Rose of Anzio - Jalousie (Volume 2): A WWII Epic Love Story

by Alexa Kang

  Alice and Irene were still talking to him. He pretended to listen, laughing occasionally with them, but his mind was elsewhere. He thought of yesterday when she came to their base camp. Ardley, stunned beyond words, forgot himself and took her into his arms, giving her a hell of a kiss right before everyone's eyes.

  What would it feel like to be Ardley at that moment, to be able to do that, to give Tessa Graham a kiss she couldn't forget.

  In that moment, she and Ardley looked like they took no notice of anyone or anything else in the rest of the world.

  Maybe they were really in love. A cynical smile appeared on his face.

  …There is no such thing as love, sweetheart, his mother said to him in her sultry voice. She was sitting at the dresser in front of the mirror, counting a stack of cash. Her pink silk robe covered her see-through peach satin slip, but neither could conceal her voluptuous curves. Her luscious black hair cascaded over her face and down her back. The smudges of make-up around her lips only accentuated her sensuality.

  The client had left only moments ago. The smell of illicit sex hung like poison in the air.

  His mother was no ordinary hooker. Her clients were rich and powerful men. Politicians, business tycoons, trust funders of the bluest of the blue-blooded elites of New York. There were famous actors, writers, and artists too. Men who the world deemed as movers and shakers. Men who considered themselves masters of the universe.

  His home was no ordinary home. He and his mother lived in a spacious condominium on the highest floor in one of Madison Avenue's most coveted buildings. He never wanted for anything. He wore the finest clothes and ate the finest food at the finest restaurants. Every year, his mother took him on at least one extravagant vacation to Europe. With her, he lived a life of absolute excess.

  He even had the best education. When he was nine, she tried to enroll him in that prestigious academy on Riverside Drive which all the rich kids in their building attended. Without explanation, the narrow-eyed woman with gray hair at the admissions office turned them down. He still remembered her cold reception and the haughty, condescending look on her face. His mother was furious.

  "Fuck her. Snobby bitch. Who does she think she is? Just a stupid clerk. A dried-up hag with no money trying to rub a little shine off those who have. I'll show her," she said, grabbing his hand and dragging him out of the school building.

  The following week, his mother hired all the best teachers from that academy as his private tutors, giving him weekly private lessons in French, Latin, math, music, and later on when he got older, history and literature too. All the teachers she approached accepted her offer. Teachers' salaries had their limits. The sum she offered was too good to resist. Money talked, and no questions were asked. Every day after regular classes at the local public school, he had another whole afternoon of more lessons, just so his mother could spite that bitch and prove her point.

  His mother sent a limousine every day to pick up the teachers in front of the school. One time, she even came in person.

  Wrapped in fur in the luxury vehicle, she rolled down the window and waited until that woman from the admissions office got off work and came outside. His mother stared straight at her, giving her a scornful eye and a saucy smile while his teacher got into the limo. The old hag, in her pathetic, old, and worn-out coat, with her dry, pruny skin and graying hair, averted her eyes and hurried away into the subway station.

  Yes. By any standard, he grew up in a home that was a lap of luxury, except his home was also where his mother entertained her clients. When she was working, their home became his prison. He could not be seen. He could not make any noise. He could not leave his room until the clients were gone. He was not supposed to exist.

  All those men sure love you, he said to his mother while he stood by her door watching her count the stash of cash. He was thirteen at the time.

  There is no such thing as love, sweetheart.

  Two years later, when he turned fifteen, he left, taking with him nothing of hers except her stunning good looks, which he had inherited from her.

  If she bothered to look for him, he never knew of it. Maybe it was good riddance to her that he was gone. She was still beautiful. Having a grown-up son did nothing to help her business.

  Garland was her last name. He didn't know his father. She never talked about him and he never asked.

  Ironically, it was one of her associates who took him under his wing.

