GRATIFICATION (Desire Never Dies)

by Clara Grace Walker

  “Maggie, honey, you could get a much better tan if you moved to the other side of the pool, facing the sun,” she called out.

  Maggie opened her eyes and shifted her glance to the sliding glass doors where Patrice had just come out. She had a deep tan herself, and had outfitted her liposuctioned body with a red bikini. She carried a martini with three jumbo Spanish olives in one hand, and a newspaper, pen and pad of paper in the other.

  “You should see the spread Nick did on the charity ball. Headlines trumpeting the whole event. The Tattletale says everyone who is anyone will be there. And, of course, he’s named several movie stars, and even a few musicians who’ll be attending. With P.R. like that, you’ll have the most successful party of the year.”

  “As long as everyone gives generously to the cause, I will,” Maggie said. She didn’t want Patrice to forget there was a more important reason for the party than just social status.

  Patrice took a seat on one of the lounge chairs across from Maggie. “Of course, dear. And speaking of the party, I’ve been making out my guest list, as well as jotting down a few thoughts I had for the event. Which charity did you say it was we were raising money for?”

  Maggie narrowed her gaze at Patrice. The woman had a bad habit of meddling in social events. Always trying to alter the guest list to include as many middle-aged millionaires as possible. Particularly now that her brother and his ever-present checkbook were gone, along with most of her own money.

  Maggie had seen her pull this stunt on half a dozen of her friends already in the past couple of years. Whenever anyone she knew had a party, Patrice could be counted on to help with the invitations. And her interference was one thing Maggie could do without. “Ty-Ken is raising money for abused children,” she said, using the company’s name as a subtle hint to Patrice that her input wouldn’t be asked for. “And I already sent out the invitations.”

  Patrice looked aghast. “You have? But you only just told me about the ball yesterday. How could you have made out a guest list so quickly? Maggie, dear, you really should put some thought into matters like that. I know Key West is laid back, but you’re talking about a major social event. A certain amount of protocol has to be observed.”

  The hair on the back of Maggie’s neck stood straight up. She was going to end up losing her sense of etiquette before the conversation was over if the woman didn’t retract her claws.

  “I invited everybody I like, Patrice. Which is the only protocol I care to follow.”

  “Honestly, Maggie, you’re every bit as stubborn as your father was.”

  Stubborn enough not to be bullied, she thought. She still wondered why her father hadn’t simply re-married after her mother’s death instead of handing her off to his sister. She realized, of course, that a step-mother could have wound up being equally self-absorbed and obnoxious, but she was pretty sure it couldn’t have been much worse.

  “Anyhow, who’s on your list, dear? Did you remember to invite all of the upper-level executives from the company?”

  Like she would not invite Ty-Ken executives to a Ty-Ken sponsored charity event. “All twelve of them,” she answered. “Plus three football players, four hockey players, a basketball player, all of the attorneys from Henry’s law firm, assorted doctors and judges, a senator, at least four major movie and TV stars, two rock stars and a male cover model.” There. That ought to satisfy even Patrice’s appetite for available men.

  Predictably, the woman smiled. “Well then, I guess you have given proper consideration to the guest list. Pardon my intrusion.”

  “No problem.” Maggie hoped she would settle into some serious tanning then, but she didn’t. Instead, she started checking things off on her pad of paper and then looked back over at Maggie.

  “You did invite the Clarkes as well, didn’t you?”

  That did it! Maggie sat up in the chair and glared at her father’s sister. “I most certainly did not. And I can’t believe you would even suggest that I would.”

  “Maggie, don’t be upset. I know you don’t like the Clarkes. And I know there have been some business maneuverings as of late, but that’s no reason to exclude them socially.”

  “Maybe not for you, but it sure works for me.”

  “Maggie, I don’t think you need to take that tone with me just because I want to adhere to social decorum.”

  “Patrice, if any one of the Clarkes dares to show their face at my bar, ever, I will personally throw them out.” If that didn’t get the point across, nothing would.

