by Alex Marcoux
Stephanie’s fist withdrew, but her anger seemed to simmer. “If I were a man, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
“What?”
“You heard me. If a man hit her, you wouldn’t dare say anything because you know it’s none of your business. But I’m a woman…and she’s a woman.” Stephanie moved closer to Sidney. “You just don’t like people like us.”
“Excuse me?”
She was smiling as she strolled around Sidney. “You just don’t like lesbians. Admit it,” she taunted.
“This has nothing to do with your lifestyle. You hurt my business and Anastasia’s. Damaged merchandise doesn’t sell. Why is that so hard for you to understand?” Then Sidney continued, “I don’t want to see you at any of Anastasia’s functions for two months, no rehearsals, no performances, nothing.”
“Bitch,” Stephanie uttered and abruptly brushed past Sidney.
“By the way,” Sidney said, “Anastasia never told me you hit her.”
“Then who did?”
“You just did.”
Stephanie quickly got in her car and peeled out of the parking lot.
As Sidney walked back toward the beach, she realized the altercation had gotten the attention of the photographer’s crew and groupies. All eyes seemed to be staring at Sidney as she approached Natalie. Anastasia remained sitting on the beach with her back to Sidney.
Natalie followed Sidney’s lead and walked out of hearing distance from Anastasia.
“Are you okay?” Natalie asked.
“Yeah. How’s Anastasia?”
“She’s upset. She’s afraid you’re going to make things worse.”
“That’s not my intention.”
“I know that,” said Natalie.
“Take her in to see Thomas Phelps. I’ll call and make the arrangements.”
Sidney was in her car heading north, across South Oyster Bay. She pulled out her cellular phone and punched in the phone number.
“Dr. Phelps’s office,” a voice answered the phone.
Sidney recognized the voice. “Hi Nancy, this is Sidney Marcum. How are you?”
“Sidney? How are you? We haven’t heard from you in ages. How have you been?” She continued to rattle off questions, not giving Sidney ample time to respond.
“I’m doing great Nancy, but I need a favor from you and Tom. Can you help me?”
“Of course. What’s up?”
“I have a friend who needs medical attention today. Can you fit her in?” Sidney asked.
“Consider it done. Now what’s her name?”
“How does Jane Smith sound?”
“Like you don’t want me to know who she is,” the nurse answered.
“This is the deal, Nancy, I can’t afford to have her injury leaked to the press and made public. Would you and Tom be able to treat her, bill me, and I promise, I will personally take care of it?”
“She’s not shot, is she?”
“No. I don’t believe there’s anything serious. It’s just a sensitive situation. What do you think? Can you help me?”
“Of course we will.”
“Can you update Thomas? Or I’ll be happy to discuss this with him.”
Nancy laughed. “You know I run this office. I’ll tell Tom what’s going on.”
“If he has any concerns, have him call me. Natalie is bringing her in. They’ll probably be there in an hour or so.”
Anastasia bitched about Sidney all the way to the doctor’s office. “I hope she knows what the hell she’s doing. What’s going to stop the doctor from selling the story to the press? Damn her, she should just mind her own business. Doesn’t she realize she just made it worse for me? Steph is going to kill me.”
Natalie’s patience was wearing thin as she listened to Anastasia complain. “You know, I’m really getting tired of hearing you bitch about Sid. She really is just trying to help. Take my advice, trust her. She knows what she’s doing.”
Anastasia remained quiet the rest of the drive to the doctor’s office, which was located in New York Hospital. Natalie parked the car in the employee parking lot, then removed what appeared to be a parking permit from her glove compartment and placed it in the windshield. Before entering the building, Natalie had Anastasia put on a scarf and sunglasses, obscuring her face. Natalie escorted Anastasia through a back stairway and elevator to the doctor’s office.
Natalie and Anastasia entered the waiting room. Nancy smiled warmly at Natalie, then casually addressed Anastasia. “Ms. Smith? Right this way, please.” Both Natalie and Anastasia followed the nurse into a private examining room. She handed Anastasia a robe. “Put this on and I’ll be back in a moment.”
