Charmed Life

by Druga, Jacqueline

  CHARMED LIFE

  Jacqueline Druga

  Charmed Life

  By Jacqueline Druga

  Copyright 2011 by Jacqueline Druga.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any person or persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Thank you. Thank you.” Grace Benson or Cara Mia Benson as her adorning public knew her, stood behind the sheer podium nodding her acknowledgement to the massive cheers of a packed house.

  The gold shimmering dress was a Freddy Lyons exclusive. Freddy Lyons, a virtual unknown, would skyrocket in the designer world after his dress made its debut at such a prestigious event.

  She pulled the strand of long, brown hair from her face. Hair that dangled from its ‘up’ style and Grace gripped the golden Academy Award winning statue in her hand.

  “This is … amazing,” she spoke in awe. “First Best screenplay, then Best Picture, now this. I would never have dreamed ‘Bulging Eyes’ would come so far.”

  “We love you, Cara!” a voice shouted from the audience.

  “I love you, too.”

  Applause.

  “You’re great!”

  “Rise to the occasion!’

  “Wow, are you hot!”

  Grace lowered her head in a blush.

  “Wake up. The world awaits.”

  Grace blinked.

  The shouting voices from the auditorium seemed to suddenly take an electronic tone.

  “You’re great. Rise to the occasion. Wow, you’re hot. Wake up. The world awaits.”

  Reality.

  Grace opened her eyes. She was in the comforts of her own bed. “Man, that sucks.” Rolling over, she silenced the alarm that spewed forth praise to rustle her from her slumber.

  She stretched and shunned the sleepiness before flinging the covers and stepping out of bed.

  Her home wasn’t big. Not at all. Actually, one big room with a kitchen cut out and a bathroom. It was located above a storage garage. But it worked out perfect for Grace.

  Stumbling out of bed, she meandered to the kitchen only to find she was out of coffee.

  Not a problem. She would just get dressed and get some.

  She did. Making herself as morning perfect as she could, she left her home.

  Pulling the door closed, she saw it.

  ‘Notice of Eviction’

  With a gasping, ‘what’, she pulled the note from the door, folded the paper, and marched down her steps.

  It wasn’t far to the main house. Just across the lawn and through the pool area. Grace made great time getting there. After all, she was fueled.

  She delivered a pleasant good morning to Liz, the house woman, en route through the kitchen, and sought out her father.

  Gregory Benson was the epitome of class. In his prime, the striking actor collected more than twelve academy awards. As he aged, he grew more distinguished and admired. His films were classics. Respected in the industry, Gregory had strength about him. People listened to him. Stopped when he walked by. Feared him, maybe a little. He wasn’t afraid to speak his mind or show his beliefs. A lot of Gregory, the man, was projected in the picture of him that sat on the table just outside his office door. In it, he proudly raised two rifles.

  A noted spokesperson for the National Rifle Association.

  As Grace passed the picture table, she noticed.

  One photograph was gone.

  It was the one of her mother and father.

  They had the fairytale marriage. The type that Grace wanted. She swore she’d never get married until she found that type of love.

  Married young, both of her parents rose to stardom at the same time. They defied the typical Hollywood marriage, staying married thirty years.

  Grace’s mother, Caroline, was killed in a traffic accident.

  She knocked once on her father’s office door.

  “Come in,” his deep resonating voice called out.

  Grace opened the door.

  Gregory Benson, tall and stern, not looking anywhere near his age of seventy-five, turned from the window holding a rifle. “Grace.” He smiled. “You’re up early.”

  “You going out shooting?”

  “Was thinking about it. Want to come?”

  “Not today,” Grace said. “Where’s mom’s picture?”

  “I uh …. I felt it was time to take down that photograph.” Gregory rested his rifle on a table, walked around his desk and to Grace, kissing her on the cheek. “Sweetheart. I’m remarried now. I don’t think it’s fair to Suzanne that every time she comes to my office she was to be reminded of my life with your mother.”

  “Uh, hello. Aren’t I a reminder?” Grace asked. “I mean …oh!”

  “What?”

  “Oh!” She stepped back. “She did it.”

  “Who did what?” Gregory asked.

  “Suzanne. She wants to get rid of all reminders so she did this.” Grace held the eviction notice to her father’s view.

  “I did that.”

  “What?” Grace’s eyes widened.

  “Liz and Maxwell are retiring in a few months from their service with me. I thought it would be a nice gift to give them the guest house.”

  “It’s my house.”

  “Grace …”

  “Daddy,” Grace whined. “Where am I supposed to live?”

  “Grace, you can move in here, or possibly, here’s a thought … I don’t know …get your own place.”

  Grace gasped.

  “You are in your thirties.”

  She cringed.

  “You’re financially stable enough. You have quite a nice nest egg from your mom,” Gregory said. “You have a career sort of.” He shrugged. “Get out, work on your craft.”

  “I do work on my craft.” She sulked. “I just been having a hard time landing roles.”

  “Good roles.”

  “Oh my God.”

  “Grace.”

  “I can’t help it, Daddy if bad distribution flops my movies.”

