by JJ Giles
Her tears broke out into a tortured sobbing.
His fingers brushed gently through her hair. “I think I’d better call Neil, though, and give him a head’s up. And then I think Sunday we ought to call Renee so she can be prepared.”
“Oh, this is a mess.”
“We’ll work through it together, honey. Right now, just let it go, go have some fun with Morgan. Morgan can make you forget your name,” he said smiling broadly. “Just let it go.”
“You’re in love with her?”
“Hopelessly. As soon as I unload my wife, I’m gonna beg that woman to marry me.”
“I’m happy for you. I’m also very happy that you have the generosity to share.”
“Go,” he said with a little pat on her bottom. “Talk to Morgan. She’s understands what’s going on now.”
“See you Sunday.” Filled with gratitude, she tenderly kissed his lips.
* * * *
Jerry returned to the penthouse, finding Brian in a quandary. “Dad, would Mom really do that to Cherry?”
Jerry sauntered into the room and fell into the chair and peered at Alex on the sofa.
Alex hissed, “In my opinion, there isn’t anything your mother isn’t capable of. Right now she’s demanding you two side with her and tonight she found out that’s not going to happen. Pandora’s box has been opened.”
Every molecule of oxygen seemed to drain from Brian’s body. “Your assessment?” he asked of his father.
Filled with sadness, Jerry nodded. “Time to prepare for inclimate weather.”
* * * *
Cherry barely knocked on 1908 in the Waterford Hotel and the door was thrown open by a nude Olympian goddess. “I wanna party,” she declared.
“Then you’ve come to the right place, baby,” Morgan mewed, her voice so deep and seductively open. “But we’re gonna do it at my place.” She grabbed a knee-length raincoat and quite loosely wrapped it around herself. “Let’s go.”
* * * *
At only two o’clock on Sunday afternoon, barely able to breathe, Cherry pleaded, “Don’t touch me. Get the hell away from me.” To put a little space between her and Morgan’s very talented tongue, she rolled off the bed and landed with a plop. “I’ll always remember August as being the hottest month of the year.”
Delightedly laughing, Morgan rolled over and draped her head over the bed, watching Cherry upside down. “Are you hungry?”
“Honey, I don’t need nothing for a month. And I hate to say it...”
“You ready to go back to town?”
“Not that this hasn’t been the most memorable weekend of my life. But let me ask you something? If things don’t work out between you and Dad, will you marry me?”
Broadly, Morgan smiled as her hand slid over the smooth terrain of Cherry’s thigh. “I just might,” she whispered.
* * * *
Stopped in front of the Abernathy Tower, Morgan took Cherry’s hand and kissed it passionately.
“Go park in the garage and come up for awhile. I know Dad will be happy to see you.”
“No,” Morgan said quickly. “I don’t want to intrude.”
“Yeah right. Go park in the garage.”
Morgan drove to the State Street entrance and parked next to Jerry’s Rolls. All the way to the fiftieth floor, Cherry held Morgan in her arms and lavished wet kisses on her face. The door opened and they saw Alex coming out of the kitchen, his expression a little stricken.
“Alex,” Cherry mewed. “Meet Morgan McFaye. My uncle Alex.” The pride was evident.
Totally stricken, Alex stared for a moment and then gathered himself quickly. He approached boldly and took her outstretched hand. He was meeting Brian’s fiancée even if she didn’t know it yet. “This is a pleasure, indeed.”
“The pleasure is mine,” she said affectionately.
What man could resist this? he wondered of the sparkling green eyes, the clear skin with just a little color looking perpetually flushed. A figure that could be climbed like a tree. Alex would have liked nothing more than to have sat her down and spent some serious time with her, but if Brian saw her here... Not possible.
“Where’s the boys?” Cherry asked playfully.
With the toss of his head, he said, “In the other room.”.
“I’m not staying,” Morgan insisted. “I certainly don’t mean to interrupt.”
