Aphrodite's Stand

by Sandra Scott

  His watery gaze glued upon Paulo, Stefano shook his head. “No, my dear friend, I would have certainly remembered.”

  Jayson’s fist connected hard with Stefano’s nose, sending his tall frame crashing backward into the chair he’d recently vacated. He appeared stunned as he used shaky fingers to touch his nose. He pulled his hand back slowly, his watery eyes coming in contact with the ruby-red stains that coated the first three digits. At first, he studied them as if unable to decipher what he witnessed, and then a mental clarity seemed to dry his dark eyes.

  His demeanor turned sober, and one eyebrow shot up as he gave Jayson a dismal smile.

  Jayson growled in return, stabbing his finger at the air toward Stefano. “Now’s not the time for a subject change, big brother.”

  Rubbing his bruised knuckles, Jayson observed with grim satisfaction the thin bloody trickle that slid from Stefano’s nostril to stop at his pale upper lips. When he chose to speak again, his throat felt on fire due to his attempt to hold back building tears. “I want to make this clear: Andra is my wife, I love her, and I don’t ever want you near her again. If you do go near her, I swear on our mother’s grave I will kill you—do you understand me, Stefano? I will kill you dead.”

  Stefano chuckled, the sound mixing with a grunt-like noise as he hoisted his body to sit straighter. Silent, he removed a handkerchief from his pants pocket and compressed it against his bloody nose. No one in the room moved as he blew loudly into it to. After pulling it away, he took a moment to study the sullied cloth, his eyes seemingly searching for a profound answer to an unspoken question within the bloodstains. He neatly folded it and returned it to his pocket. “You are too late, my little brother,” he said softly, sniffing once. “I am already dying. God has already done the job for you.”

  Taken aback, Jayson felt as if Stefano had physically punched him. “What are you talking about?”

  An urgent knock at the door sounded, followed by the unexpected, strange phenomenon of Helena rushing into the room before waiting for permission to do so, her round face flushed and covered in monster-sized tears.

  “Mr. Jayson, Mr. Stefano, something terrible has happened!” she cried. “Adonis has just told me Dr. Andra is gone!”

  His anger at Stefano completely forgotten, Jayson rushed over to the agitated servant and firmly grabbed her upper arms. “Slow down, Helena,” he said, gently shaking her. “What do you mean Andra’s gone? Isn’t she with the family? When did you speak with Adonis?”

  Adonis was her great-nephew who sometimes worked as a custodian for the police department.

  Her head shook from side to side, as if she wanted to deny the words that spilled from her own mouth. “You do not understand,” she said, her voice breaking between each Grecian word. “He called me just now to say someone has taken Dr. Andra. Your papa and Dr. Andra’s family are at the astynomia right now.”

  “They’re at the police station?” he asked. He looked about the room in a daze, seeing no one. “Someone’s got Andra?”

  “Come—we will take my car,” Stefano said, jumping to his feet. He shuffled Jayson toward the foyer just as the landline rang. “Hurry.”

  “It must be the astynomia.” Helena’s voice rose as they rushed out the door. “I will tell them you are on your way!”

  Jayson mentally switched to autopilot, trying to hold it together, refusing to be incapacitated by his panic. He knew Doc needed him calm and rational. Everything was forced from his brain—Stefano’s betrayal and declaration of his impending death, as well as Sly’s stupid jealousy.

  He cleared his mind of everything except how he would get Andra back.

  41

  Upon entering the study, Stefano quietly strolled over to the bar, stared at the brandy bottle, and decided to forgo his routine drinking ritual.

  Instead, he turned toward the others who occupied the room: Papa, who sat on one couch, flanked by a distraught Al and Racine, his arms tenderly cradling them both; Sly and Paulo, who, to his surprise, appeared extremely shaken over Andra’s kidnapping; and Jayson, who looked as if he would suffer an emotional breakdown at any moment.

  The room was quiet and subdued except for occasional sniffling from Al and Racine.

