, “I already told you and I’m not going to go through this again. Sanders Black has evaporated into thin air and he isn’t in Los Angeles. Our people in the LA office have confirmed that the American Black jet that landed at LAX had no passengers. I’m not calling you because I care about what’s new with your wife and children. I want you to find out what the hell is going on with that empty jet and whether or not Sanders Black flew in on another plane. I’m trying to find him, damn it, and I don’t pay you six figures to sit around. So get on it alright? And don’t call me until you have something.” Catherine removed her earpiece and hit the button to terminate the call.

Rebecca stepped into the office, “Ms. Barron, your brother Trevor is here…” She stated. Catherine rolled her eyes, “Very well.” She stepped toward the glorious breakfast feast that was catered to each Barron office every morning. Catherine was precise that her breakfast would have egg whites only and whole wheat toast and that coffee would never enter this office. Ever.

“Catherine, good morning.” Trevor replied as he made his entrance, tall handsome and dashing in a tailored navy pin stripe Armani suit. Catherine turned toward him, hair flying, “To what do I owe the honor of the great Trevor Barron dragging his heels to me at this early morning hour?” She drank her Evian. Trevor dropped the file onto her desk, “Your security detail that you want to hire for Grandpa. I’ve studied your file and your cost analysis and I…”

“Trevor, if you’re going to fight me on this like you do everything else I’m just going to tell you to save your breath and get the hell out of my office.” She turned away from him.

“Catherine, I’m going to agree with you for once.” He folded his arms across his chest as he leaned on her desk. Stunned, Catherine turned and looked at him, “Are you?”

“This is the best idea you’ve had in millennia. How could I stand it the way? Grandpa needs a security detail to follow him, trail him, work with him, and I agree that it should be in place immediately.” Trevor smiled. Catherine stepped toward her desk. Floor to ceiling windows behind her desk offered an incredible view of Midtown, “Splendid. I’m pleased you agree. I shouldn’t have to fight my own brother when it comes to our Grandfather’s well being.”

“Catherine, we shouldn’t fight….period.” He replied. She stopped. She slowly raised her head from her desk and looked up at him. She maintained her power stance while looking on at her big brother, “Oh?”

“Catherine, we have been at each other for far too long. We could have lost our Grandfather. I could have died as well. We have so much to deal with – Sanders, going public, a board vote…we need to work together just as Grandpa stated and we should start right now.” He made a grand gesture with that simple statement. Right Now.

Catherine stood tall and folded her arms. Her diamonds shimmered, “You left one thing off that list, Trevor: the plans that I proposed at the board meeting for The Edward. We need to move forward, Trevor, in order to do just that. You want to get past the fighting? Get behind my plan.” She stated.

Trevor smirked, “Catherine, are you serious? Are you really going to present billions of dollars of capital development in this economy…?”

She quickly turned and looked out over the city, “I knew it. I knew it, damn it. You don’t want to work together. You want to work For You! Barron isn’t only you, Trevor. It’s me, Rand, and Jennifer…and don’t forget the man who we are all responsible to: our Grandfather. He supported my proposal. He was behind it. The Great Edward Barron endorsed my project. What the hell sets you apart to the point where you can shoot it down so easily? Who the hell do you think you are anyway?’

“I’m the CEO, Catherine and I don’t have to support your project. I don’t have to get behind anything I don’t see worthy. I do, however, have to run this company and make sound, solid decisions that will carry us into the next twenty years, the next day for God’s sake. You want to spend billions of dollars? Do it. But you won’t spend Barron money and you won’t tie us down the way your pet project is proposing that you will.” Trevor turned for the door.

“And the mighty Trevor Barron has spoken and makes his departure yet again.” Catherine mocked. Trevor reached the door and turned to her, “You want to launch The Edward? Do it. Do it on your own and do it away from this office. I dare you.” He retrieved the door and made his exit.

Catherine slowly turned away and looked once again out the windows over the city. She cast her eyes out as far as she could see and saw nothing but city expanse and blue sky. Nothing was beyond her reach, and nothing was in her way. Not her brother. Not Barron. Nothing.

Maids hurried about the fabulous suite high atop the world famous Peninsula Hotel in glorious Hong Kong. Inside the gorgeous suite, Sanders Black lit a fine Cohiba cigar. He peered out over the dazzling lights of the city and turned his attention to the multi colored lights of the fantastic fountain below in the main drive. He had arrived earlier today from a long haul flight and was exhausted from his journey. Well, not entirely exhausted.

He wore a white bathrobe, open to the waist. He held his cell phone in one hand and a full Scotch Neat in the other, “That’s right. The transaction has been made. Two million dollars has been deposited into your Swiss account. My office confirmed this morning. Yes of course I’m absolutely pleased with what you’ve been able to do. I certainly appreciate you putting yourself at risk. The Trade Minister will never find out that someone in his own office brought about the injunction on the Barron hotel here in Hong Kong. Well, let’s let the Barron’s work it out. They will no doubt fight the injunction. I understand you most likely will have to overturn the injunction once their legal team gets involved, but the delay will set them back and that in itself will do enough damage to them.” Sanders laughed as he puffed his Cohiba.

“They have no idea where I am. They think I’m in Los Angeles. I didn’t entirely lie to them. I did go to Los Angeles…and then to Hong Kong. They haven’t a clue. While they’re chasing a phantom, I’m safely tucked away in this beautiful hotel.” Puff of the cigar. Sip of the Scotch.

He turned around with the noise from the bedroom. He puffed on the cigar, “Of course I didn’t intend to kill him. I knew the jet would be grounded and they’d be stuck on the tarmac. Weather reports were accurate this time! Cassandra, yes….she facilitated the arrangements. My sweet girl. I do love her so.” He heard giggling from the bedroom.

“Sanders….” Called a sweet young voice from the bedroom.

“Look, I need to get going. I have…another meeting. Thank you again, Minister Han. You’ve done an excellent job.” Sanders hit the End button on his telephone as he turned to his bedroom.

He placed the phone down and reached for another Scotch. He placed his cigar into the crystal tray. He untied his robe and entered the bedroom. He looked onto the delicious sight before him. Two gloriously beautiful girls lay in bed for him, awaiting his arrival. He smiled as he pushed off his bathrobe and let it fall to the floor. The twin girls looked up and smiled. One of them replied, “We’ve been waiting, Sanders.”

Sanders made his way into the bed between the two girls, “Wait no further, girls. Daddy’s here….” Sanders proceeded to kiss both girls, holding their heads with his hands, pulling back their long thick hair, and preparing for an evening of fun and frolic.

29. Remember

2011-09-11T18:30:00.001-04:00

Tuesday, September 11, 2001. 7:30 AM

Barron Worldwide Headquarters, Midtown Manhattan

Edward Barron made his way into his office. He held his Burberry suit jacket in one hand, files and briefings in the other, “I’m not entirely certain that this is the best way to go. Your feasibility study is thorough, but Phillip, the idea of taking Barron public? Is that something we really want to do?” Edward stepped toward the silver coffee service. He turned and looked at his son who entered the office behind him.

