"So it's true, you're really leaving? For good?"
"Yes, it's true, I really am."
"I don't understand this Deidre. If you're not interested in B.W. Finance, sign over your interest to me, or sell it to me."
"No thank you. Its my birthright, and I'll be hanging onto it. I have a daughter after all to consider."
"She's with her father, where she's quite happy I'm sure."
"Yes father, of that I'm certain. However, the day will come when she'll be a young woman. When she is, and reaches that particular age, this will be her birthright. And it is not, for sale, to anyone." She finished. She pressed the button on her desk phone, "Cora, have Lynn bring a cart to carry my things down to my car for me, I'll be leaving soon."
"Yes, Ms Wherrington, right away."
Deidre looked up from the phone to her father, staring him straight into his eyes, and shocked the color right out of him asking, "Did you by any chance kill Bea Rose Franklin? Have her killed? Did you know she had your son? His name is Maxwell. How long did you have an affair with her before she died?"
Oscar T. couldn't talk. It seemed a softball size lump formed in his throat, blocking his next breath. He was pale as a ghost, it took him a moment to recover, totally hit from left field by her bold and direct question/accusation.
"So it's true? Which part, might I ask?" She went on relentlessly.
"I - I can't believe you would say such a thing! Ask me such a thing! Who told you these lies!? Wait! Let me guess! That bastard of hers! He's filled your head with all of this nonsense! I never touched her! Why are you letting him manipulate your thinking? Can't you see what he's doing? What he's after?"
"Don't father - don't. Let us focus on you. What you've done. Don't want to answer my questions? In denial? Its an easy matter to prove. DNA - it's the way forward. It's the cause of cracking many mysteries. Solving many crimes. Don't deny what you know is true. Maybe, maybe you didn't kill her but you had an affair with her. That you did. You are - Maxwell Franklin's father. He has your eyes, other features of yours. You know it's no big deal. Its not un-heard of. Rich white men, having affairs with their maids. Fathering children by them. It's considered the norm isn't it? In fact, it's been happening since the days of slavery. You are no better than the others, so don't be so quick to cry innocent, especially when otherwise can be proven."
Feeling stuck, with no obvious way out of it, Oscar T. confessed.
"Okay, yes. Alright, I had an affair with her. Is it no wonder, being married to your mother? She was everything that your mother was not!"
"I don't doubt that for a moment. I remember her. She was - gentle, good, very caring. Quiet, and no lovelier person have I known. Why did you fire her?"
"I never-..."
"Careful - I was there remember? The day you fired her. Why? Because I kissed Jeremiah? That's what you let me believe but what's the truth?"
"Don't you cross examine me! I owe you no explanations! However, if you must know, she was blackmailing me! Threatening to divulge our affair."
"So you killed her to shut her up?"
"I didn't kill her!" He denied vehemently, stepping up into her face.
"Ah ah ah a-ah! Back away from Ms Wherrington." Charlie warned from the door, having stepped into it. It was now blocked by Samuel. He wasn't a big man of intimidating height and size, but if he were compared to a medium size dog in breed, it would be the pit bull. There was a lot of power in his body, with honed training of martial arts to back it.
Oscar T. took several subtle deep breaths to calm down. He stood away from his daughter as he was told, and looked from Charlie back to Deidre.
"I didn't - I - if you must know - I - loved her. And I've loved no one since."
Hearing that surprised Deidre, yet at the same time, didn't, her words pretty much stating the fact, "I believe that." Deidre returned.
"You're my daughter, it's not the same!"
"Let's not go into that, you said she was blackmailing you, what made her back out of it?"
"She didn't! I paid her! I gave her thousands of dollars! Especially for him, if you must know!"
"I see. So, why would she have, killed herself?"
"I don't know. How am I supposed to know what things went about in her head? Or any woman's head for that matter. I paid her, okay. I was willing to continue on, paying her. I would have given her, any amount, if you must know. You want the truth, there it is. Maybe her - conscience bothered her, who knows."
"You claim to have loved her, yet you fired her. Showed little grief hearing of her death."
"What would you know about my grief? My pain? My love for her?"
