Authors: Elizabeth Lowe
The
cool breeze, tugging at his hair, its aroma, clean, and fresh, were bringing
newborn leaves to life.
He could hear
the sound of rabbits' feet scurrying to find cover. Birds as they flitted in
and out of the dancing branches.
A scene
filled with tranquility.
Sold, he
decided anxiously dialing the realtor from his cell phone.
“Mr.
Johnson, that particular property has been on the market for a long time.
The owners are asking a phenomenal
price.
They will not negotiate, but as
you can see, there are very few in the area matching its beauty.
It is quite unique.”
“Mr. Preston, I did not ask for a
sales pitch.
I have no time to waste
listening to your gibber.
Either it's
available or not.”
“Well, it's available alright, but
you may not be able to afford it, sir, you see it’s . . . “
“If
you wish to sell the property you will deliver the papers to me by five this
afternoon at which time I'll write you a check in full payment.
My attorney's will tend to the closing
immediately.
I wish to occupy it by this
weekend.
Understood?”
“Yes, sir, whatever you say, sir,
where do I deliver the papers, sir?”
Flinging
his head back, Brad laughed heartily.
Never had he made such an impetuous purchase that he was certain would
cost a fortune, but, wasn't that why he worked so hard?
Wasn't this one of the dreams he had as a
young man, to be rich, powerful, manipulative?
Feeling buoyant, he returned to work with a refreshed attitude.
Brad
had given no thought to Southampton in over a year.
God only knew what condition it was in,
despite paying dearly for its maintenance.
Excitement replaced his hesitancy when he realized Thanksgiving was the
Thursday after Keller's party.
He had
never spent a holiday in his own home.
Visits since its' purchase were few and brief due to his extravagant
impetuosity demanding he work even harder to replenish the funds it drained.
While
daydreaming, intervening thoughts of Bernice surfaced.
Dear God, he never told her she was going to
the Keller's party with him.
The
thoughts of confronting her tied knots in his stomach.
CHAPTER 26
“NOVEMBER,
2010”
What
was taking place within the four walls of Bernice's apartment substantially
muffled New York’s daily symphony.
She
was assaulting every inch of the cramped living room fuming, “Southampton!
Me!
I
couldn't!
I won't!
I would feel out of place.
I don't have a God damn thing to wear.
I won't rub elbows with snobs.
Jesus, they're boring.”
“You promised me, Bernie.
Remember, anything, anytime.”
Swirling to face him raising her
middle finger, “People make ridiculous promises in moments of weakness.
Your soul is going to rot in hell, Brad
Johnson.”
Cautiously
Brad continued, his features radiating little boy charms.
“Call Sam, tell her you will spend the day
with her shopping for a dress.
Get to
know one another.
She is probably just
as upset as you are.
I want you to see
my home.
After the party you can stay
and have Thanksgiving dinner with me, with us, like a family.”
Thanksgiving with family, when was the last
time, Brad reflected?
“You'll enjoy
yourself, Bernie.
Besides, it will get
you away from this hell hole.”
Laughing sardonically,
stopping her pattering bare feet Bernie chattered on.
“You actually want me to spend a week with
you, Sam and Ted in the same house, when I hate all of you at this moment?
Are you insane enough to believe we would all
wind up comfy cozy in the same bed?” Suddenly the thought tickled her
insides.
There was nowhere else she
would rather be with the hunk standing before her, but she couldn't let on.
Pouncing upon the couch cushions, crossing
her legs and arms Indian style she pulled an academy award winning pout.
Extracting
a credit card from his wallet, Brad leaned over slowly slipping it between her
heaving breasts then, planted a light kiss on the nose.
“Buy whatever you want.
Enjoy yourself.
Eat at an expensive restaurant.
Have a great time on me.”
The yellow streak broadening on his back
turned him to leave.
With
a glare bringing him up short, Bernie spat between clenched teeth, “You just
made the biggest mistake of your life, you shit head.
It's going to cost you.
I'm warning you, big time.”
Relieved for having
reached the door in one piece, Brad looked over his shoulder a half smile
tugging at his mouth.
“Trust me,
sweetheart, I can afford it.
Anyway, it
will be worth it to see your gorgeous body all dolled up.”
“Are you saying I look like shit now,
you moron!”
Bernie aimed a small pillow
at Brad's head.
He took a direct hit.
