by E M Bannock
The car pulled in to the driveway of the Four Seasons Hotel at Kingdom Centre. She had been watching the famous 992-foot-high Sky Bridge get closer as they drove from the airport. Its distinctive, immense silhouette was hard to ignore as it imposed on the mostly flat landscape of the desert city, a very impressive and magnificent architectural accomplishment. Mickey had told her about the hotel, but seeing it now was mind-blowing. Although some parts of the huge complex were still under construction, there were parts of the hotel that were open to select guests. Mickey was just such a guest.
The driver brought the car to a stop at the front door and got out. He handed the keys to the attendant and spoke something in Arabic. He opened Zoey’s door and offered a hand to help her out. Another young man appeared and spoke to the driver before he brought her bags to the sidewalk and placed them on a hotel cart. The driver handed the young man some money and spoke more Arabic, probably her room number. Then he turned to Zoey.
“Mrs. DeLucca,” he intoned.
She looked up and answered, “Yes?”
“Mrs. DeLucca,” he repeated. “Please allow me to accompany you to your room. I’m afraid Mr. DeLucca will be delayed and asked if I would see to your comfort upon your arrival. He is expected to arrive within the hour.”
“Thank you,” she said casually. “Lead the way.” She knew women always followed the men here.
Mickey’s room was high in the tower. Her bags were already there when she arrived.
The driver, whose name she really wished she knew, walked in first and did what she would consider a security scan before he invited her in.
“The refrigerator is stocked, as is the bar. The room service menu is on the counter in the kitchen. Please feel free to call the front desk should you require anything else. The staff speaks English,” he said flatly.
She thanked him and, without hesitating, he took his leave. She closed the door and looked around. The suite was spacious and the view from the tall windows was breathtaking. All of Riyadh lay at her feet. Business papers and files were piled up on the desk in the office area. She knew that Mickey often had meetings there. The kitchen was modern and clean. Inside the full size refrigerator, she found a fruit plate and veggie tray. She grabbed a couple of pieces of fruit and a bottle of water. She began nibbling on a pineapple spear as she explored the rest of the suite. She walked into the bedroom. Off to the left was a bathroom with marble everything, a huge tub, an immense shower with multiple shower heads, a double sink vanity with spacious counters, and even a bidet. She never quite got the hang of those things.
A king-size bed dominated the bedroom. There was another large window looking down onto the city below and beyond. She sat by the window, eating her fruit and taking in all the wonder that lay before her feet. She was a half a world away from home, yet what made it home was right here. At least, he would be soon. Glancing at the clock she figured Mickey wouldn’t be there for at least another half hour. On a nearby chair she saw one of his shirts. She walked over to it and picked it up. She buried her face in it and inhaled deeply. It smelled of him, a fresh, clean, musky scent that was his alone. The same aroma she smelled on his pillows at home. Its calming effect was immediate, washing away any built-up stress her body still held. Her knees weakened and she fell back onto the bed. She lay there for a while, savoring his manly bouquet, and imagining how the night would go. She could feel her body aching for his touch. She slid her hand into her slacks and touched herself. She was getting wet. Her body was tingling. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the sensation.
“Sorry I’m late, babe. I see you started without me.”
Mickey’s words jolted her back to real time. She jumped off of the bed and ran into his outstretched arms. “Mickey, I’ve missed you so much,” she whispered into his ear as she pressed her body into his. She reached down and felt his manhood. It was already hard.
Their lips met and their tongues intertwined as they raced to remove their clothes. He pulled back the sheets and grabbed her tightly as their naked bodies fell onto the bed, bodies entwined, hands hungrily exploring. She felt the hard muscles of his back and the tightness of his ass. She cupped his behind and pushed herself against him. He cradled one of her breasts, velvety smooth and full in his hand, and gently squeezed the nipple as it hardened between his fingers.
“You’re so soft,” he muttered in between moans of delight. “I can’t believe you’re really here.”
She found herself caught up in the heat of their passion as all of her planned sexual scenarios faded away. She gave in to her basic instinct and melted into his embrace. Reaching down, she guided his rock-hard cock into her body. He let out a groan as he thrust himself into her. The sound of his pleasure sent chills of excitement up her spine. It felt good to have him inside her special place once again. Their bodies moved in synchronized rhythm as their pleasure built to a peak. He was the first to come, with her right behind.
Both lay depleted of strength on the bed, glistening with love sweat, looking into each other’s eyes. “Hey, babe,” he said, catching his breath. “Welcome to Riyadh.”
“Oh, Mickey, I can’t believe I’m actually here with you,” she said in a voice that was both grateful and tinged with sadness. “I hate being separated from you more and more these days.”
“I know, babe,” he said with excitement. She looked at him with puzzlement.
“Why are you smiling?” she asked. “What’s going on?”
He turned to face her and grabbed her hand. He brought it up to his mouth and kissed it gently. “I was waiting for the right time to tell you this, but I guess there’s no better time than the present.”
He had her full attention now. She pulled herself up and was sitting cross-legged on the bed, facing him.
