An Appetite for Revenge

by Jennifer L. Jennings

  He shrugged. “Don't worry about it. Besides, other people will be there, like Dennis's son. He's a character, just like his dad. I think Dennis also mentioned that his secretary and her husband will be there, too. And Jennifer, of course.”

  I looked down at my dress and sighed. “I guess I should find something else to wear.”

  “Anything is fine.” Max started shedding his clothes. “I'm gonna hop in the shower. They're expecting us around seven.”

  While Max took his shower, I rummaged through my suitcase to find another outfit.

  Chapter 2

  Max and I took the elevator to the top floor penthouse.

  We were greeted by a tall, balding man, with glasses perched on his bony nose. His long, angular face was clean shaven, revealing deep pock-marks on his cheeks. He was not handsome in my opinion, but his warm smile and sparkling blue eyes made me feel at ease. In one hand, he held a crystal glass half-filled with an amber liquid. He took my hand and kissed my cheek, his cigarette breath causing me to flinch.

  “Very pleased to meet you, Sarah. I'm Dennis Foster.”

  Aside from his imposing stature, Dennis had a friendly way about him. You can tell a lot about a person by a simple handshake and eye contact. Dennis Foster was a confident man.

  “Thank you so much for letting me stay with Max for a few days,” I said. “I promise not to distract him from his work.”

  “I'm not worried,” Dennis said while giving Max a hearty pat on the shoulder like an old buddy. “But a man needs to know how to unwind. Speaking of which, come on inside and we'll get you both a drink.”

  As if on cue, a petite, strawberry-blonde woman of about thirty-five to forty years old approached us. Her eyes matched the emerald green, off-shoulder chiffon dress. She held out a delicate hand to me and I took it. “Pleased to meet you, Sarah. Max has told us wonderful things about you.”

  “You have a lovely place here,” I said. “I really love the open concept.”

  She smiled and fluttered her thick eyelashes, like it was the first time anyone had paid her a compliment. “Thank you,” she said. “We're comfortable here. Now on to the important stuff, what can I get you two to drink?”

  Max pointed to the glass Dennis was holding. “I'll have whatever he's having.”

  Brook raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? That whisky will burn you up inside like lighter fluid.” She patted her husband’s stomach in an apparent attempt to be cute. Dennis didn't seem offended; in fact, he laughed at his wife's display of affectionate, albeit condescending humor.

  “Fifty-year-old Scotch is not moonshine, my dear,” he responded with a smile.

  “Very well,” Brook said and turned to me. “And Sarah? Would you like a glass of Pinot Noir?”

  “Sounds great. That's my favorite wine.”

  “I know,” she said. “Max mentioned it to us last night. I got a few bottles this morning.”

  “Well.” I smiled graciously. “I'm impressed and flattered. Thank you.”

  Brook gave her husband a sweet smile while slipping her arm around mine. “Darling, do you mind if I steal Sarah away for a bit? Us girls should get acquainted.”

  “Of course.” Dennis shooed us away with a playful wave. “That will give Max and me some time to talk about business.”

  Brook led me to a nearby wet bar and promptly prepared the drinks. My eyes kept wandering around the room. It reminded me of a beach cottage, only much bigger, with colors of aqua blue, cream, and beige. Artwork adorned the walls: mostly watercolors of tropical landscapes.

  I heard another voice coming from a different room and turned my head to look. A forty-something-year-old man was heading toward me, dressed in a crisp, white polo shirt and khaki shorts. He was trim, tan, and had smooth, blonde hair that swooped over his forehead in a casual, surfer dude style. He was stunning, and I got the sense he thought so, too. In one hand, he held an empty glass. He eyed me with curiosity, and when he got closer, extended his free hand. “Well, hello there,” he said. “You must be the girlfriend.”

  I shook his hand. “Yes, well, I also go by the name of Sarah Woods.”

  He gave a chortle. “I'm Andrew Foster.”

  The resemblance wasn't hard to see. Father and son were both tall and lean, except the younger Foster had all his hair with some to spare. “So Andrew,” I said, trying to make small talk. “I hear you and your dad work together.”

