Filthy Rich

by Virna DePaul

  “No. I’ll send my driver. That’s not negotiable, Cara. It’s late. Either I take you to your mother’s myself or you go with my driver.”

  “Fine! You might as well take me yourself since your driver will just report back to you anyway.”

  “Report what? Where are you going?”

  “To Suffolk County. Windorne Care Home. And we’re not going to see my mother. We’re going to see my brother.”

  —

  Branden walked with Cara down a long hallway. Windorne Care Home was a residential facility—like an apartment complex but with services for those who had special needs. It was very nicely decorated, with big open windows that faced the east and probably picked up the rays of the sun during the day quite nicely. They entered an airy day room with a large-screen plasma television and big, plush couches. The tile floor was new and shiny. There were lush green plants in pots that sat around the room and pictures of colorful flowers and birds on the walls. It looked like a comfortable and safe haven.

  Cara turned to him. “Can you wait here? I—I’m not sure what kind of state he’s in, and if he sees you…”

  Branden nodded. “I’ll stay out of sight.”

  She walked to another hallway and past two big linen carts. It looked like staff had been busy distributing the laundry before they got called away. She stopped about halfway down the hall, then glanced at him before entering a room.

  It was quiet for the most part; he could hear the occasional snore or the sounds of soft crying here and there. It reminded him that even as nice a facility as this one was, it was still a facility for those who couldn’t care for themselves, and that would always carry a hint of sadness.

  Ever since she’d received the call from her mother, Cara had tried to hide it, but Branden had sensed the sadness in her. She was tired. She was here for her brother, but she needed help, and he felt like an idiot sitting here. He was curious about her brother even as he wanted to respect her wishes to not be seen.

  He walked past the laundry carts and by the open door of her brother’s bedroom. Staying out of sight, he peeked inside. She was sitting next to a young man who was reclining in bed. Seeing that the room next door was empty, Branden slipped into it and then into the adjoining bathroom; the door into the next room was slightly ajar. From there, he was just able to hear Cara’s conversation with her brother.

  “I understand that you must have a good reason for refusing your meds, Glenn, but I would understand all of this better if you would tell me what it is.”

  “I took the melting tablet, the one that acts fast, when you called to say you were coming. But I didn’t take the other meds. Besides, you’ll just say I’m imagining it,” the young man said.

  Branden knew from his investigation that Cara had a brother named Glenn. He was five years older than her and as far as Branden had known, he lived with her mother. There’d been no medical reports to indicate mental illness, but his treatment could have been done privately, keeping it off the insurance information.

  “I promise to keep an open mind,” she said.

  “You won’t believe me. No one here believes me. You never believe me.”

  “That’s not true. I’ve believed you lots of times.”

  “Name one,” he said.

  “When you told me my high school boyfriend, Denny, was a cyborg, do you remember that? I believed you and I dumped him right away.”

  Branden heard Cara’s brother laugh.

  “I may have been wrong about that one.”

  “Are you kidding me? I could be married to Denny and have four kids by now!”

  “Cyborg kids,” he said with another laugh. “When I don’t take my meds, my ideas can get a little…farfetched. But really, I’m not making this one up.”

  “Okay then, tell me what’s going on, big brother.”

  “I see Dad,” her brother blurted out.

  “You see Dad? Where?” she asked.

  “He sits with me at night when I feel lonely. He doesn’t say anything, he just sits there. I don’t like to be alone. Dad always knew I didn’t like to be alone. Remember when I was little he would sit on the end of my bed until I fell asleep, and then if I woke up, he would come back?”

  Branden peeked through the crack in the bathroom door. He could see just a sliver of Cara’s beautiful face as she smiled.

  “I remember,” she said. “He chased a few monsters out of my closet at night, too. He was a great dad.”

  “Yeah, he was the best,” her brother said.

  “It’s nice that Dad is here with you when you’re scared or alone, Glenn. I don’t have a hard time believing that. What does it have to do with your medications, though?”

  “When I take them, I get too sleepy and I sleep all night. I don’t get to see him, Cara. I miss him so much.”

  Branden could tell by the crack of his voice that her brother was crying. He saw Cara lean in and put her hand on the side of his face gently.

  “Listen to me, Glenn, okay? Daddy is always with us.” She took her other hand and put it on his chest. “He’s right there.” Then she pointed at his head and said, “And he’s right there, in your memories. Anytime you want to see him, day or night, all you have to do is close your eyes and call him up. That’s what I do.”

  Glenn looked at his sister with surprise. “You see him, too?”

  “Yes, but I don’t see him with my eyes, I see him with my heart. Your imagination has always been better than mine though, big brother. Your mind and heart are probably just projecting an image of him at the end of your bed so you feel safe and protected. You have to remember that the meds are for other things, a lot of things that you do want gone, Glenn, right? Like thinking that I’m dead and your nurse killed me. I can’t imagine how awful that must have been for you. But look, I’m here, and I’m real.”

  “Ow,” her brother said.

  Cara giggled and said, “I was only pinching you so that you knew I was real.”

  “Yeah, right,” he said with a smile. “But I get what you’re saying. I can lose the ugly thoughts and keep the good ones, right?”

