Miriam interjected. “Agreed. Though I still don’t agree one-hundred percent with your decision not to keep the money.”
Angie bristled as she wrote out the checks. “I will not have any part of that blood money. Period. Every penny will be a constant reminder of how I got it, how dirty my own hands are, and the suffering surrounding it. No way. Besides, between the other bank accounts and the trust, which will roll back to me, there is plenty. Enough, in fact, that once we get to Costa Rica, I think I want you two to help me find a permanent residence there. I… don’t want to remain here, and really can’t, given the fact my real identity could be compromised in a flash.”
“You don’t want to come back? Ever?” Miriam gasped.
“Can you blame her? Of course she doesn’t,” Kevin interrupted. “I think that’s a fine idea, Angie. A fine idea… Besides, it will give us a chance to take numerous vacations throughout the year to come visit. Oh, Christmas in the tropics will be a new adventure!”
Angie watched Aunt Miriam’s face. Searched her eyes, hoping understanding and acceptance would appear. Her wait was rewarded.
“Would you… I mean… may I join you?”
Tears sprang into both Angie’s and Kevin’s eyes, but for entirely different reasons.
“I can’t think of anything I’d enjoy more, Aunt Miriam.”
Miriam and Angie turned their focus to Kevin. He watched the two women he loved more than anything else in the world stare in silence, their eyes pleading. With a shrug of his shoulders, he smiled and said, “I can’t let you two enjoy all the tropics have to offer alone, now can I? Besides, I’ve heard that Costa Rican women are gor-ge-ous, so why not?”
Miriam stood and went over to the liquor cabinet and grabbed a bottle of champagne. Kevin and Angie followed, and in seconds, the three of them clinked their crystal glasses together.
“To new adventures!” Miriam chirped.
Kevin joked, “To tanned lovelies in skimpy bikinis!”
Angie cleared her throat, her hand instinctively resting on her stomach. “To being alive, and the chance to truly live.”
Winton Brewer shrugged on his jacket as he exited the glass doors at Pulaski Tech. The night air was cold on his face, but at the moment, he didn’t care. He was riding high after algebra class tonight. The final homework assignment he’d turned in, the one full of quadratic equations he never thought he’d understand, clasped in his fist. It was his first A ever received in math and he was proud of himself.
Once inside his car, he sent a text to Amy, asking her to meet him at Zarino’s, their favorite restaurant. He knew he wouldn’t have to wait long for a response because Amy loved the place. Amy pestered Winton to eat there at least once a week, doing her best to use her body as weapon to cajole him into saying yes.
By the time he reached the edge of the parking lot and turned onto Roosevelt, Amy responded, asking why. Using voice-to-text, Winton replied, “Exciting news! Tell you when you get there.”
Ten minutes later, Winton sat in a small booth at the back of the restaurant. It was close to ten, and Zarino’s closed at 10:30, so the place was practically empty. As he was escorted to a booth, he noticed only one other customer. Only one lone patron sat at the bar, sipping a glass of wine while staring at the wall. He ordered two glasses of Moscato and a basket of garlic bread with balsamic vinaigrette dressing.
While waiting for Amy to arrive, he glanced over at the television set on the wall above him, then over to the rigid body of the woman at the bar. Her attention was focused on the television screen, the look of sadness unmistakable. She was attractive for an older woman. Probably had been a real looker in her younger days. Taking a sip of water, he switched his gaze to the TV and watched half-heartedly as the images flashed by on the display. When one he recognized appeared, Winton choked on his water.
Without thinking, he yelled to the bartender across the room. “Hey, would you turn up the volume? Please?”
“No. Management says…”
Winton bristled as he wiped the water from his shirt. “Seriously! Turn it up! I worked that accident.”
Annoyed by Winton’s outburst, the bartender complied. Winton watched in horror as the top story on KTHR filled the screen. His heart pounded in his chest when the accident scene appeared again. Thankfully, the camera crew didn’t film—or at least the station decided not to show—the blood-stained snow.
