“Her brother received the treatment he needed and what the insurance company didn’t cover, I paid for. And I used her in every way imaginable, hoping to become so sated with her that I could finally get my head, and my body, back into my work. I think she actually had fun playacting as my wife. I know I took exceptional care of her in bed. She became so responsive, so passionate, and one night she even told me that she loved me.
“Then the video was released and it was a huge hit. I committed to another. And even though she balked, I made plans for her to be the star in that one, too.
“Afew nights after the release we had a cast party at my apartment and my mentor and rival showed up, someone I had tried to best for years. He’d been my closest friend until he took one of my best stars to Europe and did a video using a script I’d helped him write. He wasn’t much competition really, but it was the idea that he took what was mostly mine, both the actress and the script, and marketed them as his. But despite this, I still thought I had to prove myself around him so when the release of the video not only leveled the field but put me way out on top—I was very happy to see him. At that party he saw my wife and as soon as I saw the gleam in his eyes I knew I had to show her off.
“I remember several of my friends trying to stop me, telling me not to do this, not to humiliate her like this. But I didn’t listen; I wanted this man who had been a friend, then an enemy, now a competitor, to see what I had in my possession. I wanted him to see the most beautiful woman in the world and to realize that she was mine, that I owned her.
“Of course, she balked; she had slipped into believing she was actually living the role of my wife and thought this display well beneath her. I finally stopped arguing with her, reminded her that she worked for me, and that she’d promised to do anything for me when she’d needed my money so badly for her brother. She stood there stoically while I forcefully stripped her clothes off of her and then threw her onto the bed where I held her down before pulling her legs up and out and allowing this man to see her cunt, my wife’s beautiful cunt. She cried and fought me, her large breasts heaving with her sobs. I could hear her friends and the cast members, banging on the door trying to get in to help her. But all I could see was the avid gleam in Robert’s eyes, the avarice and jealousy as he used his fingers to thoroughly examine her, and I reveled in his praise of her charms. And then, I let him fuck her from the back. When he howled his pleasure, gripping her hips to him and he came inside her I realized what I had done. But it was too late. Deep inside of me, I sensed it; what I had done was unforgivable. We left her there on the bed sobbing, and rejoined the party. It was the last time I saw her.
“The next day, unbeknownst to me, she went to the hospital and arranged to give a kidney to her brother. She died on the operating table. No one ever knew why. But I knew. She had lost her will to live. I had killed her. I had made her life hell and she didn’t want to come back to it. Or to me.
“When the hospital called and told me that she had succumbed under anesthesia, I fell to my knees and cried for days. It was not until then that I realized I’d fallen in love with her. And with blinding speed, images of all the horrible things I had done to her flashed through my head.
“Ayear later, I sold the business and moved to Charlotte to start my life over again, and to do penance. I bought her brother and mother a house in San Bernardino and paid for her brother to go to college and then to become a doctor. We used to see each other every now and then. I would fly out there or he would fly here and we’d spend time together. It wasn’t until a few years ago that he realized what had happened to her when she had arrived in the United States, broke and desperate. He discovered what I had done to her. He’d been at a bachelor party and they were showing the video. Other than him calling to cuss me out in two languages, we haven’t spoken since. His mother died five years ago, but I think she always knew what I had done to her daughter. So we weren’t close. I told myself it was because she didn’t speak English, but it wasn’t that. She knew I was an asshole through and through. Mothers have that sixth sense.
“I am the King of the Assholes . I should have died, not her. Cassandra was a lovely woman and she had a kind heart. It hurts more than I can say that I was never able to tell her that I loved her. When it was too late, I loved her. When the autopsy report came in the mail, I discovered she was two months pregnant. From the timing, and because everyone else had to use a condom, I knew it had been my child.
“I knew I couldn’t get back into that type of work anymore. I knew I could never use another woman that way again. Hell, I wasn’t even sure I could ever enjoy a woman again. I sold everything, and used to the proceeds to buy a bank in Charlotte, North Carolina. And there I started all over again.
“Only this time I was alone. More alone than I ever imagined a person could be. I threw myself into my work and soon became the most sought after bachelor in Charlotte’s social circles. But I stayed aloof for the most part, and unavailable for many years, declining to become involved with anyone, even though I dated when it was deemed necessary to further my business interests. When I wanted sex I paid for it using a call girl service. And the years passed while I became very rich, and very lonely.”
There was silence on both ends. Finally I heard Philip say, “Still there?”
“Yeah. Still here.”
“And?”
I couldn’t stand the idea that Philip had been so heartless, so cruel. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t trust myself to say anything. I needed time to think.
“Can I call you back? This is a lot to take in. I. . I. . I didn’t know your story would effect me like this.”
“Sure. I understand. I’ll wait for your call.” Then there was silence on the line until I heard the low click.
It was still early and I was restless so I pushed the garage door opener over the visor, started the truck and drove over to the Pink Palace. I needed some exercise, some very strenuous exercise, something that would burn. Something that would hurt my body, my heart was already hurting.