“I think it’s definitely something to consider. The market is up especially in the luxury goods sector. Our resorts are the finest in the world and all of our properties are seeing a profit. I think the notion of going public is one to entertain at best. I’m not suggesting that we do it without very careful consideration.” Phillip Barron, tall, handsome, stood before his father, arms folded across his chest, cufflinks blazing in the light of the morning sun coming through the windows.

Edward handed a cup of coffee to his son, “Well I trust your opinion and your judgment. That meeting is this morning, isn’t it?” He glanced at his Rolex. Phillip sipped the coffee, “Yes, Amanda should be here any minute. We’re going to meet with the group of bankers for breakfast at eight o’clock at Windows on the World. The car is ready for us downstairs. Are you sure you can’t make it?” Phillip asked. Edward nodded as he peered into a file on his desk, “No, Son. I have meetings all day. Besides, this one is yours. You’re ready to take over aren’t you? You and Amanda, my son and his superstar wife. I always knew I’d hand over the reins to Barron to you, but time has gone by so quickly, I didn’t imagine it would be so soon.”

Phillip laughed, “Well, Dad. I’ve had the best possible teacher to prepare me to take over. And when the time is right, Trevor, Catherine, Rand, Jennifer; they’ll take my place and Amanda and I will retire to a beach somewhere.” He smiled. Edward looked up. The office door opened and beautiful, ethereal Amanda Barron entered the office, “Good morning, gentlemen. It’s a beautiful day in New York City.” She smiled as she stepped to her husband Phillip and kissed him. Edward smiled, “Are you ready for these investment bankers, Amanda?” He asked.

She smiled at him as she prepared her own cup of coffee, “Indeed I am. Q1 and 2 numbers are in and our portfolio has never looked as outstanding. I know this is just a preliminary meeting, but I’m actually quite interested in what they have to say. The syndicate bankers are projecting a record high in the asking price for shares. My research shows that what they propose might be in the stratosphere…a bit ambitious if you will. I’m sure Barron stock would sell like water in the desert, but we need to be realistic.” She smiled. Gorgeous with her chestnut hair pulled back, and in a navy pin stripe Oscar de la Renta skirt and jacket.

“This syndicate isn’t the only group of investment bankers champing at the bit to get us to consider an IPO. Sanders Black has started to build a collective of bankers to entice us as well. I’m not interested in anything that man has to say to us. Its one thing that he’s muscled a seat onto our board. Dad, I know you trust him, but I don’t. I’ll never turn my back on that man and neither should you.” Phillip looked to his father. Edward smiled at them both, “You two have made me very proud. You continue to do an amazing job and I’m astounded by the progress you’ve made. Thank you both, very much.” He replied. Phillip put his arm around his wife and looked at his father, “Barron is very important to us both, Dad. We want our children and their children to be a part of this, and reap the benefits of hard work. We want to build a future for them.” Amanda looked at Edward, “Just as you did for us.”

Edward lowered his head. He was touched. He looked back up to them, “You two are going to be late if you don’t get a move on.” He pointed to his watch. Phillip crossed the room and stretched his arms out to his father. They embraced. Phillip patted his father on the back. Amanda smiled at the two men before her. Phillip turned and reached for Amanda’s hand, “Let’s go.” He replied. Amanda turned back and looked at Edward, “We’ll see you at dinner tonight?” She asked. Edward smiled, “Absolutely.” He replied. He watched them turn and step out of the office. Phillip closed the door behind him.

Edward suddenly found himself surrounded by silence. Phillip and Amanda always filled the room with energy, positivity, power, enthusiasm. Edward admired them both, loved them both. He turned from his desk and looked out over the Manhattan skyline. It was a clear blue morning, absolutely beautiful. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and Edward Barron was the luckiest, proudest man in the world.

Sunday, September 11, 2011 7:30 PM

The Hamptons

“Edward, darling…are you in here?” Joanna Johnson stepped into the bedroom. Edward stood against the large windows overlooking the gorgeous rolling lawn. Rain didn’t fall any longer, allowing a reprieve in the evening. Clouds kept the stars from coming out, however. He turned, “Yes, yes I’m here.” He turned to her. Joanna stepped into the room. She was breathtaking in a shimmering baby blue sequined Valentino dress, “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. The family is starting to arrive for dinner.”

Edward reached for her hands and brought them to his lips. He planted a single kiss on each of her hands and then looked onto her face. Her eyes studied his. She could practically read his mind, “…Edward, you miss them very much don’t you?” She asked. He nodded his head. Joanna looked at him, “I wish I had known them. They sound like they were two extraordinary people.”

Edward looked at her, “They were. Amazing. Brilliant. Talented. Wonderful. They were the loves of my life.” He looked at her. Joanna smiled to him.

Edward slowly turned and crossed the room. He retrieved a box from the vanity. It was a baby blue Tiffany’s box. He turned and approached Joanna, “I told myself that day, that night that I’d never let another day pass without reminding those in my life how much I love them, and need them. Joanna, I love you…and I need you.” He opened the box and revealed a gorgeous diamond ring, “I proposed to you and didn’t even have a ring.”

Tears came to her eyes. She smiled as she looked at the glorious diamond before her. “So I’ll ask you again, this time with a ring. Joanna, will you marry me?” He repeated. Tears slipped out of her eyes, “Yes, Edward. I will marry you.” Edward removed the ring from the box and slipped it onto her finger. He leaned forward and kissed her lips. She wrapped her arms around him and embraced him, “I love you, Edward.” She held on for her life. “I love you too.” He replied. Joanna looked out the window at the parting clouds and the beautiful shine of the full moon.

“Not only do we have an injunction filed against us, but it is indefinite in length. The ruling on the investigation should clear up everything and we can get underway.” Trevor sipped a brandy as he stood by the library fireplace. He looked around the room. His beautiful wife Avery remained seated on his right and his sisters Catherine and Jennifer sat opposite, while his brother Rand stood against the windows looking out.

“How can they file this injunction when the ruling hasn’t been made public yet? We don’t know what caused the explosion. Why don’t we fight this? Why don’t we have Griffin Gray work to…” Catherine held a glass of champagne as she debated with her brother.

“Catherine, Griffin is on it and he’s working to get the judgment overturned or dismissed. It’s in the hands of the Chinese government now. They are liberal in so many areas, but not when it comes to security and potential terror threats.” He looked into the fire. “And we’re going to just settle for this? What is the plan we have in place? How is Griffin going to handle this? Rand, when do you go to Hong Kong? You can settle this while you’re there.” She turned to him.

Rand slowly turned away from the windows. He had something, someone else on his mind. Tara. He warmed some milk for her and put her into his bed. The milk and his bed were her favorite. He had conflicting emotions about leaving her at his penthouse: she was alone, and he still didn’t trust her. But the choice was made; he couldn’t miss this dinner and there was no way he was going to bring her tonight.