As Winton listened to the sexy blonde reporter tell the story, his stomach clenched. It wasn’t just some random accident, and the wreck was only the beginning of a nightmare for the entire family. When the smiling faces of Drake and Angie Benson flashed on the screen and the reporter said Mr. Benson had planned out the death of his wife, Winton’s mouth went dry. Such a beautiful woman and her own husband killed her. He couldn’t stop himself and gave a small fist pump when the story turned to the father of the woman and what his reaction had been. When the screen changed and zeroed in on the video of the grief-stricken mother/widow as she shuffled to an awaiting SUV, Winton’s stomach soured. What a crazy turn of events! Daddy slays daughter’s killer, but then is murdered as well. The poor woman lost her entire life in such a short time.
“Good God! What a horrible story!” Winton blurted out to no one.
He listened to the rest of the report, surprised when a lump of sadness pressed against his chest. Winton motioned for the bartender to turn down the volume. Honestly, he didn’t want to listen to any more. The thought of being so cruel to anyone, especially someone you loved, made his heart ache. He thought about his own family. About Amy. How much he loved her. Wondered what in the world could turn their love into hate so strong, the only solution seemed to be to commit murder? Guess the old phrase about there being a fine line between love and hate was true.
The news report also brought a sense of mortality to the surface of Winton’s thoughts. Life could be over in the blink of an eye. He didn’t know why–only guessed it was because he saw the aftermath of the accident–but the story crawled under his skin.
The woman at the bar turned her gaze to Winton, a strange look crossing her face. Even from across the room, Winton could see the pain behind her green eyes. The second their gazes locked, Winton felt his mouth drop open. He was helpless to shut it again.
It was her.
In a quiet voice, she said, “Yes, quite the tragedy. I believe I heard you say you worked my daughter’s accident?”
Winton scrambled for words. He wanted to crawl under the table. Embarrassment from his earlier comments sent heat rushing into his cheeks. What do you say to someone who just lost their entire family? While his mind sorted through a myriad of comebacks, he stared at the face of the woman. What did the report say her name was? Annette something-or-other. Think, Winton! Think! Finally, he muttered, “Yes, ma’am. I am so… very sorry for your loss.”
Angie eyed the young man, watching him squirm. She sensed his kindness, concern. Hmm, guess there are still some people left in this world who have a heart. Then again, my ability to judge others hasn’t always been accurate. “Losses,” she corrected. Taking a last sip of her drink, she watched the kid nod his head in agreement, his cheeks bright red. She rose and walked over to his table.
“Oh, uh, yes. Sorry. Losses. I just… forgive me. I don’t know what to say. I can’t imagine…” Winton’s voice cracked.
Angie stopped at the edge of the table and stuck out her hand. When the kid reciprocated, she felt the sweat from nerves on his palm. A small grin appeared on her face. “Thank you, mister?”
“Brewer. Winton Brewer. But, I don’t understand. Why are you thanking me?”
“Ah, Mr. Brewer. I’m Annette Langford… Although judging by the look on your face, you already figured that out. You seem… different than most people I’ve met lately. Saddened by the news, not drawn to it. In other words, you have a heart and conscience. Not many nowadays do, at least not ones I’ve run into recently. You brought a spark of hope back to my dim world.”
/> Before Winton could say anything, she let go of his hand and walked back over to the bar. Sensing the strange interaction was over, Winton kept quiet. He tried not to stare, even turned his head away from the bar. His mind wandered back over to the night of the storm. The sounds, smells and sights made him zone out. He jumped a fraction when Amy poked her head over his shoulder, his eyes flying open.
“Hey, baby! What are we celebrating?” Amy asked, planting a light kiss on Winton’s cheek.
Winton looked around for Mrs. Langford, but she was gone. Then, he spotted her near the doorway, a strange, vacant look on her face. She gave a slight nod then disappeared as the bartender moved into his line of vision. Winton noticed he held a bottle of champagne.
“Compliments of the lady,” he said, popping the cork.
Amy clapped her hands like a little girl, plopping down on the seat across from Winton.
“My first-ever A in math,” Winton finally answered.
“Congratulations, sir. Please, order when ready.”
“Give me a second to figure out what I want, okay?” Amy piped up.
“Yes, ma’am. By the way, your dinner has been paid for. Oh, and the lady asked me to give you this.”
The bartender left and Amy let her lips curl into a teasing grin. “An A? What, did you cheat on the final or something?”
Winton ignored the baited dig as he opened the napkin. Scrawled in bright blue ink were the words, “Bask in today, because tomorrow may never arrive. In other words: live.”
