Sexy Girls
Page 24
We smiled at each other for a while.
Then, Edie broke the silence. “I love you, Stevie.”
“I love you, Edie. Do you want children right away?”
That's when Edie sat up I bed. “You are something. Did someone tell you all my dreams?”
“No, they didn't. But, we're not getting any younger. At least I'm not. You're gorgeous and look like your 25. But, I'm 37. If we're gonna do it, we better start soon.”
Edie quickly smiled, dropped into a familiar character, adopted a southern accent, and used her acting skill. “Why, Mr. Garrett, you are the bold one! You're making my little head spin. What would my daddy say if he heard you talking like that?”
I joined in the fun. “I'd ask the Colonel for his daughter's hand in marriage, Miss Edith.”
Edie got serious again, “I will marry no one but you, Mr. Garrett. You deserve to have a wife who lives for you, which is what I will do all my life.”
***
It was an agonizing wait. Yet, Edie turned the misery to bliss.
I learned for the first time how nice it is to be with a woman who wants you as the center of her life. She cared for my right arm and had me visit my doctor, twice. Edie did all kinds of work in the house when I wasn't there. When I was there, she literally wanted to be in constant physical contact, even if it was simply sitting watching television together.
The feeling was mutual. I took a few days of vacation. When I went back to work, I was late leaving home in the morning. At night, I rushed home to Edie. I couldn't wait to hold this sensitive lady. We found each other very much to our liking.
We waited exactly one week for the phone call that changed the rest of our lives.
I was home when Walter Hines called my cell phone on Friday morning, June 25, with Grayson's offer. In exchange for us signing a non-disclosure and hold harmless agreement, Cyndie and Edie would get each one million dollar settlements. In addition, Robert agreed not to contest Andi's will in probate court.
Walter told me that the women would sign the settlement papers and receive the money the following Monday.
The news made Edie the happiest woman in the world. I instantly called Cyndie at her apartment, and I've never talked to a more ecstatic person.
“Stevie, I wish you were here to pinch me so I'd know this is real.”
***
Monday morning, June 28, Edie and I got dressed up for the big event. I wore my new black suit, white shirt and baby blue tie. Edie wore her most conservative black dress. She looked incredible and radiated happiness.
We drove to downtown Wilmington in light traffic as we were sixty minutes past rush hour. We met Cyndie in the law office’s waiting area. Cyn looked formal too, in her black pants suit.
Holding hands, Cyndie, Edie and I walked into the walnut-paneled conference room of Walter Hines' law firm. We were immediately shocked. Seated across the table from Walter were my former girlfriend, Eve, and Robert Grayson. We didn’t expect them to be there. The atmosphere was North Pole cold.
On our side of the table, Edie and Cyndie sat in the middle, with Walter and me on each side. Eve just glared at us when we said hello. The entire time Grayson never kept eye contact with Cyndie, Edie or me.
I didn't know Grayson that well but it looked like you could fry an egg on his forehead. His red face stood out against his white shirt and navy-colored suit. Cyn told me later that she knew Robert was barely controlling his rage. I asked how she knew that. She said Robert has tons of nervous energy and needs to move his arms or legs when he's agitated. Even though he was keeping his arms under control, his feet were constantly moving. Cyn told me afterwards that he actually kicked her under the table once during the signing and she moved her chair back out of his range. She showed me the bruise on her left shin. Somehow, she kept from screaming, but she said it was close. It made her feel good that he was so upset.
Speaking to Grayson, Cyndie and me, Walter said, “Ms. Simmons and I have three documents for you to sign.”
Walter patted the three stacks in front of him. Shuffling and signing of the non-disclosure and hold harmless agreements and Robert's acceptance of Andi's will followed. I was amazed that Walter kept it all straight. At the end, Walter said, “That's all the signing. Thank you.”
Eve opened her briefcase, pulled out a business envelope, and placed it in the middle of the table.
Walter then said, “Cyndie and Edie, please take the settlement.”
Cyn picked it up. The whole thing took about twenty minutes. Then, Grayson asked Eve, “Is this over?”
Eve answered, “Yes, Robert, you may go.”
He immediately stood up. Cyn and I both heard him mumble as he walked out, “Good riddance.” He never looked back. Edie squeezed my hand.
The best moment for me was when Eve got up to leave. She stopped, turned to look at me and said, “You bastard. You must be proud of yourself.”
I could only say, “Not proud, just happy. The happiest I've ever been.”
My comment deflated Eve's remaining confidence. Eve looked at Cyndie holding the check in her hand, then at Edie holding the settlement papers, and finally back at me, and said, “I can't believe you figured this out.”
I took that as the ultimate compliment from Eve and just smiled. Then she left. We haven't seen Eve or Robert since. However, we've heard that Robert and Eve are frequently together, in court.
I then gave Edie a big kiss and Cyndie a tight hug and said, “This is a special day, let's go celebrate.”
epilogue
On Wednesday morning, June 30, I drove again to the Rittenhouse Square district. I found Addison Street, parked in a metered spot, dropped my money in, and walked to Melissa Hostel's house.
I was a few minutes early. 1839 Addison still had the “For Sale” sign inside the storm door. I looked in the front door's windows and noticed that Ms. Hostel's living and dining room furniture remained in place. The stack of twenty-some boxes remained in the kitchen and dining rooms.