“I’ve been talking to corporate and have decided that I’m quitting at the end of the year.”
She couldn’t believe her ears. “Seriously?” she asked. “Like, full retirement?”
He nodded. “After the first of the year, the only one I’ll have to answer to is you. What do you think?”
She was so ecstatic that she flung her naked body onto his and hugged him with an iron grip. “I think it will be heaven,” she said, laying her head on his chest as he embraced her.
“Do you think you would be willing to give up your practice, too?” he asked.
She thought for a long moment, a thousand thoughts rushing through her mind. Then she smiled and said, “I think I can.”
He kissed her on the top of her head. “Good. I met with our accountant last month and we’ve got enough money on hand and in our investments to keep us going for the rest of our lives.”
“Will we have to sell Zoey’s Place?” she asked.
“We won’t have to change a thing,” he confirmed.
“Mickey, this is the best news ever,” she said, squeezing him tightly.
The most Zoey saw of Riyadh that weekend was what she could see from the hotel suite’s windows. Mickey had turned off his phone so they wouldn’t be disturbed. Allen had volunteered to handle any business issues that came up. The world outside ceased to exist for two days. With the exception of the occasional waiter who brought them room service, it was as if they were only humans on earth. And that was just fine with the lovers.
Love-filled minutes turned to hours. The blissful hours quickly turned to days. Too soon, their time together was over and it was time to come back to reality. This was the part Zoey hated. It was the uncertainty that made her anxious. He would always tell her everything would be fine. But, considering the current political atmosphere these days, his words did little to console her. Her disturbing dreams had become more frequent. And her fear for his safety grew by the day.
Mickey went with her to the airport. He walked her to the gate and kissed her goodbye. She suddenly became overcome with anxiety and felt lightheaded. He held her tight as he felt her knees buckle.
“Babe,” he said with alarm. “What’s the matter?�
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She was embarrassed. This was the last thing he needed right now. She struggled to pull herself together. After a moment she could feel the fog in her head clear and managed to pull herself up and regain her composure. It was hard, but she put a smile on her face for him.
“I’m fine. Really.” She tried to sound reassuring. “I just hate this part.” She could see the concern leave his eyes. Those eyes. Those dark, coffee-colored, dreamy eyes framed by his thick, expressive brows. To this day she could get lost in them, never wanting to be found.
“I hate this part, too,” he said in a soothing voice. “We should have this deal wrapped up in a few weeks. I’ll be home as soon as I can.” He could tell that his words were of little consolation. “I’ll call you tomorrow night,” he added.
The final boarding call for the flight was announced and she knew it was time to go. Although she couldn’t shake the feeling of foreboding, she forced a smile and kissed him one more time before she pulled away. “I love you,” she whispered. She turned towards the gate and walked away. Before entering the jetway, she turned back and looked at him one more time.
Their eyes met. “I love you,” he mouthed. She smiled and walked on as tears filled her eyes.
PART TWO - SORROW
Chapter 15
The flight home went smoothly and Zoey was able to sleep, albeit uneasily. Annette had arranged for a car service to pick her up at the airport to take her home. It was late evening by the time she got there. She was exhausted. Her body begged for sleep. Good thing she hadn’t planned on going to the office until the next afternoon. She quickly showered and slipped into bed. Reaching over to Mickey’s side she grabbed his pillow, held it to her face, and breathed in deeply. There it was, that tang, or spice, or essence. Whatever it was, it was him. “Mickey,” she sighed as she relived their last few glorious days together and his promise to retire at the end of the year.
Stella had a standing order never to wash Mickey’s pillowcase while he was away. It was a small thing, but it was a great comfort to Zoey on nights such as this. Seeing first-hand the security team that protected him helped make her feel more confident that Mickey was in no danger, but the uneasy feeling hadn’t totally gone away. And the physical emptiness she felt was even more overpowering than before. He would be home in a few weeks. She kept that thought in her head as exhaustion overcame her and she drifted off to sleep.
The next morning, the sound of distant ringing grew louder as it pulled her out of slumber and abruptly threw her into reality. She glanced at the clock. It was nine o’clock. She grabbed the phone, cleared her gravely throat and said, “Hello?”
“Hello, Mrs. DeLucca?” an unfamiliar masculine voice asked.
“Yes,” Zoey answered. Without warning her stomach began to churn. She began to perspire and felt lightheaded for some unknown reason.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. DeLucca,” the voice continued. “My name is Jake Johnson. I work for Taylor Resource Development with your husband.”
There was a short pause.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. DeLucca. I’m calling from Riyadh. There’s been an accident. It’s Mickey. I’m so sorry, Mrs. DeLucca. He’s been killed.”
Everything went black for a moment and Zoey dropped the phone. She reached down and grabbed it from the floor. “No, that can’t be!” she screamed. “I just saw Mickey yesterday. He was fine. There must be some mistake.”
“Mrs. DeLucca,” the man began to talk again. “This morning your husband was killed by a construction crane. It fell from a building site onto the limo your husband and his party were sitting in. It’s a tragedy. . .” The line went to static. “…nothing left. They’re all dead.” More static.
