He glanced at his watch, beginning to worry. What the heck was taking her so long? He gave her plenty of money to break her lease and pay off her landlord. He expected it to take a while; after all, she needed to put all her expensive furniture in storage. She admitted to being a spendthrift. Good thing he would get his hands on more gold. At the rate she used money, he would be broke in no time. These classy babes demanded expensive upkeep. Made sense, he figured; only the best for the best.
He heard a knock at the door. Relief made Armoni’s legs turn to jelly. His girl made it. He rushed to the door, happiness plastered all over his grotesque mug. As he opened the door, Ginger Mae breezed in with a quick kiss on the lips and an unusually tense look on her elegant face. His brows scrunched up, a question on the tip of his tongue, when Ginger Mae moved aside, slipping her arm around a frightened little girl hiding behind her skirt; small, with dark brown, almost black silken hair worn loose and long. Her skin pale, almost translucent. But her eyes; they grabbed him. Her pupils, devoid of almost all color, reflected a piercingly intelligent all-knowing quality. He could see a small resemblance to Ginger Mae, as the girl clearly reflected the same elegance.
“What the fuck is this Ginger Mae?” Ignoring Armoni, Ginger Mae knelt down in front of the girl, whispered in her ear and directed her to a blush silk divan in the corner. She turned to Armoni with a contrite and pious look on her face.
“This is my brother’s daughter. Her mother ran off after her birth. My brother served in the Army, stationed in North Korea. We lost him during the slaughter in the mist of the Bau Liberation, when Daisy turned six months old. I’m her only relative. She’s my responsibility now. She thinks I’m her mother. It’s easier that way.” Turning to Daisy, she sent her an air kiss. Continuing in a whisper, she turned back to Armoni. “She’s mute. We have to take her with us. I can’t leave her behind. Don’t worry, she won’t get in the way, lover.”
“I didn’t sign up for no brat to come with us.” Armoni started pacing, seeing all his plans go up in smoke. Ginger Mae looked over to Daisy with a reassuring glance. She grabbed Armoni’s hand and pulled him into the huge bathroom. She slowly started to remove her clothes, not taking her eyes off Armoni.
“Well, I guess we’re going to have to say goodbye then. So let’s do it properly. I need something to remember you by.” Armoni watched her body reveal itself. That bitching body belonged to him. He practically paid for it. He ran his hands over her breasts squeezing them painfully. The look on Ginger Mae’s face showed only sadness and passion.
“Oh baby, give it to me, please, I need you one more time.” Was that a tear that was falling down her beautiful cheek? She must feel really broken up about this. He stared at her face, those eyes, those cheekbones, wondering how much he would miss her. He felt her fingers at his zipper and the cool moisture of her expert tongue on his cock. Moaning, he ran his fingers through her hair. He melted under her onslaught, helpless to give her up. Exasperated, he realized the kid would have to come. Somehow, he just needed to adjust. At least things remained under his control and Ginger Mae still belonged to him. His plan remained intact, with a minor adjustment for the kid. Relieved, he turned his full attention to her breasts, biting down hard enough to hear her muffle a scream. He still needed to remind her who wore the pants. Looking into her bewitching face, he saw it tighten, her eyes flashing an obvious, ill-concealed flash of contempt. The perpetually obtuse Armoni, mistaking it for passion, excitedly bit down hard again, feeling like he died and went to heaven.
Chapter 25
Abby and Jose sat in green and white striped lounge chairs on the flagstone terrace above their natural rock waterfall where they could observe Scotty, happily tossing Echo into the shallow end of the pool. Barney chaotically lunged at the water, jumping back, not sure of the rules of the new game. Changes came fast for the family in the five months since they left Sussex County and moved to Mango Lane, their opulent new home, an unimaginable paradise.