“Catherine, take a break. We’ll figure it out once we…” Trevor looked at her.

“Figure it out? Figure it out? Are you kidding? How many times do we have to go through things like this, Trevor? When are we going to be on top of a situation rather than under it? I don’t understand how we can allow a halt to this project, any project. We have worked so hard on Hong Kong. My God, this is the biggest hotel we have ever built. We have been working on this for years. Our father started working on this and this was his legacy, his last building…and you want to figure it out.” Catherine turned away from him.

“Catherine, we have our new chief counsel working on this. What do you want me to do? Get on a plane right this minute and head for Hong Kong?” Trevor asked. Catherine smiled, “Yes, I do.”

“Well that isn’t going to happen. We have people that we pay very well to do these things and though I know Griffin is new to Barron, I have already told him that he had better pull the stops out to get this ruling overturned so we can get back on track.” Trevor looked at his sister.

“Trevor, you are the CEO of this company, our company. You are responsible to a board of directors that just got a nice little bug in their ear about taking our company public. When are you going to get it into your head that you need to lead in an effective manner? By allowing these ridiculous things to happen, you are telling me and everyone under the sun that your leadership is questionable…” Catherine folded her arms.

“Questionable? Our grandfather appointment me CEO because he knows that I’m calm and reasonable, not emotional and on the edge of a panic attack like you are. Catherine, we are dealing with the government and despite the fact that we own that building, they have the jurisdiction to stop us at any time for any reason that they see necessary. Eminent domain rules in this situation, Catherine..” Trevor turned away from her. Avery looked up from where she remained seated. She knew Trevor was becoming increasingly angry. She knew tonight was not the night to tell him her secret, her terrible secret. She had thought about it all day. She knew the right thing to do was to tell him, but she couldn’t. She wouldn’t.

“Eminent domain. We are one of the biggest global corporations in the world, Trevor. We have hotels and holdings on every continent. You think Hong Kong is going to disallow all the millions of dollars we are pouring into their economy for any reason, a jet explosion being least of them?” She asked.

“Shut up! Both of you. Just shut up! I’m so tired of hearing both of you!” Rand turned from the windows. Everyone quickly turned and looked him. He ran his hands through his hair, “Damn it. You’re both constantly at each other. The reason we’re in the state we are, the reason things don’t get done is because the two of you are always fighting. Didn’t you hear a word Grandpa said to us? Am I the only one who got anything out of that? Trevor, maybe you do need to do something, and Catherine why don’t you shut up for five God damn minutes? You’re not the only two who have a stake here. How about me? And Jennifer? And Avery? And now…Joanna? Are you really both so self centered that you’d push everything to appease your own agendas. Trevor with status quo and Catherine with the new deal? You both are sickening and it disgusts me at times just to be related to you both…”

Trevor and Catherine stood in horror as they watched Rand turn away from them. Suddenly, the door to the library opened. It was George. He was followed by two men: one in a suit, the other a police officer. Trevor turned with the arrival of the men, “George..?” He asked.

George looked around, “This is Inspector Blane with the New York City office of the FBI…”

The Inspector stepped into the library with his police officer in tow. He approached Trevor and handed his business card to him, “Mr. Barron, I’m sorry to interrupt but I have news on the investigation of the jet explosion at Teterboro.” He replied.

Everyone rose to their feet and looked upon the Inspector. He was nearly overwhelmed with the black tie, couture, diamonds, champagne, Barron. He looked around the room at the family, young, beautiful. He turned to Trevor, “The investigation of the incident ended a few hours ago, and we wanted to study the evidence in depth. As you can all imagine, this isn’t a situation that the Bureau looks upon lightly. It doesn’t matter where it happens, or what your name is. We take these events very seriously. Our labs were on the study all night and it was very apparent and unanimous as to what our researchers discovered…”

The door to the library opened and a smiling Edward and Joanna made their arrival. Edward stopped in his tracks, arm around his fiancé’ Joanna, “What…what’s going on here?” He asked.

“Grandpa, this is Investigator Blane. He has information on the investigation of the jet.” Trevor announced.

Edward introduced himself and offered a handshake, “Inspector…”

“Mr. Barron, I apologize for the intrusion on the evening, but we have very important information to share with you.” He looked around the room. Edward smiled to him, “This is my family, Inspector. Feel free to share anything you may.” He offered. Inspector Blane continued, “Our research team discovered fragments of plastic explosives in the forward hold. The timing device on the explosives were set to detonate two hours into flight. The device was deliberately placed in the luggage compartment of the jet and had been done shortly before takeoff. We can only assume that airport personnel or someone associated with the operation of your corporate aircraft had this kind of access.”

“So it was someone who knew how to get to the jet?” Trevor asked.

“Yes, Sir. Teterboro, like all airports is heavily secured and under close supervision. Was there anyone besides yourselves who had access to this jet?” Blane asked.

Catherine looked to Trevor, “…Paul.” She said. Trevor lowered his head.

“Inspector, a bomb was planted on the jet deliberately to kill me…and my grandson?” Edward asked.

“That is correct, Sir. Do you know of anyone who would endeavor such an act?” Blane looked to him.

Edward turned slowly to the Inspector. One name, one face came to his mind. He hesitated for a moment. He looked around the room at his family, his legacy. His eyes slowly drifted upward to the Inspector, “Indeed. I do.”

American Legacy will Return Monday, September 18.

28. Angry. Furious.

2011-09-10T19:03:00.002-04:00

Edward and Trevor Barron made their way along the landing at the top of the grand staircase. Edward carried a trench coat while Trevor held his briefcase. They had spent the morning in conversation with Griffin Gray, the new Chief Counsel for Barron Worldwide. The jet explosion had created news that ran around the world and back; and it wasn’t good news. The implication of terrorist activities involving the Barron family brought the Chinese government to put a halt to the building of the Barron World Hotel and Conference Center in Hong Kong, outraging Edward and Trevor. On this raining Saturday morning, nothing was good and the two of them anticipated worse things ahead.

At the end of the hallway, Mary Farmer made her entrance. She wore her house uniform and carried the flowers she intended for Mr. Barron. Edward and Trevor spotted her as they reached the bottom of the staircase, “Mary…” Edward greeted her.

Her beautiful face lit up the vestibule. Trevor smiled at the sight of the sweet young girl with gorgeous flowers. Mary grinned as she approached them, “Good morning, Mr. Barron. I wanted to give these flowers to you and wish you all the best. The jet accident,…so horrible. I know you’re on your way out and I don’t want to keep you. I just wanted to say that I’m so happy to see that you’re both alright and safe.” She smiled.

Edward retrieved the flowers as he pulled her forward for an embrace, “Mary, that is terribly sweet of you. Thank you very much.” He smiled. Mary looked to Trevor and then back to Edward, “I imagine there isn’t any word yet as to what happened?” She asked.

