His escape plan. Teflon Steve never lost money. As far as he was concerned it was a fair deal all round, and he had saved his partners’ collective arses on the way through.
And now here Steve was, after the event, losing ground to slimy Tony.
“That’s all your problem mate, not mine,” replied Tony, bitterness and scepticism in his voice. “What about my clients I’ve tipped into the deal?”
“They’re safe, Tony. We . . . sorry, slip of the tongue . . . the Chinese, own Stage Two and beyond. Part of the contract of sale is that everyone who’s signed up for Stage One will be okay.”
But you’re not, you fat dirtbag. You’re out of the equation after this. Steve hadn’t given Tony a second thought when he was negotiating the China deal.
“And my commission? You guys owe me close to three hundred grand by my calculations. When do I get paid? You’re not going to make me get nasty, are you? It’d be a court case you wouldn’t want to have. I’ve got dirt on you guys that you wouldn’t believe.”
Steve sensed Tony’s body language: the bastard’s threatening me! He’s shaping up for a fight.
“Tony, the Chinese have taken over the whole project.” Steve conveniently left out Paul and Sean’s demise, and of course his own significantly increased ownership. This part of the takeover was very hush-hush; certainly not for Tony’s ears.
“It took all of my negotiating skills, but Stage One presales are safe and your commission will be paid out when settlement occurs. So you need to keep riding your clients to ensure they follow through and pay up. But from here on in, you’ll be dealing with our new Asian owners.”
“It better be as you say Steve, or I warn you, I’m not someone to be crossed. I’ve got contacts in very low places. So low, I’ll have to drag some of them screaming out of the sewers if I need to contract their services.”
Tony allowed a timely pause before continuing.
“You understand what I’m saying?”
“Don’t threaten me, Tony. My bad guys are worse than yours, trust me,” replied Steve nastily. He wasn’t going to be intimidated by the vertically challenged upstart in front of him.
“Now chill. Change the topic before it gets ugly. Did you hear that the poor Indian kid Rishi died?”
“Yeah, how could I miss it. I do read the papers you know,” said Tony, belligerently. “But so what? Why’d you bring that up? Trying to get the sympathy vote?”
“No. Just thought you might like to know.”
“So what are you doing about it? Nothing, I bet. And don’t try and tell me you are, because I can read you, Steve. He’s dead, gone to his Maker, and you, my man, have moved on. Am I right?”
“Well . . . ah, we were going to help out his family, but there’s no mileage in that now, so yeah, I’ve moved on.”
“And Paul and Sean still wanted to help him out, even though you guys were going out the back door. Am I right?” If nothing, Tony knew his adversaries.
“Yeah, but that’s got nothing to do with you.”
Steve was starting to feel slightly uncomfortable . . . again . . . so he decided it was time to leave. But before he left, it was time for the kill shot.
“So you realize that you won’t be able to sell any more units for us. The Chinese intend on selling them all to nationals in China. So that’s it between us. We’re finished.”
Deathly silence.
“I hear what you say, Steve. But just remember, I know where you all live, okay. And that includes your kids. I’ll be expecting a fat check in the mail in what, three, maybe four months? For your family’s sake, please don’t cross me. It won’t be pretty.”
The bastard’s threatening me again, thought Steve. But this time he held back and let Tony’s veiled threat slip to the keeper. In his mind he’d already won.
No more Tony. And just maybe Tony might get paid what he was owed, if he was lucky. But then again, shit happens.
Steve smugly stared down Tony with an icy gaze that would frighten the Devil himself.
With that Tony picked up his briefcase and left. No goodbye, no thank you, no looking back. On his way to his car he pushed the speed dial on his mobile.
“Hi Lois, it’s Tony. Sasha in yet?”
He needed some tension relief.