  Quayle. He wasn't one of her clients. As unlikely as it was, she had a few confidants. They were people who came from the same gutter as she and somehow found ways to rise above, turning what would otherwise be businesses of filthy low-lives into profitable enterprises that generated cash from the super rich, and sometimes, the famous and powerful.

  Quayle was even more than a confidant. Years ago, she and Quayle swindled the son of a politician together. She performed her tricks and then convinced the lad to trust Quayle. Quayle lured their prey deeper and deeper into debt with his half-baked business schemes. Together, she and Quayle stripped the boy clean. When his father discovered what had happened, the old man was in the middle of a fierce political campaign. A scandal with his son being conned by a hooker would have done him in. The old man paid them another hefty wad of cash to make everything go away. Quayle and his mother split the sum. The event launched their careers to a new level of clientele and they did not look back.

  "You need to learn a trade to survive," Quayle told him. "Since you're a boy, there's nothing you can learn from your mother. But I can use a presentable pretty boy like you. What do you say if I take you as my apprentice? I'll teach you everything I know. We'll be in business together. A family business. Like father and son. What do you say?"

  He moved into Quayle's home the day after his fifteenth birthday.

  True to his word, Quayle taught him everything. They opened shell companies and set up false investment opportunities. The preyed on people with extra cash who were greedy for more and wanted to make another quick buck. They set up false charities, enticing people who felt guilty living their privileged lives in the face of those less fortunate, but who nonetheless would rather throw money at the problems than to commit any real time or efforts.

  And then, there was the gambling. They brought the high rollers to the table and got a cut of every win by the house. They found the whales who couldn't help themselves, the ones who lived to chase that elusive high from the rush of taking reckless risks when the stakes were huge. Of course, the house always won in the end.

  His education continued. Quayle saw to that. But gone were the math and Latin lessons. Quayle wanted him to learn all the finer things in life. Expensive aged wines, scotch, and brandy. Haute cuisine. Fine arts and classical literature. Ballroom dancing. Theaters and operas. Golf. All the things that would make him a refined man of taste who could mingle with men and women with money.

  "To attract money, you have to look and act moneyed," Quayle said.

  Not to mention attracting all the lonely wives and widows starving for attention, especially the attention of a handsome young man who wined and dined them, dazzled them with witty conversations, and danced with them under the star lights while whispering poetic adulations in their ears. Women in such dispositions were very eager to help a young man aspiring to start up various investment enterprises.

  While he was at it, why not mix business with pleasure? So many beautiful women, wasted on men who had forgotten about them and neglected them at home.

  As for Quayle? Quayle almost treated him like his own son.

  Almost.

  At first, Quayle treated him as the rookie. The way Quayle split their profits, Quayle would keep three-fourths and give him one-fourth of everything they had earned. That was okay in the beginning, but after a few years, the tide turned. With his handsome good looks and smooth finesse, he, not Quayle, became the one who brought in their biggest clients and a lion's share of their profits. He was a natural. Whether he claimed to be a
young business manager, an heir to a wealthy clan, a European aristocrat, or simply a university student, people believed him. Quayle could never have pulled it off the way he could, but the most Quayle was willing to give him was one-third of what they earned.

  He had already confronted Quayle several times about this. Quayle didn't want to talk about it, but things needed to change. It had to be a sixty-five/thirty-five split with him keeping the larger share, or he wanted out. His proposal was more than generous. He offered it only on account of Quayle having been the mentor who took him in and taught him everything he knew. He had long since surpassed Quayle at his own game. Quayle's games and tricks were old. The man was falling behind the times, losing his touch as well as his looks.

  He didn't need Quayle anymore. He would do better on his own.

  Despite his intention to be generous against his better judgment, he had a feeling Quayle wouldn't bite. He was ready to make that final break to venture out on his own. Then the draft letter came.

  Just like that, all the drama came to a halt. He became the property of the United States government, and all that was left behind was a sordid life and a pointless existence.