Trevor shook his head, “Not yet. The investigation is currently underway. We’re hoping to have news this afternoon.” Edward looked at her, “Mary, you’re so very thoughtful. I hope you didn’t spend a lot of money on these flowers.” He smiled.

Mary giggled, “Well with the raise in my salary that you gave me it was nothing. Thank you again, Mr. Barron. I hope you do know how much I appreciate working here,..and appreciate your generosity. You’ve been so good to me and your kindness has helped me care for my father. Thank you very much.” She looked up into his eyes. He smiled back at her, “You’re very welcome, Mary…”

Suddenly, the massive mahogany door of the house opened and George stood with a team of housemen, each carrying one large Louis Vuitton suit case, garment bag, trunk, or shoulder bag. Edward, Trevor and Mary turned toward the door with the arrival of the commotion.

The fabulously beautiful Jennifer Barron made her entrance into the Country House. Her shrill of laughter and giddiness echoed throughout the vestibule as she spotted, “Grandpa!!” She screamed at the top of her lungs. Mary quickly covered her ears with the high pitched shrieking. Trevor smiled at the sight of his baby sister.

Jennifer was dazzling in a tangerine vintage Halston chiffon dress and matching hat. Her massive sapphire and diamond jewels radiated in the light of the room. She tossed her mink trimmed cape to a young houseman who stood by. She clicked her stilettos on the floor as she ran up to her grandfather. She realized Mary was too close and in her way, so she shoved her.

“Grandpa! Comment magnifique de vous voir! Je suis tellement heureuse que vous etes bien. J'aite inquiet malade a mon estomac sur vous!" Jennifer wrapped her arms around Edward's neck and kissed both sides of his face. Edward was nearly overcome with her arrival, "Jenny, my love! You are here! All is right with the world now that my sweet Jenny is home. Let me look at you." He held her hands and outstretched her arms. Jennifer turned, swaying her skirt as she did so. Her thick long chestnut brown hair flying in the wind. She leaned toward her big brother and shared air kisses on both sides of his face.

“Jenny, my God,…how long has it been since you’ve been in New York?” Edward held her hands.

Jennifer noticed the intruder standing to her right: Mary. She looked at her grandfather, “Oh, Grandpa. It’s been nearly three years now. I have missed you so!” She embraced her grandfather again. She reached for the flowers he held and ripped them from his arms. She turned to Mary, “Would you be a dear and put these in water? They look as though they’re about to expire.” She tossed the flowers to Mary. An unprepared Mary flustered to hold on to the flowers as they slapped her in the face.

Trevor assisted with taking hold of the flowers, “Mary Farmer, this is my little sister Jennifer Barron.” He made the introductions. Mary extended her hand, “It’s very nice to meet you, Miss B…”

“Grandpa, I want to hear all about this dreadful jet thing. Are you really alright? Catherine told me on the phone that you’ve seen a doctor and that they are monitoring your heart. Now you know you have that nasty little condition. I won’t hear that you’re up and running around. Shouldn’t you be resting somewhere?” She took hold of his arm.

George looked to Jennifer, “Your room is prepared and ready for you, Ms. Barron.”

Trevor reached into his suit coat pocket with the ringing of his cell phone. He quickly retrieved it and stepped away to take the call. Mary stood in the center of the vestibule watching Edward and Jennifer make their ascent. Mary watched Jennifer’s hair bounce beneath her beautiful hat. She looked at the fabulous dress Jennifer wore. How beautiful and chic she was. Mary had flipped through the September Vogue just last night and could swear she saw Jennifer in it. Mary admired Jennifer, in the few seconds that she had had with her. Jennifer was worldly, beautiful, elegant; all the things Mary wished she could be.

Edward and Jennifer reached the top of the stairs. Jennifer slowly turned her head and cast a devilish hate filled look down to Mary. Mary’s mouth slowly opened in awe. The look was horrifying and Mary was stunned with the evil that had just gazed upon her. Jennifer quickly turned back to her grandfather, let out a glorious smile and allowed more French to spill from her lips. Mary turned to the beveled mirror behind her and glanced over her reflection. How boring and plain she looked. How terribly boring and plain.

The Barron SoHo. Rand Barron made his way down the light blond wood staircase of his showplace penthouse high atop the gargantuan hotel. A single cigarette dangled between his lips as he pounded down the stairs. He stopped at the floor to ceiling mirror at the bottom of the stairs and glanced over his reflection. He adjusted his black bowtie. He turned and looked around for his tuxedo jacket. It was draped over the back of a large leather sofa. Rand walked over the glossed floor to the sofa and reached for the jacket. Suddenly, the doorbell rang out. He glanced at his watch. Was he late meeting the chauffer downstairs? A faint flash of lightning shined outside in the distance. As usual he kept the drapery to the floor to ceiling glass walls wide open and could see as far as the horizon.

Rand slipped into his jacket as he stepped toward the front door, “I’m sorry, Gus, I didn’t mean to keep you wait….” He stopped with the sight before him. It wasn’t his chauffer Gus.

“Hello, lover. Miss me?” Tara Brent stood in the hallway, purring like a homeless sex crazed kitten. She shook a closed umbrella and tossed it onto the floor. She pushed her way into the penthouse. She wore a stunning fire engine red Herrera gown, tight at the waist and with a full tufted skirt. Her gorgeous thick dark hair fell down her bare shoulders and back. Rand noticed a new tattoo, “What the hell are you doing here? I told you never to come back here.” He reminded.

“Rand, honey, we all know you never mean anything you say. Of course you’d want me to come back here. Why else would you deprive yourself of this….?” She unzipped the side of her dress and let it fall to the floor. She stood totally nude in front of him save her stiletto heels, “I see from the tuxedo that you’re headed to dinner. Why don’t you stay here and…eat?” She ran her hands over her gorgeously inviting breasts.

Rand smirked, “You’re a slut.” Tara stepped out of her dress and walked over to him, “If I had a dollar for every time I heard that…”

“You wouldn’t come over here anymore. You could find your own place to smoke up.” He folded his arms. She ran her hands over his shoulders, “Come on, baby. Get naked with me…”

He savagely grabbed her wrists, “You’re high again, aren’t you?” He asked. Tara laughed in his face, “Well I’m not low, that’s for sure.” Her hilarious belly laughter smelled like fresh marijuana in his face.

He knew that that was probably just the tip of the iceberg and that there must be more than that flowing through her. Her evening usually consisted of a little heroin, a joint or two or three, a small bag or two of coke, and lots of tequila.

“You stink. When was the last time you had a shower? And where the hell did you get that dress? You can’t afford couture.” He let go of her as she pulled away. She looked at her face in the mirror.