“Mum, I feel like I’m being followed. Like, there’s someone there, then I look around and there’s nothing. It’s like, so weird,” said Cait, off-loading to her mother. They were sitting in their living area, usual position, Jools on one side of the kitchen bench, Cait on the other. The nutty smell of freshly roasted coffee lingered on the crisp morning air drifting in from outside through the open door to their courtyard.
Jools’s spiritual antennae immediately picked up on what Cait was saying.
“You sure no one’s stalking you?”
“Yeah Mum, the feeling usually happens when I’m alone. You know, walking through a park or down an empty street.” Cait stopped talking for a pensive moment. “I haven’t told you this before Mum, but I was sitting having a coffee the other day, by myself, and I had the feeling that I wasn’t alone. Like he was actually there, sitting beside me.”
“Cait, you just said ‘he.’ Who’re you talking about? You said you were alone.” Jools was probing without trying to seem overly intrusive.
“No Mum, I was by myself. Did I really say ‘he?’ Must have been a Freudian slip.”
“Cait, maybe it wasn’t. Think about it. Who do you feel was with you?” Jools‘s intuition was telling her who it was, but Cait had to confirm it.
“Well, you may think this is a bit crazy, but Mum . . . it was Rishi. He’s there sometimes. I can feel him. I just know it’s him. Then when he sat next to me in the café, the feeling was so forceful that I looked up, and I sort of saw him. He was on the seat next to me. Then I realized it can’t have been him and he disappeared, bang . . . gone. Rishi’s dead.”
Jools took in her daughter’s aura and it was glowing as she spoke about Rishi. Yes, she was sad that Rishi had been taken from her, but she was coming out the end of the grieving process and arriving at acceptance.
“What did you see when Rishi was next to you? Can you try and describe it for me? Roll back the thought in your head and replay the moment.”
Cait cupped her coffee in her hands, enjoying the warmth as her fingers wrapped around the mug, bringing it to her lips and taking a sip, pleasant thoughts of Rishi invading her mind.
“Rishi was there Mum, but not there at the same time, if you know what I mean. Like, he wasn’t solid—I could sort of see right through him. And the air around him was shimmering, as if I was looking through a moving mist. It was a silvery-yellow color.”
Memories of Rishi etched into her brain on that day were like the sea gently washing up on a sandy shore, as they almost imperceptibly began drifting into her consciousness, one after the other.
“And there was a warmth that seemed to glow from him. I could feel it as it crept across the table and wrapped me up.”
Jools let Cait get lost in her thoughts as they carried her back to the moment.
“Cait, it’s The Gift. It took you across to the Otherworld again. Like when you were holding Rishi’s hand in intensive care. Do you remember that feeling?” Jools was playing the role of mentor, introducing Cait to the powers of the Otherworld. This was the second time in as many months that The Gift had opened up to her daughter. Jools knew that once this started it would be like a building, incoming tide that Cait could choose to ignore and it would always be there on the edge of her consciousness, but never fully manifesting, or she could embrace it, and the Otherworld would gradually expose itself to her.
The Gift was a vestige from another time, hidden in Cait’s DNA like a secret code, its roots reaching back to a time when a sixth sense meant survival and power. It had been passed through the maternal line over generations past, almost since time began. Jools was introduced to The Gift by her own mother at about the same age as Cait but had chosen to n
ot fully embrace it, only scratching the surface of its powers of insight and perception.
Regardless, Jools recognized that Cait was now at the beginning of her own journey into the Otherworld, and at some stage in the not too distant future, Cait would have to be introduced to The Gift and all its powers. But with the trauma of Rishi’s death and having to come to grips with living a life without her first soul mate, it was too early for Cait to embrace, let alone understand all that The Gift had to offer. So Jools let it slide for the moment, to return to Cait’s induction at a later stage when she was more open and receptive to the parallel world she would be initiated into.
“Mum, you’ve talked about this ‘Gift’ thing before. Please, you know I think it’s all a bit of your baby boomer, spiritual bells and smells stuff. Really, it’s not for me.”