  Patrice made another one of her feigned, shocked looks. “I suppose in that case it would be best not to invite them.”

  Maggie just smiled. “My thinking exactly.”

  “However.” Patrice sat back up. “I’ve been questioning the wisdom of having this event at your bar. Do you really think that’s the most seemly place to host a social occasion of this magnitude?”

  “I’m having the ball at my bar,” Maggie said flatly. She hoped that would be enough to shut Patrice up, but doubted it.

  “I understand why your bar would be your first thought, dear, but have you considered one of Miami’s museums, or the Palm Beach Country Club, or even this house here? Palm Beach would probably be a more convenient location anyway.”

  “I’m having the ball at my bar, Patrice.” Maggie silently counted to ten. The words “shut up” were slipping dangerously close to the tip of her tongue. “Besides,” she pointed out, “the invitations have already been sent out. And they list my bar as the location.”

  “Oh.” Patrice finally sat back in her lounge chair. “Yes, of course.”

  The sound of the deck doors sliding open came as a welcome relief. Even when Maggie looked up and saw it was Preston. “Hey,” she greeted. “I take it by that smile on your face, you’re pleased with Nick’s headline.”

  “Damn right about that.” He set down the paper he’d been holding on the table between Maggie and the next lounge chair. She noticed, with a bit of disappointment, that his cell phone was still firmly attached to his hip. The smile on his face, however, bore no hint of preoccupation with business. He was genuinely happy, and that was reason enough not to provoke him with any snappy remarks about his cellular device.

  “I read Nick’s story earlier,” she said. She’d been satisfied he had the date and place right, had emphasized the charitable purpose, and didn’t contain a single entry from the Taralynn Clarke rumor mill. And she hadn’t given the matter much more thought beyond that point.

  “I talked to my uncle this morning,” Preston said.

  Patrice perked up instantly. “How is Henry?” she asked. “I really should invite him to have dinner here while he’s in town.”

  Preston cast a questioning look at Maggie, slightly shaking his head. “Actually, Henry’s already returned to Naples.”

  “He did?” That was news to Maggie. “When?”

  “About an hour ago.” Preston paused and took a breath. “I appointed him as lead attorney in charge of preparing our counter offer for the company.”

  “Excellent move!” Maggie was surprised, but relieved. That position had been left undetermined when the meeting ended yesterday. And, while she had hinted as subtly as she could without embarrassing Henry that he would be the perfect person to head the team, given his connection with the investment banks, she’d still been afraid Preston would appoint his buddy Rod. “What made you decide to appoint Henry?” she asked.

  “You were right, I guess. He is a damn good lawyer and he has a lot more experience than Rod does. I’m still nervous about using him though.”

  “Why?”

  “Henry may be sharp, but he’s fair and ethical almost to a fault. I worry he won’t be willing to bite down hard and sink his teeth in like a pit bull if the need arises.”

  Maggie fairly cringed at his description. As if fair and ethical were curse words. “If you really think this war is going to get that vicious, maybe it’s not going to be worth fighting.”

&nbs
p; Preston responded with a facial expression so close to Patrice’s classic aghast look that Maggie had to laugh. “Relax, Preston. You did the right thing.”

  He finally sat down on the empty chair. Almost immediately, his cell phone started ringing. It seemed to Maggie there had never been a time when they were together that they weren’t interrupted by calls.

  As was his habit, he answered the phone at once. “Hello.”

  He smiled. “Chester, my man. What’s up?”

  Maggie watched his face turn from jovial to ashen.

  “You’re kidding, aren’t you? … When? … My god. … Yes, that’s horrible. … I can hardly believe it myself. … Yes. Thanks for letting me know.”

  Maggie knew without asking whatever the Clarkes’ butler had to say, it wasn’t good news.

  Preston didn’t keep her waiting. He looked up at her, seeming like he’d just been unplugged from reality. “They found Elise Chambers dead in her bed from a drug overdose this morning. Chester said she was naked. Just like Marilyn Monroe.”

