The Outsider

by K'Anne Meinel

  Joy pretended to be going to sleep, even going so far as to put her sunglasses back on as she reclined her seat. She kept her purse on her lap in a way that she would be immediately aware if someone tugged at it, just in case she fell asleep. This allowed her to ignore her fellow traveler and keep her eyes squinted to view him. He obviously thought he had accomplished something.

  She had been aware that her business meeting in Paris had not gone unnoticed. She’d been in heavy negotiations with a firm that worked in third world countries to provide alternate fuel sources. The vast arrays of solar collectors in the Sahara were one such endeavor the company invested in. The countries that this affected were given a percentage of the profits, but the rest of the power was sold to outside sources in bordering countries. It was an excellent concept, helped local economies, and many other countries wanted the same deal. Building these vast arrays was expensive, the startup costs sometimes prohibitive, and then there was always the threat of war. Joy had enjoyed the challenge, had invested quite a sum of money openly, and then secretly bought up stock through her various holdings. She now owned a majority share and could direct which countries they would build these arrays in. Her original suggestion of investing in Australia three years ago would now be implemented and some of the investors weren’t happy. However, when the vote had gone out, amazingly Joy Parker’s idea was now a reality. Joy had known she had been tailed since that time. Stealing her computer wouldn’t do anything; she erased her history as a matter of course. The only thing on it was her musical tastes and nothing more. She backed everything else up on a separate hard drive and this was backed up to a secure cloud company based out of Switzerland that she had invested in. Obviously, someone thought by stealing her laptop they would gain some information or hold on the elusive Ms. Parker. No one had connected her with the multi-millionaire winner of the Powerball from the United States…not yet.

  Joy had gotten used to having her things stolen from time to time. Her pictures, both copies, had slowly disappeared over the years. Only the one of her parents and her, taken shortly before their deaths, still lay in her wallet. It was, however, well-worn and tattered from her constant viewing of those loving faces from so long ago. It was one of the many reasons she was returning home to the states. She wanted more copies of the originals she had in the safety deposit box in Milwaukee. She wanted them with her as she traveled. She had thought, perhaps, her desire to return to the city was some sort of nostalgic reasoning, but she felt just as ‘at home’ in Paris where she had an apartment. It did not, however inspire a sense of ‘home’ and neither did the equally sterile and boring Berlin apartment she had invested in. These were merely places to keep her clothes. There was nothing homey about them. Her friends had complained, and she had listened, that she did not have a place to entertain. Neither place was anything special. The one in Paris, overpriced, just gave her a place to lie her head. The one in Berlin, older and boring, was just a jumping off point to other endeavors.

  She was returning to Milwaukee, the city of her birth, for another reason. When Lenora Abner had set up one of the many trusts, she had helped to fund an expansion of homeless shelters in the greater Milwaukee area. The money, from what she could see, had been wasted. Where it was going was one of the many things she was going to check out. She did not like waste, which was another reason for her flying commercial versus her own plane, which she could well afford. The thought had crossed her mind that someone was stealing from her and, of course, the homeless that were supposed to be helped with this trust.

  Joy glanced thoughtfully through her slitted eyes at her traveling companion. The champagne, or perhaps the second or third one he had asked for, were making him sleepy. That really was not wise on his part. He’d already stolen her laptop, probably was after her purse as well, and a good thief would have stayed aware. Maybe it was a crime of impulse, but she doubted it. She was quite cynical about most people. The kind of money she commanded scared some people, made them envious or greedy. It was why no one knew how much she was actually worth. The many charitable donations she made were not in her name. The trusts, the companies, and the secrecy she kept in her life were to her satisfaction. It was no one’s business who or what she did.

  Joy had seen some real conmen in the years she had been studying her fellow man. It was not always men either. Women sometimes sold themselves to the highest bidder. Several she had known from the two finishing schools she had attended, had gone only to find husbands or make themselves more desirable. To her it was a form of prostitution she would not enter. Some country’s laws were not as liberal as the United States. In fact, some still had outdated laws that meant the day you married your spouse had control of your assets including, but not limited to, your finances. It infuriated her no end. She had secretly donated to causes in a few countries aimed at changing such patriarchal or misogynistic laws. Women and men both needed and deserved equality. Her heat bled for those friends she had made from Mid-Eastern countries who did not expect equality, did not seek it because in their upbringing it was to be expected that they were second-class citizens. Then, contrarily, there were a few breaking out of the stereotypical female roles. She admired them. It was amazing in this day and age how many men controlled not only the purse strings, but the world. She’d seen it time and time again as she conducted business and while she was in school. Still, she kept her mouth shut and allowed those types to think they were superior, knowing they were not, and out-maneuvering them whenever possible.