Horrendous. Haggard. She smiled to him, “What do you know about couture? Oh right, that horrific bitch sister of yours has probably told you all about it. I’m sure she has nothing better to do than tell her baby brother all about her wonderful fashion sense…”

“Tara, I’m leaving for dinner with my Grandfather. My little sister is back in town and this weekend is…”

“I know what the hell this weekend is. What, do you take me for a total God damned idiot? I know your parents died this weekend. What was it? The Twin Something….Towers, right? Oh yeah. Never Forget? Please. How the hell can we? Who can forget? You and the rest of the big bad Barron’s are so forlorn and grief stricken, all you ever do is talk about the pain and suffering of losing your God damned parents in the World Trade Center. Well no one cares anymore. It’s been ten years. When the hell are you and those pigs you call a family going to get over it? I swear if I hear another pathetic miserable person talking about how the tragedy changed their life I’m going to fu…”

Rand quickly sent his hand across her mouth and shut her up with a terribly brutal slap. Her scream resonated throughout the penthouse as she fell to the hard floor. Tara gasped as she gathered her composure while laying on the floor. She held her face. She looked at her hand. Blood had dripped from her mouth and had poured onto her hand. She looked up at Rand.

“I want you to leave.” Rand stood tall and powerful over her. He was pushed to his limits and was afraid of what he might do next. Tara slowly rose to her feet. Her long hair fell about her face and body. Tears slipped from her eyes as blood gathered in her mouth. She spat the blood out onto the white rug nearby, “I was wrong, Rand. Your sister isn’t the bitch. You’re the bitch..” Her laughter echoed. She was sick. She was desperately in need of help and Rand knew it. He had tried for so long to get her the help she needed, but she refused at every turn, every time he came to her rescue. He couldn’t do it anymore. He wouldn’t do it anymore.

“So, I have a drug problem. There. How’s that, Rand? Is that what you want to hear? Huh, you son of a bitch! Is that what you want? You’re better than me because you don’t have a drug problem, right?” She stretched her arms out, ready to fight. Rand looked at her, “I do have a drug problem, Tara. I just choose not to use anymore. It was killing me like it’s killing you. Look at you. Look at yourself. You’re pathetic. You’re a mess. You’re a waste.”

“So I should just kill myself, right? I’m a waste of flesh and bones and no one loves me. No one cares for me and no one will cry when Tara Brent is dead, right?” Her crying became stronger. Rand looked away, “I need you to leave. I am expected at The Country House and I have to go.”

“You want me to leave? You want me to go? Alright. I’ll go. I’ll go you bastard!” She screamed at him. Rand turned away and lowered his head. He couldn’t look at her anymore. He loved her once, loved her with all his heart. He wanted to marry her and would do anything for her, give her anything in the world. But their relationship was too toxic and it…she was killing him. He had to get away from her and make his break. And up until now he thought he had.

Tara grabbed a large Baccarat crystal vase and through it at the glass wall, shattering both to thousands of pieces. Rand, horrified, hurried to her to try and stop her but it was too late. The wall came crashing down sending shards of glass and crystal everywhere. In a flash, Tara dashed out onto the terrace amid the sprinkling rain. Lighting flashed on the horizon as she mounted the large brick balustrade.

Rand hurried onto the terrace as he watched her climb onto the balustrade. Her stilettos chipped as she shimmied over the brick and mortar. Thankfully the rain wasn’t pouring as it had earlier in the night, but the rains still came down. Nude, Tara stood tall over the city. She looked out onto the horizon: the city skyscrapers to her right, One World Trade to her left. She turned and looked at Rand. Tears slid down her face. She trembled and reached for her forearms, “Rand, I’m going to jump. You said you want me to leave. I’ll leave!” She screamed.

Rand looked at her, “Please, God, Tara don’t. Don’t do this.” He pleaded. Tara looked at him, “You don’t want me. You don’t love me. You don’t care about me!” She had lost control and Rand knew she’d throw herself over any minute. “Tara, please…I do care. Please don’t jump. Please come down. Come back to me, baby. Please.”

Tara looked out over the city. She raised her hands over her head. She turned and looked at Rand. He stood in his tuxedo, handsome, wanting her to come down. “Rand, do you…do you love me? Do…you…still love…me?” She asked. She folded her arms, covering her nude breasts.

Rand nodded, “Yes, Tara. Yes, I love you.” He replied. “You’re a liar, Rand! Why are you lying to me!?” She turned to the open air away from him. “Tara, please. Come back to me. Don’t! Don’t do this, Tara!” He wanted to reach for her, but didn’t for fear that she would retaliate by soaring off the balcony. Rand slowly crept to her, “Give me your hand, baby. Please. Give me your hand.”

Tara slowly turned and reached out for his hand. Rand grabbed her by the wrists and pulled her down onto him. They collapsed onto the cement flooring of the terrace. Tara buried her head in his chest. He held her tightly in his strong arms. “Don’t let me go, Rand. Don’t let me go.” She cried in his chest. “I won’t, Tara. I won’t.” Rand rocked her back and forth amid the mist and drops of rain high over Manhattan with city lights and splendor all around.

Edward held a tall glass of iced tea in one hand while offering a brandy with the other to Richardson Black, “Well you certainly don’t need to explain your decision to me, Richardson. You’re your own man, and you can make any decision you like.” He smiled. Edward was dashing in an Armani tuxedo and black tie. Edward stood in the center of the library, blazing fireplace behind him, as he patted Richardson on the arm. “I appreciate that, Sir, but I did feel it necessary to speak to you about why I won’t be able to come to work for you. My father is…how shall I say this,…an interesting man. He is a hard man. He is a strong man. The last thing I want to do is upset my father, my family and not come to work for the company he has worked so hard to build.” Richardson sipped the brandy.

“Son, I understand completely. I would have been disappointed if my grandchildren had chosen to not work with me and our company. But they all have,…well almost all of them.” Edward smiled.

“I should be going, Sir. I didn’t realize you were hosting a family dinner tonight. It was rude of me to just show up without calling first and I…” Richardson rose to his feet. Edward placed his hand on his shoulders, “Oh come now. There’s no need for you to leave. You’re a very close friend of our family. You were close to my granddaughter Jenny for a while. She’s here you know…” He smiled. Richardson quickly looked at Edward, “Jennifer’s back from Paris?” He asked.

Edward smiled, “Indeed she is. Who knows for how long, however. Judging by the trunks and luggage she brought with her, I imagine she isn’t leaving any time soon.” He laughed. Richardson lowered his head and let out a small laugh. Edward sipped his tea, “Please. Join us for dinner.”

“Sir, I’m going to head home. I appreciate the offer, but I think it best that I tend to working with and concentrating on my family company. I don’t want any hard feelings as there are between you and my father.” Richardson was honest, and was compelled to be truthful. Edward continued to listen.

Richardson looked away and around the magnificence of the room, “My father’s heart attack…his condition is one that I worry about. I’d be a terrible son if I didn’t worry. He wants me to work for him, and take over with my sister. You said she’s here. I haven’t even seen her yet, nor has my mother. Cassandra keeps herself at bay from my mother and me and she is at times chained to my father’s hip. I often wonder whether there really is a place for me in our company. Cassandra was destined to lead all her life and so she is.” He smiled.

