"I've never heard of such a place."
Georgiana knew better, her body responded to his closeness, even if he refused to confirm it, her body knew. Besides, he was the same height, same build, only broader, which could have taken place with working out over time, he had the same dark hair color, almost black, and the eye color was the same and last, the voice - she knew that voice. From the moment he walked in with her daughter, she'd worked along with her husband to destroy her daughter's marriage. Using her disdain for her bad choice as the reason, she for once, was in unity with Oscar on a mission.
Oscar stood watching her back. Every time his mind recalled the evidence presented that Shawn Everett had worked for Melba's, around the same time he knew his wife frequented the place, his blood boiled. He hated Shawn Everett with a passion that was beyond the extreme. To know that he had both screwed his wife and his daughter was enough reason for him to wish the man ill. He turned away from her, thinking of Brighton's last call, Ray Olivetti had failed him.
Chapter 27
Two Weeks later...
"You must have the most coordinated hands. I'm just amazed at what you can do with them," Sylvie commented with a pussycat grin, complimenting his artistic ability as well as his other skills, standing in the doorway of the back room, after leaving what was cooking on the stove a moment to check out his progress for the book cover of the trilogy Mercy James had written. She leaned on the door jamb behind him as he was finishing up for the evening. "Why, thank you, madam." He grinned, turning around to wink at her. "By the smells wafting in from that kitchen, your hands have been busy whipping up something incredible, I'm sure."
"Ummm, I think you'll like it."
"You know, you still owe me," he said, wiping up his brushes, dunking them in the fluid to clean them after moving the canvas to a safe spot. He would pick up in the morning where he'd left off.
"Owe you…owe you, what?"
He looked up at her, his playful twinkling eyes taking her breath away. "A pose...a portrait, remember?"
"Aaah, I see. We-e-ell, we'll see...one day, maybe," she answered, turning away to go and check on the food.
They sat at the table eating. Sylvia was telling him about her first marriage, her children, things that had them both laughing about the way of kids. "This is nice, isn't it?" he commented after coming down from a nice laugh, sipping his water. "Yeah...it is," she returned.
"You should move in with me, or I should move in with you," he suggested.
"Why?" she asked in all seriousness, rising to scrape her plate and then his.
"Well, why not? We are getting married," he reminded her.
"Yeah, I guess we are, and when we are, that's soon enough to live together."
"You're kidding me, right?" he asked in disbelief.
"Of course I'm not. What's wrong with the way things are now?" she asked.
Shawn sat for a moment stunned with his mouth open, trying to digest the fact that she was actually serious. He rose, shaking his head, walking to the sink to turn on the tap and rinse his hands.
"Do you love me or not?" he asked.
"What's love got to do with it?"
"It has everything to do with it! When you love someone, you want to spend as much time with that person as you can."
"Ah, I see, well...we live right across the road from one another. If I want to see you—like tonight—I came over, cooked you a meal because I knew you were working, you ate, I ate, we talked, laughed and we've enjoyed each other’s company...and shortly now...I'll be going home."
"Just like that!" he griped.
Sylvia started laughing. "What is up with you? You should be glad I don't wanna be here right under your feet with every move you make."
"That's bullshit! You're the one that doesn't want me under your feet!" he accused.
Sylvia couldn't help but laugh some more.
"I don't see shit funny," he went on, making her laugh even harder.
"You need to quit trippin'! I'm right across the road, Shawn! Right over there! You're more than welcome to come over any time."
"Why can't we live together?" he blasted the question.
"Because I don't wanna live with you, Shawn. You've done quite enough sampling,thank you! That's not me, I'm not about that. I have a daughter and a son to think about."
"What have they to do with this?" he was trying to understand.
"They have plenty to do with it. I raised my kids right. I enforced serious moral values in them, I set up high expectations, and I definitely expected them to follow them. Just because they're grown and gone, doesn't mean that I am somehow free to live contradictory to what I demanded of them."
"If I remember correctly, Crystal was pregnant before any vows were said."
"That doesn't matter, Shawn! The fact remains, whether she failed to heed my direction or not, I have a responsibility to maintain the standard I set out for my children! I'm not about to lower that standard, just so you can have a bit of nookie in reach when you want it."
"Ach! That is not fair! Damn you, Sylvia Payne! This has nothing to do with sex! A piece of nookie is something I've never had to struggle to get. There are women right now, who would line up for the chance of me telling them, okay...come on in!"
"Well, you know what, Mr. Arrogant Ass? Call'em…tell them to come on in - I don't give a shit! I'm outta here! You done pissed me off...you not even trying to see it from my side!" she spat, looking for her coat and purse to head for the door.
Shawn rushed up to take her by the wrist.
"Now, see, why do you have to get so angry?" he pleaded, pulling her toward him, trying to get her to face him, but she had her stubborn jaw set and finally answered, "Because...I don't appreciate you pulling that crap on me. I'm not a stupid little girl or some woman begging for your goodies! I said I'm not living with you, and I meant it. Don't matter what my reasons are, you still have to respect them—if you love me! I am who and what I am, Shawn Everett McPherson, and if you can't handle her, let her leave. Then you can get on with your phone calls, start'em lining up."