  She had experienced so-called friends, who, speculating on her wealth from attending such schools as the Chateau or the IVP, had set her up with their brothers, cousins, or best buds. She had experienced varying degrees of friendship, patronizing, as well a few that were hiding their sexuality from their families. Most weren’t interested in just friendship. Some were interested in a relationship, pursuing it to the point of romancing her, but Joy was not sure what was wrong with her. She simply felt nothing as they kissed her, fondled her body, and tried to arouse her. She had thought to see a therapist, but had not gotten around to it yet. She knew she hadn’t any latent feelings from being molested or anything of that nature, so she couldn’t comprehend what could possibly be wrong, other than the fact that she had not met ‘the one.’ Still, she tried time and time again, and she had a few really good friendships as a result. Even one or two she might marry, if she was so inclined, to hide their sexuality from their family. She knew, realistically, that they would have to sign a binding prenup at any rate.

  Joy was sick of being alone. None of her friendships had yielded one that she felt was different from the others. It did not matter if they were a man or a woman, none of them engendered the feeling she was looking for.

  Joy thought back to her early days on the street. She could have turned to prostitution, but sex held no appeal to her. She had learned about masturbation from the girls at boarding school, but this disturbed her for some reason. She had also learned how to kiss from them, trying that out later on the various men she had dated. Still, other than the swapping of spit, she felt nothing and she did not know why. On the street, she just did not like the idea of some random guy or girl touching her body for money. She also knew that having a pimp was a no-win situation. Once she had gotten the job as a bartender she thought she could pull herself out of her abject poverty. Getting her GED, she had thought she was on the right path. She couldn’t have foreseen that she would be thrust back onto the streets. Still, everything happened for a reason and she had won that enormous sum and she would help others as she saw fit.

  Her thoughts returned to the trust that was to provide other homeless people with a place to stay. She had seen no additional shelters pop up. Instead, her monies had gone towards providing blankets and food, but no one would believe the prices she had been quoted in the paperwork she had seen. She wondered whose pockets were being lined and needed to get to the bottom of this. She made inquiries and their replies through Lenora’s of
fice had been given in double-speak. She was certain Lenora, now a partner in the firm, was not aware of where her funds were being administered. Joy knew, with her degree in Business Management and Finance as well as what she had learned from observing people, that she would get to the bottom of this.

  She glanced over once more at her companion and saw, much to her delight that he had indeed fallen asleep. She pushed the button to raise her own seat and did not wake him, so she could assume he was sincerely asleep instead of pretending as she had been. She wondered if she should bother to switch the laptops and then decided not to. Let whoever sent him think they had something. She could always get another laptop, although hers was top-of-the-line and she hated to lose it. Still, the important stuff was backed up on the external drive and that was in her luggage.

  As she watched the movie they offered, she wondered if she should see movies more often. She had missed years of movies and such where her friends had private viewings and did not go to the theater. Their idea of the theater was much grander than her own. Although her own tastes had refined, she enjoyed the occasional concert and had learned to understand and appreciate plays, even opera. But she still wondered if the simple pleasure of going to a movie theater would ever happen again. She had enjoyed going with her parents. They had all been Trekkies and Star Wars fans.

  As Joy thought over the many things she wanted to accomplish once she was back in the states, she found herself analyzing everything. Her self-analyzation was a habit she wouldn’t call bad, but it did influence a lot of what she did in her life. So many of her memories encompassed her parents and the ‘good’ times in her life. The aberrations, the ‘bad’ times, were just nightmares she had lived through. Still, those were critical times in forming part of who she was. The tomboy was long gone, but she still felt comfortable in jeans and a shirt. The skirts, dresses, and gowns she had learned to wear at the finishing school helped her appreciate her femininity; however, these were just tools, as were fine clothing and jewelry. People were disarmed by seeing fine clothes and all too frequently impressed. She now realized, quite rightfully, how often people made assumptions by what she was or was not wearing, how she held herself, or how she conducted herself. She had used it shamelessly in business and hoped to in the future. She wondered what her parents would think of her now. She wished they had lived to see her go to the Chateau and IVP much less the university and private schooling she had taken to better herself. Although, had they lived, she would never have wound up on the streets or even bought that lottery ticket so long ago. Still, she would give it all up to see them again, speak with them, be loved by them.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Joy did not think of her siblings at all. It was not the same in their case. Randall, along with Cecelia, Patricia, and Stewart had employed various detectives to find her over the years. The only successful one had been the one that had traced their sister from Milwaukee to San Antonio. It had been by chance that he had found her in the mall, thinking a teenager was most likely to hang out there. Following her hadn’t been difficult and he’d even found her lawyer, her investment broker, and the condo she’d stayed at. He figured his green car was unnoticeable, but he had been wrong. He’d become too confident to realize that his quarry had seen him and she’d slipped out in the sedan one morning long ago and disappeared. It had taken him a week to realize she was gone as Bernie had driven a couple of clients to and from the condo after Joy’s leave-taking and he hadn’t realized she was not in the car. He tried the airport, but they hadn’t recognized the picture he flashed of her and no amount of bribes had netted any results worth following.

