by Denise Daye
“WHY IS NOBODY ANSWERING?” The voice of Lucy Radcliff suddenly fumed through the speaker phone.
Ava leaned closer into the camera.
“It’s Ava. Is my—”
“Ava who? If you are here for my son, I advise you to turn around and save yourself the heartache…”
Ava’s eyes and mouth opened wide, but no words came out. Her father had worked for the Radcliff’s his whole life. Ava had been raised on the estate. How did this woman not know who she was?
She was about to explain that she was here for her father when Lucy Radcliff already hung up on her.
“…Unbelievable…” Ava mumbled to herself as her brows drew together tightly. She wasn’t a judgmental person, but she really couldn’t stand the Radcliffs. Well, if Lucy Radcliff thought she could make her wait here for hours, she was wrong.
Ava stomped to the gate and grabbed it high above her head with both hands. She then placed her foot onto one of the horizontal metal posts and pulled herself up. It didn’t take her long to climb to the top, literally hanging over the tip of the gate. At that point, out of nowhere, the darn thing started to open.
“AH!” she cried out as she tightened her grip to prevent a fall. The gate slowly opened wide, pushing her into the branches of the oak tree next to the gate’s brick wall. She didn’t even get the chance to see the sleek Porsche roll up. All she heard was that all too familiar voice of the very man she disliked more than all the other Radcliffs combined, which was saying something.
“Whose car is blocking my driveway?” Benjamin Radcliff yelled as he brought his hundred-thousand-dollar car to a stop. A long blast of his car horn pierced through the summer air, startling her so badly, she almost fell off the gate again.
“I’M COMING!” Ava snapped from out of the tree. She tried to climb down when she felt one of the branches pulling at her hair.
“Ava? Is that you?” Ben shouted over.
“Yes, just give me a moment. My hair is stuck.”
“What the hell are you doing up there?”
She ignored him and untangled her hair. When she had finally freed herself, a handful of hair missing, she didn’t bother climbing down all the way and jumped the final half.
She turned to find Benjamin standing right in front of her, away from his expensive supercar. Ava jumped. “Jesus Benjamin… you scared me.”
Stumbling a few steps back, she took a good look at the man in front of her. Like Ava, he was in his late twenties. He was wearing an immaculate, sleek suit without a tie. He was probably on his way to a date—as always. His short brown hair was made to look natural, but Ava knew from their childhood years that he had spent a lot of time styling it. She hated to admit it, but Benjamin Radcliff’s looks were far above a solid ten. Yes, he was that good-looking and in shape. Movie-star level. And worst of all, he was well aware of it.
“I scared you?” he said with a smirk on his face. “You’re the one swinging down from the trees like a wild monkey.”
Ava cursed under her breath.
“I wouldn’t have to play primate if your mother would have been so kind to open the gate for me so I can get my father.”
“Sounds about right,” he said nodding his head. “Well… anyway…” He got back into his car. “It was nice catching up and watching you swing around in the branches, but could you move your car now? I’m already late.”
Ava strode back to her car and leaned against it; arms crossed tightly.
“Then why not get your butt out of your billionaire ride and help me push it!” she retorted. For a moment Ben just sat there looking at her, but much to her surprise, his car door opened, and he stepped out.
“I see. What’s wrong with it?” he asked, walking over to her.
“It won’t start. Can you not see that?”
He sighed. “Fine. Step aside.”
“For what? We should push it together so we—”
“Won’t be necessary,” he interrupted her and moved over to the front of her car. Folding up his lower sleeves, his muscular arms showed. For a brief second Ava was distracted by them but was quickly brought back to the present by the unstoppable amusement that formed inside her. There was no way he could fix her car.
He popped the hood and winced when he felt just how hot it was. Her smirk grew wider. Rich boy doesn't know what he’s doing.
“Hmm,” he mumbled and leaned into the car, examining it. “Car’s overheating. Is your AC working?” His voice came out low over the hood.