"Ugggh! You are so infuriating! Do you know that?" He squeezed her close. "Okay...okay...now calm down. Geez, you are so hardcore, I swear! You know, you're lousy for a man’s ego."
"Hey, like I said, use your phone...I won't stop you. You had one that was ready to jump through hoops for you, why didn't you keep her?"
"Because I didn't want her."
"Why not? And quit pulling me toward the sofa...I'm going home." She bit into her lip not to smile.
"No, you're not. Not yet, you're not...not like this," he insisted, tugging her to his couch anyway, pulling her onto his lap.
"Excuse me, will you let me sit on the couch?"
"You're fine right where you are."
"It's getting late, I need to get home...and cut that out! Put the hard-on away...ain't nothing happening tonight."
"Lady...you are something else, you know that? I've never known anyone like you. So spirited, so steadfast, so firm and true to you. I love that about you."
"If that's the case, don't try to take advantage of me, Shawn, because I'm not the one."
"I know, I know. I just…like having you around, what's wrong with that?"
"Nothing wrong with that, and when we get married, you will have me around. Although, this arrangement of across from each other ain't a bad one. I mean, we could just go on like this. If you wanna piece, just come knockin'. I let you in, same for me."
"The hell I will! Now, I'm gonna put my foot down! When the vows are exchanged, you will be here with me or I'll be there with you...but I'll be damned if my wife is going to be sleeping in a different bed from me across the road... let's get that straight right now!" he asserted firmly. Sylvia couldn't help herself, a grin burst upon her pretty face. "Okay, okay, I hear you...but until then, I'll be across the road."
"Well, can I—" Just then the phone rang, cutting him off. "Now who is that calling at this time of night?" he asked,
standing as she slid to the sofa. He walked into the kitchen as she stood buttoning her coat. Grabbing her purse, she walked in to see him on the phone with his brows drawn in a frown.
"What!" he shouted. Sylvia's eyebrows drew in, curious.
"What the hell do you mean, she ran away? When?"
Sylvia stood with her hand going to her heart for him.
"So how long has she been gone?"
"What are the police doing?"
"Dammit! I can't believe this shit!"
"Alright, alright...call me as soon as you know something."
"I may just have to!" Shawn hung up and looked at Sylvia.
"My daughter's run away from home."
Chapter 28
Earlier in the week...
"I want outta here! I want outta here now! Why haven't you paid for my bail or something?" Ray pressed with flared nostrils, his index finger jabbing the table for emphasis as he consulted with his attorney at the Juneau County Courthouse.
"Because you're a stupid-ass sex offender; no bail for you, idiot!"
"Hey, don't fuckin' talk to me like that, you here t'defend me," Ray reminded him. It had been almost eight weeks since his attack on Sylvia Payne, his court date was coming up in a few days and he was starting to get nervous. Ray hated the thought of having to do time. He'd already done time once for a similar offence, which was the reason he was being held without bail. Every day that drew closer to that court date made him nervous, he had to find a way to get out. As soon as he'd recovered from that beating McPherson laid on him, he'd made his one phone call to Carl Brighton, who had in turn sent him the attorney that sat on the other side of the interview window from him. Ray had used that one phone call to get the message through to Carl loud and clear, that he had better see to it that he got cleared of this, that he didn't serve any time, because he knew things…he wasn't stupid, so he didn't appreciate this fancy California lawyer whom he suspected was gay, calling him stupid.
"Listen here, you gay fuck! If I go to trial, there's some people who'll be sorry—I swear to god, they'll be sorry. Get me outta here!"
The attorney sat and stared a moment, uncrossed his legs and stood. Before he departed his last words were, "Oh, you'll be getting out alright, be assured you will. I can guarantee it."
"Yeah, well...make it quick!" Olivetti shouted as the lawyer disappeared from sight.
"Let's go, Olivetti, interview over," the black guard called from the door.
"I can see that, boogie boy!"
The guard grinned. "That's why you got yo' ass kicked. Dumb mothafuckas like you never learn."
"Yeah, well, kiss my ass!"
"Ain't no need for me to, m'man...your cellmate gone take care o'that f'ya, or you be kissin' his."
* * *
"What!" he shouted. Sylvia's eyebrows drew in, curious.
"Angela…has run away!" Deidre repeated, panicking on the other end of the phone.
"What the hell do you mean—she ran away! When?" He held the phone to his ear, looking Sylvia in the eyes, his eyes instantly transformed to intense worry.
"Sometime today. She left for school as usual, but when Paul returned, he said she was not there waiting for him as usual. I called the school, they said she hadn't attended school today. I couldn't believe it, so I went into her room looking to see if there was anything there that would give me a clue of what is going on; there was a note on her pillow. She'd written, I'm outta here! I then got on the phone and called you," she explained.
Sylvia stood with her hand going to her heart for him.
"So how long has she been gone?"
"Shawn! I don't know! I just told you, she didn't go into school. I'm assuming she's been gone since this morning."
"What are the police doing?"