  A smug smile appeared. “Yep. Dad says I'm gonna take over when he retires, but knowing him, that'll never happen. I just can't picture him on the golf course every day. He'd be bored to tears.”

  I was about to respond when Brook interrupted us. She offered me the wine. “Here you go, Sarah. I hope it's to your liking.”

  I accepted the drink. “Thank you. It smells devine.”

  Brook gave Andrew a cursory glance. “Would you like another drink?”

  Andrew handed her his empty glass without any sign of gratitude. “A little less ice this time, okay?”

  Brook froze for a moment, and I wondered if she would tell him to go to hell, but she didn't. Instead, she smiled and took his empty glass, then returned to the wet bar without another word.

  I was about to ask Andrew another question, but he became distracted as he looked over my shoulder. When I turned to see what he was looking at, I saw Jennifer Healy walking into the room.

  She wore a pale, pink maxi dress, her hair braided and twisted up into a bun. She looked gorgeous, resembling a Grecian princess – and the way Andrew stared at her, mouth slightly ajar, he must have been taken by her beauty as well.

  I cleared my throat to get his attention, but Andrew was in his own little world. Then, as if I were completely irrelevant, Andrew walked off without saying another word to me.

  “Well, it was nice meeting you, too ...” I said to him, knowing full well he didn't hear a word I said.

  I found myself standing alone, but it wouldn't be for long. When Brook returned to my side, she shook her head with disgust. “I must apologize for Andrew. He has a one-track mind when it comes to Jennifer. Whenever she shows up, he turns into a drooling puppy. It's pretty pathetic if you ask me.”

  I didn't know how to respond to her comment, so instead, I changed the subject. “How long have you and Dennis been married?”

  “A year last Monday.”

  “Congratulations,” I said. “How did you two meet?”

  She finally smiled, then broke into a giggle, as if I were in for a funny story. “I used to work for Dennis. He and his wife had a mansion up in Delray Beach. I was one of the live-in housekeepers before Barbara, Dennis's first wife, passed away.”

  Ah. Maybe that's why Andrew still treated her like a maid, I thought.

  “Anyway,” she continued. “Dennis eventually asked me out on a date. I declined out of respect for his late wife, but he was very persistent. Eventually, I gave in and agreed to go to dinner. We had a great time and he proposed a few months later.”

  I bobbed my head up and down, reserving my right to remain silent. I'm sure my opinions on the matter would not be appreciated. Besides, she wasn't really asking for my opinion anyway.

  Brook leaned in to me conspiratorially. “I know what people say behind my back. They call me a trophy wife, a gold digger, and other things, I'm sure. I don't really care. This town is full of hypocrites, anyway. ”

  I guess I admired the woman for being so straightforward. She didn't have to give an explanation to me, a total stranger. But I got the sense that she needed to vent. “I'm not one to judge,” I said. “My motto is: to each his own.”

  She regarded me with an appreciative nod. “Thank you, Sarah. I wish more people could be so understanding, although, like I said, I couldn’t really care less anymore.”

  If Brook really didn't care about others’ opinions, then why was she trying so hard to convince me? I raised my glass for a toast, anyway. “Well, here's to you and Dennis. Congratulations on your one year anniversary.”

  Sh
e clinked my glass, and we both sipped the wine.

  Brook said, “So tell me, what do you do for work back in New Hampshire, Sarah?”

  “I'm a private detective. Just got my license a few weeks ago.”

  Her eyes grew wide. “Are you serious? Max never said anything about that. How'd you get into that line of work?”

  “I guess I sort of fell into it. It's a long story.”

  “It always is,” she said. “Do you work alone?”

  “I have a partner. Carter has a lot more experience than I do. I've learned a lot from him.”

  “How does Max feel about you working so closely with another man?”

  I frowned at the sudden change in direction of the conversation. “It's not an issue, why do you ask?”

  Brook tried to conceal her crooked smile as I followed her gaze into the penthouse where Jennifer and Andrew were talking. “I suppose you already know that Jennifer and your boyfriend used to date. How do you feel about that?”

  I put on a brave face. “It's not a problem for me.”