“You’re not interrupting,” Cherry insisted. “Stay for dinner.”
“No, you don’t understand. I haven’t met your brother and I think your father has some reticence about introducing me before he’s divorced, and I don’t have a problem with that.”
“My brother gave him your card. He knows exactly who you are.”
“But because I don’t know anyone else by the name Abernathy, I have to assume that he only knows of me either through the club or he was a client using a pseudonym which isn’t unusual. I don’t think your father’s ready to put it all together for him yet and I can’t think of any reason to rush it, either.”
“Bullshit,” Cherry commented.
“I had a wonder weekend,” Morgan insisted. “I’ll be seeing you soon.”
What a gracious woman, Alex thought.
“Alex,” she said politely with a nod.
“Darling,” he whispered, “I uhh...have to go to Washington in the morning.” He rolled his eyes. “White House. Some dreadful decorating project. New president, you know. When I get back, can Jerry and you and I have dinner one night next week.”
With a flash of teeth, she smiled. “I’d like that very much. Jerry speaks very often and very fondly of you. I’m very happy to meet you finally. And I’ll wait to hear from you.” She reached into her bag for her card and then handed it to him.
Alex only nodded, the ashes from his cigarette swirling in circles to the floor. Astounded, he watched as she moved to the elevator and stepped inside, the cute little wave just as the doors closed.
Unable to support himself, he fell on the sofa and curled into it. Her words, fondly and often, rang in his head sending a little shiver through him. That romantic little interlude was broken only by:
“Hey, guys.”
“Cherry!” Renee hollered. “Brian said you were in town.”
Her expression darkened immediately. “We need to talk, baby.”
Renee’s advance toward Cherry stopped as if she’d run headlong into a wall. Timidly, she turned and glanced at Brian and Jerry. Slowly, she turned back to Cherry. “My son,” she gasped.
Sadly, Cherry nodded. “Have a seat.”
* * * *
“I’m gonna have to kill that fucking bitch,” Renee screamed. She launched off the sofa, her fists clenched. “If Cheryl does that to my son...” Her expression filled with wildness sending Brian’s internals into a terrible trembling.
“I should have killed her years ago,” Alex snarled. “We could have dispensed with this misery thirty years ago.”
“Alex,” Jerry interrupted. His expression was stern. “No.”
“Somebody has to do something, Jerry. What else is there to do with someone like her? Reason is out of the question. Appealing to her for her children’s sake will only get you laughed at.”
“Alex,” Jerry repeated. “I mean what I say. NO.”
In a huff, Alex curled tighter on the sofa. Solemnly, Brian looked at Cherry. Alex wasn’t joking about this. About causing murder to befall the woman who apparently separated Alex and Jerry thirty-five years ago. And neither was Jerry grandstanding for the sake of show. Jerry was quite obviously frightened that Alex just might do it.
Chapter Forty
Morgan opened the door of Jerry’s office and let herself in. For a moment she stared, the new surroundings as elegant as everything else about him. The scent of freshly dyed leather permeated the very air and covered everything from a small conversational grouping in the corner under what was surely an original Dali, to the overstuffed conference table chairs including the one Jerry rested in.
The other furniture, end tables, a coffee table, the desk, conference table and sprawling liquor cabinet were all crafted of brushed steel, their lateral surfaces in slabs of highly polished black granite. Very elegant, very commanding.
Without turning his head, believing it was his secretary to simply walk in unannounced, he snarled, “Yeah, what is it?”
“It’s your Mistress.”
Quickly, he turned to see her watching. How utterly lovely, her hair left free to lie against her shoulders. Such clear skin filled with the wonder only innocence can offer. Dutifully, he rose out of the chair and began to disrobe.
“It’s alright,” she said softly. “Frankly, I don’t know why I’m here.”
He smiled. “Just thinking about me, huh?” Quietly, he sat back down.