  “Right, big brother. You’re pretty smart; you must get that from me.”

  He laughed and said, “I think I got it from Dad, but if that makes you feel better…”

  “Will you go back on your meds now?”

  “I will,” he said. “I promise. But for a few minutes will you just sit with me?”

  “Sure,” she said.

  “Cara?”

  “Yes, Glenn?”

  “Will you say the poem for me?”

  “Sure,” she said again. “Close your eyes and rest your head, okay?”

  Glenn laid his head back into the pillow on the recliner and closed his eyes.

  It was obvious how much her brother meant to her, and something sharp and hard tugged at Branden’s chest. Because in realizing how much Cara’s brother meant to her, he realized how much Cara meant to him.

  She started speaking in a low melodic voice about darkness wrapping him in a tight embrace, the moon shining rays on his sleepy face, and him sleeping peacefully as the stars kept their nightly vigil.

  Branden felt himself relaxing. His own eyes drooping.

  God, how wonderful would it be to be held in this woman’s arms every night as he drifted to sleep, knowing she would be there when he woke every morning?

  Branden heard movement in the hall. Reluctantly, he slipped out of the bathroom and back into the empty room. Seeing Cara with her brother was a firsthand example of how much loyalty and love Cara had to offer someone.

  Before he could stop himself, the question formed in his mind: could Cara ever love him?

  He shut down the thought—the yearning—immediately.

  Love was a word he’d permanently rejected from his vocabulary, except when thinking of his little sisters. Love wasn’t part of who he was. Never had been, never would be.

  Love made you stupid. Made you blind. Made you see others in a wa
y that wasn’t true—wasn’t real. Romance movies weren’t real—the shit in the papers and magazines about true love wasn’t real, either. Love wasn’t real. Yeah, his sister Rachel called him a cynic, but he figured realist was the right word.

  Because his mother had proven how idiotic “love” was, time and time again, falling in love with men who treated her like shit. Treated her son and daughters like less than shit. Half his stepfathers had beaten the hell out of him, the other half had beaten the hell out of his mom. One had even beaten the girls. And still his mother would cling to their ankles as they tried to walk out the door, suitcase in hand, kicking off the sobbing woman who kept proclaiming her love over and over and over again. Love was about being weak and needy and desperate.

  But Cara, gently whispering poetry to her brother, soothing his agitation and sending him off to sleep, had expressed love through each word. Through the lilt and tone in her voice. She hadn’t needed anything from her brother. Had simply loved him.

  But love couldn’t be that simple…could it?

  Chapter Nineteen

  Outside Windorne, Cara shuddered and hunched against the brush of cool wind as Branden opened his car door for her. “You take on too much,” he told her.

  Cara folded her arms against her chest, refusing to enter the car. “You don’t get to say that to me. You’re my boss and my…lover.” But maybe he was more than that. Maybe he was becoming her friend. Because he’d certainly acted like it, given he’d accompanied her here. Whatever she labeled him, she’d been grateful for his company. In a way, he’d made her feel less alone. He’d made her feel like if she needed him, he’d be there for her.

  “You hesitated before you said the word lover. Why?”

  Of course he wouldn’t let that slide. She sighed. “I guess…I don’t really know what we are, and that makes the rules blurred.”

  Branden put his arm around her, but she noticed he didn’t say anything about what they “were.” Finally, he just said, “Wanna go get a cup of coffee?”

  “It’s midnight.”

  “Are you going to turn into a pumpkin?”

  She smiled and shook her head. “I guess you have a point. Let’s go get some coffee.”

  After they both climbed into the car, Branden drove them a few blocks down the street and around the corner to an all-night diner. After the waitress filled their cups and walked away, Branden said, “What’s wrong with your brother?”

  She put her cup down, hesitated, then said, “When I was in high school, our family went through some…serious upheaval. Then my dad died, my mom had a nervous breakdown, and Glenn and I were doing our best to hold it all together. We’d both gotten jobs and everything was…well, none of it was good, but it was fine, you know? Then one day Glenn goes to work at the burger stand in our town and we get a call from his boss. He was arrested because he was standing nude in the drive-through window right at lunch hour.”

  “Nude? That must have been a surprise to hear.”

  Cara gave a hollow laugh. “I was only fifteen. When we went to the police station to pick him up, the policeman told us that he had been committed on a 5150 for a psychiatric hold and evaluation because he told them that ‘the voices’ told him to do it. He spent about a week in a psychiatric hospital and they sent him home on meds. That was his first psychotic break.”

  “Schizophrenia?” he guessed.

  She nodded. “Yeah, only it’s really strong. They call it ‘treatment-resistant.’ He does marginally well when he’s on meds, but marginally is the operative word—he can’t function completely on his own, although he’s tried several times. My mom couldn’t take care of him, so we found the assisted-living facility for him. For the most part, he does well and he’s happy there, but the illness sometimes breaks through the meds and he occasionally has another episode. I try to see him every weekend, but it doesn’t always happen.”

  “Wow, so you take care of him and it sounds like your mother, as well. That’s a lot on your plate.”