“No.”
“Just as I thought…let me try something really quick.”
He walked around her car and got in on the driver’s side. She smirked and grunted again, loudly this time, so he knew she was mocking him. But he ignored her and played around with her AC. Clearing his throat, he turned the car key, and it started. Her smirk vanished as Ava’s mouth fell wide open and Ben threw her a triumphal wink.
“W-wow,” she stuttered rushing over to him.
“A common issue with ancient cars like this. People leave their broken AC’s on and the car overheats. Best thing to do is turn the heater on. It has a coil core inside, and it draws the heat out of the engine. Turning on the heater at full blast will vent the heat into the cabin and allow the engine to cool a bit. Not an ideal solution, but it works.”
Ava rubbed her eyes. Was this really Ben in front of her?
“Where did you learn how to do that?”
He shrugged his shoulders.
“My Uncle Barney; he’s as nuts as he is handy with cars. I learnt a thing or two from him. Now, can you get it out of the way please?”
“Y-yes. Of course. Thank you.”
She waited for him to get out. Maybe Benjamin Radcliff wasn’t so bad after all. But just when she wanted to thank him again, he stopped right next to her and reached over to pull a leaf out of her hair.
“Is that the latest fashion amongst the monkeys now?”
Ava felt fire run though her veins once more. Her jaw clenched. She wanted to say something smart in return, but Benjamin was already back inside his supercar and honked at her.
“Alright!” she yelled over to him to make him stop honk. She rushed back into her car and moved it out of the way.
As if the devil was after him, Benjamin hit the gas pedal of his Porsche and raced off, scattering dirt behind his spinning wheels. She narrowed her eyes and watched him disappear in the far distance.
“Radcliffs!” she muttered shaking her head.
E
lijah Radcliffe took a stroll around his mansion’s gardens, taking in the beauty of a warm summer evening. The smell of a storm was in the air. He narrowed his eyes and gazed at the dark cloud formations.
His lips tightened. It would rain soon. He hated rain - it always brought back memories from decades ago, of his time on the streets, hustling and basically scraping for survival in the bitter cold. He had come a long way since those wretched times, and he hated thinking about it. Being a billionaire hadn't come easy; it'd taken years of hard work and dedication, but he'd made it. He’d become Elijah Radcliff, real estate mogul and one of the most powerful men in New York.
Moving past the wide green lawns adorned with beautiful white statues along the edges, he decided to go back inside. Staring at those rain clouds had stirred up a somber feeling, or perhaps it was something else?
He stood still and stared at his hands. There were slight wrinkles on them—the price of aging.
“Are you okay, Sir?” A voice called out from behind.
He turned around and forced a smile. It was one of the housekeepers; no point acting weak in front of her.
“I'm fine.”
He clenched his fingers, feeling more of that cold breeze blowing against him. Maybe that would stop the trembling. Knowing that the housekeeper was still watching, he took in a deep breath and climbed up the steps, pushing through the beautiful, white doors of his castle.
Th
e halls were immaculately lit—portraits on the walls and art pieces tastefully arranged for maximum aesthetic impact. He stopped before one of the portraits and faintly smiled. It was of a woman, painted in blue, red, green, and yellow pastel colors. This was the first collectible item he'd ever bought, thirty years ago. A Monet. He always thought fondly of that trip to Lyon. It reminded him of his wife and son. But they were gone now, and a part of him had been buried with them. At least he still had Benjamin, his grandson.
Benjamin. He shook his head.
Walking past the array of artworks, he made his way into the study. He walked up to his favorite chair, adjacent to a large framed window overlooking his estate. With a glass of fine amber whiskey in his hand, he dropped into his chair and watched the lawns and gardens. The colors of the day faded as the dark of night slowly encroached on the estate. It started to rain, drops pattering against the window. His gaze turned toward the coffee table close to the marble fireplace. A variety of magazines—TIME, FORBES and the like – were scattered on it. All of them had his picture on the front cover. His eyes moved through the bold headlines:
ELIJAH RADCLIFFE, BILLIONAIRE AND NEW YORK REAL ESTATE MOGUL...