She moved tentatively into the office toward the chairs that replaced one she previously dismembered. “You’ve made it so impossibly hard to think about anything else. You are making some changes.” Her vision traveled the width of the windows, the stacks of raw silk ready to be drawn over them. The new ceiling of the same brushed steel seamlessly installed gathered the light and reflected it in a most congenial way.
“My brother. An interior designer. He believes I’m too attached to the past and wants to free me.”
Slowly, she descended into the chair and studied him intently. “The past is always a place we wish we could dwell...or escape.”
“What about you?”
Heavily, she huffed. Full of sadness, she peered into him. “You don’t know me, Jerry. You have no idea who I am. And the rest is a very long and likely uninteresting story.”
“I’ve got only one thing to say. I’m taking you to dinner tonight.”
How sweet. Dinner. A small smile reoriented her lips to better show off the shine. “I’d like that.”
He called his driver, slipped his jacket on and moved toward her to offer his hand. Easily, she grasped it and allowed herself to be led to his private elevator.
The limo door was held open and the expanse inside just as expensive as everything else about him. He held two glasses in a single hand, poured an inch of bourbon in each.
“Thanks,” she said softy. She took it from him and drank it down. She offered not another word until they arrived, content to be quiet yet not alone.
Installed at what must have been his table at his private club, she nestled into the leather booth. The white linen on the table was enhanced by the crystal bowl of white carnations and the wistful flames of tealights shining among them. The current that stirred them was the fluttering fins of gold fish swimming lazily in circles.
Of the elegance surrounding her, she whispered, “This is beautiful.”
“Home away from home.”
It was obviously so easy for him here. He ordered the wine, the appetizers of smoked salmon and shrimp. The entrée of steak and lobster. He requested the salad dressing and took those small insignificant decisions away from her to let her relax. And then he shooed the waiter away to turn his undivided attention to her.
“So tell me. You’re wearing the Hope diamond there, at least part of it. My daughter thinks it’s a decoy, to get those guys you don’t want hanging around off your back. I think it’s something more sinister. I think it has to do with a man. Yet, I’m thinking that the stupid son of a bitch walked out on you because you work in Columbus, live in Alexandria, yet you’ve moved away from your estate and live almost exclusively in your condo now. Going home hurts. Are you engaged?”
She looked down at her hand. The light glinting off the facets could have been the Save Our Souls signal from the survivors of a shipwreck hailing a plane. “Why don’t you ask something easy like...the destiny of our souls.”
“That bad?”
She tossed her head forcing back tears. “Kinda hard to talk about it. I uhh...I don’t know. The reality is, marriage isn’t everything it should be. He’s angry with me right now and this is definitely coming between us. I can feel it. I think maybe he’s better off without me. And I’m sorry. This is quite irregular, indeed. But uhhh...”
“You can’t face being alone tonight any more than I can.”
Nervously, she twittered and reached into her bag for a cigarette. She fumbled for a lighter. “Sounds desperate, doesn’t it?”
“I know all about it.” He held to the glass in his hand to steady himself. “Is he a client?”
“No. Just somebody I picked up off the street one night. But there’s something about him. I don’t know who he really is or where he came from. He came home with me that night and stayed for years. Hasn’t done a damned thing other than what I’ve commanded him to do or allowed him to do. And there’s something so elegant and graceful about him. He’s equally comfortable in a tuxedo or a pair of cut-off jeans. In Paris or Hoboken.” She shook her head sadly and then she smiled. “Would you like to know how comfortable with and in control of himself he is? I’ve seen him on job sites...talking to customers, suppliers or the laborers under him and he’ll pull out a pack of my Virginia Slims and light one. Now that’s a man who doesn’t question his masculinity.”
“Sounds like a dominatrix’s dream.”
“Even my fantasies can’t conjure someone as good as he is.”
“Then good Lord, woman. Why won’t you marry the man?”
Quickly, she shook her head. “He doesn’t really know who I am.”
“You’ve never let him get that close? Let him see your vulnerable side?”