  The second detective had found nothing as well. The third had demanded an up-front fee that had beggared them, promised them outrageous things, but netted no results. The fourth had been too cynical, but promised an outrageous fee if he delivered, had at least gotten them an early copy of Joy’s will before the office had locked up some of their more important clientele’s information and files. The bitterness this early will had engendered had engulfed all four siblings.

  “See, I told you she was unbalanced,” Stewart had raged, already spending the money Joy had won.

  “I was the one that started that rumor,” Randall pointed out, not wishing to be left out of the finger pointing and credit.

  “It doesn’t matter. It’s obvious she doesn’t intend to share,” Cecelia said venomously.

  “It’s not like we shared with her,” Patricia pointed out.

  “Whose side are you on?” Cecelia turned on her.

  “Ours. I think there was enough there that she could have shared with us.”

  They all agreed on that. That many millions should have been shared. They totally overlooked that all of their parents’ estate had been taken from their sister. She’d been left to fend for herself, first in foster care, and later on the streets. It hadn’t been hard to plant in the media’s mind that Joy was unbalanced. Rather than live with her siblings, she chose to live on the streets. Who did that? Only an unbalanced person would choose the streets over her ‘loving’ family.

  “Maybe she changed it, he did say it was the original copy…” Randall mentioned and they lived on that hope.

  The fifth detective was the one who had discovered a Joy Parker living in Europe. A casual acquaintance had been able to help him find that she had lived in Lausanne for over a year. The trail had gone cold after that, but only because Joy had enrolled herself in Institut Château Beau-Cedre. While this was almost a redundant course that she had followed for the year in Château Mont-Choisi, the six-week course at the Institut Château Beau-Cedre had given her an anonymity she hadn’t anticipated needing. Entering into private courses for language and other specialties allowed her to enter the Universität. There, she was found again by the detective, but the years between were a complete mystery.

  “She’s spending that money as though it were water!” Stewart complained as he eagerly anticipated doing the same.

  “Well, it’s her money,” Patricia mentioned, much to her regret. “For now,” she added at the glares she got from her siblings.

  Hiring the detectives had been very expensive. The detectives expected all their expenses to be met including travel, food, and lodging. With very little to go on, the siblings were frustrated.

  “What happens if she dies without heirs?” Randall had even dared to ask to the general room.

  “Well, according to this,” Cecelia slapped the old will, “it goes in some trust.”

  “If it’s the Parker Trust, we’re Parkers, aren’t we?” Stewart asked, not comprehending what it meant.

  “That’s not how it works. If we aren’t named, we don’t get part of the trust.”

  “But she’s our sister!”

  Patricia almost mentioned the fact that they had ignored her when she needed them most, but refrained in time to keep from earning her sibling’s enmity.

  They’d stopped the newspaper ads after all the fake leads it had generated. Besides, it had become too expensive.

  “I told you that wouldn’t work. She doesn’t read the newspaper!” Stewart enjoyed saying.

  “Shut up! I don’t see you coming up with any ideas!” Randall came back with.

  Their arguments began at every family gathering, creating anger among them all including their children, who didn’t understand ‘Aunt Joy’ and her ‘selfishness.’

  Still, all their posturing, discussion, and hiring of people to find their sister was all for naught. Joy had essentially moved on with her life and didn’t consider them worth her while. They had no idea that their worlds were about to innocently collide.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Joy stopped in the restroom one more time and when she came out the stewardess was passing. She stopped her momentarily, explained what had happened earlier, and asked if there was something she could do.

  “We do have the air marshal on board,” she was told.

  “That would be fine,” Joy stated, w
ondering if the man would make a scene. She’d feigned sleep as much as she could, trying to get lost in her thoughts of the years away, but he had been persistent in chatting her up. Her meal had not been peaceful, neither had her feigned sleep as she tried, this time for real, to rest.

  “Would you like me to move you?” the stewardess offered helpfully.

  “Where would you put me?” she gestured as she asked the question. The first-class section was full.

  The stewardess looked to where the woman was gesturing and realized how foolish her automatic question had been. “Well, we do appreciate you putting up with him, especially when you noticed what he had done. I hope you won’t confront him?”

  Joy rapidly shook her head. “No, I expect you and your people to handle the situation, discreetly.” Her diction, her manner of speaking, bespoke of the education she had paid so dearly for.

  The stewardess was relieved. It was rare that there was an incident, especially in first-class, but she would tell the captain, who would make the ultimate decision. She was certain he would have her inform the air marshal. “I’ll let you know,” she promised with a nod, hoping that this passenger was not someone that could get them all in a lot of trouble. The name on the manifest, Joy Parker, didn’t ring any bells. Still, you never knew, and if they paid for first-class, they got first-class treatment. It was a pity the man next to her had turned out to be a thief. She never for a moment thought the tall, leggy, and impeccably-dressed blonde was lying. She took her word at face value that the man had stolen her laptop. She watched as Joy smiled at her and returned to her seat, leaning slightly away from the man who tried to talk to her again.