  33

  For Tessa, the hardest thing about working at a military hospital was the lack of escape from people. The patients, bored and with nothing to do, were always observing everything she did. They all knew she liked dried fruits and walnuts. How they knew that, she had no idea. Neither were available here except on rare occasions when someone received a package from home. They knew when she had showered and washed her hair, and they somehow always knew when she saw Anthony. Afterward, they would never fail to ask her about it. They seemed to think that everything that she did was news for mass consumption. How could so many men be so nosy?

  Then, there were her co-workers. There was no escape from them. The lack of privacy here was fifty times worse than back at the Chicago Veterans Hospital. Living in their tight, shared quarters, no one had any personal space. Working in the tense, high-pressured military hospital setting, everyone did everything together. Everyone knew everything about each other. There was no getting away and no peace.

  Boring small talk and mindless gossip abounded. People needed ways to pass the time when they were all stuck in this claustrophobic environment at all hours of the day with no end in sight.

  Occupational hazard, she thought. She wished Sarah were here, more than ever.

  The hazard meter reached a fevered pitch in the hospital canteen at lunch the day after she went out with Anthony and the other officers to watch the army band perform.

  "Ellie, you should've seen Tessa last night!" Alice fawned. "Did you know she's an amazing dancer?"

  "No. I didn't."

  Everyone turned their attention to Tessa. Tessa did not enjoy this. Not one bit.

  "She and Jesse Garland brought the house down," Alice said. "That tango! I wish I could dance like that. I would have been so jealous and mad at you, Tessa, if you weren't already Lieutenant Ardley's girlfriend."

  Tessa froze. Her chest tensed and she tightened her fingers around the handle of her fork. She didn't want them to talk about her and Anthony.

  "Lieutenant Ardley. What a catch," Irene teased her. "A real front line soldier and an officer. Good looking too."

  Tessa poked at her food. There was nothing in the world she wanted more at this moment than to have Sarah Brinkman to be right here, right now, right next to her. Now would be a very good time for Sarah to tell one of her endless tales about her four brothers or their many, many interests and hobbies, or give her soliloquy on how to bake the perfect pecan pie. Seeking rescue, she looked over at Ellie, but Ellie could only give her sympathetic eyes and a helpless smile.

  Suddenly, Alice declared, "Jesse's mine."

  Laughing, Irene countered, "Says who? I say he's mine!"

  "Who's Jesse?" Gracie asked.

  "You haven't met Jesse?" Alice asked. "Don't worry." She let out a deep sigh of desire. "You will. Every nurse..."

  "... and woman..." Irene interrupted her.

  "… and every woman here who isn't already married or attached will meet Jesse sooner or later," Alice said. "He's a real looker."

  "He's a medic," Irene said. "A real sheik. Not like the rest of the men here. He's smart, classy, sophisticated. All the other men here are boorish brutes compared to him." As soon as she said this, she gasped, raised her hand to her mouth, and said to Tessa, "Except Lieutenant Ardley, of course."

  Tessa tapped her fork on her mess kit and said nothing.

  "What does he do in real life? This Jesse Garland," asked Gracie.

  "He told me he's a scam artist," Alice said, laughing. Gracie widened her eyes, alarmed. "Oh, he was just kidding." Alice waved her hand. "When I pressed him, he told me he was an investment banker. He was so funny. He said investment bankers are glorified scam artists."

  "All the younger nurses here are in love with him, Gracie," Irene said. "Wait until you meet him. You'll fall in love with him too."

  Doubtful, Gracie gave Tessa a wary look.

  "No," Alice said. "Not everyone. Ellie isn't in love with Jesse." It was now Ellie's turn to look uncomfortable.

  "Ellie's got her eyes on Dr. Haley," Irene teased.

  "That's right!" Alice chimed in. "Ellie's smarter than us. She likes someone more mature and serious, like Dr. Haley."

  "What are you all talking about?" Ellie denied. "That's not true!" Her face flushed deep red. Tessa had never seen her look so flustered.

  "Oh, Ellie, don't be shy. We all know Dr. Haley likes you too."

