After Felicia died, she had to take responsibility for tidying up her accounts and paying her bills. A chore which had revealed that Felicia was not the poor street urchin she had pretended to be, instead she was a wealthy young woman in her own right, she had left all her money to Maribel. Money that Maribel still had difficulty using. Maybe, someday, when she was not as raw with emotions from Felicia’s sudden death she would consider it, but for now she drifted from party to party feeling empty and alone.
“Yuh shouldn’t have left school,” the taxi man mumbled, “men like good looking women for a while, but they prefer the intelligent ones who can challenge them for long term.”
He guffawed when Maribel shot him a dirty look.
“Men are not interested in me for anything else but my looks and how I can please them in bed.”
“Sometimes you have to do something other than pleasing men.” The taxi man said philosophically. “You should probably make an effort to do something to enhance those brain cells that God gave you, and go back to school! Perhaps you should go get some peace at church … now that would be something.”
He grinned as Maribel screwed up her face and cringed. “I am not into no God business.” She rebutted quickly, pleased to see her house in the car’s headlamps. “God has never done anything for me yet.”
The taxi man took the money she shoved at him and watched as she scrambled out of the car.
She hobbled in her pink high-heeled shoes toward her gate; her short clothes and daring hairstyle made her look so vulnerable to him—like a lost little girl just turned twenty and probably lived a lifetime already, he shook his grey head.
The morning was clearing up as he glanced at the dashboard clock; it was five thirty and a cool breeze was blowing from the sea in the distance.
“Listen Miss,” he shouted from the taxi as she turned around to close the gate, her mascara running as tears fell freely down her face.
“You might not think you need God now, but my granny used to say, that it’s the people who think that they don’t need him, that really do.”
She gave him the finger and strolled up her walkway and slammed the front door behind her.
Here's a peek at Private Sins
"I can't do this anymore," Kelly said, looking at Chris with guilt in her eyes.
He was driving along the scenic coastline of Runaway Bay, heading towards his villa. He flinched and tightened his hand on the steering wheel and in a voice belying his tension, asked gently, "You can't do what, be my interior decorator anymore?"
"Be your mistress, girlfriend, bit on the side. Whatever this is, Chris," Kelly replied, glancing at him pleadingly. "This is wrong. So wrong on many levels." She clasped her hands in her lap and inhaled. "It should not have started."
"You love me," he said, slowing down the vehicle and turning into the villa's entrance. The landscaping was still unfinished and some men were busy constructing a stone wall. Chris tooted them as he drove up the winding driveway. The landscaper, who was transplanting a palm tree, waved to him.
He stopped under the overhang at the front entrance. Already the landscaper had planted white roses beside the trellis. They were supposed to entwine around the posts and create a scenic point of interest.
He tried to avoid Kelly's startled look as he got out of the car, slamming the door harder than he should.
Kelly scrambled out of the car and walked quickly around to his side.
"No, I don't. I don’t think I do. This is just a fling— remember? We agreed six months ago, when this whole thing started, that it would just be a one off. Chris … Chris, are you listening to me?"
He strolled into the villa and headed straight for his temporary office, which was a suite of rooms behind the receptionist area.
Kelly walked in after him swiftly, her high heels making an echoing sound on the marble tiles. The lobby area was the last place that she had to decorate and furnish. After that she would be done with the job. She had done the ten two-bedroom villas that Chris had commissioned her to do, and in the process had lost all sense of morality.
This job had been her moral undoing.
She winced when she thought about how many days she spent in this very same space with Chris Donahue in a sensual haze, hiding away from the real world, and lying to herself and her family.
She slowed down and leaned onto the reception desk. It was not yet varnished, but the furniture maker had finished the design exactly to her dictates. It would perfectly complement the forest theme she had envisioned when she had first seen the space.
She glanced in the mirrors that lined the wall in front of the desk and tried to avoid looking at herself, her reflection seemed slightly accusing. Her heartfelt sigh echoed into the hollow room. She cupped her hand under her chin, and a rush of guilt so raw and suffocating grasped her by the chest that she found that she was breathing shallowly.
She heard the door behind the desk open. The whole wall was covered in wood and the door was a seamless addition. She glanced around to see Chris standing there, a wounded look in his eyes.
"I don't want to end this."
Kelly sighed. "I know, but we have to."
Chris ran his fingers through his curly hair and leaned against the door. "You could get a divorce, marry me."
Kelly inhaled and exhaled rapidly. “I have two children, Chris. That decision would have far-reaching consequences."
"I can take care of all of you," Chris said earnestly, now standing before her, his hazel eyes glistening with tears.
Kelly looked away from him and shook her head. "I still love my husband. I don't think I ever stopped loving him."
Her words stood between them and he backed off slightly. "He doesn’t give you the love and attention that you crave. I have watched you two over the years. He is so involved with his job that you come a mere second in his affections. I am a property developer. We could build hotels and villas together and you decorate them. We complement each other. You love me too, Kelly. I know you do. I can see you trying to fight it because of some misplaced loyalty to a husband who doesn’t care about you. If you went missing, he wouldn’t care."
"That’s not true," Kelly said, sobbing. "I can't just throw away ten years and two kids because of lust. I can't. I won't."
"Lust?!" Chris snorted. "I have loved you for longer than ten years. The sad part about this is that you knew and you married him anyway. I wasn’t good enough for you then and apparently I am not good enough for you now."
"Chris…don't." Kelly wiped her eyes and gave him a beseeching look. "I am sorry—okay. I am sorry. More sorry than you would ever know that this whole thing escalated into what it is now. You are handsome and young and rich, you will find somebody and…"
"Shut up!" Chris shouted. "Just shut up! You accepted this job willingly, Kelly. For years you refused whenever I asked you to work on a project with me because you knew how I felt about you. You have always felt the tension between us. You wanted to start this affair. You wanted a reason to leave your relationship. Here I am Kelly! Here's the reason!"
Chris jabbed himself in the chest, a stormy glint in his eyes. "Leave Theo and come to me. I am not marrying anyone else. I am not interested in anyone else."
Kelly turned away from him, her eyes damp. "I am choosing my family, Chris. Please just take me home. Drat it, I wish I had driven my car. I will try to finish up the lobby in the agreed-upon time, but I am putting an end to this—now. Can we please not discuss this affair again?"
"We'll see about that." Chris stormed toward the car. "You can't just use me and then dump me. I love you."
Kelly walked behind him. "You can't tell him, Chris. He’s your pastor. You are his first elder. The church would have a field day with this if it ever got out. Please see reason."
Chris slammed the car door, and Kelly had to hobble fast to get into the car before he drove off.
s to the Story
Love Triangle: Three Sides to the Story Page 8