  She shrugged and said, “Everyone does what they have to, I guess. They’re family; you can’t turn your back on them.”

  “I understand that,” he said.

  “You mentioned all your sisters and seem happy when you talk about them, but you don’t mention your mom, just that she’s been married a lot. Do you have a good relationship with her?”

  “I have as much of one as I can,” he said. “When a mother spends most of her time looking for a new husband or trying to get rid of the loser she has, the kids get a little lost in the shuffle. But I love my sisters. I stay in touch with them and help them as much as I can. The poor girls actually have it worse than me; they all had criminals or abusers or alcoholics or druggies for fathers. Mine was just absent.”

  “And Davies?” she said, surprising him.

  “He and my mom didn’t have any kids, thank God.”

  “I saw a post about you on Gawker that had a yearbook photo of you. Underneath that photo it said Branden Davies. You changed your name?”

  “With every new father before I was eighteen. My mother insisted. I knew they weren’t going to be around long enough for the ink to dry on the court papers…but she believed differently. I changed my name back to the one I was born with, not because I was trying to hide anything but because it seemed most honest. And, of course, the less association I could have with Davies, the better.” He hesitated, then took her hand. “I’m sorry about what he did to your family.”

  She shook her head. “Don’t be. It’s not your fault. I just hope justice is served one day. Sometimes I even wish I could be the one to dish it out.”

  “I don’t blame you for wanting revenge, but Davies isn’t someone you want to mess with, Cara.” He looked at his watch. It was almost 2 a.m. “You ready to head home?” he asked.

  Home. He said it like his penthouse apartment really was her home. Sometimes he acted like he wanted it to be. Part of her wanted it, too. Not because his home was swanky, but because he was there. And when they were together, Cara felt more at peace.

  Was it possible that despite her difficulty accepting it, Branden wanted more from her than just a temporary sexual relationship?

  “Sure,” she said. “Only…We’ve talked a lot about our pasts. Not really our present or future. What is this between us, Branden? What are we doing?”

  Branden took in a deep breath and let it out before saying, “I’m not sure, Cara. I know that I’ve never felt so strongly about a woman before. I know that every day I discover something else about you that makes me want to be around you. You’re beautiful, that was the first thing, but now I know you’re brilliant and kind and hardworking. Responsible and loyal and, seriously, better in bed than any other woman could possibly dream of being.”

  She liked that he seemed as confused by their relationship as she was, but that he was still willing to admit he felt something for her, even if he couldn’t quite say what that was. Cara laughed and said, “Maybe we should start a mutual admiration society.”

  “Do you admire me?”

  “How can I not?”

  “I want more time with you. Outside of work. How’d you like to stay at the big house this weekend?”

  “A few of my best fantasies have involved that place,” she admitted.

  “And was I in any of those fantasies?”

  “Baby, you were the star.”

  —

  Branden drove them out to his mansion on Long Island. When they got there, he told her he was going upstairs to draw her a bubble bath and she could sit in it as long as she wanted to and let the stress wash away. “There’s wine in the kitchen. Make yourself at home,” he said before he went upstairs.

  Cara poured herself a glass of wine and wandered around the massive house. She’d been there the night of the party, of course, but she took her time drawing it all in again, including the thirty-foot-high ceilings and crystal chandeliers, as well as the artwork that she knew were originals and should probably be ha
nging in a museum somewhere. The vases in the house were all filled with fresh flowers and one whole side of the house opened up to huge windows that faced out over the ocean.

  She was staring at the stunning view when Branden walked up behind her and kissed her neck. “Hmm,” she said.

  “Enjoying the wine?”

  “And the view. It’s breathtaking. If I lived here, I don’t think I could bear to leave.”

  “If you lived here, I’d feel the same way.”

  She sucked in a breath and turned to face him. He kissed her and she marveled that the touch of his mouth on hers was even more breathtaking than the ocean view.

  “Your bath is waiting,” he said when he pulled away. Taking her hand, he led her up the stairs and into the bathroom.

  Cara gasped aloud when she walked into the room. Branden had dimmed the lights and lit several beautifully scented candles. He had soft jazz music playing from speakers that were built into the walls around the room, and the deep, oversized black marble tub was filled with water and bubbles. Next to that was a shower the size of most ordinary bathrooms and it was entirely made of glass. One wall was completely mirrored and the other wall held a marble vanity and dressing stool. The black marble commode was hidden in a separate room off to the side.

  “This is amazing, Branden,” she said.

  “I’m glad you like it. I left a towel and a robe here for you.”

  “You’re not going to join me?” she said with a pout.

  “I didn’t say that. Why don’t you slip in and I’ll stay here in case you need any help.”

  Cara smiled and started stripping off her clothes. She looked directly into Branden’s eyes as she took each piece of clothing off and tossed it to the floor. When she was completely nude, she said, “Maybe a little help into the tub?”

  The tub was huge and sunken. There were two marble steps that led up on the outside. Branden took her hand as she stepped up to the top and held on to it as she entered the water. Sinking down into the warm, soft bubbles she moaned in pleasure.

  “Is the temperature okay?” he asked.