  Feeling the need to occupy his hand, Stefano selected a brandy glass that sat atop the polished wooden counter. He hesitated and then proceeded to pour cool water into it. He sipped on it as his mind wandered back to his and Jayson’s arrival at the police station.

  Naturally, the police could provide little assistance—due to no fault of their own but to the limited information Andra’s mother had contributed about a generic beat-up white van. Countless white vans traveled along the countryside and within the city limits daily—so many, in fact, that any number of people could be brought in for questioning. For now, protocol dictated that the police conduct a formal investigation at the crime scene and interview anyone who might have witnessed the kidnapping.

  According to his father, it was highly unlikely any information would be forthcoming, given the crowds that were out and about during their excursion.

  As for the family, the officer assigned to their case had advised them to go home and sit by the telephone to wait for a possible ransom call.

  A second later, Jayson had come unglued and had to be physically carried from the police station.

  Stefano stared into his glass, wishing it contained something with more of a kick to it. Yet he knew what he needed more than his usual brandy were two aspirin to accompany his water. His brain, and the section of his nose Jayson had soundly connected with, still throbbed.

  Ruefully, he reasoned that he’d deserved the punch. Stefano gingerly touched his bruised nose and sighed.

  In addition to the pain in his head, Stefano’s stomach continued its rolling queasiness, which had started the moment Helena had burst into the room with the news that Andra had been kidnapped. Strangely, the moment she’d spoken those horrible words, he’d somehow believed it was his fault that the situation had manifested—yet he couldn’t discern how it was his fault, so he found it difficult to go about finding a resolution to it.

  For now, the only thing to do was wait for the kidnappers to call.

  In deep meditation, Stefano paced before the liquor bar. He recognized that each passing second drew Andra closer to her demise. It was a known fact that statistically, things seldom ended well for kidnapped victims.

  Whether or not the abductor was paid, death was usually the outcome.

  He stopped walking and shivered. He couldn’t imagine what the little life he had left to live would be like if anything happened to her.

  For an indeterminate length of time, no one in the study moved or said a word; the only sound came from the steady ticking of the antique grandfather clock.

  A sudden knock on the door sounded off like an unexpected gunshot, causing Stefano to jump along with the others. George found his voice to call out, “Come in!”

  Helena, her face swollen from recent tears, quietly entered, holding a small package covered in thick brown butcher paper tied with a thin white string. Boldly scrawled across the package were the words “For Jason Theonopilus’ eyes only.”

  On heavy feet, she moved toward him. “Mr. Jayson,” she said, switching to broken English after glancing at Racine and Al, “this come from boy. He says it for you.”

  Jayson stared at the package, his body motionless, as if what Helena handed him were a bomb ready to explode. After a moment’s hesitation, he reached out and took it.

  Staring intently at the wrapped box, Stefano moved toward Jayson. “Helena, did you recognize who delivered it?”

  She nodded. “Mr. Stefano, it was local boy who deliver packages. He told me he not know where it comes from.”

  After looking around at the room’s quiet occupants, the older woman quickly left.

  Everyone watched her r
etreat; then, like magnets, their eyes revisited the package.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t open it,” Racine said, rising to her feet. “Maybe we should wait for the police.”

  “No!” Jayson shouted. He glanced at her hurt expression and said softly, “I’m sorry, Racine. I can’t wait—I need to open it now.”

  “There’s something,” Stefano said. He pointed to the handwriting across the package’s top. “They’ve misspelled your name. It’s spelled J-a-s-o-n.”

  His fingers in the midst of pulling at the string to untie the box, Jayson gave Stefano a “So what?” glare that quelled him into silence.

  Everyone made his or her way from different areas of the room to stand around Jayson. No one made a sound as he pushed aside the thin string and wrapping, revealing a three-by-four-inch black velvet box.

  “That’s an expensive container,” Stefano said, mostly to himself. He shook his head. “Why?”

  Pursing his lips at Stefano’s words, Jayson lifted the lid. After reaching inside with trembling fingers, he pulled back his fist and rotated it. It opened to reveal an expensive set of wedding rings: an enormous solitaire and a thick wedding band with smaller inlaid diamonds. The rings sparkled almost menacingly.

