Meg took a seat in a chair next to me and Mom, probably sensing something was about to happen, sat on the arm of the chair Dad was sitting in.
Stalling, I wiped my eyes one last time, and swallowed hard before I spoke. “Mom, Dad, I, um, I know it was Thomas Clemens who I hit with my car, and I plan to go see him and apologize as soon as possible.”
Mom gasped, a look of apprehension in her eyes.
Dad frowned, a look of anger in his.
He slipped back into his no-nonsense tough skin effortlessly. “No, I won’t allow it.”
“I’m afraid you have no say-so in the matter, Dad.”
“We had a deal, a signed contract, and I’ll not have you shame me more by breaking it.”
Shame him more. The words cut across my heart like a razor blade cuts across skin. As hard as I fought to stop them, the tears welled up again, betraying my confidence.
“Did you put her up to this, Meg?” he snarled.
Before Meg had a chance to respond, my confidence returned. “No, she did not. In fact she advised me against it. And for the record, I did not sign that contract, so I am not bound by it.”
Dad’s anger escalated, and his face was so red that I thought he was going to literally expel steam from his ears.
Mom patted his shoulder. “Carl, let’s hear her out first, before you lose your temper completely. I’d like to know why she wants to put herself through such a thing.”
“Because, Mom, you and Dad taught me to take responsibility when I did something wrong. To apologize when I hurt someone. I know you paid him off, Dad, but that did not erase my mistake. It didn’t absolve me of my wrong doing, and I can’t live with that fact any longer. I need to know he is all right. That his family is cared for, and that they are living a quality life.”
“Let me assure you, Chris, he has a very good life now, and he wants for nothing. You see, honey, I invested his money for him and made him a millionaire. He and his family are very happy.”
“Oh, Dad!” I would never be as proud of my father as I was at that moment. “That was so wonderful of you.”
Dad smiled, briefly, but his smile quickly turned into a scowled again as he said, “Don’t go upsetting the apple cart, Chris. He is happy and appreciative now, but I don’t know how he will react when he sees you. It could get ugly.”
“I’m ready to face that ugliness, Dad. I’m ready for whatever he needs to do to accept my apology.”
Dad shook his head, searching for something else to say. Finally, he focused in on Meg and changed the subject.
“Meg, why are you here? Do we have unfinished business or something?” He wasn’t trying to be rude, he was distracting himself until the magical words came to him that would convince me to give up my quest. And usually, it worked.
With a face of stone, Meg said, “I’m here because I’m the one who found Chrissie’s victim for her.”
“At my request, Meg.” I wasn’t about to let her take any part of the blame. “I asked Meg to come with me tonight for support, but also because she is my champion. She has insisted on going with me when I apologize to Mr. Clemens.”
Mother sighed, and my father grunted his approval. I think that helped him give up the fight.
“Chris, you always were a stubborn child, even before you began drinking, and while I still think this is a very bad idea, I will call Tom and set up a meeting for you.”
“That is very generous of you, Dad, but I think it would complicate things.”
“How so, honey?” my mother asked.
“Because, Dad and Mr. Clemens have a working relationship that benefits Mr. Clemens, so he would be less inclined to be straight forward with me, which is what I need.”
“I don’t understand, Chris,” my father said pensively. “You want him to what? Be angry with you? To scream and cuss at you?”
“Well, I’d rather he didn’t, but I do want his emotions to be honest ones.”
My father shook his head, completely at a loss for words. His whole demeanor seemed to morph into resignation. I had won, but at what cost to my Dad? As much as I needed to prove to him that I was still that little stubborn girl bouncing on his knee, I also needed to prove to him that I was an adult who takes responsibility for my mistakes, just like he taught me to.
Finally, Dad looked up at Meg again, and said, “And you’ll be close, in case…”
“I will be as close to her as I am now. Nothing will happen, Mr. Livingston, I assure you.”
As close to her as I am now. I suddenly felt naked, skinned of all my clothes and faculties. The cold shiver that ran down my back was not from the realization that I would be meeting the man I crushed, but from the fact that I was leaving out the most important person in my life during the most important moment of my life. The one person in this world that I am closest to. I shook my head. “No, I can’t do it.”
“Can’t do what, honey?” mother asked. “Are you having second thoughts about meeting him?”
“No, I’m having second thoughts about who will be with me when I do meet him. Melinda will also be going with me.”
Meg looked at me incredulously. “Chrissie, I thought we talked about this?”
“We did, and you had some sound reservations, but, Meg, she’s my life, my heart and soul. I can’t exclude her from something that could potentially have a major change on my life. I love her too much to leave her out of that moment, good or bad.”
“Do you love her enough to let her upstage your moment? If Blackie shows her ass, and she will, things could end up worse than they were.”
“I know, Meg. But I’m not talking about Blackie, I’m talking about Melinda, and if I exclude her, things could be just as bad. I’d rather she came with us. I need her with me.”
Who Am I, Again? — Melinda aka Blackie Blackstone and George Kirk
“There you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” George exclaimed testily as he walked into the exercise room.