Triumph
swelled his chest as he threw her a kiss.
Displaying that damn smile of his, she had to admit was well- nigh
irresistible, and a much too sure of himself attitude, he added, “Pick you up
Saturday night at five o'clock sharp.”
Clutching
a pillow to her breast to calm her jitters, springing off the couch Bernie ran
to the door in an attempt to catch him.
As he descended the steps, the louder her threats became. “I don't like
her.
I won't be her friend.
We'll get our hair done, facials, body
wraps.
I'll spend every cent of your
money.
We'll go to Tiffany's, Saks,
Gucci's.”
“Whatever it takes, sweet
cakes.”
Catching the pillow hurled his
way he tossed it back in time to hinder the apartment door from slamming shut.
Leaning
against the door, Bernie ranted. “Sweet cakes, huh!
Damn you Brad, you are a bigger fool than I
thought for giving two women carte blanche.
I'll show you.
When you see me,
baby, you'll forget about Sam. I promise you, following close behind fresh new
thoughts rushed.
How am I going to spend
a day with a little twit I don't even like?
Lighting
a cigarette, puffing wildly she continued to circle the living room ten times
before entering a pantry sized kitchen.
Shoving aside, the cloth used to cover the openings to lower cabinets
she searched for a bottle of whiskey.
Pouring
the unmeasured liquid into a dirty paper cup, she swigged it down hoping it
would ease her nerves, it didn't.
In
fact, her thoughts rambled on.
Today is
Monday, for Christ sake.
We only have a
week to get prepared.
Leave it to a damn
man, they don’t realize that it takes women a month to prepare for a party like
that?
CHAPTER 27
“NOVEMBER, 2010”
“Hello!
Who's there?”
The dial tone humming in Sam's ear
riled her normal calm.
Again, she hung
up.
Annoying her during the last hour someone
calling persistently distracted her from the illustrations she had finally
found time to develop; dresses, casual clothing, swimsuits, formals, all one
day to wear the label “Samantha,” she thought dreamily.
Hours ago, she had tossed a thick pillow
onto the floor.
Sprawled on her stomach,
legs bent, swinging back and forth, she scattered the sketches contemplating
the various materials required for each creation.
Over
the past weeks, she had kept her portfolio tucked away retrieving it only when
Ted was at the office.
When he returned
at night, anxious to share her enthusiasm over a new sketch, Ted showed no
interest and adamantly insisted she put it aside.
There would be plenty of time to begin a
career later, he explained.
His
insensitivity hurt.
One morning inadvertently, she had
left the portfolio open on the coffee table.
Casually passing Brad caught a glimpse of the top sketch.
Impressed by Sam’s talent he began thumbing
through the thick pile, creations leaving little doubt that Sam possessed
exceptional skills.
Intellect difficult
to believe wrapped in such a lovely little package.
Apprehensively observing Brad from
the kitchen, Sam watched his expressions change with the flipping of each page
until his curiosity seemed sated.
Portfolio in hand he joined her coffee.
Praising her achievements, nonchalantly he mentioned an acquaintance
that might be interested in her talents if a she could compile a professional
presentation.
Bubbling over with
excitement, Sam was eager to begin.
A genius needed room to create Brad
decided quickly gulping the coffee.
He
suggested organizing the small storage room in the apartment into a more
efficient work area.
As he began
clearing out the area, he sent Sam with Ralph to shop for essential
supplies.
It was a luminous, cheerful
room, with a skylight, a long window, and plant life.
After hours of concentrated effort, he had
transformed it into a stimulating atmosphere capable of sparking
imagination.
Overwhelmed Sam was Brad's generosity
and interest in her career, considering recently he had been preoccupied with
exercise, music, and reading.
In fact,
she wondered if he was purposely avoiding her.
Later, she decided it was best since their time together in the gym had
been unjustifiably distracting.
Sam would never learn Brad’s
ulterior motives for the motivation, the storage room just happened to be in a
remote area of the apartment and would serve to keep them separated until his
temptation waned.
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Having placed several calls, Bernie
held the phone to her ear promising herself this time she would not chicken
out.
What is wrong with me anyway, she
lectured.
Sam is no one special.
Just a dumb kid about to ruin my life, that's
all.
Well, here it goes.
“Hello,” a small
voice answered.
“Hi,” was all Bernie
said.
“Who is this?”