Winton stared at the note in silence, a strange look on his face. Intrigued by his sudden mood shift, Amy asked, “Hey, what lady was the waiter talking about, and why a bottle of champagne? Were you flirting with someone before I arrived?”
Winton swallowed hard as he refolded the note. “Baby, I’ve only got eyes for you. Cheers.”
Amy lifted her glass in response. They clinked glasses. Amy wouldn’t let the subject drop. “Nice enough, but it didn’t answer my question. Who bought us dinner, and why?”
“You aren’t going to believe this, but I just met the mother of the woman Lita’s been so upset about. You know, the car accident I worked during the storm?”
Amy gasped. “Are you serious? Her friend, Angie?”
Winton nodded. “Yep. Felt like a real ass. Had no clue who she was, then the report came on the TV. I said some things about it out loud and she heard me. Came over here and introduced herself. Actually thanked me for, well, I’m still not quite sure why. Being repulsed by the whole story, I guess.”
Amy glanced around, making sure the waiter was out of earshot. She leaned across the table, motioning to the napkin. “So, what did the note say?”
Winton slid the paper over to Amy, a smile of melancholy on his face. He watched Amy read it. Tears filled her eyes, making the lump in his throat from earlier reappear.
Amy cleared her throat as she raised her glass. “To living.”
Winton nodded as the rim of his glass met Amy’s. “No doubt.”
The cold air felt good against Angie’s flushed face. She walked across the dark parking lot toward her mom’s car. No…my car.
Once inside, Angie simply stared at the red-and-blue Zarino’s sign. The decision to raise a glass in bitter, mocking defiance in the place where her last anniversary should have been spent, was her final act. Tomorrow, she would board a flight and leave the U. S.
Forever.
What an ironic twist of fate, meeting the kid who’d worked the accident. It was a fitting end to a horrid nightmare. He was there when it began and when it ended.
Winton Brewer would be the last person she spoke to while on American soil. Tomorrow, her new life would begin in Costa Rica.
No, not just my life. I am, after all, living for them all.
For Mom.
My baby.
For Amelia.
For me.
About the Author
Award-winning and International bestselling author Ashley Fontainne is an avid reader, becoming a fan of the written word in her youth, starting with the Nancy Drew mystery series. Stories that immerse the reader deep into the human psyche and the monsters lurking within us are her favorite reads.
Her muse for penning the Eviscerating the Snake series was The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas. Ashley’s love for this book is what sparked her desire to write her debut novel, Accountable to None, the first book in the trilogy. With a modern setting to the tale, Ashley delves into just what lengths a person is willing to go to when seeking personal justice for heinous acts perpetrated against them. The second novel in the series, Zero Balance, focuses on the cost and reciprocal cycle that obtaining revenge has on the seeker. Once the cycle starts, where does it end? How far will the tendrils of revenge expand? Adjusting Journal Entries answered that question—far and wide.
The short thriller entitled Number Seventy-Five touches upon the dangerous world of online dating. Number Seventy-Five took home the BRONZE medal in fiction/suspense at the 2013 Readers’ Favorite International Book Awards.
The paranormal thriller entitled The Lie won the GOLD medal in the 2013 Illumination Book Awards for fiction/suspense. A movie based on this book, entitled Foreseen, is currently a feature film.
Ashley delved into the paranormal with a Southern Gothic horror/suspense novel, Growl, which released in January of 2015. The suspenseful mystery Empty Shell released in September of 2014. Ashley teamed up with Lillian Hansen (Ashley calls her Mom!) and penned a three-part murder mystery/suspense series entitled The Magnolia Series. The first book, Blood Ties, released in 2015, and was voted one of the Top 50 Self-Published Books You Should Be Reading in 2015 at www.readfree.ly.
Whispered Pain released in October of 2015, and Night Court released December 13, 2015.
Tainted Cure, Tainted Reality, Tainted Future and Tainted World are the four books in the post-apocalyptic/zombie genre, The Rememdium Series, all released to rave reviews for a fresh take on the zombie genre.
Ruined Wings is about a young woman’s descent into drug addiction and is currently in pre-production for a short film.
Connect with Ashley:
Website: http://www.ashleyfontainne.com – Sign up for Ashley’s newsletter and receive a free ebook!
Twitter: https://twitter.com/ashleyfontainne
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ashley.fontainne
Movie site: http://www.foreseenmovie.com
Whispered Pain Page 9
