by Jack July
Kelly still had her eyes on Joseph when the front door opened. Kelly glanced at the door, did a double take and said, “No. No, there is no way.”
“Oh yes,” said Amy. “You know Sky is a supermodel, right?”
“Oh my God,” Kelly said under her breath, “It’s him, it’s really him. It’s Marky Kristoff from Direct Connection.”
Kelly turned to Bogus, who had just returned from socializing to sit by Amy and said, “Bogus, please introduce me to Marky Kristoff. Please?”
Bogus smiled and said, “He is a very nice man, just go introduce yourself.”
“I can’t, I can’t. I just couldn’t.”
Amy nudged Bogus and gave him the, “Do it” look.
“Alright.” He took Kelly’s hand and walked her over by Sky and Marky.
“Bogus, congratulations.” He gave Bogus a hug. “I can’t wait to meet her.”
“Thank you. First, I would like you to meet Amy’s best friend Kelly,”
“Hi Kelly,” Marky gave her a hug also.
Kelly tried to talk, but nothing came out. Her eyes were big and her mouth hung partially open. As the lead singer in one of the biggest boy bands in the world, Marky was used to it, and fortunately for him, so was Sky. “So Kelly, are you going to introduce me to the Bride?”
Kelly nodded her head and said, “Yeah, yes, sure ah, over here.”
Marky took her arm, as she looked up at him adoringly. Sky and Joseph looked at each other and laughed. Kelly stopped and said, “Excuse me one second.” She walked back by Joseph, grabbed his shirt, pulled him down and whispered to him, “You start taking pictures of us and you don’t stop, understand?” Joseph nodded, grabbed one of the many disposable cameras scattered around the room, winked at Sky who smiled back, and followed Kelly across the room.
A little later, gift bags were handed out to the people who stood up in the wedding. Kelly gasped, “This is a Rolex, a solid gold Rolex.”
“Yes, yes it is,” said Amy with a little curiosity. She walked over by Carla Jo and Tatiana who were still talking; apparently they had hit it off. “Hi, Aunt Carla Jo, you got a second?”
“Sure honey.”
“Gold Rolexes in the swag bags? How much did you spend?”
“I didn’t spend a dime. Remember when I was looking at Bogus’ plane? He wanted my bank account routing numbers so he could transfer in some money for the wedding. He gave me a million dollars and said ‘spend it’.”
Amy shook her head and said, “Okay, now I understand the band, the mass of flowers in the church, the catering. You had a good time, didn’t you?”
Carla Jo smiled and said, “You know I did.”
A few hours later, Cyla and her family said their goodbyes and left for the airport. There were other tearful goodbyes as the brand new husband and wife bid family and friends farewell and headed toward the airport. The limo driver unloaded their bags, and Garret stowed them in the cargo hold. Bogus gave Garret a look and pointed at the G5. Garret gave him the thumbs up and said, “She’s ready to go boss.”
Bogus took Amy’s hand and boarded the plane. The back seats had been folded down into a bed for the overnight flight. It suddenly occurred to Amy, Now, we are going to do IT. Now just relax, it’ll be okay. They buckled in the front seats as the plane taxied and took off. Once Garret climbed to altitude, they unbuckled. Bogus could see something was wrong, “Are you alright my dear?”
“Yes, um, we are married now so, if you want to, you know, I’m here.”
Bogus reached over into his carry-on, pulled out a long nightshirt and handed it to her. He didn’t watch as she took off her dress and slipped it on. He was wearing a pair of shorts and a T-shirt and he patted the bed next to him. “Come, lie down with me. We will not be like a couple of randy teenagers in the back seat of a car. I’ve waited over two years for this and, from what I understand, you have waited a lot longer than that.”
She sat down on the edge of the bed and said “So, you know I’m a…”
“Yes, I do.”
“That obvious?”
“No, Tatiana told me while we were on Golden Angel. She actually threatened my life if I pursued you.”
