* * * *
Since Trent and Peter's explosive encounter, they only communicated with each other when necessary. The friendship was ending or had already ended and Peter wanted Trent out.
One night after work, he and Richard Hillard met up at one of their favorite sports bars. Sipping his beer at the counter, Peter barked, "That guy is really pissing me off!"
"Who? Trent?" Richard asked.
"Yeah." He looked down at his beer, lightly shaking the glass. "He's bad for business, you know. The evidence is all there. Check the files he's been responsible for and you'll see just how much he's been messing up."
"I know all about it, Peter. I also know what you want."
Peter gave Richard a suspicious look, suddenly wondering if the man could be trusted.
"Relax," Richard said. "I'm on your side. You know, you could gain a lot more if you were in complete control of First Provincial. I know ways that could make you richer and I mean richer, in just a matter of a few short months. I have in-depth knowledge of all areas of banking and off-shore activities, and if you're willing, I can help you."
Nothing sounded sweeter to Peter than a louder ring of the cash register.
"But first…" Richard continued, "…you would have to get rid of Matheson."
"How do I do that? He's dead set against selling his shares," Peter was clearly frustrated.
"He's dead set against it now, Peter, but there's no promise that he'll be that way in the very near future - once you and I start working together."
"So what's in it for you?" Peter asked. "Why are you willing to help me?"
"Because we're friends and I like you," Richard replied, calmly. "And besides, I see how rough this situation is on you. I understand what you're going through."
"What do we have to do, then?"
Richard filled Peter in on the plan, assuring him that soon, Trent Matheson would be the least of his worries. The thought of making millions more than he already had in a short time-span was all it took to fuel Peter's rapacious appetite.
Twelve
__________________
WHAT LIES AHEAD
Peter knocked on the office door. Trent looked up.
"May I come in?" Peter asked.
"Sure." Trent sat at his desk wondering the reason for the visit.
"May I sit for a moment?" Peter motioned towards an empty chair in front of the desk.
Trent nodded with consent.
"Look Trent, I want to apologize for that nasty outburst I made the other day. I was just so upset that we were losing clients and you know…when I think of clients, I envision their bank accounts." He shook his head as if ashamed. "When they're gone, I'm seeing their money gone as well - less of it for you and me. But that's no excuse for my behavior. I acted like an idiot that day and I humbly request your apology."
Slightly taken aback after all the bad blood that had formed between them since the incident, Trent wasn't sure what to say, but managed a response. "It was my fault too, Pete. I blew up in your face. I should have handled that differently. The Sainville account…"
"Forget it," Peter interjected. "She was a difficult woman to please anyway. If she hadn't taken off when she did, she would have sooner or later. We'll get new contracts just like we always do."
"I was just signing off on a few when you walked in," Trent said.
"We'll be just fine, buddy. We've been in this business a long time - you and me - not just as partners, but as friends. I really feel bad about this whole upset I caused between us, so why don't I treat you to lunch later? We can go down the road to Sam's place," Peter proffered.
"Ah… I don't know about lunch, Pete. I'm trying to catch up on everything here before Accounts get on my back."
"Accounts can wait 'til after lunch. Come on! We can get going out of here around one. How's that?" The way he raised his eyebrows clearly indicated to Trent that he was seeking confirmation.
"Okay, bud. It's a done deal," Trent replied.
At 1:10p.m., they walked into the crowded restaurant and followed a red-haired waitress named Dolly to a table in the center of the floor. Her uniform skirt landed about two inches below her hips instead of an inch above her knees within clear violation of the dress code. Sam Fung didn't seem to mind just as long as the customers were happy.
Dolly handed each of them a menu.
"Can I get you fine gentlemen something to drink while you take a look at the menu?" She asked as Peter gave her a flirtatious wink.
"I'll have a cherry-lemonade, Dolly," Trent said.
"And you, sir?" She asked Peter, whose eyes seemed to be stuck on her.
"Oh, yes. I'll have a lemonade - a really, really sweet one. By the way, are you new here?" He asked.
"No, sir. I've been here going on two years and have served you countless times." She smiled.
"Yeah. That's right." Peter suddenly started looking at the menu.
"I'll give you two a couple of minutes to look things over and I'll be back."
Perusing the menu, Trent said to Peter: "I think I'll try the Swiss pasta. Tina made it for me once and it was delicious."
"I sure wish I had a woman who liked to cook," Peter replied.
"I'd say you're blessed in other ways, pal." Trent appraised the huge space for a while, when amidst the crowd, his eyes met those of a beautiful waitress with long, black, silky hair. She was tidying up a table where an elderly couple had just left. The eye contact was uniquely intense for both of them - not in a romantic way, but in some strange, unfamiliar way that neither of them could understand. Sam Fung walked over to the waitress and started speaking to her, thus abruptly and inadvertently, breaking the stares.
Trent then drifted back to the conversation Peter had no idea that he was having with himself.
"…And you see, that's why I really had to apologize to you so we can get this whole thing behind us," Peter said.
"Forget it, buddy," Trent replied. "Things happen, man. We're making a fresh start as of today and that's all that matters."