He was a man who'd seen it all; a modern embodiment of the proverbial rags to riches story. Nobody really knew much about his past, and nobody cared to ask.
With trembling hands, he poured himself another round from the half-empty, fifteen-thousand-dollar bottle of whiskey.
“You have to cut down on the alcohol, Elijah,” his doctor had told him only two months ago. He'd agreed, but his promise had only lasted a week. No one seemed to notice or care. His grandson was far too busy being wild and the boy’s mother barely noticed anything outside of the world of fashion and diamonds.
A bright flash ripped through the sky, followed by a rolling clash of thunder. Elijah sat up; his heart pumping fast. He uncorked the bottle, his hands still shaking, but then it got worse. His grip on the bottle weakened. He watched everything turn into a soft blur as the bottle slipped out of his grasp. He waited for the sound of the smash but there was none. There was no sound at all. Everything seemed to flicker around him, the lights going on and off as the air around him suddenly turned to fire.
Then he felt it. The sharp pain gripping him. It started from his chest and quickly spread through his body. Instinctively, he slowly stretched his hand towards the desk to his right—but it was difficult; he felt as if a heavy weight was pressing down upon him. Breathing heavily, each breath slow and deep, he fell forward, off the chair. His body crashed right next to the desk, his breath failing him.
He wasn't sure how long he lay on the ground, but his eyes remained open as people rushed into the study. There were indistinguishable silhouettes crowding over him, scrambling for his hands and legs. He felt nothing.
“Careful, watch the glass from that broken bottle,” he heard one of the echoes say.
“Sir?”
As the room went dark, the voices faded and traded places with another:
'Father!” A familiar voice called out for him. Distant and ethereal, not from this world, out of reach.
It took several days for Elijah Radcliffe to recover even a little strength. He lay in bed staring out the window. It was a peaceful morning; birds chirped right outside the windows and the air was fresh. He knew he should feel grateful to still be alive, but for some reason he didn’t.
He shifted on the bed, his head lolled to the side. His daughter-in-law Lucy sat on a chair beside him. She looked up at him when he turned.
“I want to go outside,” he said, making an effort to sit. His voice was shaky, as well as his hands, which ached with every motion. Lucy stood quickly and gave him a hand.
“But the doctor said—” She tried protesting but he held his quivering hand up.
“I feel much better now, I want to take a look at the gardens.”
She nodded and waved to the nurse standing by the door. The nurse quickly rolled a wheelchair towards the bed and helped Elijah into it.
Shaking her head, Lucy stood aside and watched as he was wheeled out. He did look better now, at least compared to how he’d been the past few days, but this was still the worst she’d ever seen him. His eyes were sunken and his face pale. The man whose name alone struck fear in the hearts of men now looked fragile and old. Even his breathing seemed laborious, as if he had to use all his might for each intake of air. But what frightened her most was the news the doctor had broken to them the day before.
“I have to call Benjamin,” she muttered to herself and followed them out of the room. As if reading her thought, Elijah asked:
“Where is my grandson?”
Lucy stiffened. Benjamin was almost never around. He was probably in Paris or off on some expensive trip, living lavishly. She wasn’t against that, definitely not; she also loved living the classy life, but her son’s extravagance was positively flamboyant at times. She’d always told him to tone it down a bit.
“He’s around,” she lied, fiddling with the words in her head.
“Around? And what does that mean?”
Lucy straightened and cleared her throat.
“I spoke to him an hour ago. He had some business to attend to, but he’ll be here soon.”
Elijah narrowed his eyes at her and but then nodded. “Very well…”
Lucy watched the nurse wheel him down the hall, before she took out her phone with a long, audible breath.