"Let's face it. No one in this family, knows a thing about - love. We haven't a clue. We're not made of such things. We can't afford to be, can we father? Loving anyone, family included, gets in the way of the important things in life, like - power - money - control. No - where in that, is there room for love?" Deidre looked away from him to Charlie, "I'm done, have Samuel check the car."
Lynn entered the office with the cart just then.
"Good-day father." Meeting with him was concluded.
"Wait Deidre, wait! Come on, we need to get all matters between us clarified. We're a family. Perhaps we could meet with someone, speak with counselors?"
"For what? Let's face it, we are as far from a family as an Eagle is from a field mouse. Someone tried to kill me father. Someone in their attempt to kill me, plotted to place the blame on Urban gang violence. That someone, whomever that person is, hadn't bargained on those people, being more human - than anyone we know personally, family or associates. Whomever that person is, that wanted me dead, miscalculated. Their assumed summary of urban gangs lead them into believing them just as animal, without heart, or soul - as he or she is, without heart or soul. Whether that person is you-..."
"You can't believe that! You cannot! I'm your father!"
"Are you? As you said, Bea Rose Franklin was everything that my mother was not. Let's face it, my mother is a whore. She's a rich, soulless, self-seeking, hedonistic psychopath, an empty vessel always yearning to be filled. Anyone could be my father. If I know that, certainly - you know that." She looked him straight in the eyes.
Oscar T. used everything in his power to stare her back in the eyes, "I am not guilty of such a thing. You're wrong Deidre. No, we're not your, typical American family - but we-..."
"I don't have the time father, I have things to do. Goodbye." She walked away to have Charlie follow right behind her, as she fell in line behind Lynn, pushing the cart with her things.
Oscar T. stood in her office, sweating. His heart palpitating, disrupting his breathing. Too much was coming undone at once. He gulped, and heard soft laughter and turned to look around him. It had sounded as if it were right in his ear, even a wisp of air as if gently expelled from barely parted lips caressed his ear lobe. His heart quaked in his chest. "You stop it! You stop it damn you!" He bit out to the empty room at large, spinning to look for her. There was no one there. It was all in his mind.
Cora looked in, smiling gently, "You okay Mr. Wherrington?"
Oscar T. looked towards the door.
"Lock this office up." He marched by her on his way back to his office.
There he sat, stewing. Thinking. Scared. Trying to relax. Trying to clear the mist and fog within his mind to see his way clear through to a solution. His confession frightened him, however he saw no way around it. He gave her as much truth as he dare, without confessing all. Things were getting worse for him not better. He had to tread so carefully. The police hadn't been back to question him any more so far. Yet, if they spoke with Deidre, and she told them what they discussed here, they might move him up as a possible suspect. Should they come to ask him questions, if any should surround her, he would tell them the same. No one knew the truth. What actually happened and why. It was an event from years ago, he could not expend the stress and energy on that. He needed to focus on today, now. The relevant issues of hi
s daughter, and who was the guilty party with setting her up. He'd spent a great deal of time arranging his thoughts and words to bring Shawn McPherson in on it. McPherson had just as much reason as anyone to want Deidre dead.
Angela Rae McPherson.
Just on Deidre's inheritance alone given to her by her grandparents, she was worth billions. That had nothing to do with her interest in B.W. Finance. Collectively, her worth would add up to far more than Oscar T. could hope to gain, he hated that! His own worth, just a measly 35 million. That's why he'd devised the plan as he had. With Deidre out of the way, and then Georgiana, everything would be left to him to handle. By the time Angela became of age, he would have amassed his own billions. Now, that entire plan was on hold. If they started going too deep into the investigation, he would have to point out that sure fact. That being, if anything happened to Deidre, Shawn would have possession of the money child. She, Angela Rae McPherson, was a billion dollar baby. Oscar T. would make sure that they knew that. He would make them see that this was the entire reason Shawn McPherson sought to gain custody of the child from Deidre, so he could gain access of her fortune. Along with all the other things he'd found out about the man, the heat would most certainly be turned down from him and directed to Shawn - after all, he'd once lived among those from Crenshaw - who would have better connections than him, to have it done?
