Combining Riches (Riches to Rags Book 2)

by Mairsile Leabhair

  Chris smiled, “Do I ever.”

  After touring the mansion, which I was sold on before we even walked inside, Chris fell in love with it, much to my relief. I loved her romantic ideas of how to decorate it and laughed out loud when she told me that portrait of my ancestor in the vestibule would have to go. My father asked what was so funny, and I laughed again when Chris blushed a bright red. I told my father that he’d best take that painting with him or it would end up in the attic. When he asked me why, I put on my most serious face and said because it scared me. Chris did not have the strength to keep from laughing out loud on that one, and my father was annoyed.

  Chris was insistent that we split the cost of buying the house, and although she couldn’t lay down a lump sum, like I could, she assured my father that she would have her half paid off before the end of the year. I could tell that he was impressed with her tenacity and drew up the contract to meet her needs. I think my no nonsense father was taken in by her resolve and charm, because he had never been that nice in a business deal before. Like father, like daughter.

  On the day that we signed the papers and the house was ours, I had a wild, brilliant idea about how to celebrate.

  “Just how old are you, anyway?” Chris asked me when I told her my idea.

  I winked at her, “I’m young enough to try anything, and old enough to deliver on it. What about you?”

  Chris replied with a grin. “I’m young enough to try anything, too, but old enough to know it can’t be done without breaking something.”

  My brilliant idea was that I wanted us to make love in every room of our new mansion before we moved in. I compared it to christening a new ship by breaking a bottle of champagne over its bow. Chris informed me that her bow couldn’t take that kind of orgasmic christening. I explained that when she was tired, she could go topside and trim my sails for a while, and then when she was ready, I would go below decks and fire off a few more cannons. I was beginning to feel like a pirate on a hunt for gold, and the titillation had me wanting to say “Argh”.

  We had a good laugh that drew us into each other’s arms, and then to each other’s lips. I would have begun right there and then, but she stopped me before I could go any further than her lips and explained that if we wanted my idea to work, and we really did, we would have to make arrangements first. I have learned in the short time that I’ve known Chris, that she is the practical planner and prefers to work out the details first before doing something spontaneous. In this case, she had a good point. We would need food and water, and the kitten would need to be left with Norma.

  We hurried back to town and made the preparations, telling Norma we would be away for a few days on business. Norma took one look at our excited, lascivious faces and said she wished she were sixty years younger again with business like that to take care of. We giggled like schoolgirls.

  I thought we were just going to pick up a few things to eat while we were at the store, but Chris got it into her head to buy enough groceries to last a month. I had been to a store before, to buy groceries, when I lived that month in her apartment. There was no room to buy more than a few things at a time, so we shopped at a Walgreens around the corner. But this store was some kind of mega-monster-grocery store, at least that’s what the sign said. I had heard of such stores, but never needed to go to one. I had people to do that for me.

  I pushed the cart down the aisle, where she would stopped every five seconds and ask me if I liked this or that. I became so bored with the process that after the second aisle, I said yes to everything just to hurry her up. Finally, I came up with a game to entertain myself while she shopped. I called it, sex in the aisle of a mega-monster-grocery store. Usually these types of games work best if the recipient was a willing party, and Chris was, to a point, as in first base and no further. So the game was to see how far I could get with her before she walked down another aisle. Surprisingly, the furthest I got was in the dairy section, while she was checking the brown eggs for cracked shells before she bought them. I made an off-colored joke about how she was holding a box full of breasts in her hand. My breasts times six. I guess her mind wasn’t ready for that visual because she almost dropped the box. But then again, it wasn’t her mind I was trying to visually stimulate. At least after that, she was ready to check out and hurry home. I wonder if I could copyright my game. I’d make millions.

  It took us two days to “christen” every room in our new house. We started in the vestibule, mainly because that was as far as we made it inside before the passion took over. Luckily for us, Chris was a firecracker and popped almost before the groceries hit the floor. After we hurriedly put away the food, we made love on the kitchen floor.