“Please pick up…”
Benjamin was slowly sobering up in a penthouse suite in Las Vegas. He lay in bed, the silk sheets soft, and smiled when the lady by his side shifted closer and rested her head on his chest, her brown hair falling over his arm. She lay naked under the sheets and he could feel the warmth of her body pressed against him. He smiled, stroking her hair and taking in the luxury of the suite. $25,000 a night. It did feel like chicken feed. Most times all he had to do was mention the name Radcliff and he’d get the best. He worked hard at his grandfather’s company, so he had not the slightest bit of guilt partying hard as well.
“I’ll tell you something,” the hotel manager had whispered to him the evening he’d checked in. “I have a great suite a movie star actually stayed in just a night ago.”
“A movie star, huh?” he’d said and nodded. “That’s amazing. Can I get something better?”
Life is good, he thought to himself as he stretched his arms.
Suddenly his phone rang. For Christ’s sake. The ringing sent bolts of pain through his head and reminded him of how hungover he was from the previous night’s celebration.
Where is the damn phone? he thought.
The lady beside him moaned softly as he shifted to her side and slid from the bed. Even his legs felt numb. He waved his arms in a bid to steady himself. It felt like he’d just gotten a new pair of legs. The ringing stopped.
“Okay, that’s taken care of,” he said with relief and walked to the window. He could feel the luxury even from the soft carpeting beneath his feet. The window had a great view of the bustling strip below. Few would ever be able to afford this luxury and he liked to think that he’d worked hard enough to get to where he was—with a little help, of course.
The ringing started again, slicing brutally through his moment of zen and tranquility. Frowning, he turned and this time his eyes fell on the phone almost instantly. It’d been on the sideboard nearby the whole time. Could be important, a tiny voice in his head said.
He grabbed his phone and saw the caller ID: Mom.
Oh great, he rolled his eyes, cleared his throat and answered the call.
“Hey, Mom.” He struggled to make his voice sound as normal as possible. He cleared his throat, but it still came out flat and choked.
“Benjamin, where are you?”
Benjamin. His mother usually called him sweetie or Ben, or whatever popped up in her head, but whenever she called him Benjamin it always meant she was in a serious mood. Just the
thought of having to deal with an out of control Lucy, especially in the state he was in, brought a new wave of throbbing headaches over him.
“Vegas, Mom.”
“Las Vegas? What in the world are you doing?” she yelled but stopped mid-sentence, taking in deep breaths, obviously trying to calm down.
Benjamin held the phone away from his ear and moved around the room, stopping at a table with an ice bucket on it. The two bottles of champagne cradled in it were empty.
His mother’s voice filtered through the phone as he took out the last surviving ice cube and held it against his forehead, all the while mumbling, “Uh-huh, yeah, uh-huh” irrespective of what his mother said.
“You’re not listening to me, are you?”
“Look, mom, I'm fine. I'm a grown man who can handle himself. So yeah, I'm in Las Vegas for my pal's birthday.”
He wasn't exactly lying, though he had left out the fact that the birthday celebration had been held in a club along the strip and that he'd broken off from the group after he had met this model whose name had escaped him—as always.
“Of course, we’re civil, Mom. I'm all dressed and about to leave.”
His eyes strayed to the large mirror fixed to the wall and he stared at his boxer-clad reflection.
“I’m relieved to hear it,” his mother said. “Come home right away. Something's happened.” His heart skipped a beat.
“What’s wrong?”
He immediately started searching through his head for what the possible “something” could be. He'd been of good behavior for some months now—the parties being just a little bit excessive, but not enough to warrant that grave tone from his mother.
“We'll talk about it when you get back.”
“Just tell me now. You can't just call me only to put me in suspense. Geez, Mom, it’s a five-hour flight from Vegas to New York, and all I'll be thinking about is your secret news the whole time.”
After a pause which lasted a sprawling few seconds, his mother spoke. “Your grandfather is dying.” He froze, a cold shiver taking over his entire body.