  Chapter 27

  Preston turned off his cell phone and stared out at the ocean in front of him. He felt numb. Or rather, he wished he felt numb. He wished he could feel anything besides the guilt that now ate away at him. Was it his fault?

  He had accused Elise of lying, as much as called her a whore. The conversation replayed itself in detail now, running like a loop through his brain. Fervent denials had gushed from her between the small catches in her breath that signaled the final sob she’d let loose with just before ending their call. Had he pushed her to kill herself?

  He felt Maggie’s stare now burning its way through him, even without looking at her. A small gasp had escaped her upon being told of Elise’s death, but so far she hadn’t said a word. Was she waiting for him to elaborate further? To perhaps confess his guilt to her? Did she blame him also?

  Right now, he’d rather be a Christian facing lions in the Coliseum than sitting here with her trying to hide his guilt over the suicide of someone he felt responsible for. At least the Christians could face the lions firm in their innocence.

  “Why, good God, Preston. Aren’t you going to dish out the gory details? I, for one, am dying to hear what finally tipped poor Elise over the edge.”

  Patrice. The woman could always be counted on to butt her nose in where it wasn’t wanted. He glanced in her direction, but caught Maggie’s gaze instead. She seemed to be waiting for something at first, but then her expression changed, and he could see the disgust in her eyes. Damn it! He hadn’t wanted this to happen. If he could just take one decision in his life back, he would never have taken Elise out for coffee that night. No matter what she had to tell him. The fruits of that evening would forever leave a bitter taste in his mouth.

  “Well,” Patrice prodded. “Come on, Preston. Give us the scoop.”

  “I don’t think we need the scoop,” Maggie said dully. She got up from her chair and walked back into the house.

  His heart walked away with her. He turned an accusing eye on Patrice. “Elise Chambers died of a valium overdose,” he said. “If you want to know anything else, consult the tabloids.”

  “Well!” Patrice expelled an indignant huff. “I was just asking you a question. There’s no need to be rude.”

  “You’ve gotten your answer.” He left the woman sitting there alone on the sundeck. He needed to find Maggie and fix things between them. From the moment he’d left to see her in Key West, he’d known he wanted their reunion to be more than just a business deal. What he couldn’t figure out was how to convince her they could still have a happy future together. Or, even if such a thing were really possible.

  As he walked into the house, however, he could see her talking on the telephone, and from the distressed, almost hysterical look on her face, he could tell there was something else wrong besides Elise’s suicide.

  “Maggie,” he said. “Is there something I can do for you?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. Fear shone in her eyes. “I need to get back home right away. Something terrible has happened.”

  Something else? “What’s happened?”

  A single tear slid down her cheek. “They’ve closed down my bar.”

  Chapter 28

  Nick let Taralynn into his office, well aware of the reason she’d insisted on seeing him today. Not surprisingly, she had the latest edition of his paper rolled up in her hand. Hot off the presses. A frown curled across the length of her forehead.

  “You broke your word to me, Nick. I guess you’re not as honest and straight-forward as you make yourself out to be. Even with someone who’s shared more than just a story with you.”

  Her visit was expected, and well prepared for. Before this conversation was over, he’d not only secure rights to any of her future gossip that did pass muster, but he’d have her down on her knees begging his forgiveness for her little temper tantrum.

  “The only promise I ever made to you, Taralynn, was if there was a story in what you told me, I would print it. And as it turns out, your information couldn’t be verified.”

  She puckered out her bottom lip. No doubt a trick she’d been pulling on dear old dad since she was about two. Nick slipped an arm around her waist. “Don’t bother pouting, sweetheart. It’s not going to work on me. I’m not your daddy, and I’m not going to bow down to that puckered little lip of yours, cute though it may be.”

  She stared at him for a second or two, as if trying to figure out how to get her way before burrowing her chest snug against his and grinding her hips seductively. “Nick, you’re not being fair,” she whispered. “I came over here mad at you and I deserve to at least scream at you for ten minutes before you seduce me.”