I plowed my boxer gloved fist into the seventy-pound heavy weight bag hanging from the ceiling on a chain and waited for it to swing back my way where I popped it with my left fist. I had changed into jeans and an old, torn sweatshirt, which was wet from perspiration, and was beating the crap out of the bag.
“I’ve been right here, George,” I said to the rhythm of my boxing.
“Wanted to let you know I’ll be leaving tomorrow,” he said. “I need to get back to work.”
Without breaking rhythm, I asked, “I thought you were working, George?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes, I was. But that kind of work doesn’t pay the bills.”
“Don’t you want to wait, and see how our first PIF case turns out?”
He shook his head. “PIF?”
“Pay it forward.”
“Oh.” George seemed to be thinking it over, and I was actually hoping he’d stay. It seemed that he was the only one in my corner these days.
“Don’t you want to be there when we find Richard, so you can write about it for your book? I can set you up an office, right there in your guest room, if you’d like?”
His eyes fluttered. “Okay, you’ve got a deal.”
“Just tell me what you need, and I’ll have it brought in.”
“Laptop with Wi-Fi, a printer, and some folders to hold my printouts.”
“Is that all?” I teased.
“No, but it will do for now,” he replied with a grin.
“Just let me know, and I’ll take care of it.” I couldn’t believe that I felt some relief at the thought that George would be hanging around. It wasn’t that long ago when I didn’t see him as anything more than a nuisance my parents made me put up with. He’s really becoming the friend I never had but always wanted. He wasn’t in it for the money, well at least not as a hand out.
“Uh, George, can I ask you a personal question?”
He laughed. “About you, or about me?”
I pounded my fist into the bag again, and replied, �
�About me,”
“Well, in that case, Blackie, ask away.”
“Am I too aggressive?” I could tell by the way his eyelid twitched that he was nervous about his answer. But then, of course, his twitch answered my question. “Never mind, I get it.”
“I was going to say yes, but not so much since you met Chris. She’s almost tamed that wild, pugnacious side of yours.”
“Then she was right. I thought I was just being assertive, but apparently she finds me antagonistic.” I took a wild punch at the bag, almost as if I wanted to prove her point.
George walked up and held the bag. “Blackie, where is this coming from? I’m beginning to worry about your self-esteem.”
“Chris doesn’t want me to go with her when she apologizes to that guy she hit with her car. She’s taking Meg instead.” Again, I wildly punched at the bag, almost connecting with George’s head.
He pulled back a safe distance. “At the risk of being punched in the face, she’s right, Blackie. This has to be all about her. She can’t have any distractions. Her sole purpose, as I believe she sees it, is to face her victim, and take her punishment. Only then can she purge herself of her sins. Tell me this. If I were to cuss her out, what would you do?”
I looked at him, and answered honestly, “The very thought of someone, even a friend, assaulting Chris, would so enrage me that I would pound their ass into the ground.”
“And that aggression is exactly what she cannot allow to happen. Look, I know you still feel guilty for getting her fired. And I think that has led to some over compensating on your part. In any other circumstance, I get the feeling Chris loves your over protective side, just not in this situation.”
“What can I do to show her I want to be there for her, George? To show her I can hold my temper, I can keep my mouth shut.”
“Honestly, I don’t know the answer, Blackie. Perhaps the best thing you can do to show your support is to accept it and trust her to do what she thinks is best.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t think she knows what is best for her.”
“So then no one else can be right unless they agree with you, is that it?”
“Damn it. That is not it.” I smashed my fist into the bag again.
“Okay, stop. Just stop.” George walked between me and the punching bag. “Do you not see how belligerent you’re being? Do you not hear what you’re saying? It’s not about you, Blackie. It’s not about what Blackie wants. Not this time. When I first met you, you talked about yourself in the third person, as if to make yourself appear more important to people. And if those people didn’t bow to your very presence, you threw a tantrum and tried to humiliate them. Remember when Chris called you on it, and even when she was fired, she walked away holding her head up. That’s who you fell in love with. Why are you trying to change her now?”
“Trying to change her?”
“I can see now, how it happened. Your sudden change to try and please Chris has turned into you trying to control her.”
I unlaced my gloves and threw them on the mat. Then, telling myself not to fall for his goading, I raked my fingers through my sweaty bangs to get them out of my eyes. Finally, as calmly and confidently as I could, I looked him in the eyes.
“First off, I have to remind myself every day that I don’t want to be Blackie Blackstone, the billionaire brat who always gets what she wants or throws a hissy fit when she doesn’t. And do you know why I don’t want to be her anymore?” I was not interested in waiting for his answer. “It’s because I want to be Blackie Blackstone, the kind of person who has empathy for people. The kind of person who Chris sees when she makes love to me, or that Norma sees, when she gives me advice. I am not trying to change just to please Chris.” I looked away, my vulnerability about to reveal to me the real reason. “I am trying to change because I had lost sight of who I am, even before I met Chris.”
I grew quiet, contemplating my thoughts. Was it there all along? I can’t recall a specific time that I realized I had lost myself. I didn’t wake up one morning and ask who the hell I was. But I do remember wishing that I wasn’t “me” a few times, especially in my early twenties. Wishing that I didn’t have all that money, all that power, because it was making me do things I really didn’t want to do. Filtering events through my mind, I realized that was when I started doing drugs. That’s when I started losing myself, by intentionally trying to lose myself.