  She cocked her head but her expression remained playful. “You lie.”

  I laughed and nodded my head toward the couple. “It looks to me like Jennifer and Andrew seem to be quite friendly.”

  Brook lowered her voice as she spoke, “Oh, I can tell you that Andrew's feelings are not reciprocated. Since the day Jennifer started working for Dennis, Andrew has been after her. He's quite smitten. But Jennifer rejects him at every turn. She seems to have no interest. Which is quite unusual considering women seem to adore Andrew.”

  “Well,” I said. “She's smart not to get involved with her boss's son.”

  “Good point.” Brook lowered her voice. “But between you and me, I don't know why my husband hired her. Anyway, I should keep my mouth shut about that.”

  I despised gossip, but I really wanted to know why Brook felt the way she did. “Why? You think she isn't qualified to be his personal assistant?”

  Brook shrugged. “There's just something about her that I don't like. Maybe it's because she's cute. Or maybe it's because she's too friendly. I don't trust people who are too friendly. I don't have a good reason not to like her. Sometimes, people just rub you the wrong way. But enough of that. Please excuse me, Sarah. I should check on the caterers for a minute. Do you need a refill?”

  I looked down at my glass. I had barely sipped half of the wine. “No thanks, I'm good for now.”

  After Brook went back inside, I wasn't sure what to do out on the balcony by myself. Peering through the double glass sliding doors, I could see Jennifer and Andrew still engaged in a personal conversation. Max and Dennis were on the other side of the room, having their own discussion.

  I decided to spend some alone time on the balcony, looking out at the vast sea, sipping my wine. I didn't notice the humidity because there was a refreshing breeze coming in off of the ocean. It was almost sunset, and the orange-red colors of the sky reflected off the water.

  I eventually walked back into the penthouse and noticed that two more guests had arrived – a couple, whom I guessed to be in their mid-forties. The woman – dark hair, swooped up in a French twist, wearing a skirt and a silk blouse – must have been the secretary Max had told me about. The man standing beside her was most likely her husband. He was dressed in less formal attire, with khaki shorts and a t-shirt. He was tanned to the point of ridiculous, and his black hair was obviously dyed – or perhaps it was a very convincing toupee. There was a creepiness about him, but I couldn't put my finger on why I felt that way.

  I walked up to them and introduced myself. “Hi, I'm Sarah.”

  “Vivian,” the woman said, giving me a half-assed handshake. “This is Roy, my husband.”

  Roy took my hand and didn't want to let go. I finally released myself from his grip. “Nice to meet you both,” I said.

  Vivian made a show of looking around the penthouse. “Any idea where Brook went?” she asked me.

  “I think she's checking on dinner,” I replied.

  “I'll go find her. See if she needs any help.” As Vivian walked away, leaving me alone with her husband, I felt my muscles tense under his lingering gaze.

  “So,” he said, moving closer to me. “How do you know the Fosters? Are you a client?”

  “No,” I said, taking a casual step back. “My boyfriend Max is doing a job for Dennis. I'm just here for a few days on vacation.”

  “Nice.” He gave me a wink and flexed his bicep as if it were completely involuntary. “Have you been for a swim in the pool downstairs? I bet you look great in a bikini.”

  I smiled through gritted teeth. “Excuse me, I should go see my boyfriend, you know, the one over there talking to Dennis.”

  Roy glanced over. “Oh, he's your boyfriend, huh? He looks like he could kick my ass. Maybe I should stay away from you. Don't want to make him jealous, do we?”

  There was no way in hell Max would ever be jealous of this creep. “Good idea,” I said, walking away. “Nice meeting you.”

  When I joined Max and Dennis, Max put his arm around me, kissed my cheek, and I felt relaxed again. “I see you've made some friends,” he said with a chuckle.

  Dennis leaned in. “Sarah, can I get you more wine? Looks like my wife has neglected you.”

  “I'm fine, but thank you.”

  A few seconds later, Brook came into the room and announced that dinner was ready. We all flocked to the dining table, set for eight guests.

  During the first and second course, Dennis seemed to be the only one talking as the rest of us ate and listened to him. Once in a while, Brook would ask me or Max a question, but the conversation always came back to Dennis.