Amy smiled and shook her head and said, “Apparently it did no good.”
“No, I fell in love with you the first time I saw you.”
Amy looked away and said, “I’m sorry.”
“About what?”
“Not being, um, what you are used to.”
Bogus laughed a gentle understanding laugh and said, “I would never marry what I was used to. Come, lie down with me.”
He pulled her down next to him, and they kissed passionately for a while. She felt so warm and safe with him, not so much physically as emotionally. He was so thoughtful, and so in tune with her emotions. She never knew a man could treat her that way. They spooned and he hugged her tight as they drifted off to sleep.
Chapter 21
Meyer Braddock tried to stay busy any way he could. On this day, he purchased and liquidated Archway Industries in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. He shook his head as the television news showed union employees facing off against company security and local police, and violence spilling into the street, mirroring some third world clash.
He had become a bit more introspective as his possible transplant time drew closer. He actually felt bad for these men and women. He had done something he had never done before. He tried to negotiate with the unions to keep the plant open. However, the unions’ refusal to do simple math made it impossible for the work to stay in Milwaukee. Their recalcitrance, combined with the local taxes and regulations, made it seem miraculous that anyone conducted any kind of business in the nearly socialist environment. It simply cost too much to keep the company competitive in the world market. What the workers didn’t know was that a new high tech plant had just been built outside Tuscaloosa, Alabama. That facility would increase productivity at half the cost with two-thirds of the workforce.
Meyer’s young wife Kim walked up behind him, hugged his neck and said, “You really need to stop watching that.”
“Yeah, I know. There just comes a point where I get tired of being hated.”
“The workers in Alabama will love you.”
“Yeah, I guess. It just that every time we shut down a factory in one of these rust belt towns, so many people are hurt. It’s the same shit, over and over again. I’m the son of a bitch, not the union bosses, or the corrupt politicians. Me.”
“You warned ’em, it’s not your fault they didn’t listen. Come on honey, let’s go have some lunch.”
Meyer nodded, and then the phone rang. He started to walk away then saw the number. “Kim, would you excuse me, I have to take this.”
“Sure, I’ll be downstairs.”
Meyer picked up the receiver. “Countess?”
“Meyer, how are you?”
“I’m good, doin’ fine.”
“That’s guud Meyer because vee had a little delay.”
“What the problem? Do you need more money?”
“No Meyer, dat tis not the problem. You see, it tis your blood type. You are AB+, not zee most rare, but certainly not common.”
Meyer was quiet. The Countess sensed it and said, “Meyer, you have been taking care of yourself, right.”
Meyer had no reason to lie so he said, “No.”
“Mm hm, just as I thought. Vat tis it dat vorries you, Meyer.”
“I have heard things from people. Things that tell me I would be better off dying than dealing with you. Why would they say that?” The countess laughed, but it was blood-curdling. “Meyer, Meyer, some people don’t get da value of life. Der is a cost vith everything. Trust me Meyer, it tis nothing you can’t handle. I know your reputation. You do vat it takes. Venever you fear, look at your children, they deserve you.”
Meyer t
hought hard for a moment. She hit his weak spot, his children. “Okay. Thank you, Countess.”
“Not a problem. You vill hear from me soon. Now Meyer, take care of yourself.”
“I will, thank you, Countess. Goodbye.”
Miranda, now 16, grew up in Albania. Her childhood was overshadowed by a violent father, who arranged for her to get married when she was 14 to a man she didn’t know. After the wedding, her new husband moved to Greece to work. She moved into her in-laws’ home where she was bullied and unhappy. She met a young man through a friend at the school she was trying to attend. He told her how sorry he felt for her and, after a while, she agreed to run away with him to live abroad.
He brought her to the United Kingdom, where he left her with two Albanian men. She never saw him again.