They sat and joked, and discussed a few business deals over lunch. Occasionally, Trent's eyes followed the black-haired, slender lady as she moved from place to place, and at times, her eyes met his again. After about an hour and a half, he and Peter left the restaurant and headed back to work.
As Trent vanished into the distance, the waitress burned his back with the gaze of her dark brown eyes.
"Some hunks, huh?" Dolly said behind her. "They're from First Provincial Bank, just up the street there."
"Really?" Solange was curious for reasons Dolly would not fathom.
"I'd sure like to get my hands on the dark, tall one," Dolly was referring to Trent. "The other one's a big turn-off, comes in here all the time... too loud for me."
Solange smiled. "The tall, dark one really is God's gift to women. Isn't he?" She moved away from the window as Dolly left to tidy the table nearby.
* * * *
While on a short break, Solange asked Sam Fung for permission to use the phone in his office. She was sure to put on her signature smile and to that, Fung could not refuse. Sitting behind his desk, Solange grabbed the white pages of the phonebook and flipped over to the 'F' section, her fingers trembling as she did so. She felt so nervous that she thought her heart was going to beat right out of her chest.
She spotted 'First Provincial Bank' in capital letters and used Sam's silver pen nearby to circle the phone number. Then she looked at the phone, long and hard, before finally finding the nerve to lift the handset and make the call. Seconds later, a soft, friendly voice answered the line.
"Hello… I was wondering who the president of your bank is," Solange said with heightened anxiety.
"Mister Trent Matheson is President and Chief Executive Officer. Will you be needing an appointment with him, ma'am?" The switchboard operator asked.
Solange thought for a moment. "Um… yes. When can I see him?"
"Just hold the line please... I'll have to transfer
you over to his secretary."
Solange held on nervously. The whole thing seemed surreal. She couldn't believe she was going to officially meet her brother and reveal to him what might be the shock of his life.
"Good afternoon," Tina Sheffield said, moments later. "I understand you would like to make an appointment to see Mister Matheson."
"Yes. That's right," Solange answered.
"Okay, I just need a little information from you. I need your name and the nature of your visit please."
"Yes. My name is Liza Deneuve,"
"Spell your surname please."
"D-E-N-E-U-V-E," Solange replied.
"Thank you, Miss Deneuve and the reason for your visit please…"
Solange felt trapped. She couldn't possibly say why she needed the appointment - at least, she didn't think she could. "I am thinking of doing business with your bank and a very good client of yours referred me to Mister Matheson directly," she finally said.
"Should I tell him who that client was, ma'am?" Tina asked.
"Oh… what's his last name?" Solange pretended to be thinking. "I met him at a seminar last week and I can't seem to recall his name. I'm sorry."
"That's quite all right, Miss Deneuve. I see there's something open for Thursday of this week at noon. Would that be convenient for you?"
"That would be perfect," Solange replied.
When the phone call ended, she breathed a deep sigh of relief and immediately started gearing herself up for what was apt to be a life-changing moment for both of them. She hurried back into the restaurant to fill Sonia in on the good news - that in less than forty-eight hours, she was going to introduce herself to her brother.
Thirteen
__________________
THE BATTLE
* 1 *
Twiddling his thumbs and staring off into space, Peter pitched at the sound of the telephone. He quickly picked up. "Peter here."
"Are you ready for tonight?" The lowered voice on the other end of the line asked.
"Yeah; just a little nervous. Can't wait to get this damned, nerve-wracking thing over with. Are you absolutely sure this is the only way?"
"Absolutely. Think about what you're going to walk into in just a matter of hours."
"I'll try... to concentrate, I mean," Peter said.
"I'll call you later."
The conversation ended and Peter gathered a few scattered papers and resumed his work. However, it wasn't long before he started twiddling his thumbs again.
* 2 *
Solange took off her apron and uniform, and freshened up in the bathroom before leaving the restaurant for her five minute walk to First Provincial. She put on a blue, sleeveless dress she had purchased just the day before for the purpose of her upcoming meeting and slipped on a pair of matching high heel shoes that she was positive were made specifically for that dress. She had already given Matheson's secretary the impression that she would be there to do business and so felt the need to play the part - if only by the unspoken dress code.
On the way out, Sonia gave her a 'thumbs up'. Solange was grateful to have the support of a friend.
She arrived at the bank at 11:53. Glancing at her watch, she was relieved to know that she had a few more minutes to prepare for the rendezvous. She walked over to Clara Eaves at the Information booth.
"Hello. How can I help you today?" Clara smiled.
"Hi. I'm here to see Mister Trent Matheson," Solange replied timidly.
Clara peered into an open register to her right. "Are you Liza Deneuve?"
"Yes."
"Mister Matheson is expecting you. What you can do is take the elevator there to the third floor and have a seat in the waiting area until Miss Sheffield, his secretary, shows you in."
As Solange walked toward the elevator, she could feel her legs trembling and as the doors parted in front of her, she felt as if she were going to collapse. She was terribly anxious and struggled fiercely to relax.
After a few people exited, she went in and pressed the button for the third floor. Tina, expecting her, was there on her arrival.
"Miss Deneuve?" She asked.