With a squeal of tires a big white Mercedes came around the corner and jerked to a halt in front of 1839 Addison. I thought any other car wanting to get by her would be very challenged, but that wasn't my worry. Sally Moran was a big woman, very Irish looking, with short, curly, red hair. Sally opened the front door, turned on the lights and showed me in.
Sally gave me a three-page write-up on the house, and explained that some recent family problems delayed the move of Ms. Hostel's possessions. I suppressed a smile; what an understatement!
The house was small but stylish. It had a minimalist look. The dining and living rooms were white walls and hardwood floors with oriental rugs, while the kitchen had black and white tile. The house was laid out backwards, with the kitchen right inside the front door, and the dining room in the middle opening to the living room at the back. There were sliding doors off the living room, onto a small patio with an even smaller patch of grass behind the patio. The back yard was enclosed by a six-foot brick wall on three sides, with a door that opened onto the back alley.
The most impressive things downstairs were the framed photographs of women. They covered the walls. They were large photos, the smallest being two feet wide and three feet long. They were a mix of black and white, and color, and were more than glamour shots. It looked like the photographer intended these as studies of the beautiful women. In most photos the women had serious expressions.
I looked at one wall and time stopped for a minute. There were framed photos of Andi Grayson and Cyndie Myst. Knowing these two very well, I recognized the photographer's talents as these were the best photos imaginable.
Cyndie looked especially attractive in one large shot as she wore black lingerie, including a thong and high-heeled platform shoes with laces that criss-crossed around her bare lower legs and tied just below the knee. The photo was taken in a bedroom against a French door and her body was in left profile with her head turned towards the camera. Cyn's highlights included the swell of her am
ple breasts, the length of her very black hair, the curve of her behind, and the never-ending length of her legs.
I lingered as long as possible without drawing the attention of Ms. Moran. I finally asked her if I could take a quick look at the upper floors. Sally was fumbling with her organizer and her cellphone and waived me upwards.
The front room on the second floor was the master bedroom. It spanned the width of the house and had two front windows. The room had a king-sized bed and a white shag carpet. The minimalist look continued as the two night stands, one bureau and the bed were lacquered black wood. The walls were covered with over twenty beach photos, some with very attractive young women in bikinis.
In one photo with two topless women I spotted Andi. I recognized Andi's excitement as the photo revealed her inch-long, erect nipples. The photo captured Andi's eternal youth and mischievous joy. But, most photos were seascapes with startling blue water, without people. It looked like these were from a tropical island.
I ventured on to the smaller bedroom on this floor and found Melissa's office. Here, the final part of this mystery was solved. Mounted on the walls were several photography awards earned over the years. Of course, over two weeks earlier, on Horsetooth Rock, I guessed the true identify of this homeowner. These honors recognized the skill of the photographer, Red Sable, which was Melissa Hostel's professional name.
The office was crammed full of photo equipment, magazines, books, and paperwork. Some books were on lesbian topics. A Colorado state flag with the big red C and yellow center was hung on the wall above her desk. This room had a view of the back alley. The only bathroom upstairs was next door to this bedroom.
I journeyed up to the third floor and discovered two rooms. One was an unfinished storage room in back. The front room was as large as the master bedroom below. This room had a now-drained queen-sized waterbed, a large floor mat similar to those used in high school wrestling, photo lights on stands, and more photos of young women.
The largest and best was a life-size photo of a very tall, very appealing, naked blonde. It took me a moment to realize that I was looking at Andi Grayson. It was hard to know when the photo had been taken; my guess was five years earlier. Andi looked unbelievable. Her body was shown to perfection as she stood facing the camera wearing only an opened white silk robe and white high-heeled pumps. Her long legs were spread shoulder-width apart and she had her hands on her hips holding the robe open.
Andi's extraordinary body was completely revealed, including her large, firm breasts. Her hair was shorter then, all light blonde and styled to lie on her bare shoulders.
This was a study in white - white background, white robe and shoes, very white blonde hair, pale white skin, and white floor - but the viewers' eyes were drawn to Andi's pink private areas, accentuated as she had no body hair. The truly remarkable part was that the photo was lifelike - it looked like Andi was standing here with me. Knowing Andi, I thought this was an amazing photo and she couldn't look better or more appealing.
Andi was a head-turner her whole life, but in this photo she was irresistible; at the height of her sensual grace and power. Yet, the photographer captured something else; Andi was sad, vulnerable and unfulfilled. She was the picture of fertile desire, beckoning me to join her.
I couldn't take my eyes off this image. I was completely absorbed. From a distant place, I heard my name, twice. I couldn't respond. It was Sally Moran's voice, calling from the first floor.
Somehow, I came back to this room, this space. I reluctantly broke my focus, and yelled down to Sally that I was on my way.
I thanked Ms. Moran for the tour and told her I would consider making an offer.
***
I walked north to Rittenhouse Square. I sat in the sunshine on my favorite park bench and let the wind blow through me as I daydreamed about my Sexy Girls.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Gary S. Griffin spent years as a business investigator which provided a rich library of experiences he used to create his private eye stories. The personalities of the performing artists and models in Gary's life have all contributed to developing the unique and fascinating characters that populate his novels.
Gary lives in Delaware with his wife and children.