  We worked our way from room to room, having some difficulty with the smaller rooms like the butler’s pantry and the linen closet. It was in the linen closet where I bumped my head on a shelf during an orgasm. Chris got a splinter in her butt during her orgasm on the porch outside. After I pulled it out of her firm, perfectly shaped cheek, I brought her to orgasm again. The second time without incident, and with much gratification.

  The next morning, we stopped only long enough to fix breakfast, and before we had finished eating, we were on the floor of the breakfast nook, making love again. Chris refused to make love in the rooms where Norma would be living, saying that she would see us writhing on the floor every time she visited Norma, so we did it in the guest bathroom instead. That one left a lot to be desired. There’s just something about fucking on a bathroom floor that takes the romance out of it. We finished our love-making tour in our master bedroom, where we were so exhausted, and so sore, that we fell asleep in each other’s arms instantly. The second morning, wakened by the blare of a tug boat whistle on the river, we had just enough energy left to complete the christening in our own bedroom. I think that was probably the most satisfying idea that I had ever had in my entire life. Makes me want to go buy another house.

  Setting Up House Together — Chris Livingston

  We moved Norma and her kitten, Pluto, into the second floor of the west wing, giving her the entire floor to use as she saw fit. But dear Norma only wanted a bedroom and a living room, like what she had back at the apartment building. She and I lived just down the hall from each other in that old building, and when I first met her, she was too frightened to even make eye contact with me. Norma had lived in that cramped, two-room apartment for many years, but I am hoping that once she gets use to the extra space, she’ll take advantage of it. There are two guest bedrooms on that floor and maybe she’ll invite her grandchildren up for a visit.

  Now that Norma had been made comfortable, it was time for us to concentrate on unpacking and filling the corners of our new home with our knickknacks. I was tired of hearing our voices echo when we talked, or made love. Although that did add a certain element of satisfaction to our christening, when I heard Melinda’s climatic screams echo through the hallways.

  Melinda and I took the master bedroom on the second floor of the main house. A very large room that required hiking from the bed to the bath and back again. I do believe my lovemaking was more intense in that room, because of the scenery outside our window.

  Melinda wanted to use the guest bedroom on our floor as another game room, but I had to insist that we use it for guests, like when her parents visited. She assure me that when her parents came to Memphis, they would not be staying with us. She reminded me that they owned a hotel in the heart of the city, which was the whole reason they sold the house to us. She was right, of course, but I persisted, and she finally relented. I don’t think she realized that this house was not nearly as large as the mansion her parents owned in San Francisco, and she needed to be more selective with its space.

  I will admit that I intend to enjoy her playrooms just as much as she will. Especially the movie theater with a wall-to-wall screen, surround sound, reclining seats, popcorn and soda machines. We had the walls decorated with old movies posters, including some posters from Norma’s m
ovies. When Melinda found a copy of Norma’s first movie, Invaders from Pluto, in a book store in Blytheville, Arkansas, she offered a handsome gratuity if they could find more of Norma’s movies and any other promotional items like lobby cards or photos. We struck gold when they found an 8x10 black and white glossy of Norma holding her Oscar. We named our theater the Norma Shelby Playhouse and hung that photo in a frame at the entranceway. It was the first time I had ever heard Norma giggle.

  My parents, my wonderful, loving, solid, steadfast parents, saved all my presents while I was away learning my lesson and had them delivered to me after we had moved in. A year’s worth of presents from my parents and their friends was a considerable amount, so I decided that the first party held in our new home would be a gift-opening party. Not where the guests bring gifts, but where they open my gifts for me. It was almost as brilliant an idea as Melinda’s christening scheme was. Well… maybe not.