Flirtatiously, she smiled. “What in the world makes you think there’s anything vulnerable about me?”
“Ahhh, so the astounding Mistress Morgan does feel vulnerable at times?”
“If you use it against me I’ll break your leg.” She smiled playfully. “But uhh...I can’t get married. He won’t accept that and just let us be together. And I apologize to you. I’m trying to remain as professional as I can be but you’ve come into my life at a very bitter time. Not to mention, you’ve really got me screwed up.”
“I don’t want you to apologize.” He reached for her cigarettes and lit one. “You’ve pretty much saved me from disaster, I can assure you that. From the continuing misery of being me. If I can return the favor...”
She stared into his dark eyes, eyes that had no desire to turn away from her. If only he could return the favor, how easy it would be succumb to him. His forcefulness when she needed that. To feel the soft skin of the sole of his foot on her throat, the intensity of his whip on her ass. His very eager organ impale every orifice and leave it trembling.
“Maybe you can...someday.”
He reached out and took her hand. “Why can’t you accept how desperately in love with you I am?”
His sincerity made her quiver inside. “You don’t really know me. The deal here is that you’ve given yourself over to me so wholly and let me take you to places inside of yourself you didn’t know exist. All of my clients fall in love with me, Jerry. Men, women, it doesn’t matter. The truth is you don’t even know who I am.”
His gaze unbroken on her, he retreated and sat straight. “You might be surprised. You see, I can’t let anyone get the best of me. To get anything on me that could be used to blackmail me. I need to know who they are before I get involved.”
Her lips parted and she gasped. “You had me investigated?”
“Extensively.”
Instinctively, she curled wishing she hadn’t come out with him. Rather, she met the challenge. “So...still you got involved. Couldn’t find anything to scare you off?”
“Are you kidding? I found a hell of a lot that scares me. You are one formidable woman.” He leaned over the table and rubbed his hands together. “Tell me where I’m wrong.
“Your father, a truck driver was killed when you were little more than a baby. Your mother remarried, a man who beat her quite regularly. And while it was never officially reported or verified, neighbors often had the sense that he beat you, too. Believed that he often raped you.�
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“Did they?”
“That man killed your mother. Beat her to death. He died later that night in a situation that was considered an accident. But since you were the only one still alive, they couldn’t exactly get all the evidence they needed. What’s curious to me is that a saddle shoe, the kind you sweet little Catholic girls wear to school, was found near the wreckage. But since no one else was left alive to verify or dispute your statement, since it was obvious he murdered your mother, the authorities didn’t press the situation especially because one Father Romeo Antonelli Romanelli officially petitioned the courts to become your legal guardian. A man you work very closely with even today.
“Beyond that, you bought a lot of land near Alexandria, built a sprawling mansion on it. I’ve seen the plans...ten bedroom suites. It’s quite a place, built as a copy albeit bigger than the original plantation house called Oakhurst in Virginia. You have a hotel license, a liquor license and a food service license so I can only assume you run a bed and breakfast establishment, but your tax records indicate no income from those sources.”
Feeling a little superior, he sat back further. “In this fabulous plantation house, you keep slaves, a male and a female. Of course, I’ve met Kitty. I have to assume it was the male who walked out on you although no one knows anything about him other than you call him Mouse. You’ve spent upwards of one and a half million dollars on the place, a lot of money for someone who grew up so poor. A gorgeous estate called Avalon, I understand.
“I also know you’re a licensed sex therapist, very well trained. I also understand you can get very, very nasty with those clients like me who aren’t referred by the medical or mental profession. Your favorites are wife-beaters and rapists. Those you can cause to suffer in kind. One nasty bitch.” The smoke curled out of his nose and rose around him. “You see, you have a lot of very loyal admirers. Much to my surprise, there’s quite a few who refuse to speak about you for any amount of money. Of the few who would spill for the most modest amounts, they claim you are nothing but ugly. The most sadistic thing they’ve ever come upon. They avoid you like the plague.