Cait was in a dichotomy. Deep down she knew that Rishi was trying to contact her but her rational, logical self was denying his presence as just being”in her mind.” After all, as far as Cait was concerned, she’d just finished a psychology degree, and hallucinations like she had recently were just a normal part of the grieving process.
Maybe.
“One day, when the time’s right, The Gift will open up to you, and I’ll be there to help and guide you, but not now Cait. All I’ll say is, as much as I know you’re finding it hard to rationalize, just open up to what you’re experiencing and let the feelings naturally flow. Rishi will show himself to you again when you’re ready to see his Otherworld presence.”
Cait looked at Jools through unconvinced eyes, but at the same time, a part of her wanted to believe what she had just heard. It was all too far-fetched at this stage to try and comprehend, so she parked the thought in a hidden, but accessible part of her mind . . . just in case she needed to recall it in the future.
“Thanks, Mum. I’ll take it on board. Maybe it actually was Rishi, or maybe it was my mind playing tricks. Whatever, I’ll do what you say and just go with the flow on this one. Let it manifest or die, depending on what plays out.”
“Smart move, Cait. Let’s talk more about this when you’re ready. You’ll know when the time’s right. In the meantime, please don’t block The Gift out and deny its existence. Simply go with the flow.”
“Would you like another cup of chai?” inquired Divya.
Cait looked up from where she was sitting on the leather lounge in Divya’s family room and saw nothing but a vision of slow decay. The cold sadness in Divya’s eyes was portentous of a resigned acceptance of her son’s death. As their eyes briefly locked, Cait saw nothing but total devastation and unhappiness behind an outward persona that was only just coping.
Cait didn’t need to invoke the powers of The Gift to know that Divya was dying inside from a broken heart. Before his death, Rishi had been the most important thing in Divya’s life. She doted on him and regarded him as being more than her son. Instead, in her mind he was destined to end up as a savior of humanity: a healer and teacher who was going to make a difference in the world. She knew; a fortune-teller in Delhi had once told her. Then Rishi’s life was violently ripped from him in a senseless act of violence, leaving behind a grieving mother, a distraught father, and a bereft younger sister.
And Cait of course, who lost her soul mate.
“Yes, please,” replied Cait. She was feeling slightly uncomfortable and at a loss for words, and the tea would provide a distraction. Rishi had appeared to Cait in a dream one night . . . or was it a vision? . . . and he guided her ever so gently to his mother, who in her astral state resembled a withering tree, slowly dying from an all-consuming sadness rotting from the inside out. The dream had played on Cait’s mind afterward, nagging at her to listen to it. A few days later, in a moment of concern, Cait rang Divya to see how she was coping, and the next thing she knew she was driving out to Mount Waverley to visit.
“Divya, I miss Rishi so much. I just can’t imagine what you must be going through. He was my best friend at university. Please, just tell me about him. You know, the silly little things. The way he used to rake his fingers through his jet-black hair and then look you intently in the eye before he would ever say anything important. That sort of thing. We can both miss him together for a while as we say goodbye to his memory.”
Cait kept Rishi’s visitations and apparition to herself. This was Divya’s time, not hers, so the focus had to be on how they both knew him, loved him, and missed him. Besides, Cait had parked her recent contact the other day with Rishi at the coffee shop as being private, and somehow not real; it certainly wasn’t of this world.
And her latest contact with Rishi had only been in a dream, so that wasn’t real either . . .
A lonely tear rolled down Divya’s cheek as she opened up about her lost son, bringing him to life as if he was still present. Since Rishi’s death, life had been a continuum of opposites for her, wavering between light and dark, hot and cold, awake and asleep, and she found Cait’s company and obvious feelings for her son moving. Divya had tried to get enthused about her husband and daughter, but mothers and sons have a special bond and there were days when she felt there was nothing left to look forward to anymore, only sameness and monotony.
Take me, please, Divya would pray to her Maker in her more desperate moments. I want to join my beautiful Rishi in Paradise, because that’s certainly where he’s resting for eternity.