  My parents also had my car delivered, but I have yet to drive it, or any other car for that matter. I’m not sure I will ever want to drive again. My parents wanted to sell it and buy me a new one, and I almost said yes. But they can’t just erase what had happened, as they have tried to do ever since I plowed into that man who was innocently jogging down the street. I know they had the dent repaired on the car so that there would be no evidence to remind me of what I had done, but I could still see it clear as day. I took one look at that car and ran back into the house.

  Even before Melinda and I moved in, she wanted to hire a full complement of household staff. The look on her face when I told her that we didn’t need help was priceless. She opened her mouth to say something, then she’d close it, and then she’d open it again. Finally she found her words and we had our first argument in our new home.

  She proclaimed that Melinda Blackstone does not clean houses and if I wanted the toilet cleaned, I would have to do it myself. I announced that Christine Livingston was not afraid of cleaning the toilet, to which she countered with a liquid description of the aftermath of mixing cold pizza with hot chili peppers. That gave me pause, and a bad smell in my nose.

  She saw that I was wavering, so she sweetened the deal by arguing that neither one of us could cook, and we certainly couldn’t ask Norma to cook for us, nor should we make her clean all those rooms on her wing. So, at the very least, we should hire a live-in maid to cook and clean for her, and by extension, the rest of the house as well. I finally relented with two conditions. The first condition was that we tell the applicant, before we hire her, about the pizza problem, and the second condition was that the applicant must be a homeless person, without dependents. Melinda was reluctantly amicable with a condition of her own. The person would need to be thoroughly checked out first. I hadn’t even considered that, but it was something her family had always done to insure their security and reputation.

  Setting up House Together — Melinda aka Blackie Blackstone

  My father insisted that he and my mother take Chris and me out to eat to celebrate our new house. I didn’t have the guts to tell him that we had already celebrated, many, many, many times. I put him off because I really don’t need that stress right now. I told him to let me get past the tenant meeting and then we’d be happy to join them for dinner. Of course he was more than happy to wait, so he could get a full report out of me in person.

  It wasn’t so much that I was afraid to face the tenants of the building my father was going to have razed so he could build a resort. I actually agreed with my father’s idea that building a resort in a rundown section of town would bring in new jobs and refresh the economy in Memphis. I just didn’t agree that it had to be that particular building on that particular block.

  I was not looking forward to standing in front of a group of poor people and telling them to get out or else. In the good old days, my father would hire a tough, all business type of man, who had a heart of stone, to do the job for him, but for some reason, I volunteered to help out on this one. What was I thinking? Damn, if I were to give it some thought, I would realize that I’m scared. But Blackie Blackstone doesn’t get scared. No, she scares people into doing her bidding… and now I’m talking about myself in the third person, again.

  I admit that I’m having some difficulty with my new life. I have no concerns when it comes to my love for Chris, but I’m uncertain about everything else. When we were cohabiting as poor people, it was easy to shelve my doubts, because I was so distracted trying control my desires. Lying next to Chris in that tiny apartment, and not being able to touch her, took all my strength and all my concentration. What made it worse was the cold. That apartment was frigid, even when we splurged and turned the furnace up. The only thing that kept my teeth from chattering was the warmth emanating off of Chris’s body. Not that I could touch her if I wanted to, she slept under one blanket, and I slept under another. That was certainly not my idea. That was the longest I had ever gone without sex before, ever.

  And now, though I’m distracted in a different way, I can satisfy that distraction with one kiss. But my doubts are still there, playing in the back of my mind, tormenting me with visions of my old life, my rich life with no responsibilities and no commitments. Two months ago, I could say that I don’t give a fuck and be fucking while I said it. Now I can’t say that, because I do care, because I am in love, and that’s where the problem lies.

  I’m just not sure how to let go of the material things so that I can be who she wants me to be. I’ve already made some huge concessions, but I don’t know if she knows just how hard it was for me. What is the use in having all this money if I can’t use it to ease my own burdens? After all, my parents had worked hard to inherit it from their parents. Well that was pretty stupid.