  Andrew didn't have much to say. He was too busy staring at Jennifer. She did a good job of pretending he wasn't doing so. Roy stared at me from across the table, but I ignored him.

  In a way, I was glad I didn't have to do much talking. My first night in Florida and all I really wanted was some alone time with Max. I tried to make the best of it and I drank the wine offered to me. Before I knew it, I had downed three glasses and was starting to feel a bit tipsy.

  By the time the dishes were cleared from the table, I had a nice glow. Dennis announced that he'd like to retire to the balcony for a cigarette. He invited anyone to join him, but it appeared no one else smoked. Not even his son, Andrew offered to join him, so Max – being the gracious guest – finally offered. Before taking leave, he leaned into me and whispered. “I promise we'll leave in ten minutes.”

  I nodded, but knowing Dennis's propensity to gab, I figured another hour at least.

  With Dennis and Max gone, that left Jennifer, Andrew, Brook, Vivian and Roy. Brook stood up and said, “Please excuse me, I should probably check on the caterers, make sure they know where to put things away.”

  Vivian offered to go help. That left Andrew, Jennifer and Roy. I excused myself to go to the bathroom.

  Jennifer stood up, her eyes eagerly searching mine. “Let me show you were it is.”

  “Not necessary,” I said. “I'm sure I can find it.”

  Jennifer sat back down, as if resigned to her fate to talk to Andrew and Roy. I couldn't blame her for wanting to get away.

  The bathroom was larger than my whole apartment back in New Hampshire. There was a sitting area with a couch – just in case one wanted to take a nap or read a book in the bathroom – a hot tub, a sauna, and a changing area that actually had a flat screen TV. It was ridiculous and over the top, but I was thankful. I didn't need to pee; I just didn't want to talk to Andrew or Jennifer, or especially Roy. I needed a few moments of privacy to collect my thoughts. I lowered myself onto the chaise lounge, leaned back into a pillow and closed my eyes. It had been a long day, since I’d been up since five that morning. My head was spinning from the wine, but it felt good to rest.

  I could have fallen asleep right then and there if it wasn't for the scream.

  My eyes shot open and I sat up. Was it a dream, or had someone actual
ly screamed? I stood up and rushed back to the dining room.

  Everyone was gathered by the balcony doors. Brook was frantically pressing buttons on her cell phone, and a second later, she was pleading with the operator to send an ambulance right away because her husband was having a heart attack.

  A heart attack?

  I joined the others by the balcony and looked down. Max was on the ground, giving CPR to Dennis, who was sprawled out on the floor, eyes closed.

  Max kept his cool, and was very methodical as he counted each compression with expert ease.

  Next to me, Jennifer was crying, her hands cupped over her mouth as she watched in horror. She was making pitiful, moaning sounds, which did nothing to help the situation.

  Behind Jennifer, Andrew stood erect, eyes wide, jaw slack. He was making no move to help, and I figured he must have been in shock.

  Vivian and Roy stayed way back, seemingly unsure of what to do.

  The caterers stayed in the kitchen, whispering amongst themselves with worried expressions.

  I rushed over to Brook as soon as she was off the phone and offered my assistance, but she ignored me as she pushed her way outside. She kneeled beside her husband as Max continued chest compressions.

  The sound of ambulance sirens could be heard in the distance. “Come on, honey,” Brook said to her unconscious husband. “Hang in there, please. Just hang in there.”

  Max continued with the CPR, but it didn't seem to be doing any good. He finally stopped to take Dennis's pulse. Max's frown confirmed the worst.

  “No,” Brook said, her voice but a whisper. “No, no, no.”

  Chapter 3

  The next morning, I opened my eyes to the bright sunlight pouring in from the balcony door. My head hurt. The memory of the night before came rushing back.

  Dennis Foster. Heart attack. Dead.

  Doctors confirmed that he'd suffered an aortic dissection, most likely caused from extremely high blood pressure.

  I smelled the coffee. Thank God for coffee. Moments later, Max entered the bedroom and handed me a cup and sat next to me.