In the meanwhile, he still hadn't heard anything from his initial contact hired to do the job they'd failed. He wasn't sure what that all meant. He'd paid them well, half - to get the job done, the other half would be paid upon completion. He wondered, were they still in operation? What did their failure mean? Because he had no contact, he was left in the dark and he hated being left in the dark. The one number he knew was no longer in operation. What did it all mean? He wanted them to cool off. Leave it alone for the time being. However he had no means to contact them to let them know that. Who was left of those hired to do the job? He knew that the police recovered bodies from that night. White males. Oscar had a headache from it all, the entire fiasco was giving him stress. A knock sounded at his door.
"Yes?"
A courier stuck his head in the door. "Registered package for you sir, are you Oscar T. Wherrington?"
"Yes I am!" Oscar T. stood from his desk, walking over to sign for the package.
"There you go, have a nice day." The courier stated upon leaving.
Oscar rushed behind his desk and opened the large manila, bubble insulated envelope. He pulled out another smaller envelope and opened it. Within, a small slip of paper, with nothing more than a telephone number on it. No name, nothing else written, just a typed on telephone number. Oscar rose and left his office and went into the lobby downstairs rushing through the revolving doors onto the street, making his way to the parking ramp down the block. Ten minutes later, he sat in his vehicle, having removed an unused, unopened mobile phone from his trunk. He sat going through all the necessary activations, hating each moment spent that he needed to do it. Once the phone was active, he drove off down and out of the ramp and headed for the public lot of a restaurant. Parking at the edge in a corner, Oscar turned off his vehicle and with sweating palms, dialed the number.
It was answered with an order of, "Identify yourself."
"You sent the registered package, you identify yourself! You know what to say! If you don't, I'm hanging up!" He bit out pissed off.
"Rolling on a river."
"Where the fuck have you been?! What the fuck is going on?! Do you know what this has done to me?!"
"Wasn't wise to contact you right away. How the hell were we to know they'd be in the mood to play hero."
"Bullshit! You fucked around and gave her a way out! Who was the taxi driver? Why didn't he do her? To make sure? You fucked this up!"
"Calm down, its not too late." The voice reasoned gently.
"The hell it isn't! She was to die as a victim of gang violence. Had the driver done her, she would be dead. That part would be over. Instead, she's walking around with bodyguards and protection. The police are investigating and the press can't wait for more to get the big scoop! You - fucked - this - up!"
"We have another plan, one where we won't fail this time."
"No! Its over! Leave it alone! Think I-..."
"Ah ah ah a-a-ah. We want that other half. The job will be done-..."
"I said - leave it!" Oscar bit out.
"Too late. That additional half has already been spent, and we want it."
"You're not getting shit else from me!"
"Sorry, you're in no position for that. You try and back out, and we'll tell about all your little nasty deeds. You wouldn't want that would you? You want us to back off, leave her? You pay the half due us, and then double the entire amount again, to reverse all. Administration cancellation fees. Someone has to get paid to track all traces and cancel. You know about cancellation fees don't you? A banker, a financier? I'm certain you should know all about that."
Oscar T. sat breathing hard and sweating, unable to speak.
"Well? What's it gonna be? The other half for completing the job? Or, that and the cancellation fee?"
"You do this and they will turn up the heat on me! She ends up dead now, and we'll have FBI down on us! We'll be ruined!"
"Worse yet, on trial for murder. Such is life. That's not my problem, now is it Mr. Wherri-..."
"DON'T SAY MY NAME!!!" Oscar T. shouted, spit flying from his mouth.
"Oops ... so easy to let things slip ... isn't it?"
"You bastard!"
"Hey, you hired me to do a job. I don't start a job, that I don't finish."
"What is your plan?" He asked desperately.
"Don't worry, we have everything under control."
"Like you did last time?! It has to look like an accident!"
"As if anyone is going to believe that. Too late for that. We take her out and you pay us. How you wiggle out of the blame is your problem."