  “Grace, sweetheart.” He laid his hands on her arms. “Bad distributing didn’t make, ‘Monsters from Maui’ flop, the movie was bad.”

  “Was I?”

  “You can’t be good in bad movies. Sorry.” Gregory shrugged.

  “It’s the only roles I get.”

  “It’s the only ones you try for because you hate to not get a part and hate to fail. What happens? The movie fails, you fail. You … you have a double edged sword. You’ve made six movies. Movies I thought they stopped making in the fifties.”

  “I can’t believe how rude you’re being.”

  “I’m being honest. I’m always honest with you.”

  “I can’t give up the house. It was mom’s writing hut. I was thinking of absorbing the inspiration of it and start writing a book.”

  “There you have it.” Gregory smiled. “Your mother started writing at your age. Good call. I think you can pull it out of you. Any idea what the book will be about.”

  “I have a few ideas stirring.” Grace folded her arms.

  “Good.”

  “So does this mean I don’t have to move from the house?” she asked.

  “No, you still have to move from the house.”

  Her mouth dropped open.

  With his index finger, Gregory pushed up on her chin. “It won’t hurt to get away from home. Make a change.”

  “This is all Suzanne, isn’t it?”

  Gregory sighed out. “Do you realize she’s been on her own since she was eighteen?”

  “That’s not very long considering she’s like what, Twenty.”

 
; Gregory gave a stern look.

  “Sorry.”

  Gregory kissed her on the forehead. “Think about it.”

  “Do you want me to leave?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Does Suzanne.”

  “Contrary to what you think, she likes you,” Gregory said. “Maybe Grace, you can learn something from her.

  “Daddy, she was a waitress.”

  “Who earned an honest living. Don’t talk down about her; she’s your stepmother and a good woman.”

  Grace hummed a mumble.

  “You do what you want to do. I just want you to be happy. You’ll never find love or happiness if you don’t get out there and live.”

  Grace took a deep breath. “Maybe you’re right. This was just a bad day for eviction. Freddy and I were going over to Alfonzo’s office so I could break up with him. He’s gonna be my moral support.”

  Gregory smiled. “Finally. What made you make the decision?”

  “Freddy convinced me that he was organized crime.”

  “And the fact that he hangs out with an entourage of well suited thugs didn’t give it away.”

  Grace titled her head.

  “Why don’t you go shooting with me? A good day on the range always makes you feel good.”

  “Maybe afterwards.” She tipped toed and kissed her father on the cheek. “Right now, I’m going to get coffee, get myself ready, rehearse my breakup speech and meet Freddy.”

  Gregory nodded.

  Grace moved to the office door, she paused before leaving. “Daddy, I really will think about the independent thing.”

  “I’m glad.”

  Flashing one more smile, Grace walked out closing he door behind her. She felt better, not so down about the eviction and somewhat geared up for the day ahead of her. After looking at the photo table and grumbling about the missing picture, Grace retrieved her happy composure once again, and moved on.

  +++

  Freddy Lyons had a dream. One day he would be the next Calvin Kline, Bill Blass, Armani, an icon in the fashion industry. Like any struggling dreamer, Freddy did his best to get his creations out there. He made some money off his clothing, not much. His purse designs of strange shapes and colors drew more attention, but that didn’t pay the bills. He made his living off being a telephone psychic.

  A man of average height, Freddy did know how to dress or rather dress others. Though his taste in clothes was flamboyant, he knew how to work the types and styles of outfits that worked well in hiding his odd figure. A figure that was thick in the chest and waist area, and thin from the rear-end down.

  His full face was somehow masked by his long, back hair, which he boosted he wore in the Jesus style. He added definition to his double chin by growing a longer, pointed, demon-like goatee. Claiming visually he was a contrast of good versus evil.

  It was a subtle day. A dress down day for the occasion at hand. A break up was never good.

  He sported his brown, loose fitting, silky pajama style pants, with a longer white and brown embroidered shirt. Small hoop earrings and two chains were his only accessories.

  He was prompt, ready, and waiting for when Grace picked him up outside of his apartment building. He was glad she was punctual, as well.

  “What do you think?” he asked upon sliding in the car. “Like?” He held up his bag. A square, olive bag with brown fur around the top.

  “That’s a great purse,” Grace said.

  “Man bag, Princess, man bag. I have to have some sort of masculinity to me.”

  Grace snickered.

  “So how are you?” he asked. “Are you prepared for the break up?”

  “I know what I want to say.”

  “You’ve practiced.”

  “Yes.”

  “Let me hear.”

  Grace cleared her throat. “Alfonzo, there’s something I have to tell you.”

  Freddy nodded. “Good. Good start.”

  Grace continued. “I want to break up.”

  Silence.

  “And?” Freddy asked.

  “What do you mean, ‘and’?” Grace asked. “There is no ‘and’, that’s it. I want to break up.”

  “He’s going to ask you why.”

  “What am I gonna say? I’m scared to get further involved with you because you’re in the mafia. Which... by the way, I still am not convinced.”