Nancy and Natalie left the room, leaving Anastasia alone for a few minutes. Shortly after, Nancy returned to conduct an initial examination, then Dr. Phelps followed.
“Ms. Smith, it looks like you’re pretty lucky,” Dr. Phelps explained after the examination. “I was concerned that you broke a rib or two during your…fall. There are no breaks, but you’re very bruised, and appear quite uncomfortable. We’re going to dress the laceration on your arm, and give you some anti-inflammatory agents to help your ribs. If the pain doesn’t subside in three days, call me.”
Throughout the examination, Anastasia anticipated that someone would bring up her identity, or ask how her injuries occurred. But no one did. She was never asked to sign any documents. Just before Anastasia left the examination room, Nancy returned. Smiling, she said, “I understand you’re a friend of Sidney’s. We haven’t seen her in years. How’s she doing?”
“Sidney seems … to be the same as usual.”
“She’s such a sweetheart; please let her know we miss her and think of her often.”
Anastasia agreed sarcastically, “Yeah, a real sweetheart.” Before Anastasia opened the door to leave the examination room, she turned back to Nancy and asked, “Do you know who I am?”
“Of course we do, Ms. Smith,” Nancy answered.
Chapter 8
Sidney left the photo shoot, and, as she reached the Southern State Parkway, she knew she was having difficulty concentrating on her driving. Her mind kept returning to her confrontation with Stephanie. The more she thought about Anastasia and Stephanie’s situation, the more unsettled she became. When Sidney saw the sign for the Meadowbrook State Parkway, she decided to exit. She headed south, and quickly returned to beach communities, soon reaching Jones Beach.
A walk on the beach may take my mind off their situation and help me relax. She parked her car, rolled up her shirt-sleeves and removed her sandals. The warm sand ran between her toes. Shortly after, the warm sand was replaced by cold water from the breaking waves. Sidney’s mind continued to race. She hardly noticed the other people playing, swimming, running and enjoying the unseasonably warm day. After she had walked about a mile, she realized the walk was not relaxing her and decided to sit and enjoy the beach. But as she sat there, her mind kept taking her back to more difficult times.
*
Eleven years earlier, Sidney had just celebrated her fifth wedding anniversary with Michael as well as her fifth year at Global Records. Her career had progressed wonderfully, but her marriage had become a facade. Michael was campaigning aggressively to become the next New York Governor. Although he realized their marriage was in need of repair, he also realized he needed a loyal wife and a successful marriage to secure the Republican seat in the elections.
The two had come to an understanding: she would portray a loyal and loving wife; and he would release her from their marriage after the elections. On two previous occasions, Sidney had tried to leave Michael but had been unsuccessful. Both times her husband’s subordinates had picked her up within 48 hours. She had reluctantly agreed to become her husband’s pawn and had played his game, envisioning her future freedom.
Michael’s business had grown tremendously over the years, particularly the Securities Division. During the evenings, Michael had continued his private business sessions with
Keith Connerly, Whitman Industries’ attorney. Sidney suspected that Michael was involved in questionable security sales and purchases. Her suspicions were proven correct when she came across some of Michael’s notes concerning a company named Vision Tech. She knew that Whitman Industries had previously acquired thousands of shares of Vision Tech stock. The notes indicated that Vision Tech had a problem with a new software product, and the company was planning to push back its introduction. The new product setback would be announced at the next shareholders’ meeting.
From her previous employment at the company, Sidney was familiar with the Whitman Industries network computer system. Over the years, she had learned how to access the company’s Security Division information. Michael’s never been very creative, she thought the first time she typed in his mother’s maiden name and the computer recognized the password.
Sidney gained access to the Whitman Securities data through Michael’s home computer. She learned that the company had sold all shares of Vision Tech the day after the date of Michael’s notes. Almost one month later, Vision Tech announced the development problems at the shareholders’ meeting. As expected, the stock plummeted, and Whitman Industries bought Vision Tech stock again at a bargain price.