  The women gasped at the expensive discovery.

  Jayson’s eyes closed against the rings. Breathing deeply, he enclosed them inside his balled fist and placed it against his chest.

  Racine cleared her throat with an angry, raspy sound. “Jayson, get a grip!” Her hand stretched toward the open box. “There’s something else inside. What is it?”

  At Racine’s wrath, Jayson’s mental fog seemed to lift. He reached back into the box and extracted a folded white slip.

  “What does it say?” Al asked. “Please tell us.”

  Nodding, Jayson dropped Andra’s rings into his shirt pocket. A hush came over the room as his lips moved, but no words came forth. After he finished reading, he slumped in his chair.

  “What?” Stefano snatched the paper from his limp hands and read it. He suppressed a gasp as his eyes rose in disbelief. “They want fifty million dollars for her return.” He scanned the remaining message. “They have provided a telephone number to get in touch with them. It also instructs us not to contact the police if we wish to see Andra again.”

  “Fifty million dollars,” Al whispered as if punched in the gut. Looking upward, her eyes spilled anguished tears. “My sweet Lord Jesus, please help my baby girl.”

  Despite his throbbing nose, Stefano’s face wrinkled in concentration, the transformation drawing his father’s worried glance.

  “What is it, Son?”

  “This does not make much sense, Papa.” Scanning the note again, he shook his head. “If these people are looking to receive money, why did they return jewelry as valuable as her rings? Why not keep those as well and sell them on the black market if this is about money?”

  “What?” Straightening, Jayson reached up and snatched the note from Stefano’s hand. “Who cares?”

  “Yeah, who cares?” Racine echoed. She looked around the room in desperation. “They still want fifty million dollars, and we don’t have fifty million dollars. Do you guys?”

  His expression once again dejected, Jayson stared at the box in his lap. George shook his head.

  “What are we gonna do?” Al asked, her eyes now spilling large tears. “This is my baby.”

  “I don’t know, but we must figure something out,” Stefano said.

  “What do you mean we must figure something out?” Fists clenched, Racine stepped toward him. “This should be exactly what you wanted. You wanted my sister outta the picture—now you’ve got your wish!”

  “Racine, please!” Al said. She grabbed her daughter, rocking her inside a tight embrace. “Hush. You’re distraught and making things worse. You don’t know what you’re saying!”

  Racine sniffled. “I do know! Stefano enlisted Ms. Thang over there to come between Andra and Jayson—and send us all packing home!”

  The same stunned expression that lit Al’s face simultaneously appeared upon George’s. His eyes turned to Sly, who immediately hung her head, before swinging to Stefano. “Could this be true, Son?”

  Before Stefano could answer, Racine leaped from her mother’s embrace. “Yes, it’s true, Papa George! Now Andra’s been kidnapped—and I’m afraid for her and the baby.”

  “What!” Jayson and Al exclaimed together.

  After tossing the empty box aside, Jayson gripped the arms of his chair and used them to rise on unsteady feet. “Andra’s pregnant?”

  Returning to her mother’s arms, Racine nodded.

  “Andra, my Andra,” Al chanted softly. “My grandchild.”

  With her skirt rustling about her legs, Sly boldly stepped forward. “Who is the father?” she asked, her glittery gaze swinging from Stefano to Jayson and back again. “Is it yours, Stefano?”

  Shame immediately engulfed Stefano, and his posture stiffened as he quickly pictured his naked body joined with Andra’s, only to wish Sly’s accusation were somehow true.

  Everybody inside the room was still. However, their indignation gave way to surprise when they heard a sound like a whip cracking the air when Paulo slapped Sly.

  “That is enough, you brat!” he said, firmly taking hold of her upper arms and shaking vigorously. “I want you to apologize immediately.”

  “No, Paulo, you don’t understand.” Sobbing, she shook her head, her black hair falling haphazardly over her face. “I will not apologize!”