“Mr. Barron,…my father insisted that I work with him. He told me that he would…” He lowered his head. Edward looked to him, “He would what, Richardson?” Edward asked. Richardson placed his glass down, “It’s really in my best interest to work for my father, Mr. Barron. I owe it to him. I need to follow in his footsteps and abide by his wishes….his will.”

Edward nodded his head, “He threatened to cut you off, didn’t he?” Richardson slowly raised his head and looked up. His silence was the answer Edward expected. Edward placed his glass down onto the table and turned to Richardson, “Son, you’ve made the choice that right now is right for you. No one can blame you for that. No one will ask you to do more than that. Well, I won’t.” He turned and looked at Richardson, “Whatever you do, and whatever you choose to do, know that you have a place with Barron if you ever want or need it.” He stated. Richardson smiled, “Thank you, Sir.”

Arm in arm, Catherine and Jennifer Barron made their way down the staircase of The Country House. Both were elegant in Von Furstenberg and Dior couture. Diamonds and emeralds, perfume, beautiful nail polish. The Barron sisters were the best of friends, and the picture of glamorous wealth. Descending the stairs, they chatted and giggled, each with a glass of champagne. They had spent the last few hours catching up on each other’s adventures: Catherine’s end to her engagement in Thailand, and Jennifer’s decadence abroad.

Catherine was happy to have her baby sister home, if even for a while. Their sisterly bond was stronger than anything. They were always there for each other. Catherine felt the need to be a mother to little Jennifer when they lost their own mother ten years ago, and it was Catherine who set the example for her sister to be a lady and a woman. Jennifer admired her older sister and had aspirations of her own to be a professional success, though she didn’t find interest in Barron. Jennifer was an artist, a dancer, and a bit of a gypsy. She wanted to wander the globe in search of herself and wouldn’t stop until she found just that.

“It sounds to me, Catherine, like you did the right thing. If you don’t love him…” Jennifer replied.

“It’s not a question of loving him, Jennifer. I do love him…very much. He just…we just weren’t right for each other and I’m convinced that we never will be.” Catherine never showed her heart or her emotional side to anyone,..except her grandfather and her little sister.

“Love is overrated I think. I say have fun, enjoy yourself.” Jennifer sipped her champagne. Catherine smiled, “Of course your flippant attitude has come about as a result of all your nights in Paris dancing on top of tables.”

Catherine giggled. “Shhh. Don’t be so generous with tales of my cavorting. I don’t want Grandpa to hear you. He thinks I’m still an innocent wholesome virgin.” She laughed. Catherine laughed with her, “You mean you aren’t…?”

The door to the library opened and Edward emerged with Richardson by his side. They shared a laugh and a handshake as they stepped into the corridor. Catherine and Jennifer both stopped and looked at the very handsome young Richardson Black.

“Jenny, look who’s here.” Edward placed his hands on Richardson’s shoulders. Richardson’s smile slipped off his face as he spotted Jennifer Barron in the flesh right before his eyes. Jennifer smiled,

“Bonjour.” She batted her eyelashes at him. Richardson smiled, “Bonjour, Jennifer. Vouz aves bonne mine.” He complimented. She smiled at him, “Merci.”

Catherine looked to Edward, “Grandpa, may I borrow you for just a minute before Trevor and Rand arrive? I want to speak with you about something.” She reached for his arm. “Of course. Richardson, remember what I said.” He reiterated. Richardson smiled, “Yes, Sir.” He nodded.

Catherine took Edward by the arm and led him down the hallway. Jennifer watched them disappear, “What are you doing here? Have you come to get one more look at me?” She asked.

“I didn’t know you were here, Jennifer.” He admitted. Jennifer smiled as she ran her eyes up and down him. “Do you really expect me to believe that? You mean you don’t follow me in the press anymore? Vanity Fair, Vogue…”

“I don’t care what you do anymore, Jennifer.” He turned to make his departure. Jennifer’s gorgeous dress swayed as she walked up behind him, “That’s a lie. You’ve always been a lousy liar. Why don’t you just tell me how dazzling I look, how much you’ve missed me so.” She smiled.

“What, and lie to you? I couldn’t.” He mocked her. Jennifer always found fun in sparring with Richardson, “Why are you running, Richardson? Where could you possibly have to go? You have everything you’ve ever wanted right here.” She ran her manicured fingers between her ample, inviting cleavage. Her diamond shimmered. Richardson laughed at her, “I want that like I want the plague.” He replied.

Jennifer broke into hilarious laughter, “Oh, Richardson. You do entertain me…just as you used to all those romantic, wonderful nights. Marbella. Monte. Milan. Remember?” She asked. “I’ve chosen to forget the terrible places that you’ve dragged me to.” He turned away from her again. Jennifer unleashed her worst, “How about the abortion you made me get. Did you forget that one?” Her face was stone solid. He turned. He stepped toward her, “I’ll tell you I haven’t forgotten all the pain and the torment that you caused me; all the suffering, all the sadness.” He looked into her beautiful eyes.

“Richardson, everything I did, I did because I loved you.” She revealed. He laughed, “You never loved me. You loved everyone but me and you proved it time and again. You deceived me, you lied to me and you made me fall in love with a girl that never existed. Tell me, does your family know about what you did…do in Paris?” He asked. Jennifer looked up to him with angry eyes. She kept her mouth shut. He smiled, “I didn’t think so. Well I do, and I know the real you…and the real you disgusts me.” He turned for the door, “I hope you enjoy your time here with your family. I’d tell you to give my love to whomever it is you have stashed away waiting for you in Paris. But all I can really offer that poor person is my condolences. Good bye, Jennifer.” Richardson closed the door as he left the house. Jennifer stood and watched him. Angry. Furious.

27. Blackmail

2011-09-09T22:36:00.002-04:00

Morning. Catherine Barron made her way down the grand staircase of the Country House. She hadn’t spent an evening here in several years. She had to have wardrobe and accessories messengered over from her townhouse. Her phone calls last evening to Rebecca Ford got things done rather quickly. She smiled to George as he greeted her from the bottom of the stairs. He dutifully tended to the entourage that paraded through the front door of the mansion.

Catherine immediately stopped in her tracks during her descent on the staircase. A battalion of young women hurried into the house and down the corridor; each carried a garment bag or two or even three. House servants hurried behind them with trays of champagne, fresh flowers, breakfast breads. Catherine hurried to the bottom of the stairs and stepped up to a housemaid, “What the hell is going on here?” She asked.

The young maid, intimidated by Catherine Barron, simply shrugged her shoulders. Catherine sighed with frustration and followed the team of women and house maids down the hallway. The scent of her expensive perfume lingered.