Over the years, Sidney learned that Michael kept detailed notes of his discussions with Keith Connerly. She suspected the notes were about their insider trading activities. Although the notes were damaging to both Michael and Keith, she believed that her husband kept them to incriminate the lawyer in the event he ever crossed him. The notes were locked away in his home desk filing cabinet.
For years, Michael had blamed Sidney’s inability to conceive and produce his heir as the reason for their marriage’s difficulties. But Sidney looked at the situation differently. She was scared to death to have a child with Michael. His volatility had increased over the years, and her biggest fear was that he would vent his frustrations on a child. Sidney also wanted to reduce any attachment to him, knowing he would never divorce her if she had his child.
Sidney was almost ready for a formal dinner party. She was dressed, had her makeup applied, her jewelry on, and her long hair elegantly styled. Michael was dressed in a black tuxedo. As Sidney stepped back to view herself in the full-length mirror, Michael voiced his opinion. “I like your other black shoes, the ones with the taller heel.”
“I like those too, Michael, but these are more comfortable.” Sidney studied herself in the full-length mirror. “Don’t these look okay?”
Michael retreated to the closet through their master bathroom. He returned with a couple pairs of shoes. Sidney’s heart seemed to skip a beat as she stared at the shoes he selected. “Try these on,” he ordered, but as he said it a small case fell out of one of the shoes. Leaning over, Michael picked up the tiny case and opened it. “What the hell is this?” he asked.
“It’s a diaphragm,” Sidney answered.
“I know what it is. What the hell is it doing here?”
Sidney remained silent.
“Have you been using this?” Michael’s tone was rising.
“Yes, I have.”
Michael was losing his patience. “We’ve been trying to get pregnant, for…for what? Four years now? And you’ve been practicing birth control all along?”
“For the last two years.”
Michael was expressionless as he stared at her. He slapped her face with the back of his hand. Sidney had expected it and remained calm. Then she said, “This is why I don’t want a baby with you, Michael. I’d be scared to death you’d abuse your own child.”
“You bitch. You know I want children. I thought you were sterile.”
“Michael, we’ve had an agreement for over a year now, remember? I pretend to be your loyal wife through the elections, then we’re getting divorced. A child would only complicate matters.”
Michael laughed.
“May I ask what is so funny?” Sidney asked.
“You’re so stupid.” Michael was still laughing. “I’m never going to divorce you, especially now.”
She could not believe what she was hearing. Her anger built to rage, and, with all her strength, she instinctively slapped Michael. He was taken off guard by her unnatural aggression but was quick to rebound and punched her squarely on her jaw. She was knocked off balance and fell to the floor.
Sidney held her face, then pulled her hand away, seeing blood on her hand. “Okay, you’ve made your point; you’re stronger than me.”
Michael went to the mirror and inspected the red welt that had formed on his face. His rage grew. Methodically, he removed his tuxedo jacket, cummerbund and bow tie, and was unzipping his pants as he approached Sidney.
“Don’t even think about it. The answer is no,” Sidney said.
He picked her up roughly, and twisted her arms. “I don’t need your consent to fuck you.”
“Michael, that hurts. Stop it. I said no, and I mean it.”
Stopping was furthest from Michael’s mind. He threw Sidney on the bed and jumped on her. As he struggled with lowering his trousers, Sidney repeatedly lashed out to strike him. A blow to his jaw enraged him further, and he punched her with increased force, numbing her momentarily. He pulled off his pants and climbed back on her, but she kneed him in the groin. He collapsed and groaned in pain as Sidney pushed him off of her. She was getting on her feet when he cried, “You bitch,” and attacked her from behind, slamming her against the wall. When she turned, he struck her face, then repeatedly punched her stomach and ribs. A hard blow to her face took her down on the dresser. Her face crashed on a vase, and as she fell, the back of her head landed sharply on the pedestal of the full-length mirror.