  He gently placed a fingertip to her mouth. “From where I’m standing, sweetie, it looks like you’re the one trying to seduce me.”

  She ignored his contradiction and kissed him full force, darting her tongue between his lips. He pulled his mouth away from hers, just in time to see she had unbuttoned her blouse in the brief moment of their kiss. She had done this to him twice now, distracted him with sex when she wanted something from him. And it wasn’t going to take more than twice for him to catch on to what she was really up to. Respond, and she’d use their love making against him at some point in the future. Don’t respond, and she’d retaliate against his rejection in any way she could.

  Already, he regretted the couple of times he had fallen for her bait. She didn’t fool him one bit. What she wanted from him wasn’t sex, it was control, and sex was just a manipulation she used to get it. What he needed was to free himself from her trap, without setting off her anger.

  He felt her bare breasts brush against his chest, her body heat evaporating through the thin fabric of his cotton shirt. Gently, he pulled away from her, choosing his words carefully. “I see what’s going on here, Taralynn, even if you don’t.”

  She gave him a puzzled look and intuitively began buttoning back up her blouse. “What do you mean? I thought you wanted me.”

  “It’s not that,” he assured her. “But, you don’t really want me. You’re still hurt by the way Preston treated you, and you just need to be reassured you are still beautiful and desirable.” He patted the top of her hand. “And believe me, honey, you are. But I have no intention of taking advantage of you in your upset condition.”

  The little pout returned to her bottom lip. “He did treat me terribly,” she agreed. “Preston can be terribly hurtful when he wants to be.”

  “Of course he can.” Nick spoke soothingly. “And that’s what you really want the world to know, isn’t it?”

  “Absolutely! He deserves for the world to know what a terrible person he is.”

  Nick nodded, as though in agreement. “I understand, but I still have a business to run, and the stories I print have to be able to stand up in a court of law if someone decides to sue me over them. I can’t afford any multi-million dollar judgments against my paper.”

  She looked disa
ppointed, but didn’t argue. For once. “I get that, but what if I can prove the stories I give to you?”

  “Then I will be more than happy to print them.”

  “Good.” She smiled. “You win, Nick. I’ll forgive your objectivity. Just so long as I have your word that as soon as I come up with a verifiable story for you, you’ll print it.”

  “You have my word.”

  “In that case, very shortly, you’ll have my story.”

  Chapter 29

  The call from Tracy had been frantic. And Maggie had reacted much the same. She’d barely spoken two words all the way back to Key West. The ironic thing was that the day had actually started out great, Preston thought. Taralynn had been cut off at the pass and he’d gotten some great press. Maggie had even seemed happy to see him when he first showed up at Patrice’s.

  It hadn’t last long though. The next thing he knew, he’d been told Elise was dead. Then, minutes later, Tracy had called to say someone from the Division of Alcoholic Beverages and Tobacco was closing down Maggie’s bar. Before he could even formulate a response, they were making the long drive back to Key West. It felt like fate was conspiring against him where Maggie was concerned. No. They couldn’t enjoy any happiness together. No. He shouldn’t get his hopes up.

  He wished he knew what to say to make her feel better, but for as long as he’d known her, words had always failed him when it really mattered. He attempted an occasional squeeze of her hand, which she responded to only subtly. But at least the gesture wasn’t making things worse, which was bound to happen if he tried opening his mouth.

  When they arrived at Rio Beach the parking lot was already half full, but not so crowded that the black sedan with government plates didn’t stick out like a sore thumb. “Not a bad dinner crowd for a place that comes to life after the sun goes down,” Maggie said wryly. “I wonder what could be attracting all the attention.”

  Preston shut off the car and slipped an arm around her shoulder. “Everything’s going to be fine. If there’s one thing I’m sure of, it’s that you run your place by the book. Whatever this inspector thinks he’s doing shutting you down, it’s not going to stick.”