They installed Peter in the 4,400 square foot custom, red tile roof Spanish style waterfront home next door to the right. The lemon yellow art deco gem to their left remained empty, although fully furnished. They hoped Mama Diaz, Bonny and Emma would join them soon. The house would knock their socks off. Abby, Scotty and Jose occupied the 6,800 square foot Tuscan olive Mediterranean dream in the middle with lush landscaping, reminiscent of the famous Selby Gardens in downtown Sarasota; over 150 palm trees of eight varieties, lush plumeria and giant jungle geranium. Fortunately, because they were on a tiny island, less than half a mile wide, they luckily saved themselves the unpleasant experience of dealing with the tropical snakes that habitually nested in palm trees. The trees and vibrant flowering bushes encompassed the whole property, including across the bay front of the lot. The people that built the home sure valued their privacy. The home became a true sanctuary for the beleaguered family.
One of the lovely surprises of the island delighted them all as they enjoyed the presence of a flock of Sand Hill cranes, the most comically amazing birds. Some of the cranes grew as much as five feet tall with vibrant red caps of feathers on their heads. They imperiously strolled the sidewalks, the streets and the front yards as they pleased. Promenading in pairs or threesomes, they never hurried, they never acknowledged, they never acquiesced. They clearly owned the small island.
Jose stretched in the sun, admiring Abby’s tawny tail as it switched languidly behind her lounge chair. Her hair long and lush, full of golden silk hairs first discovered the wondrous night that united them. Their exposure in public now seemed a dangerous adventure as they just plain glowed too much. The three of them were now covered with an exceedingly fine layer of golden fuzz from the neck down. From the distance, it looked like skin, but they found themselves unable to avoid the stares that accompanied close inspection from strangers. All three developed protrusions on each side of their shoulder blades. Comparing their changes with Echo’s physiology, they suspected the emergence of wings. The idea thrilled them, but would they work? Would it mean flight? Echo’s wings may have functioned at one time. They lay lifeless against her furry little back. When asked about the wings, Echo would only reply, she was not an Elder.
Surprisingly, Echo began to pester them with the surprising desire to increase the size of their family; their doggy family. She claimed Barney was lonesome and needed a mate. That’s how it started. Poor Peter. He became the official furry buddy locator. To his credit he never complained. Even as Penny, their new Springer Spaniel, vomited on the front seat of his new BMW. Poor baby got car sick all over Peter’s leather upholstery.
Penny behaved like a doll, liver and white with flowing feather like fur. Loves people, tolerates other dogs, though exhibited an above it all attitude when it came to doggy/Echo horseplay. The next addition was Mimi, a black and white Shih Tzu, puppy mill mommy. All used up and ready to throw away, luckily, rescued by a devoted group of women committed to the effort. Peter spotted her at the local pet food store, mistaking her for a skunk until she turned her sweet face around. He couldn’t resist. Poor Mimi, unfortunately afflicted with cataracts, mammary tumors and food aggression … it turned out, also desperate for love. Lucky for her, the inhabitants of Mango Lane had plenty to spare.
Scotty’s hands stayed full with the doggy troupe. He appeared to settle in to their new environment nicely. He did get a car. A modest maroon Jeep Wolfhound, used mostly on their little island. Jose put his foot down about Scotty driving off the key without being accompanied by one of the adults, including Peter. Scotty didn’t object much as he spent most of his extra time with his outboard motorboat, large enough for Echo and usually one or two of the dogs. Jose’s number one rule (no exceptions) demanded life jackets for all; especially Echo and the dogs. Scotty knew how to swim, thanks to a summer recreation program at the local town pool in Newtown when he was in seventh and eighth grade. But everyone knew that the currents in the deceptive bay could be tricky. The dogs could become a handful whenever Sc
otty lucked on a pod of dolphins to chase, the excitement overwhelming them. Scotty struggled to hold them back, their determination to join the dolphin’s play, a risk to them all. The bay teemed with dolphins, all individually known through the studies of the famous Mote Marine Laboratory, located on City Island in the bay in Sarasota. Sarasota Bay, declared by the U.S. Congress an estuary of national significance, boasted an aquarium that opened to the public. The Mote Marine Lab was well known for their studies of sharks, sea turtles, dolphins, red tide, environmental toxins, coral reefs and costal ecology beckoned tantalizingly to Scotty. Enlisting Peter, he paid it a visit. Risky business, considering the fact that Peter operated in the dark, still unaware of their true nature.