She was told that from now on, she would be working for them in an underground textile mill. When she screamed and protested, one of the men took off his belt and beat her. She was locked in the flat, given meals twice a day, raped and beaten repeatedly until she capitulated. On average, she worked 12-16 hours a day. Her captors swore that if she tried to escape, they would find her and kill her or her family.
After several months, however, the traffickers became complacent and careless. One day she found the doors unlocked and escaped. She got on a bus to London wearing only slippers, jeans and a t-shirt; she was in the early stages of pregnancy. Two women from Kosovo, also on the bus, saw her crying and offered her a place to stay in London.
Miranda was ill, suffering from a variety of sicknesses. The women took her to a clinic. After a long wait, she was examined and treated by a German doctor named Adolf Wirths. After the exam, she was immediately sent two doors down where the baby was aborted.
She returned to the home of the women who had taken her in, unsure what to do next. She had no paperwork and feared that going to the authorities would result in being deported back to her husband and his abusive family. The next day a messenger arrived at the door asking her to return to the doctor. He had news.
The doctor invited her in to sit down and assured her that she was fine. He asked her about her family, learned that she was essentially alone and without resources, and offered her a housekeeping job at his mother’s estate, just until she could get back on her feet. It was almost too good to be true. She trusted the doctor; thrilled that her fortunes were changing for the better.
Miranda left to gather what little she had. She would get papers and then fly to her new life in Slovakia. Fly! She was going on a plane.
After she left, the doctor picked up the phone and dialed. “Helllooo,” came the familiar voice.
In German he replied, “Mother, we have one, AB+.”
Chapter 22
Garrett woke Amy and Bogus with a call over the intercom, “Mr. Z, about thirty minutes till touchdown.”
Amy stirred and turned over. They looked at each other without speaking. He brushed the hair from her face with his fingers, revealing something way too fresh and glowing to have just been awakened. “Good morning Mr. Zielinski,” she said, wearing a look of deep adoration.
“Good morning to you, Mrs. Zielinski. Shall we start our first day as husband and wife?”
Amy nodded, pulled him close and they kissed. “What are we doing? Where are we going?” asked Amy with a little excitement.
“My dear, I promise you this day will be like none other.”
“Where are we landing?”
“Shannon, Ireland.”
“Ireland? My family came from Ireland in the seventeen hundreds. I’ve always wanted to go there.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” Bogus looked like he wanted to say something else but wasn’t sure quite how.
“What? What are you thinking?” asked Amy curiously.
“Well, I am not one to tell you how to dress. I know you love your denim and sweatshirts. However, this morning we will be meeting some people for the first time, and I was wondering if you would mind dressing up a little.”
“You showin’ me off?”
“Well, yes. However, there is a little more to it than that.”
“I kind of figured this was coming. If I can wear the costume for work, I can wear it for you. I know you travel in a little different circles than I’m used to. I don’t mind.”
“Thank you, and I promise I won’t do this to you often. I have taken the liberty of bringing clothes with me so you would have choices.”
She grinned and said, “Where are they? Let me see.”
Bogus pointed to the closet at the rear of the plane. Amy got up and began to go through them. “These are beautiful. Did you pick these out?”
“No, Sky did. She really likes you.”
“Yeah, I like her too. Why didn’t you tell me she was a spook?”
“She’s not like you. However, she does do a bit of espionage for Poland when she travels to Russia and China. She has a way to make powerful men gush about just how powerful they are.”
Amy shook her head and said, “I’m sure she does.”
Amy and Bogus dressed, took their seats and buckled in. After an uneventful landing, Amy stepped out of the plane. The sun had yet to come up, though there was a glow on the horizon to the east and a chill in the air. “Brrr,” she exclaimed. “It’s cold.”
“It should warm up a bit by this afternoon.”
They climbed into a waiting limo. As the sun rose, Amy saw beautiful green landscapes of rolling hills. Thirty minutes after leaving the airport, they stopped at a very ornate gate, with a large house to the left. Bogus took Amy’s hand as they walked to the front door. “Is this where we’re staying?” She asked.