  “Yes! Yes, you will,” he demanded, shaking her harder. “I said apologize!”

  At Sly’s continued crying, Racine moved toward them, her hands curled into threatening claws. “Here. Let me do it,” she snarled. “I’ll make her apologize!”

  “Excuse me,” Helena said breathlessly as she reentered the room. “Mr. Grainger waits in hall.”

  At the servant’s rapid entrance, Racine stopped to give Sly a scathing ‘You’d better be glad Helena just saved you’ look.

  A few feet away, Jayson shook his head. “Helena,” he said. Slowly, his eyes returned to the box on the small, round table. “We can’t see him now.”

  With a flurry of noise, Hog burst into the room, his tall, stocky frame moving with jovial ease. “Howdy, all! I know it’s pretty rude to barge in on you folks like this, but—”

  The Texan stopped abruptly, a frown replacing his previous smile. Looking around the room, he coughed nervously into his fist. “Heck, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to barge in on a family situation.” His worried glance circled the room again. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  George shook his head. “No, but thank you. This is a family matter, and we prefer to keep it—”

  Racine pushed past George and Al, rushing up to Hog. “No, maybe he can help us,” she said. Her shorter, shapelier frame stopped before his tall, beefy one, her desperation radiating through glittery brown eyes. “You’re rich, right?” At his hesitant nod, she grabbed his arm tightly. “My sister’s been kidnapped, and they want fifty million dollars to return her. Please! Can you lend it to us?”

  “Kidnapped!” Hog gaped. “When did this happen?”

  “Today!”

  Stefano stepped forward and placed a restraining hand on her arm. “Racine, maybe we should—”

  Startled, he felt her violently shake off his touch. He suppressed a wince when she turned resentful eyes his way.

  “I don’t care what you have to say. Besides, what’s it to you? You wanted her gone anyway!” Racine yanked a backward thumb toward Hog. “If he has the means to get Andra back, so be it!” She threw Hog a desperate look. “Please help us!”

  Hog took off his tall Stetson and scratched at his head. “Well, little lady, fifty million is a hefty bit of change.”

  At his words, Racine’s frame
seemed to deflate, and a frantic sob broke free from her trembling lips. “If you don’t help us, I don’t know who can.”

  “Well,” Hog said. Shifting from one foot to the other, he again scratched his head. “Are you all even sure someone’s got the doctor?”

  “Yes,” Jayson said eagerly. “They’ve returned her—”

  “Jayson!” Stefano interjected, only to soften his tone. “I believe we must be discreet in all information concerning your wife’s abduction.”

  Jayson’s desperate eyes circled the room, his stare nonverbally asking the other men to weigh in. Both George and Paulo gave their silent agreement. Nodding pathetically, he returned to Hog. “Yes, we’re positive someone’s kidnapped her.”

  “Well, young man,” Hog said, his voice wavering, “I don’t know.”

  “Please,” Racine begged as tears and snot mingled, running freely. “Please, we have no one—you’re our only hope.”

  At Racine’s heightened anguish, Hog’s large frame straightened; his light blue orbs once again circled the room, landing first on Jayson, next on George, and lastly on Stefano. “The pretty lil’ lady’s right. If you need money for the doctor’s safe return, I’d be honored to give it to you.”

  Racine stopped crying long enough for her to throw herself at Hog and embrace him. His beefy arms went about her, hesitant at first and then squeezing tightly.

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” she cried, her tears wetting the front of his cowboy-style shirt. “Thank you!”

  Jayson and Al too gathered around Hog to express their relieved gratitude. However, along with Sly, Paulo, and George, Stefano hung back.

  “I do not understand,” George said, having to speak above the boisterous chatter surrounding Hog. “We are exceedingly grateful for your generosity, but why are you, a stranger to this family, willing to give us so much money?”

  “Yes, I must concur with my father,” Stefano said, attempting not to frown outright.

  His face aglow amid the surrounding trio’s hero worship, Hog seemed reluctant to break free from the crowd. Through wary eyes, Stefano watched the Texan stranger move toward him, his expression now sober.