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Jose thought back to his miraculous arrival in Sarasota. Knocking on Abby’s door, they entered her luxury suite at her hotel to find her drawn and frightened. Signs of dried tears trailed down her pale face. Throwing herself into Jose’s arms, she babbled that Peter’s secretary was dead. The police demanded Peter fly back home for questioning. The words murder and rape hung in the air. Calming her down, Jose learned the police wanted him to return too; ostensibly, to discuss the issues. Full panic mode set in, scaring everyone.
Luckily, in all of the drama and shock of Tiffany’s rape and murder, Peter’s requested meeting failed to materialize. Jose decided to accompany Peter back to Sussex County. He wanted to stay close to the investigation, hoping Armoni did not surface as part of it. But sooner or later, Jose knew Peter would find the time to sit them all down and start asking questions. While Peter handled questions from the police, Jose tried to find Mama Diaz and the girls. Not knowing where or how to start, he wisely hired a private investigator. He spent half a day filling the investigator in on all he knew of the Diaz family before his adoption. He felt certain, with the Internet, it wouldn’t take long before the investigator produced results. Four months later, still no news.
The investigation into Tiffany’s killer landed at a dead end. Jose reported the small encounter between Armoni and Tiffany. But the police dismissed Armoni as a suspect. No motive and negligible connection. Oddly, the police mentioned how Armoni’s house got torched the same day as Tiffany’s murder. There were no sightings of Armoni since. And the cops didn’t see a connection? Feeling the heavy weight of dread, Jose thought the coincidence ominous.
Bringing his thoughts back to the terrace, he stood up, surveying the lush tropical property, looking down toward the gazebo bedecked dock where Scotty’s skiff and the colossal green and white yacht swayed gently, water lapping at the hulls. Captain Cobby glanced his way, giving a friendly wave. Jose waved back, noting Captain Cobby’s twenty-year-old son Kane in the water scrubbing away at the marks left by the water line. Jose knew nothing of what it took to be a yacht owner. It’s been said that the happiest days of a yacht owner’s life were when he purchased his yacht and then again when he resold it. He had yet to discover the veracity of the saying. He really thought it silly for them to own such a vessel, but for some reason, Abby took a shine to it. Truth be told, he didn’t believe Abby actually felt happy. He knew something was missing. Not so much about her feelings for him. Something deeper, something profound that she needed to resolve on her own, undoubtedly tied to the death of her mother. It made him sad, knowing he couldn’t help her discover the comfort she needed. But he loved her dearly and hesitated to deny her anything.
As he watched Kane scrub the yacht, he hoped Kane and Scotty could get along better. Territorial resentment blossomed instantly between the two as they moved in. Jose supposed it was natural. They were so close in age; their relationship was bound to go one way or the other. Apparently, Kane saw Scotty as an interloper and Scotty saw Kane as a macho Italian know-it-all. If Kane’s sullen attitude did not improve in time, he would have to talk to his father. They lived in the carriage house behind the art deco home that remained empty. Jose felt having them nearby a great benefit, especially since Captain Cobby also served as security on the property.
Picking up his cell phone, he called Peter for an update on Mama Diaz. Happily, Peter reported the investigator finally made some progress. They located the family near a suburb of Short Hills, not far from the area Abby used to live in as a child, probably a mere coincidence. They both agreed that Jose should be the one to fly to New Jersey to break the news of Tomas’s death and convince them to move to Florida. Jose decided to talk to Abby about it later that night. He wanted to keep close, hoping to keep her upbeat. Her moods vacillated so widely these days, he wanted to get a good day under their belt before she learned he would be leaving.