While on the Stairmaster, it occurred to me that maybe I was being too harsh on Philip. Up until the day before he had married her, he had thought Cassandra an actress trying to break into the business. So maybe he hadn’t abused her as much as I thought, or at least he didn’t think that he was abusing her at the time. He thought she wanted to do porn films—that she wanted this opportunity. Yeah, yeah, I mumbled to myself, sure, like any woman really wants an opportunity to be fucked, licked, and sucked every which way there was by six large and lusty men.
All around me everything stopped, it got quiet and people stared. I realized then that I had said that last sentence out loud.
Chapter Twenty-one
Mummy’s pelisse After a long hot shower, I went looking for my mother. Of course I wouldn’t tell her what was on my mind, but at times like this, I just needed to be around her. I found her and my uncle, who had just flown in as evidenced by his luggage at the door, getting ready to go to Seaside Station to talk with the parents of the missing girl. Even though I had started this ball rolling, I really didn’t want to go with them. Sometimes my relatives embarrassed me, and although I tried to hide it, I think they knew it. For once, Mom was sympathetic. I think she sensed something troubling my soul. She was uncanny that way.
“Well, we shouldn’t be long, why don’t you cuddle up over there on the couch until we get back?”
“Okayyy.” I tried not to pout but I know Mom saw my disappointment.
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothin’.”
“What’s that man done?” she said with a grimace as she grabbed the satchel she used as a purse from behind the door. Mom thought that if a burglar came in he most likely wouldn’t bother closing the door behind him so he wouldn’t see her purse tucked in the corner, so that’s where she’s always kept it. Sometimes there was no talking sense into her. Although that particular scenario kind of made sense in a way.
�
��What hasn’t he done,” I mumbled, thinking of all the things Cassandra had endured at his hand.
“You want me to stay?” she asked, concern in her eyes.
“No! No . . . go find out what you can about Crystal, I’ll be fine.”
As soon as they left I grabbed my mom’s long cloak that was draped over the back of the sofa and wrapped it around me. The rabbit’s fur around the collar tickled my nose so I had to spin it around some. Mom had some pretty old-fashioned hooded capes and cloaks, this one was right out of witches-wear-daily as far as I was concerned, but it was velvety soft and warm, and it smelled of her and all her earthy herbs. I settled into a corner of the sofa and dozed.
I must have slept like the dead because I didn’t wake up until the lamp above me, set by a timer, clicked on and flooded the area all around me. Startled, I sat up and blinked. I could see that it was dark outside. The louvers were still open letting in dark shadows. Out on the course, the security lighting from the cart path lit the area behind the condo so I could see the fairway and the trees beyond silhouetted against the purpling sky.
“What the . . .?” I groaned. I tried to get up but found that I was cocooned in my mother’s cloak, practically swaddled in it really. When had I done that?
I struggled to get out from under it, finally having to roll myself out. Falling to the floor from my efforts, I looked around. Where was everybody? Surely Mom and Uncle Lester had come back by now.
I pulled myself up and made my way into the kitchen for some water, my mouth was as dry as a fistful of cotton balls. Grabbing a water bottle from the fridge, I was chugging it down when I noticed the note on the counter.
We got a great lead on Crystal. Your uncle and I are on our way to Georgia to check it out. You look exhausted so we didn’t wake you, just tucked you in tight! I’ll call you when I know something. If I don’t get back in three days, throw out the squid ink and the bumblebee bodies that are in the fridge, they spoil quickly this time of the year. Don’t want Cat mad at me for stinkin’ up her place. But don’t throw out the bifidus regularis, the expiration date is weeks away on that. Love ya. Mummy.
Bifidus regularis? It sounded like something out of a Harry Potter book.
Great! I come for comforting and she leaves town. I smiled at her signature though. She loved signing things Mummy, always had. Bumblebee bodies? What the hell were they for? I knew what the squid ink was all about. She used a few drops in my Uncle’s tea when she wanted him to forget something, like the time she took a hundred-dollar bill from his wallet. I opened the fridge to see the tiny container that was on the glass shelf. Hmmm . . . I wonder what she’s trying to get him to forget now?
Those two had a volatile relationship. One minute they were lovey dovey as sister and brother, the next they were pulling out hair and snapping eyeglasses in half. And they were driving all the way to Georgia together. Lovely.
I folded my mom’s cloak, and took her note with me— Cat would have a fit if she knew my mom had dead bugs in her refrigerator. I locked up and moved toward the door but my curiosity had finally peaked. Bifidus regularis? Just what the hell was that? I went back to the fridge and looked inside for anything that had a date on it. I saw milk, and eggs, and some deli carry out containers. In the back was a stack of yogurt containers, grabbing one I pulled it out and read the ingredients. Sure enough . . . bifidous regularis. Activia. Why couldn’t she have just said that? I replaced the yogurt, closed the door, and walked out of the darkened condo. On the drive home I had to laugh out loud. I knew that yogurt contained bacteria—good bacteria that was necessary for digestion, proper balance, and to avoid the dreaded yeast infections. It had been drummed into me over and over again while growing up that sometime you needed to take the bad stuff along with the good. That often the bad things survive the journey through the long passage while the good things do not. Miraculously, the bad things became the good things at the end. I’d gone to the condo wondering what to do about Philip, and my mom, in her strange way, had advised me. Be regular. Be in control. Be proactive. I was going to call Philip as soon as I got home. I wasn’t going to explain how in my convoluted mind I had likened him to bacteria, but I would acknowledge the long journey he’d made, the path he’d taken for so many years to atone for his sins.