  There is one person now whom I trust to give me some good advice, so I think I’ll get a second opinion on my opinion. I’ll ask Norma. She knows everything.

  Chapter Three

  Meeting with the Tenants — Melinda aka Blackie Blackstone and Chris Livingston

  “Hello. Thank you for coming. My name is Melinda Blackstone and this is Chris Livingston. We’re here to—”

  “Kick us out like the trash on the street!” some man in the back yelled, inciting some of the others to shout as well.

  Well this is off to a lovely start. I waited for them to quiet down, and then I continued, “We’re here to help you relocate to another home. You all were supposed to have gotten a letter, advising you of what to expect, but we’re here to answer any questions you might have, and to assist you in your move, should you need our help.”

  “I think you’ve helped enough. Go back to whatever bank vault you crawled out of and leave us be,” that same arrogant man shouted, and others nodded and grumbled in agreement with him.

  Again, I ignored him and pressed on with my rehearsed speech. “The Blackstone family understands your concerns, and we want to make that this transition goes as smoothly as possible for you.

  I looked around the room to see if they were buying it, but the dickhead in the back flipped me off. That was about as much as I could take from him.

  “Look, dickhead, I’m not going to take that shit off of you all morning. I’m here to help, but if you don’t want it—”

  Chris put her hand on my arm and stood beside me. “Some of you may have seen me in the hallway,” she said. “I lived in apartment 7C on the fifth floor for almost a year.” The tenants grew quiet, waiting to hear what she would say next. “I moved out of my own volition, but I can understand your uncertainty. This is your home, and you have every right to be upset. But your reality is that this will happen, they will tear down the building, so you should take advantage of our help now, while there’s still time.”

  Several of them nodded in acceptance, others talked among themselves, and some had questions.

  The antagonist shouted, “And if we refuse to leave?”

  My mouth spoke before my brain could filter the words. “You’ll be arrested and your ass thrown in jail.” I knew that I
shouldn’t had been so blunt, but he was really pissing me off. Still, I could tell I had undone the fragile well-being that Chris had created.

  One young woman, probably still in her teens or early twenties, dark complexion, cradling a tiny baby in her arms, raised her hand.

  “Do you have something you want to say, miss?”

  “Yes. I need a job, can you help with that?” the girl asked frankly as she rocked her baby.

  I looked at Chris and she smiled, as if I should know the answer already. Then I realized I did know the answer.

  “Yes, I can personally guarantee you a job at the new resort. Everyone in this room can have a job there, if you want one.” I can’t wait to see my father’s face when I tell him that one.

  A thunderous cheer went up and the sudden gooseflesh on my arms gave me a satisfying tingle. I looked over at Chris, who covered her mouth with her hand to keep from laughing or crying, I’m not sure which.

  The loud mouth man had one more question, “And will you pay for our apartment too?”

  He thought he had finally won, but I had an ace up my sleeve that would shut him up once and for all. I glared at him, “As a matter of fact, the Blackstone family has set aside funding to pay for your first month’s rent, as well as any moving costs you might incur, both contingent on your staying in Memphis, of course.”

  He was going to say something else, but one of the other tenants told him to shut the fuck up. Again, I had a satisfying feeling run through my mind.

  “Okay, we’ve got a lot of paperwork to do, so while my lovely assistant hands out the forms, I’ll answer more questions if you have any?”

  Chris picked up a stack of forms and ink pens and began handing them out. The questions on the forms would help us understand any special needs or concerns the residents might have, and what part of town they wished to be relocated to. And of course, my father’s lawyers, with an overabundance of caution, as they like to say here in the South, also added the disclaimer concerning any damage or loss of property during the move. And that the Blackstone corporation would not be held accountable should the tenant change their minds, be evicted from their new home, or suffer a fire, or a tornado, and so on, while in their new home. In other words, once we get them moved, it’s adiós muchachos.