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Scotty knew he must always wear a long sleeved shirt over his swim trunks when he was on the water and around the backyard. Echo presented a larger problem. She insisted on going with Scotty when he took the skiff out. Abby helpfully took some fabric and stitched together a jumpsuit that disguised most of Echo’s uniqueness. Gloves worked fairly well for her hands. A pair of diver’s goggles strapped around Echo’s face helped greatly, but could not hide her crown of crystal antlers. Maneuvering quickly away from other boats sure helped to evade troubling inquiries. So far, the only mishap occurred when Scotty forgot to fill the gas tank before he departed. Forced to use the yacht to rescue Scotty and his posse, Kane enjoyed his opportunity to gloat as they towed a red faced Scotty back to the dock.
Trying to explain Echo’s unusual appearance took some imagination. Claiming that Abby and Scotty’s father, a world-renowned geneticist gifted them with Echo, who they no longer needed as a test subject, appeared to work. They claimed Echo resulted from a genetic engineering project regarding gene splicing. Rather than terminate her at the end of the failed project, they made her a family pet. It sounded plausible enough and worked for now. But they still tried to keep Echo’s exposure to an extreme minimum, even from the Cobbys. It was one thing to fool a couple of yacht jocks, but anyone with an Internet connection and an inquiring mind would poke holes in their story. Anyone like Peter.
Chapter 26
Abby lay back on her green wicker lounge chair, enjoying the kiss of the sun seeping into her thirsty skin underneath the tiny gold fibers that encapsulated her arms and chest. She found it easier to accept her changes as she watched Scotty and Jose taking them in stride. If she felt uneasy, she hid it well. It took her several months to dismiss the meaning of the pronouncement Echo had made to Jose in the limo on the journey to Florida. Her practical side thought Jose may have misunderstood.
Her initial reaction had been to laugh. Jose tried to convince her that Echo may not have the best interest of humans in her heart. They had lived with Echo for six months now, and she had seen no behavior to suggest such a thing. The only disturbing facts were the little matter of Echo and the skeletons. The events that day back in Sussex were so traumatic and fuzzy in her memory that she no longer cared where the skeletons were. Since Echo’s reaction was to save her from serious harm, she considered herself lucky. As a matter of fact, Echo seemed unusually attached to them. Not a problem. Since the three of them were all a bit love starved for family, Echo fit right in.
The changes to their bodies were another matter, not sure how any of them would react if the swellings on their backs developed into wings as they suspected. Lying in the sun in the lap of luxury, healthy as the proverbial horse, Abby reveled in her new lease on life; not at all what had been foretold by her doctors as an abnormally short and difficult life span. She therefore, refused to fret like Jose did. See no evil … If she must put up with her amazing tail and some cryptic remarks from Echo in exchange, she was willing; outrageously, gratefully willing. She realized she wanted to live a healthy life so badly she would do anything, contend with anything. She wondered what her mom would think if she had lived. Abby ached with the thought of what she could have done for her mother’s hard and meager existence, the delight she would have taken in their good fortune. She longed to share her newfound love with her mother. She needed her. When
would the pain of her loss go away? And poor Scotty; he still needed their mother’s guidance and unconditional love, a critical foundation from which all healthy children develop the courage needed to find their own pathway through an often turbulent and malevolent world.
From out of nowhere, Mimi stood up at the side of Abby’s lounge chair, her cloudy cataract eyes unblinking, begging to be picked up. Most of the time, she scurried around like an orphan, afraid she was going to be shown the door. Funny, that’s exactly how Abby sometimes felt. Picking Mimi up, she cradled her in her arms, trying to reassure the little dog, knowing no one could. Just like no one could reassure her. Sometimes she felt if she could just keep her pain sealed up it would go away. Looking into Mimi’s tortured eyes she knew they could both only hope.
Later that evening, as they clustered around their new 82 inch high-frequency macro digital television, she watched Jose tickling Echo, Barney and Penny on the sofa while Scotty lay on the plush carpet with Mimi. Abby, sitting in her favorite Chippendale style, wing back armchair, the one with the cabbage rose needlepoint, leafed through a vintage Stephen King novel as she tried to ignore the noise of the television. Glancing up, she saw a special announcement regarding the health of the Democratic Presidential candidate, Omar Nasir’s wife, Jane. She reportedly remained in a coma, doubtful she would survive. The news anchor moved on to another story.
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