  Freddy chuckled outward once. “How? How can you not be convinced? Do you honestly think a man named Alfonzo Carlotta is a private banker and real estate agent with the way that man speaks?”

  “What’s wrong with the way he speaks?”

  “Princess he uses the word ‘ignorant’ instead of rude. I’m sorry, but a private banker and highly educated man would never find himself in the position where he misuses his vocabulary.”

  “I’ve never heard him do that.”

  “He does,” Freddy said. “He’s the mob. And you’re lucky you’re getting out of there before you dig in too deep. I can see it. A witness to a horrendous murder, a hit mind you, suddenly you’re having to run for your life, hide the rest of your years, live in fear. Or … worse yet. Take the fall for a crime and be stuck in prison wearing a hideous jumpsuit. Orange doesn’t work for you.”

  “I suppose you’re right.”

  “I am. I’m psychic,” Freddy said. “What does your father say?”

  “My father seems happy I am breaking up with him. But, he evicted me today.”

  “How does your father evict you when you don’t pay rent?”

  Grace shrugged. “He wants me to move out of the guest house so the maid and butler can have it as a retirement place.”

  “That’s sounds nice.”

  “Yeah, but that means I have to move into the big house or move out.”

  “Oh! Princess. Live with me. We’ll get a bigger place together. You can help me with my business.”

  “I was thinking of writing a book.”

  “You have that in you,” Freddy said. “You have such a knack with written word. I think it’s a great idea.”

  “What? Moving out? Moving in with you? Being a writer?”

  “All of the above. I had a dream about you last night. I dreamt that you and I got a fresh start. You know my psychic dreams mean something.”

  Grace pulled the car into a parking space. She breathed outward looking through the windshield at the small office building. “Did you have a dream about this moment?”

  “The break up?” Freddy shook his head. “No dream. No need. This is going to be a breeze.” He opened the car door. “Shall we.”

  “Yes.”

  “Wait.”

  “What?” Grace’s hand hovered the car door.

  “You didn’t use lip liner. Your lipstick isn’t crisp.”

  “Shit.”

  “Do you have some?”

  “Uh … please. It’s part of the survival kit. Should I fix it?” She peered into the rearview mirror.

  “Yes. I’ll wait.”

  Grace reached for her purse.

  While Grace checked out her lipstick once more in the car window, Freddy fixed his flip flop.

  “Looks good.” Grace puckered and smacked her lips.

  “Look, Grace.” Freddy pointed to the white van across the street. “Ernesto’s Espresso. What a fantastic name. I never heard of it.”

  “Me either.”

  “Oh, you don’t suppose someone finally came up with the ingenious idea of making an Espresso man?” Freddy asked. “You know, like the ice cream truck. Only when his bells ding you have men and women flying out of their offices screaming …” Freddy waved his hands high in the air. “Espresso man! Espresso man! Wait.”

  Grace laughed. In fact, they both laughed as they approached the door. They stopped laughing when two men in black suits walked by them.

  “Even the patrons are mafia,” Freddy whispered.

  The building was empty as always and they took the elevator to the third floor. Most of which was Alfonzo
’s office.

  Double glass door with Alfonzo’s name set at the end of the hallway. They walked to the door and in.

  Marilee, Alfonzo’s secretary had her head on the desk.

  “Shh.” Freddy held his finger to his lips. “She’s elderly and napping.”

  “He’s in there.” Grace gave an upward motion of her chin toward the open door of Alfonzo’s office.

  Voices carried out.

  Stepping closer they saw three men with Alfonzo. Alfonzo sat behind his desk, a second man stood to his side, and Alfonzo’s father sat on the edge of the desk.

  They could see the back to the third man as he stood before Alfonzo.

  Freddy mouthed the word, ‘meeting’.

  Grace tapped her watch and pointed to the door, mouth, ‘let’s go.’

  “You think you’re here because we owe you,” Alfonzo said.

  After a quick glance to Freddy, Grace peeked in the office. Was he speaking to her?

  “No,” Alfonzo shook his head. “Times up.”

  Alfonzo’s father spoke up, “You have used your time unwise. You made promises... what else did you expect us to do. But really, the amount of money is not a lot.”

  “Yes, yes.” The man said. “It isn’t. Twenty-thousand.”

  “We wouldn’t miss the amount,” Alfonzo said. “We could write it off if you can’t pay.”

  Alfonzo’s father added. “And from here on in, you won’t be able to pay.”

  The second man standing next to Alfonzo pulled out a gun.

  “No. no.” The man shook his head. “Please.”

  Grace almost screamed, but Freddy quickly covered her mouth and pulled her away from the door.

  Four shots rang out. In their view, they watched the man drop.

  Freddy spun her around, and as he did, he saw the river of blood pouring from under Marilee’s desk.

  Both Grace and Freddy silently screamed, shaking their bodies and hands.

  “Some one out there?” Alfonzo asked.

  With a whispering, ‘Run’, Freddy yanked Grace and they took off.

  They didn’t take the elevator. They ran, without stopping, top speed, down the stairs, all three flights, out of the lobby, and into the car.

  Both car doors slammed at the same time.