"They haven't arrived here yet."
"Dammit! I can't believe this shit!"
"They're here now...I have to go!"
"Alright, alright...call me as soon as you know something."
"Call you? You need to get here! Right away! Board the next plane!"
"I may just have to!" Shawn replied, then hung up and looked at Sylvia.
"My daughter's run away from home."
"I know...oh, Shawn," Sylvia returned softly, sympathizing.
"I cannot believe this shit is happening! When I left her, she was happy! Now all of a sudden, she's a runaway!"
"So…what did she say? How long has she been gone?" Sylvia questioned.
"Obviously she left sometime this morning, pretending to go off to school."
"And she's just contacting you now? At this time of night? It's eight o'clock! What time is it in California?" Sylvia brought to his attention.
"Hey! You're right, it would be six o'clock there! She said she went in her room, looked around and found a note saying 'I'm outta here!' and then got on the phone and called me. If she really did this after she got out of school, it would be much earlier in the evening. What the fuck is going on!" he spat angrily, his insides twisting into knots.
"Well, first, calm down—"
"Calm down hell! My daughter's out on the streets somewhere! In California, of all places! The worst place in the world for a runaway!"
"I know, I know—I'm sorry. You're going to have to call her back in a few moments and question her more, you need to know more in order to work this out."
"No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you," he apologized and pulled her into his arms, hugging her to make repairs as his mind raced.
"Believe me, Shawn, I understand, you don't have to apologize."
"I'm going to have to go there. I have no choice. I need you to go with me."
Sylvia pulled back to look up at him. "Me? Why do you wish me to go?"
He reacted with anger again. "Why the hell do you think? You're going to be my wife! I need you with me!"
"Don't shout, Shawn! It's not that I don't want to be with you. It's just that, at a time like this, you don't need to exacerbate the problem by bringing me in. I don't think my presence there is going to help," she tried to reason with him.
Shawn took a moment to blow and try to get a grip on his anger and fear, running his hand over the top of his head, scratching his scalp and turning from her. With his back to her, he leaned against his counter before the sink and said, "I want you with me, Sylvie. I don't want to go there alone. I'm asking you, please, to go with me."
"Oh, Shawn—" she groaned, her own fears surfacing.
"Please, Sylvie! At least take the flight with me. We'll go straight to my condo, you can get comfortable there and I'll go to the house and talk to Deidre alone, but I need you with me," he explained while searching her eyes for her to understand. Sylvia stood with a uncomfortable look on her face, hesitating to answer. "Please, Sylvie."
"Okay, okay, okay...I'll go. Get on the phone now and see what flights there might be heading out. Be prepared that there may not be any."
"Thank you, sweetheart. I just…I just need you to be there with me."
"Okay. Let me head across the road and start packing, ring me with our flight plans," Sylvia conceded, heading for the door when the phone rang again. She stopped and turned back as he dashed back across the room and snatched up the phone.
"Hello!" he barked, anxiety making him tense and edgy.
"Daddy?"
"Angela? Where the hell are you? What are you doing?"
"Daddy..." she repeated and started crying on the phone.
"Okay, okay. I'm sorry for yelling. Tell me what's going on, where are you?"
"I'm-I'm in...Madison…Wisconsin," she admitted timidly.
"Madison! Madison, Wisconsin? How in the he-...world did you get there?"
"I came with my friend's sister. She goes to a college here. We talked her into bringing me," she answered from the partially vacant airport lobby.
"How old is she?"
"Nineteen," she answered. "Will you come and get me?"
"I'm on my way! It's going to take me almost two hour
s to get there! Don't—you—move! Is there a security guard or a clerk somewhere near?"
"Ummm, um… yeah...there's a security guard here." She hesitated, needing to look around to spot him before she answered.
"Get his attention, call him over and pass the phone to him...now!"
"Okay..."
He held the phone to his ear, looking at Sylvia, shaking his head in disbelief.
"She's in Madison?" Sylvia asked incredulously. He nodded yes, hearing her call the security guard to the phone, then her soft voice telling him that her father was on the phone and wanted to speak with him.
"Hello?" a man responded on the other end.
"Yes! My name is Shawn Everett McPherson. That young girl there is my daughter! I need you to take her to your security office, out of harm's way. She's run away from my ex-wife in California on a flight there. I'm on my way now to get her, but I live in Camp Daniels, almost two hours away."
"I see...actually, this is a matter for the police...not me."
"Bullshit! You're airport security, aren't you?"
Sylvia's eyes grew wide. "Shawn, don't curse at him," she whispered.
"Yes, sir, I am but..." the man responded stunned, unsure of what to do, he withheld comment, having children of his own.
"Look, man, I'm sorry. Call the police, if you wish. All I need to know is that my daughter is in safe hands until I can get there, I don't want her disappearing on me. Please, I'm on my way."
"I understand, she'll be here," he returned.
"Can I get your name, please?" He motioned to Sylvia to get him a pen and paper. Quickly she took off for it and then returned with both in hand, nodding as she used the kitchen table to jot down the man's name that Shawn called out to her.
BOMAW 1-3 Page 26