  "Stop it. All of you." Ellie put her hands down on the table. "Dr. Haley is a very nice and kind man. You all shouldn't joke about him this way. It's not nice."

  "Why, Ellie! We're not saying anything insulting about him. You're a beautiful young woman. Dr. Haley would be lucky to have you if you were to become his wife."

  "Enough." Ellie stood up from her seat. "This is absurd. I'm leaving." She took her mess kit and walked away.

  After she was gone, Gracie asked, "Is she angry?"

  "Nah!" Alice said. "She's just embarrassed. She's too shy to admit it but I know she's head over heels in love with Dr. Haley."

  "Isn't he's a bit old for her?" Irene asked.

  Alice shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know. What is he? Forty-three? Forty-five? He's still an attractive man. Mature, accomplished, respectable. The two of them go well together."

  While Alice and Irene talked, Tessa saw Dr. Haley coming into the mess hall. Good thing Ellie had left. She would be embarrassed to death to see him after what the girls had just said about her and Dr. Haley.

  "Not so easy for Ellie though as long as the Fanny is watching," Irene said.

  "The Fanny?" Tessa nearly choked on her food.

  "You know, Captain Fran Milton," Irene said, making a sour face. "That woman is a total ass."

  Tessa swallowed a large gulp of water. If only the American nurses knew that fanny was the vilest term used to insult a woman back in England.

  "She was an army nurse during the Great War, so she thinks she knows everything," Alice said. "She's always bossing people around. She even bosses Dr. Haley around."

  "So what?" Tessa asked. "What does Captain Milton have to do with Ellie and Dr. Haley?"

  "The Captain's always interfering with them," said Irene.

  "She interferes with everyone and everything," Alice said.

  "Yes, but this is different. I think she's secretly in love with Dr. Haley," Irene whispered.

  "No!" Alice exclaimed.

  Irene nodded. "Yes. Just you watch closely. She's always finding one work excuse or another to be alone with him. And haven't you noticed? Only older, plain-looking nurses are ever assigned to work with him. I know Sanford is the one who manages assignments, but I suspect the Fanny has a hand in it. She's always in a crappy mood when Dr. Haley talks to the younger nurses, and she'd find this reason or that to pull the younger nurses away from him." Then, huddling
closer to them and lowering her voice, she said, "Ellie gets it the worst. That bitch is always criticizing and embarrassing Ellie in front of Dr. Haley even when Ellie has done nothing wrong. I think it's because she knows that Dr. Haley likes Ellie too. The Fanny's jealous."

  All this was news to Tessa. But now that she thought about it, the first time she met the Captain, the Captain had yelled at Ellie and humiliated her in front of everyone including Dr. Haley.

  She watched Aaron Haley walk toward the food line. Along the way, he stopped every time he saw one of his patients eating and spoke to each one of them. What a nice man. Alice was right. Ellie and Dr. Haley would be good together.

  Jesse leaned against the doorway once again, watching Tessa, waiting for her to notice him. Like last time, she was lost in her thoughts, unaware of his presence or how long he had been there. While she took inventory of the newly arrived medications and equipment in the make-shift medical supplies room, he watched her, transfixed by the beauty of the way she moved and the sound of her voice as she hummed the tune of the song "Moonlight and Roses."

  When she finally noticed him, she looked surprised. "Jesse! Do you always stand around like that looking at people without saying anything?"

  He smiled and didn't reply.

  "It's unnerving. Why do you do that?"

  Because I love looking at you.

  "Because I don't want to interrupt you in the middle of whatever you're doing. Here." He handed her a piece of paper. "It's a list of medical supplies I need. We're going off on another mission tomorrow."

  She took the piece of paper and started to gather the items on the list.

  "Did you have fun the other night?" he asked, referring to two nights ago when they had gone to the servicemen's club to watch the army band.

  She put down the list, then looked directly at him. "As a matter of fact, I did. You're a very good dancer."

  "Likewise, so are you."

  "Although, you went a little overboard, don't you think?"