Since Rishi’s death, it was as if the pages of Divya’s life calendar had been picked up by the wind and scattered to the four corners of the earth. But now Cait was here, bringing with her a reason to go on.
“Cait, I’m so pleased that you called me. It’s a breath of fresh air to chat with someone who obviously truly loved my son,” said Divya, her eyes welling once again with a waterfall of tears that would soon break free and flood down her pale cheeks.
“I can see why Rishi used to talk about you with such glowing praise,” said Divya quietly as she served Cait her chai, the heady smell of cinnamon and cloves hanging in the air.
“Thank you so much for coming out to see me today.”
“Divya, yes, I loved your son very much too. He was the best friend a girl could ever have. Let’s share his memory so he lives on in our hearts.”
Cait was being told—guided by an unseen force—that she was the cosmic catalyst that would see Divya jump off the treadmill of desperation and despair and move forward to a happier place.
“I’d really like to catch up again sometime. Would that be okay with you? What about meeting uptown for a coffee next time you’re out and about. Maybe one day next week?”
Cait had just taken the first step in her new life. As much as she refused to admit it, Jools’s powers of insight and compassion were starting to manifest through her daughter.
The Gift was taking over Cait’s life direction.
The butterfly effect following Rishi’s death was felt far and wide, touching the lives of all who knew him. Some fared better than others, but everyone was affected. For Bec, the subtle shockwaves caused by his passing were a wake-up call, acting as a catalyst that enabled her to throw off the constraints of the past and finally show her real persona to the world. As they penetrated her psyche and worked their way into her innermost self, a hidden personality, newfound confidence, and strength of character broke free in a quantum leap, exposing a new woman. Like a dormant desert flower that after a long drought finally blossoms when the gift of water comes its way, Bec suddenly grew in leaps and bounds, taking everyone by surprise except Sean and Jools.
Almost overnight, Bec gained a self-confidence to rival that of the feminists of old. After fifty-one years of being suppressed, she’d finally thrown off the shackles that had been holding her back all those years. It was as if she had suddenly discovered the key to the secret of the gaining of wisdom. Bec had arrived, slamming the door shut on her past self as she enthusiastically bolted forward to greet the world with an improved attitude.
The song “I’m Free” constantly shouted within the confine
s of her mind. So much so that she downloaded The Who’s song from their 1970s album Tommy to her iPod and played it constantly to herself, almost as a reminder of the barrier she had just smashed through.
In fact, the words”I’m free” became Bec’s mantra; her personal affirmation that she used to keep herself positive and on track. She knew now that she could, possibly for the first time in her life, finally face Esther with a confidence she’d never had before; she was no longer a second-class citizen.
Bec was finally a whole person, but this time with an assertiveness that would put Germaine Greer to shame.
“Rebekah, how can you marry out of the faith?” Esther had said to her so many times over the years. “I did and look what good it did me, and you’re the last one who can keep our bloodline going. How can you marry that klutz? Most of our family were killed during the Holocaust. We need to repopulate, not dilute! He’s just a common Irish laborer.”
But finally after all this time, no more being on the receiving end of her mother’s acerbic and critical tongue. Bec recalled studying Shakespeare at school in England, 3 Henry VI: The smallest worm will turn being trodden on. “And I’m that worm Mum, so from now on I’m equal to Naomi, and not a failure!” Bec said to the person staring back at her in the mirror one morning.
“Bec, hello, you there or am I talking to a cardboard cutout?”
It had been a busy week and to wind down, Sean and Bec were out having a bite to eat at the local Asian. Sean had gone to the bathroom and Bec had drifted off to a world of new opportunities and expanded horizons.
“Ah, sorry Sean. Off with the fairies thinking about the old me.
“Was I really so subservient? Looking back on my life, everyone has just walked over me. Took me for granted. I almost feel embarrassed for what I was.”
The Cait Lennox Box Set Page 26