Sidney could not completely recall what happened after that, as she struggled with consciousness. Enraged, Michael dragged her back to the bed, tore off her pantyhose, then raped her. Distracted by the damage he had inflicted on Sidney’s face, he casually covered it with a pillow as he brought himself to climax.
Chapter 9
As she awoke, Sidney was overwhelmed with pain in her ribs. She tried to look around but found it difficult to focus her eyes. With her hands she explored her face. Sidney felt the blood and torn tissue near her right eye, and her left eye was almost swollen shut. As she moved her head sideways, her face became damp and sticky from the floor. Blood. It was then she knew she was lying in a pool of her own blood.
“Michael?” She called out weakly. But there was no response.
Sidney knew that she was on the floor of her bedroom, beside the bed. Her dinner gown was torn and blood stained. The intense pain from her ribs made it difficult for her to move. Michael’s tuxedo jacket and accessories were gone. He must have gone to the party, she thought as she crawled toward the full-length mirror. Blood stained the carpet near the mirror’s pedestal, then she remembered and felt for the gash on the back of her head.
Terror overwhelmed her as she caught her reflection in the mirror. “Oh my God,” she cried when she saw her disfigured face. Collapsing, her head in her hands, she prayed that the nightmare would end and she could wake up, unscathed.
From experience, she knew Michael’s goons would be by soon to pick up the pieces. Her heart was racing as she tried to muster up the strength and courage to escape. Slowly, she was able to get up and put on a long raincoat. She pulled a scarf around her face to conceal her injuries. Then she turned toward the antique secretary’s desk that was in the front foyer. From a secret compartment, she removed Michael’s emergency cash and pocketed the bundle in her raincoat.
As she approached the front doorway, she heard the faint bell from the elevator. Since the penthouse was the only apartment on the floor, Sidney knew it was either Michael or his goons. Seconds later, the door lock was being released. With barely enough time, she ducked into the front hallway closet. As she peered through the opening, she saw two well-dressed men enter and move toward the bedroom.
Carefully, Sidney emerged from the closet and approached the doorway. Her escape door c
reaked as she opened it, hastening her pulse. Quietly she stepped through the doorway and closed the door, hoping the men did not hear her. She approached the elevator but realized the elevator bell would draw attention. Opting for the stairwell, she painfully managed to descend one floor before she found an elevator on the lower level.
In the lobby, the doorman, Clark, did not recognize her as she stumbled off the elevator. “Can I help you, Miss?” he asked.
“Clark, I need a cab,” Sidney managed to say. She carefully looked away from him, so he could not see her injuries.
The doorman obediently ran outside and flagged down a cab, then returned to the lobby. He started to help Sidney outside, and then his phone rang. “Excuse me, Miss, this should just take a minute.” He left her at the entrance of the revolving glass door.
“Hello,” he answered the phone. “Have I seen who?” Clark turned and watched as Sidney desperately tried to move the heavy revolving door. “Mr. Whitman’s wife, Sidney?”
With the phone in hand, he walked toward the revolving door. Sidney’s heart beat faster as she pushed the glass door to within a few inches of her freedom, and then it stopped. The doorman’s foot was wedged in the opening preventing her escape.
Trapped and desperate, Sidney turned toward him and removed her scarf, revealing her injuries. “Clark…please,” Sidney pleaded.
“Ms. Marcum, you mean?” The doorman continued his telephone conversation, as he stared at Sidney trapped in the revolving door. “No, I haven’t seen her,” he said as he removed his foot from the door, enabling her escape.
Sidney entered the emergency room of New York Hospital. As she approached the admitting desk, her world started to spin. Initially the motion was subtle, then more intense. To steady herself, she raised an arm searching for the wall, but as she groped she aggravated the injury to her ribs. The pain brought her to her knees; her world clouded, and then there was no more light.
On initial evaluation, the attending physician ordered a rape kit. This was standard protocol when rape was suspected. Evidence samples were gathered and pictures were taken before Sidney regained consciousness.