I started out innocently enough with B-40s, which were just cigars laced with marijuana and dipped in malt liquor. Quite enjoyable, actually. But as my “bring your own poison” parties became popular, I was introduced to all sorts of drugs and all sorts of ways to use them. Balling was very popular at the time, and I was particularly good at bringing a woman to climax after I inserted cocaine into her vagina, despite the numbing effect it had on her clitoris and my tongue. I only did that a few times though, because I developed hemorrhoids that were so painful I had to be rushed to the emergency room. The sex was not worth the pain or the incredible embarrassment. I shook my head at the memories. I was so stupid to risk everything for an orgasmic high that left me unable to sit for days.
“Are you all right, Blackie?” George asked, bringing me back from the painful truth.
“Yeah. I’m just dandy. Look, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but you’re not helping.”
“So, what are you going to do?”
I thought for a moment, before I said, “I’m going to encourage her to go with Meg, and let her tell me what happens afterward.”
George raised one eyebrow and said in a flat tone, “Indeed.”
Suddenly, I had an idea. “Come on, I need your help with something.”
Chapter Eleven
You Need to Relax — Chris Livingston and Melinda Blackstone
The minute Meg dropped me off at the house, I dashed through the door and called for Melinda, but heard no answer. I ran into the kitchen, and then into the game room, and finally I ran into Charlotte, literally. I asked her if she knew where Melinda was, and she said that she had retired for the evening. Butler speak for “she’s in the bedroom.”
I ran up the flight of stairs and through the bedroom door, and then I stopped instantly. Our large master bedroom was dark, illuminated only by hundreds of flickering candles that formed a pathway around the room. I giggled. What is she up to? I stepped onto the path, feeling a little like Dorothy on the yellow brick road, following it carefully, already knowing where it was leading me. It wound its way past the bed, where a single rose laid on my pillow. On the bench in front of the bed lay my robe. I quickly shed all my clothes and put the robe on. Then I continued on the path, which took me past the dresser. Melinda had used lipstick to write the words I love you on the mirror. I picked up my lipstick and scribbled I love you too! underneath her message.
I was beginning to see the symbolism between Melinda’s candle-lit path, and the path I had chosen for myself. At one time, my path did not include love or happiness, and there were no bends in the road, no wondering what was around the next corner. Since I met Melinda, my path, still true to its journey, took the scenic route where it curved, dipped, climbed, and provided me with the most beautiful scenery every time I looked at Melinda.
The candles led me over to the media chest, just up from the dresser, closer to the bed again. A piece of paper lying on top of it told me to hit the play button on the remote control. I did as instructed, and the wall-to-wall monitor opposite the bed, came on, with static at first. And suddenly, Melinda was larger than life on the big screen, smiling down at me. I could hear George, off camera, say go, and Melinda began to speak.
“I was not exactly truthful with you, Chris, I was, in fact, hurt by your rejection.” I held my breath, a pang of regret torturing my stomach. “It took me a little bit to get past those feelings, to see that my love for you has to be unconditional. So, I want you to do what you think is best in your quest, and if that means I remain behind this time, then I will gladly do that.”
“Chris, my path led me to you. I hope that you can forgive me, and allow our two paths to merge into one again.”
“Oh yes!” I exclaimed, as the monitor went dark, and music began to play. I knew the candle-lit path would take me toward the sound of Adele singing Love Song, which is one of the most romantic love songs to make love to. My anticipation quickened my steps, and I burst through the double doors to the spa room, where again, I stopped suddenly. Melinda was standing beside the indoor-outdoor hot tub, overlooking the river. She was deliciously naked, her hands wrapped behind her back, her breasts reaching out, as if to touch me. The heat I instantly felt, was not coming from the steamy water in the hot tub.
I untied the belt on my robe and let it fall to the floor around my feet. My breasts tightened against the sudden change in temperature, or was that desire they felt?
I took a step toward Melinda, who held out her hands, welcoming me in. We kissed. A deep, penetrating kiss that pierced my heart with its loving heat.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered into her ear.
“What?” She held me back so she could see my eyes. “No, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not being what you needed me to be, at the most important time of your life.”
I shook my head. “No, I’m the one who is sorry for saying that you were too aggressive, as if you couldn’t control yourself. I want you with me, Melinda.” I wrapped my arms around her, our breasts interlocking, giving me that precious feeling of finding the other half of my soul. “Please say you forgive me.”
She wrapped her strong arms around me, as if she were afraid I might fly away. “What made you change your mind?”
“I was telling my parents about my plans, and they insisted that I don’t go alone. Meg told them she would be there, and I suddenly, thought, no, that was wrong.”
“It was?” Melinda asked shyly.
“Yes, it was wrong because I was missing the most important person in my life. I was missing you, Melinda. I need you there to be my strength, my support. I don’t know what his reaction will be, and… I’m afraid.”
Combining Riches (Riches to Rags Book 2) Page 13