"NO DAMMIT NO! Okay! I'll pay the remainder and the cancellation fee! I'll pay it!" Oscar T. forced through tight lips. Tears of frustration in his eyes. If they went through with this, nothing he said or did would cool the heat. He would be discovered and ruined. All would be lost. He couldn't risk losing everything.
"Smart man. When it's canceled, I'll be in touch to give you the account information that all fees will go in. Until then, relax ... relax."
The line went dead.
Oscar T. sat with his head on his steering wheel contemplating suicide. Fifteen long minutes went by with him in that motionless position. Then it happened to him again. He knew that he was going insane. He felt a slight caress on the back of his neck. He shivered, sniffed, unaware that tears were rolling from his eyes, yet and still, he didn't move. Something in him made him hold that position, something that made him long for more of the slight caress. Suddenly Bea Rose's face came before him, smiling, suggestive, seductive. Her scent assailed his nostrils making them flare. He could see her there, plain as day, in his mind. His little Bea Rose, leading him to her bed. Where he would climb in, wrap his arms around her, cover her in kisses, his larger tanned body, covering her smaller, brown one while his rigid sex thrust, hard and deep into her over and over until he felt the sweet release that only came from having her. Oscar T. broke down and started sobbing, a wailing deep and ripping forced its way out of him into a loud and uncontrollable howl of anguish. If he still had Bea Rose, he would have given it all up and run off with her. She was the only thing that he knew of, that was worth walking away from billions for.
The only one.
Problem had been, Bea Rose didn't love him. Here it was, years and years later, and still - the heart that she broke, was killing him, bleeding him in a slow and agonizing death. If she had just given him a chance, for her, he might have changed. He might have, become a man, she could love. If she'd just, not gone with that black man, whomever he was. If she just, hadn't thrown him in his face. He would have come around; and on he sobbed believing th
at to be true, now that all had been done. No matter, his heart was broken. He would never be the same. There was no more, Bea Rose. She was dead. Dead because he had killed her. Nothing else mattered. He'd long ago set himself to this path, and now - more than ever, it could not be reversed. He hated that about life. That it didn't come with a rewind button and his heart, was beyond repair.
* * *
Jeremiah couldn't help himself, nor fight the grin on his face as he held the phone to his ear, listening as Deidre went on to complain about this whole bodyguard issue and the person he chose, all being a bit extreme.
"Jeremiah! This is not funny! She's - she's out of control!" Deidre fussed.
"Well what has she done?" He asked.
"She's just - over the top!"
"How?" He asked.
"She's so - so aggressive." Deidre whined staring at the subject of her complaint, who grinned, nodding her head in agreement. "She kicked someone today-..."
"I ain't kick him, I kicked his cart! Should'ah kicked his ass! Should'ah stepped off the elevator. I say get off - get yo'ass off! Don't get off, I kick yo'ass off! I'on play Dee-Dee!" Charlie affirmed from the stool where she sat across the bar from Deidre, checking her gun. Getting ready to prep Deidre even more once she was off the phone.
"Do you hear that? You hear her?! And - and - she's calling me Dee-Dee! Dee-Dee?!" Deidre informed him, her feathers ruffled.
Jeremiah was laughing on the other end of the phone, because he knew Charlie. Had been knowing Charlie for years when they both went through the foster care program. Charlie had wanted to work as a bodyguard every since they'd been taken on a tour of various police, law enforcement, and security details. An outreach program to fortify them with a hope for a better future had taken them. In the case of some, it had worked.
"Aaah Dee-Dee, don't be like that." Charlie teased, smiling and winking at Deidre. "Hurr'up on the phone now, we got stuff to do Dee-Dee. HEY JEREMIAH!!!"
Who was cracking up on the other end of the phone, could hear her loud and clear, "Please tell her I said hello back." He asked Deidre gently, who was making squinty eyed faces at Charlie, complying she mumbled uncomfortably, "Jeremiah says, hey back." Deidre then turned her back to the snickering Charlie to finish out her complaint. "Jeremiah I can't do this. I just can't. She's given me this long list of things I cannot do. Well let me just add this to the list! She's telling me there are places I cannot go. I can't make any plans."
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