Fifty Six
The helicopter was whisking them across the cerulean sky from the South Beach headquarters to the homeless tent city under the Julia Tuttle Causeway. Sophia always feared helicopters. They were so flimsy, so makeshift. Not like a solid airplane. After last week’s terror, brewed by Maria, who will forever be Mad Maria in her thoughts, sitting in a helicopter, full to capacity, was a piece of cake. Not one bit scary.
“We’ll be approaching your destination in approximately ten minutes,” the ruggedly handsome pilot said, in a deep, vibrant timbre, which matched his looks to a tee.
Sophia, awkwardly clutching a stuffed Gucci carry on, pressing down on her lap, was sitting up front next to Gorgeous, but oblivious to his charms. She had Jonathan, her savior, and Jack, her other savior, right behind her. Amanda was uncomfortably sandwiched between the two men, vibrating with nervous energy. Keith, thrilled to be in a helicopter, swiveling his head in his excitement, was in the rear with the impressively muscled co-pilot, who, happy to be a ten year old’s hero, was showing him the ropes.
Only Ma and Ta are missing, Sophia thought. Just as well. They would not approve. Come to think of it, nobody approved. She didn’t care. This was her baby. Besides, it was healing. They may not realize it. Although, Amanda the shrink should. This one deed was healing for Amanda and Keith. It was healing for Jonathan, Jack, and her.
There was an intake of breath from someone as the homeless city came into sight, sprawling messily below, and the birds’ eye view activity here and there was so distant that it was impersonal. Out of reach.
“Get ready, Doctor Werniczewski,” the pilot prompted.
Had she been so pretentious as to use her title when she signed up? She didn’t remember. Morton would be proud. He always admonished her for not using it enough.
“I’m ready.” She unzipped the bag, and withdrew handfuls of bills. Her stomach was roiling with anticipation, her hands were sweating, and her heart was swelling with pure joy.
The doors were wide open as they were hovering close over the makeshift tent city. Sophia was flinging one hundred thousand dollars out of a pretty red high tech helicopter, feeding it into the sky onto the heads, bodies, and souls of the misbegotten. She was too busy and happy to fear the open doors.
She lost track of how many times they circled back, of how many handfuls she tossed out, and of how high her spirits soared. Sure, it was stupid, hot-headed, and ineffectual. But, it was real and it felt good. When the loot was gone, they circled once more, waving and watching the scramble down below.
“Ready to head back, Doctor Werniczewski?” The pilot grinned at Sophia. Was that a twinkle of admiration in his sky-blue eye? Or, scorn? She didn’t care. She was satisfied. It was a symbolic start. With all the free time on her hands now that the Momma’s Boys were gone, she would devote herself and her money to starting a homeless foundation. She would devote herself to her patients. She would devote herself to Jonathan. A life of health, hope, and happiness. She turned around to gaze at Jonathan, a beatific smile adorning her fervid face. A new beginning stretched before her like a rainbow lighting up the sky.
A LETTER TO MY READERS
Dear Readers,
I hope you enjoyed Time’s Harlot, the second installment in the Time series. This prequel takes us back fifteen years prior to Time’s Hostage, set in South Beach in 2014.
I am now working on Time’s Haunted, the third installment in the Time series, set in 2001, two years after Time’s Harlot.
If you enjoyed this book, I would love to hear from you. I’m open to answering questions, discussing background details, or sharing favorite authors. I always include an enjoyable book and film title at the end of my blog posts.
A review, if you are so inclined would be greatly appreciated. http://www.amazon.com/dp/099773261x is the link. Also, https://www.createspace.com/6887149.
Please visit me at my website: brendakuchinsky.com or, feel free to email me at: [email protected].
I look forward to hearing from you.
Warm regards,
Brenda
Time's Harlot: The Perils of Attraction, Seduction, and Desire Page 27