There were two messages from Philip. Well technically they weren’t messages, just that hideous long tone when someone hangs up and doesn’t leave a message, but my caller ID confirmed that the calls had been from Philip’s cell phone. Suddenly I was afraid. I had absolutely no idea what I should say to him. If I said I could forgive all this, which now I knew I could, then I had to take the next step. And I didn’t know if I was ready for that. He wanted to move on, he wanted some permanence in his life.
I walked out onto the sun porch and sat on the swinging bed, kicking my feet to keep it moving as if to lull myself back to sleep. It wasn’t happening. I looked at the clock on the wall. It was after nine. I hadn’t had dinner, but I wasn’t hungry. Not a bit. I was seriously in trouble here. It was not like me to miss a meal and I’d already missed several.
I picked up the phone and called Tessa, she in turn called Cat, and soon we had a girl’s night-in party. I sketched out the scenario, not with the detail Philip had, but enough so that they could get the gist of what I’d been struggling with. I didn’t want to paint him as being a cad, but these were my best friends, we’d all seen the ugly side of life and we had learned that in order to keep our friendship so it meant something, we knew we had to share the good with the bad. No one wants to hear that everything’s just fine when it truly isn’t. And it truly wasn’t. I was in a real dilemma; I didn’t know what to do. This was my future at stake here. Should I jump or not?
“We all do dumb things when we’re young, we all have things we’re ashamed of, his just affected more people,” Cat said in Philip’s defense.
“You can hardly blame him for going into the business when he, as a prosecuting attorney, couldn’t even shut the pornos down,” this from Tess who was sipping a seriously tall martini.
“I’m not blaming him for filming porn, or even for being in the porn movies themselves. Hell, it sounds like a dream job for a man. It’s her, it’s all about her in my mind.”
“He didn’t know anything about her situation. As far as he knew she was like hundreds of others, intrigued by the business and needing the type of money that only that kind of lifestyle could provide,” said Cat.
“Yeah, you can’t hold it against him. He didn’t know her motives!”
“But when he did, he still didn’t respect her. Even after he married her he didn’t respect her! He stood there and watched a man he pretty much hated fuck his wife against her will,” I wailed. “He admits he did things when she begged him not to. In my book, stop means stop, even if you’re getting paid for it.”
“You’re being unreasonable. That was a lifetime ago, he realizes now that he was wrong. Completely, unequivocally, and totally wrong.” Tessa sighed.
“I know. But that’s really not the issue I’m torn over now. I’m past all that. I’ve resolved it all in my mind; I know that he’s a different man now. If she were around, he’d beg her forgiveness—by proxy, he’s begging me. I’d forgive him if it was in my power.”
“So what’s the dilemma?”
“Do I take it to the next level? Do I want to marry him?”
“Do you love him?”
“I think I’m infatuated with him. We haven’t been together all that much for me to know if this is the real deal. I just know I miss talking to him. I miss the attention he gives me. I miss knowing there’s someone out there,” I said giving them both a nod, “man-wise, who cares what happens to me. This could be my last chance to find someone to share the rest of my life with. I want what you guys have. And I want a man to love me the way Matt and Roman love you guys.”
“So what’s the downside here?” Cat asked.
“The downside is what I’ll have to give up. Bei
ng with you two as much, being independent, not having to answer to anyone but me.”
“Other than not seeing you as often, those aren’t necessarily bad things. And you being in the cat-bird seat right now, I would think you’d specify we come as a set.” Tessa took another long sip of her martini and shivered from its potency,
I choked on my wine. When I recovered I snickered, “Hmmm, Triplets . . . I imagine that was just his cup of tea at one time—that he was into them, and I mean in the most literal sense.”
We all laughed; the liquor was doing its job. The oneliners were passed back and forth getting more ribald with each volley until we were laughing so hard we were all crying. By the time I pushed them out the door, my sides hurt.
As Tessa made her way to the car where Roman, who had come to fetch them, was holding the door open for her, she called back to me, “You can’t forfeit this opportunity, Viv. God, to make love with a porn star . . . the things he must know. Don’t blow this, Viv!” Then she chuckled when she realized what she’d said and amended her words, “Never mind, blow whatever you want!”
I was wondering what my neighbors would think of this conversation when Roman winked at me, “Blow what, darlin’?” he asked his wife as she tumbled into the passenger seat. Cat just managed to get the back door open and fall in. “Make love with a porn star? I believe I have that costume. It’s just black socks is it not?”
The Widows of Sea Trail-Vivienne of Sugar Sands Page 17