“No, this would be the gatekeeper’s house.”
“The gatekeeper?”
“Yes.”
Bogus introduced Amy to the gatekeeper, Sheffield Princeton, a spry little man dressed in khakis. He did not mention to Amy that Sheffield was also the head of her security detail. They drove down a picturesque tree-lined path for nearly another half mile. Amy had a look of pure awe on her face as she saw a large lake with mist rising over it like a scene from a romance novel. She glanced up and saw what was behind it. “No way,” she said under her breath. “Bogus, this is a castle, a real castle.”
“Yes. Welcome to the Castle Dunn.”
“The Castle Dunn,” she repeated under her breath. “Hey, my mom’s maiden name was Dunn.”
“Yes.”
As they drove closer, the castle seemed to grow. The drawbridge was down and they drove over the moat, past the gatehouse and into the outer courtyard. They continued through the barbican, under an iron portcullis, into the inner courtyard and parked. The limo driver opened her door, and Amy looked around as she exited the car. Two men and two women appeared and stood in line as if they were enduring a military inspection. “Come,” said Bogus. “These are the people who work here. I would like you to meet them.”
Bogus introduced them one at a time. “I would like you to meet Richard. He is in charge of the Castle’s daily operation.”
“Hi, Richard,” said Amy, putting out her hand. When Richard looked at her he turned pale, as if he had seen a ghost. Then he looked Bogus as if confused. Amy looked at Bogus and said, “They don’t shake hands here?”
“No, it’s kind of a traditional thing,” He said, deciding he would wait for a private moment to tell her that, by ancient custom, the servants do not touch royalty.
Richard smiled a tight controlled smile, gave a little bow and replied, “My Lady.”
Bogus continued, “This is Sarah. She is responsible for the kitchen,”
“Hi, Sarah.” said Amy.
“My Lady,” she replied.
“This is Seamus. He takes care of the grounds.”
“Hi, Seamus,” said Amy
“My Lady,” replied Seamus.
“And this is Constance. She runs the stables.”
“Stables? They have horses?” Amy asked excitedly. “Oh, I’m sorry, hi Constance.”
“My Lady,” Constance replied.
“Yes my dear, we have horses,” said Bogus.
Richard dismissed the staff, and offered to show Bogus and Amy to their quarters. They accepted and walked to the first huge doorway and down a long stone hallway into the great hall, which looked to Amy like a giant living room set up for entertaining. At the back was a large stone spiral staircase, but behind it was a small elevator, to spare them from the nearly three-story climb. The architecture and decorations were decidedly medieval but the lighting, heat, and insulation were very modern. Amy stopped in the great hall to look at the huge paintings of the people who had lived in the castle. Bogus strolled along with her, while Richard told condensed stories of who she was looking at. Amy looked at Bogus and said, “I’m sorry. You don’t mind, do you?”
“No, my dear, we have plenty of time.” Bogus said, even though he didn’t want to do this quite yet.
Richard reached a painting of a woman made in the 18th century. He stopped, and looked back and forth between Amy and the painting. He was speechless. Amy’s eyes grew wide and she said, “Oh my God, that’s my mother!”
Bogus walked up beside her, took her hand and said, “No, that’s you.”
“Wait, what is this? What’s going on?” Amy asked suspiciously.
“Thank you, Richard,” Bogus said, dismissing him. Richard walked away, and Bogus said, “That is Lady Roisin. By the way, I have learned that Roisin is Gaelic for Rose. You are her direct descendant. This is the Castle Dunn. This castle is your birthright, your home, our home.”
“What?” said Amy, not quite believing what she was hearing.
“This is your castle, our home. We live here now. You, my dear, are The Lady of Castle Dunn. That is your title. You are Irish royalty, and from here on out, you will be addressed and treated as such.”
“What?” she said again, without taking her eyes off of the painting.