Catherine followed the chatter and commotion into the study. She looked around the room at what appeared to be the setting up for a fashion show. There were women hurrying about opening up the garment bags, housemen rearranging furniture, the inviting scent of morning chocolate croissant amid fresh flowers. Catherine turned with the cackling of the familiar shrill, “Oh let’s see what you have for me…” It was Joanna Johnson.

Joanna walked into the room with a woman in her mid-fifties. The flustered woman hurried about, instructing people to move and get things done. Catherine watched bridal gowns removed from the garment bags and she suddenly got a sinking feeling in her stomach, “Would you mind explaining just what is going on here?” She reached out and took hold of Joanna’s arm and gently pulled her back. Joanna giggled as she sipped from a mimosa, “Yes….I would mind.” She stepped past Catherine and nudged her as she did so.

Catherine quickly turned and from behind Joanna replied, “Are you seriously entertaining a bridal gown showing in this house? My Grandfather could have been killed just last night, may I remind you…and you’re already planning your wedding?” Catherine was appalled. Joanna turned to Catherine, “I’d ask for your opinion on the gowns that have been brought over, but you’re so…so into that look. I couldn’t dream of taking your opinion seriously.” She ran her eyes up and down Catherine’s Prada suit.

Laughter sprang forth from Catherine’s lips, “Joanna, dear, you really are wasting your time not only with these store bought dresses, but with the fantasy that this wedding to my Grandfather will ever take place.” Catherine looked around at the beautiful dresses that were laid out around the room, “I can already tell you that they are completely wrong for you…” She stated. Joanna quickly turned to Catherine, “And why is that?” She said with hands on her hips. Catherine grinned, “Well, for one thing…they’re all white…”

“Look, Catherine, I am marrying Edward whether you like it or not.” Joanna insisted.

Catherine grinned, “I like it not.”

“Well that’s just too bad. Edward loves me and I love him. You can wallow in all the hate and jealousy that you can muster in your tiny little black heart but that’ll never change a thing. Perhaps if you concentrated on your own life and stopped meddling in mine you’d have a husband of your own by now, and not an ex fiancé who had to put an ocean between the two of you to manage some sanity of his own.” Joanna’s mimosa induced laughter rang out.

Catherine turned for the assault, “Joanna, speak not of things you know nothing about. For the record, dear, I put the ocean between my ex fiancé and myself. It wasn’t the other way around. And if you are determined to continue to humiliate yourself, let me give you some advice…and listen to me well. If you’re going to play bride-to-be, at least find yourself a designer and have something done for you, dear. If you marry anyone named Barron, with of course the obvious exception of television star Avery Adams, you must see a couturier. Don’t make all of us look like the filth that you are by wearing an off the rack dress.” She looked around the room at the dresses and then to Joanna. She stepped aside and stopped as she approached George who had just entered the room, “Get this trash out of here. Oh,…and those horrible dresses too.” She grinned.

Joanna fumed as she watched Catherine sashay out of the room. George wore a look of horror on his face. Joanna’s eyes darted from left to right, not knowing where to land. She brought the mimosa to her lips and chugged the last of it.

Trevor placed his china cup of coffee down atop the glass table. The roar of the fireplace warmed the room. The library at The Country House was expansive and magnificent. Dressed in his signature pin stripe Armani, Trevor moved across the room to the large windows that overlooked the Rose Garden and back lawn. His Grandfather stood here, looking out over the estate. Gray clouds that had lingered overhead for the last few days dissipated for the time being. They were predicted to make a return later tonight with a vengeance.

“Bad news sure does travel fast.” Trevor folded the file to a close as he removed his reading glasses from his face. Edward stood with his arms folded across his chest as he kept his gaze out the window, “It sure as hell does. This is our equivalent to the shot heard around the world. I can’t believe it. I can’t believe this terrible news…”

“Grandpa, are you sure we’re taking the right action necessary? There are so many ways we can go with this, and so many things we need to handle. Griffin Gray is on his way over here to discuss our legal strategy, but is he the right man for the job?” He asked. Edward turned and looked at Trevor. Trevor continued, “Ever since Malcolm retired, we haven’t had the legal representation that he provided. He was the best. There is a battery of Barron lawyers that we could have promoted. Griffin Gray?”

Edward turned back to the view, “Griffin Gray is the best young lawyer to come out of Harvard. He is alum like the rest of us and his credentials and years of service in corporate law are magnanimous.” Trevor sighed with frustration, “Yes, but you just said it yourself: the best young lawyer. I want to see our chief counsel as someone with decades of exemplary case work. I want to see someone who already has a reputation, who is known in all of our circles as a force. Griffin Gray is bright, but young and has yet to…”

Trevor and Edward both turned with the sound of footsteps entering the library. George stood with the door opened, allowing the best young lawyer himself to make his entrance, “Mr. Barron…Mr. Barron, good morning.” He was tall, California blonde and tan. He was dashing in a tailored YSL suit. He carried a thousand dollar alligator briefcase and his Brietling caught the light from the roar of the fire beside him. Edward was first, “Mr. Gray, good morning. Thank you for coming.”

Trevor followed suit. He extended a handshake, “Hello, Mr. Gray.” He noticed the shimmer of the platinum engraved cufflinks. The handsome young man placed his briefcase down onto the glass top table, “Gentleman, please. My father is Mr. Gray. I’m Griffin.” Edward let out a smile. Trevor didn’t. He felt as though that statement proved his very point.

“Mr. Barron, I’m very happy to see that you weren’t harmed in the explosion…that goes for both of you.” Griffin replied. Edward nodded, “Thank you.” Griffin was quick to limit the formal pleasantries, “Shall we get right down to the matter at hand?” Griffin opened his briefcase and removed a few heavy files. Edward placed his glasses onto his face. Trevor watched and studied.

“As we all know, Hong Kong is very liberal with their laissez-faire economics and the government allows for little interference in financial matters. Where they do tighten their grip is in defense and international relations. Now in light of the recent…incident on the tarmac…the government has issued a stay in the building of the Barron Hotel.” Griffin folded his arms across his chest.

Edward closed his eyes and breathed with frustration. Trevor reacted, “What!? I just spoke with their Finance Minister and he assured me that…”

“The Finance Minister’s influence is limited to just that…finance. The government doesn’t welcome the potential threat of terrorism, and until we can prove otherwise, they are viewing the jet explosion as just that - an act of terror.” Griffin was to the point. He had been diligent from an early hour this morning working on these details. Edward turned and stepped toward the windows. His silence spoke volumes. Trevor looked to Griffin, “The investigation is ongoing. The NTSB hasn’t reported anything yet. We cannot allow a stay to our biggest project and this is going to…”

“Mr. Barron, the Chinese government and the city-state of Hong Kong have made it clear that they aren’t interested in the size of the project or of the Barron cash reserves. The Chinese take terrorist threats very seriously, and in regard to the ten year anniversary coming up this weekend, well…the Chinese are hesitant to move forward.” Griffin was to the point. Trevor didn’t care for it. “We have already poured several million dollars into this project. We have licensed air rights, we are working to assimilate to the infrastructure, we have been cleared with environmental regulation, and should I mention the jobs we are creating? This is preposterous. They cannot issue this kind of legal action on a situation involving a pending investigation!” Trevor fumed.