"Yes." Solange nodded, trying to break a smile.
"Mrs. Eaves informed me that you were on your way up. Mister Matheson is ready for you. This way, please."
As she followed Tina, Solange glanced at her watch again. It was exactly twelve noon. How time flies! she thought. "I must say, you people are very cordial here." She tried to exude some confidence.
After replying with a brief smile, Tina knocked once, then opened the door to Trent's office.
"Mister Matheson… this is Liza Deneuve." She showed Solange in and left the room.
Upon seeing the lady with the long, black hair and dark, alluring eyes, Trent stood to his feet, staring at her as he had in the restaurant. Moments passed before he uttered a single word to her.
"Hi. I'm Trent Matheson. How are you, Miss Deneuve?" He finally said, extending a handshake.
"I'm fine. Thank you, Mister Matheson. I must say, you do have quite a place here." Solange replied nervously.
"Thanks. We try." He offered her a seat, then sat himself. "You work at Fung's just down the street there. Don't you?"
"Yes. I just started there recently."
"I remember seeing you there the other day," he said. "So, Miss Deneuve, what can I do for you today?"
This time, she was staring at him. His words seemed to echo as he spoke. "Mister Matheson, this is probably going to sound very strange to you and afterwards, you might want to throw me out of your office, but I must ask you."
Trent silently waited.
"Don't you think there's a really unique resemblance between us?" Solange went on, without first gaining approval from herself.
"Strange that you ask, Miss Deneuve, but I've been thinking the same thing all along since the moment I saw you at the restaurant. It's amazing how mere strangers can resemble so much," Trent said.
"My sentiments exactly," Solange returned with confidence she couldn't find when she first walked in. "I beg your pardon… but would you say that you look more like your mother, sir?"
"People say I do. I only know her from a photograph I have of her at home. She died when I was two years old. But where are we going with this, Miss Deneuve?" Trent was now curious about the reason for her visit.
Right then, fear gripped Solange and her newly-recovered confidence left her out in the cold- all alone. She started questioning herself all over again and couldn't believe she was sitting in the office of this highly respectable man about to make a fool of herself. Would he be disappointed if I told him the truth? If he accepts me, he'll probably feel that I'm only interested in a relationship with him because of his money. How would I convince him that my motive is sincere? Will I ever be able to trust him enough as a brother to confide in him about the murder of Ferdinand? Just how much of a risk am I prepared to take by acknowledging that I am, indeed, his sister - the product of a cruel, filthy man who raped our mother? She was suddenly overwhelmed by all the grim possibilities.
"I… I'm really sorry to have wasted your time, sir," she found her voice again. "Please forgive me. I'm so sorry," She got up and hurried out of the office wanting to get as far away from him as she could.
Trent stood in amazement- bewildered by the woman's sudden flight and more so, by her odd line of questioning. Though making no effort to go after her, he had a strong feeling that one day, she would be back to finish what she had started.
Solange walked back to Fung's with the strap of her purse hanging halfway down her shoulder; her eyes clouded with tears. It was definitely him: He was unmistakably the missing link she was dying to find since the day she discovered he existed. Now, she was sure she had ruined a great opportunity and many things she wished to say to him were still bottled up inside of her - screaming to get out.
She hurried inside the restaurant, glanced at Sonia who had just seen a customer off and retreated in the back to the restroom.
There, she would re-dress for work.
Worried about the look on Solange's face when she walked in, Sonia immediately went to find her. When she opened the restroom door, she was shocked to see Solange slumped on the floor in her brand new dress sobbing.
"Liza!" She went over and sat down next to her on the cold tiles. "What's wrong, honey?"
Overwhelmed with emotion, Solange threw her arms around Sonia's shoulders. "Oh, Sonia, I had my chance and I blew it! I just couldn't do it!"
"You blew what?" Sonia was baffled.
Fighting back the tears, Solange said: "I was about to tell him everything I knew, when suddenly, I thought that I was about to make the biggest mistake of my life. I couldn't do it anymore. I had to leave!"
"Liza, how in the world were you going to make the biggest mistake of your life by starting a wonderful, new relationship with your brother? How could that possibly be a mistake? I don't get it."
"It's just a feeling I had, Sonia, and a strong one too. I started having all these thoughts about so many different things - so many different ways this whole thing could go wrong. Maybe now is not the right time. Perhaps, some other time would be perfect and hopefully, when that time comes, I'll know."
Sonia looked into her eyes. "You thought you weren't good enough. Didn't you?"
"Kind of. I thought for a moment that he'd think I only wanted to wiggle my way into his life because he is a wealthy man," Solange replied.
"He is indeed," Sonia said. "Much of what he has apparently came to him through inheritance from how the story goes - and if that's the case, you're entitled to your portion of that inheritance."
"I don't care about any of that!" Solange shook her head. "I just wanted my brother."
"I know, honey. I know. So, what are you gonna do now?"
"Go on with my life…" Solange said, drying her face with some tissue.
"And just forget about your brother for now?" Sonia asked.
"I can't miss what I never had. Can I?"
Immortals- The Complete Real Illusions Series Page 18