Was this really happening? It was the cabin dream. Without grasping the reality of the moment, her mind went into overdrive. “Are you sure it was Mickey? Did he suffer? Who was he with?” She was hungry for details. “Was Allen with him?” Nothing but static, the line had gone dead. “Hello? Hello?” she screamed into the phone.
She hung up the phone and sat in disbelief. She did a quick calculation in her head. It was 4 PM in Riyadh. A million thoughts rushed through her head. Where were the bodyguards? Was it an accident or did someone do this on purpose? Then it hit her. It didn’t matter. Mickey had been killed. He was dead, gone. The light of her life had been extinguished by a senseless accident in a country half a world away. How could this be? She must be dreaming. It couldn’t be happening. Not like this. She had always been worried about terrorists but this, a construction crane, it just didn’t seem possible. Mickey couldn’t be dead. “No, no, no!” she cried out loud, her head pounding.
Tears filled her eyes and she fell back onto the pillow on her bed. “Mickey. You can’t leave me now. I need you. What I am going to do without you? This can’t be real,” she tried to reassure herself. “It’s just a dream. Wake up! Wake up!” she commanded herself. But nothing changed. She was already wide awake and realized it wasn’t a dream. The strength drained from her body as if it was sucked up in a tornado’s vortex. She felt her heart shatter like a broken mirror. Sorrow engulfed her very being in a heavy shroud. The searing agony hurt worse than anything she could have ever imagined. Tears flowed uncontrollably in an endless current of grief and pain.
Within the next hour she had been contacted by no less than three representatives of Taylor Resource Development. One person called to tell her that the corporation would take care of all the arrangements to bring Mickey’s body home.
Another called with the details of the accident. From what she was told, it all happened very quickly and without warning. It was most definitely an accident and they did not suspect terrorism. At approximately 11 AM, Mickey and Allen successfully closed the deal they were working on and had just entered their limo to return to their hotel. The top of the construction crane snapped a bolt and it fell 40 stories directly onto their vehicle, crushing and killing all inside: the driver, the body guards, and Allen and Mickey. They were killed instantly, never knowing what hit them.
A third corporate man called to assured her that Mickey didn’t suffer and to offer counseling services for her and her family. He also assured her they were going to sue the construction company for negligence and that she would be given a percentage of the monetary judgment. He would be sending out some paperwork that she needed to review and sign on that matter and for the redemption of Mickey’s corporate life insurance policy.
Zoey listened with numb attention. For the first time, she knew what her clients went through when thrown into the harsh, life-changing reality of divorce. She pictured them sitting in her office as she explained the cold, hard facts of divorce court and child custody. She could see the numbness, the emptiness, the hopelessness in their eyes as she spoke. Now it was her turn. It was all like a horrible movie playing out in her head. She couldn’t fully grasp all that was happening and didn’t want to believe it was true. After the last phone call she sat on her bed for a full fifteen minutes, trying to wrap her brain around how her life had just changed and its ramifications for her future.
Gradually she regained her senses. Her analytical mind began to function. It was real, it had happened. She had to deal with it. First things first, she called Annette and told her about Mickey.
Before Zoey could discuss her plans for the office, Annette took control. “Zoey, I’m so sorry. Don’t worry about the office, boss,” she had reassured. “I’ll reschedule all of your appointments. I’ll push everything out a month. If you need more time, I’ll push them out further. There’s nothing here that can’t be put on hold.”
“Thank you, Annette,” Zoey replied, her monotone voice barely above a weak whisper. “I knew I could count on you.”
“Call me if you need anything,” Annette said. “Anything at all. I’ll call you in a few days with an update.” She hesitated a moment and added, “I’m so sorry.” Zoey could hear the emotion welling up in Annette’s voice before she hung up.
As if on automat
ic she called her friends, Carol and Joanne, to tell them the horrible news.
Her next thought was of her friend Fen, Allen’s wife. She wondered if she had been told yet. What was she thinking? Of course Fen would have gotten the same calls she had. She grabbed the phone book from the nightstand drawer and looked for her phone number.
“Webber, ah, here it is,” she said out loud as she cradled the phone against her shoulder and dialed the number with her free hand. The line was busy. She wasn’t surprised. They had a large family, and Zoey was sure that they were all rushing to her side in this time of need. Zoey didn’t have family per se but she had Carol and Joanne. Blood couldn’t bind them closer.
By noon, both friends had arrived to console their ‘sister’ and help her deal with her worst nightmare.
For the next three days, Zoey didn’t leave her room. She couldn’t even get out of bed. She couldn’t eat or sleep. She sobbed uncontrollably and endlessly. Her friends did everything they could to help, but it didn’t matter. She refused to take the prescribed tranquilizers her doctor had offered, saying she wanted to face this without being in a drug-induced fog.
The week it took for Mickey’s body to be returned to the U.S. was the worst. Zoey was in a haze. Her friends made all of the funeral arrangements and Zoey allowed herself to be led around and told when to eat, what to wear, and where to go. With the help of her friends, she picked out the urn that would be Mickey’s resting place after cremation.