“Mr. Barron, I assure you they can and they have.”

“Well you’d better figure out a way around this, thru it or over it. I will not tolerate…” Trevor was cut off by his Grandfather, “Trevor, Griffin,…I know you both are very interested in the well being of this project. I know we will find the best solution. I trust that the two of you will work together to make that happen, yes?” He asked. Edward reached for Griffin’s hand and shook it, “Thank you for everything you’re doing. You have some big shoes to fill…I know you’ll do well.” He smiled. “Thank you, Sir.” Griffin replied. Edward looked to Trevor, “You’ll be ready to leave for Paul’s family home within the hour?” He asked. Trevor nodded, “Of course.”

Edward turned and stepped for the door. Trevor was beside himself. He had never seen his Grandfather back down from something this big and it concerned him. He waited for the door to close. He turned and looked at Griffin, “My Grandfather obviously has a tremendous amount of trust in you…or shall I say it’s placed in your Harvard education. I however, don’t share his enthusiasm despite your pedigree. You and I may have the Harvard education in common, but that seems to be all we have in common. I don’t think you have the work ethic necessary to fight this injunction nor do I think your days with Barron will be many. I want to see action and I want to see results…immediately. We don’t have time to waste on this project. We could lose millions on a daily basis and I don’t think you want to be responsible for a loss like that.”

Griffin kept his cool and stood tall and strong in the commanding voice of Trevor Barron.

“My Grandfather thinks you’re the best young lawyer. You’d better damn well Not prove him wrong.” Trevor looked Griffin square in the eye. He meant every word. Griffin knew it, and he knew had to do whatever he needed in order to prove just that – that he was the best.

Avery Adams removed her Chanel sunglasses from her face and slipped them up onto the top of her head as she rushed into the lobby of The Pierre Hotel. She smiled to the young doorman who greeted her with a tip of his hat. The bustling lobby was filled with men in suits and woman in couture, hurrying around starting their day. Avery glanced at her Rolex watch. She didn’t have much time this morning, as she was expected to meet Edward and Trevor to visit and pay respects to Paul’s family. This meeting would be brief and she’d soon be on her way.

In a beautiful tailored Escada dress, Avery stepped through the lobby. Heads turned as she made her stride. She was recognized everywhere she went and at times it was difficult for her to dodge the public eye. She had grown tiresome of the limelight in the past few years and often found herself admitting she had had enough.

Avery stopped with the spotting of a familiar face, “…Sylvie?” She asked. Fabulously gorgeous Sylvie Black turned in her seat, perfect model posture, hair toss and a stunning floral print Vera Wang dress. She offered a beautiful smile, “Avery, dahling. It’s wonderful to see you this morning. Join me.” Sylvie rose to her feet and offered the customary air kisses on both sides of Avery’s face. Avery noticed the half full glass of champagne and bottle of Kristal sitting in the chiller beside the table. Avery glanced at her watch, “I would love to, Sylvie, but I have an appointment. I received a call that the Women In The Arts gala committee was meeting here this morning. I’m on the board you see, and I must attend the meeting…”

Sylvie pursed her lips and folded her arms. Avery noticed the diamond bracelets. Sylvie grinned. Avery looked at her, “Do you know something about this meeting, Sylvie?” She asked. Sylvie reached forward and pulled back the seat for Avery, “I didn’t ask you to join me, dahling. I told you.” Sylvie slowly slithered back into her seat. Avery watched her with hesitation as she took a seat opposite her. Sylvie reached for the empty flute and poured a glass for Avery. Avery remained seated, poised, ready.

“Sylvie, I hope this isn’t about the board meeting. I don’t know anything about…”

“Save your breath, dahling. I don’t care anymore about business than you do. You see, we have that in common: being wives of rich and powerful men. We haven’t a care in the world, yes?” Sylvie sipped her champagne. Avery was uncomfortable and it was obvious. “We do indeed have more than just that in common, don’t we Avery dear?” She grinned.

Avery looked around the room to see who might be in earshot, “I don’t understand, Sylvie.” She held her clutch purse. Sylvie sat back, “Tell me, Avery, how long have you been sleeping with my husband?” She asked. Avery’s jaw dropped. She quickly gained her composure and replied, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Sylvie. If you’re questioning your husband’s fidelity, perhaps you should go to him…”

“Oh I would. He’s traveling at the moment you know. I have it on a very good, trusted source that you were with my husband in the St. Regis just the other night. I do have to give you some credit, dear. The St. Regis is glorious. You do aim high, don’t you? Barron and now Black…” Sylvie grinned.

“This is ludicrous. I’m leaving.” Avery began to push her seat back to leave. Sylvie stopped her, “If you get up from this table I’m going to scream out that you’ve been sleeping with my husband. The darling of daytime television is nothing but a two bit gold digging tramp.” Sylvie was furious and ready for more. Avery looked at Sylvie, “I really have no idea what you’re talking about, Sylvie…”

“A photograph of your sweet little face was found in Sanders’ office, love. I know that there is some connection to you and my husband and I want to know what the hell it is. If you don’t tell me I swear to God I will go public with this and ruin your career and the holy Barron name. You’d better tell me what the hell is going on, dahling before you seal your own fate.” Sylvie held a butter knife. Her nails glistened.

“Sylvie, please…” Avery’s lips trembled. Sylvie watched her squirm, “You’re a fool if you think I’m joking.”

“I don’t think you’re joking. But please, Sylvie, don’t do this…” Avery’s eyes welled with tears. Sylvie sat back, “So…it’s true. You little whore…” Avery looked at her, “It isn’t true, you horrible woman. Your husband…your husband…is blackmailing me. He has been for about a year now.” Avery looked from one side to the other. Sylvie’s horrified face lost its color. Avery looked at the knife, “I swear I’m going take that knife and drag it across your throat.” Avery was mad and capable of anything. Sylvie sat up, “Dahling….”

“Are you satisfied? Are you happy with yourself, you miserable drunk. I hope that I’ve provided some entertainment for your sad, empty life.” Avery stood from the table. Sylvie remained seated and watched Avery stand before her, “Do what you want, Sylvie. Go ahead and go public with whatever the hell you want. But right after you do it, you’d better run and hide because I will take that knife and I will find you and I will kill you.” Avery’s gorgeous long blond hair flew in the air as she turned and dashed away. Sylvie remained seated. She reached for her champagne and finished it. She turned to her left and spotted Rafael Rodgrio sitting, listening to the entire conversation. He disguised himself with a newspaper over his face. Sylvie smiled to him as she sat back and let her mind wander. Where had her husband disappeared to? And what in the hell did he have over Avery's head?