“When?” She’d gone back to shouting. “When are you going to marry someone else?”
“Tomorrow, if you really must know.”
“Tomorrow!” The word flew in a shriek out of her mouth.
“That’s right. Tomorrow.” He still remained calm.
“You bastard! How dare you do this to me! Who the hell are you getting married to?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Because if you’re backing out of your agreement to marry me, then I at least deserve to know the reason why. What’s her name?”
He supposed telling her really wouldn’t make any difference. Sure as hell couldn’t piss her off any more than she already was. “Fine. I’m getting married to Patrice McKenzie.”
“What?!”
He was wrong. She actually managed to yell louder.
“You’re going to dump me for that fucking old bag.”
“That fucking old bag isn’t a bitch to me all the time.”
Her slap landed with a sting across his face.
That was it! That was the last bit of abuse he was going to take from her, verbal or otherwise. Rod grabbed her by the wrists and pulled her along to the front door. “It’s time for you to leave,” he said. “And don’t come back until you’ve had a few years of psychotherapy.” He pushed her out the door and thanked his lucky stars. Patrice was an absolute angel compared to her.
Chapter 68
Stunned didn’t begin to describe the way Taralynn felt. How dare Rod dump her? How dare he! As if he were someone of Preston’s stature, that he could even do such a thing. Who did he think he was anyway? He barely had a bank account worth noting. And as for his family, well he came from nobody, less than middle class as she understood it. An unthinkable level of the social stratosphere.
And still, he had dumped her.
She pulled a small bottle of good scotch whiskey from the brown paper bag the party store had just packaged it in, took off the cap and swallowed down a good swallow. She was rich, she reminded herself, and beautiful, too. Rod had just passed up the best opportunity of his life. And if he was too stupid to realize it, oh well. All that meant was Nick was going to be the lucky recipient of her marital affections.
He’d certainly been eager enough to stay in her good graces. It seemed obvious by the way he treated her that he cared. Being married to Nick wouldn’t be so bad. While he could never be the sexual animal Rod was, he had a lot more money. A hell of a lot more money. Much closer to her equal on a social level. And when all was said and done, that mattered more.
This whole fiasco with Rod just showed how upset she was. If she’d been thinking straight, she’d have gone straight to Nick to begin with. Marrying the man who’d printed the pictures of her would make it much more socially acceptable. Like being Hugh Hefner’s wife or something.
The rude blaring of a car horn jerked her attention away from her bottle of scotch and imminent meeting with Nick. A middle-aged man, overweight and wearing thick glasses, rolled down his window and shook his fat fist at her. “Lady, are you going to leave, or are you just going to sit there taking up space?”
Looking around, she saw the parking lot to the party store was full. “Fuck you,” she snapped at the man. “I just got here.”
“Yeah. That’s why you’re sitting here drinking out of a bottle. Right?”
“Go fuck yourself.”
He clenched his jaw and squealed off in his dirty black pick-up. Hick, she thought with distaste. Probably hailed from the Everglades. She re-capped her bottle and shoved it under the car seat, checked her lipstick in the rearview mirror and left.
That had been another mistake she’d made with Rod, she realized. Letting him see her in a state of distress, and with no make-up. She wouldn’t make that mistake with Nick. She’d be the same in-control sex kitten he’d first been attracted to.
She drove quickly to The Tattletale offices, parked her car, ran a brush through her hair and headed inside. Once inside the lobby, she breezed by the girl at the reception desk and headed straight down the hall toward Nick’s office.
“Miss,” the girl called after her. “Wait a minute. Miss?”
Taralynn ignored her and opened the door to Nick’s office. And saw him sitting on the chair behind his desk, with Janelle on his lap.
“Taralynn.” Nick look at her with a puzzled frown. Janelle started to get off his lap, but Nick motioned her to stay put. “I wasn’t expecting you today. Did we have an appointment I forgot about?”
“No.” She shook her head, shocked at what she’d walked in on; confused about what to do next. How was she supposed to propose their marriage when he was busy fooling around with his ex-wife? “I need to speak with you alone,” she said, expecting Janelle to take the hint and leave.
Nick motioned toward the door she still stood in, as if shooing her away. “Now is not a good time, Taralynn.” He held out Janelle’s left hand. The very large diamond on her ring finger sparkled enough for a blind person to see. “This is a special moment for the two of us, and we’d really appreciate some privacy.”
“We’re getting remarried,” Janelle said.
Janelle, Nick’s ex-wife, Preston’s sister, laughed, mocking her. Taralynn felt the blow like a bullet piercing her head. She realized, of course, she couldn’t continue to stand there like some dumbstruck idiot. That would only end up in Nick’s stupid paper next. She lifted her chin and turned away. “Congratulations, Janelle. I’m always happy to see my leftovers go to good use.” She left then, just as Nick’s stupid receptionist reached his office door, and with Janelle’s laughter still echoing in her head.
Thoughts of outrage assailed her all the way back to her car. Remarrying his ex-wife! Was the man stupid? He’d already tried that with her once and failed. The significance of it being Preston’s sister who had stolen Nick was not lost on her either. He had put Janelle up to this. That had to be what was going on. Preston knew she’d be trying to salvage her reputation after those photos were printed, and he’d sent his sister after Nick to make sure she couldn’t do it.
Taralynn sat in her car, growing more upset by the minute. Janelle had her chance with Nick already, and she’d left him. Divorced him. Why did she suddenly want him back now? If not because she’d known Taralynn had a relationship developing with him. What a bitch! And Maggie had sent her aunt off after Rod. The conspiracy was just too clear to ignore. Preston and Maggie were in on this together. They had probably paid someone to take those photos of her with Rod, and then given them to Nick to print. All the while setting up a marriage between Nick and Preston’s sister, and another one between Rod and Maggie’s aunt.
Preston had threatened to make her pay for trying to take his stupid company away, but she had never realized to what depths he would sink. He had set this all up. Ruined her life. And left her with no possible way to reclaim her place in society. And all just because she had wanted them to get married.
It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t.
She continued to sit inside her sweltering car. No air conditioning running. No window cracked for ventilation. It was getting hot and she couldn’t think. Preston had dumped her. Rod had dumped her. And now, Nick had dumped her. There were no other single, wealthy, socially acceptable men she’d been involved with recently. And to try and snare a married man within the next few days would only sully her reputation further.
There was no way to fix this.
She felt close to crying. Her situation was hopeless. Even with all her money and social standing, she couldn’t get past the blemish of those damn pictures. Those goddamn pictures! Her father was threatening to disown her because of them. Told her she had better repair her reputation or he’d never speak to her again.
Everything in her life had been perfect before Nick published those damn pictures. She had been perfect. The queen of the social circuit. The belle of the ball. And now she would never be perfect again.
The whole thing made her so damn angry
she did start to cry. But only for half a minute before she remembered she was still in public. And in this busy parking lot, some asshole was bound to come along sooner or later, wanting to know why she was taking up space. Even more likely, some asshole photographer was bound to come out of the building and start snapping pictures of her for Nick to run in his paper, trumpeting just how much he had ruined her life.
Despite the heat, she left her car windows rolled up and the air conditioning off. Then she pulled out of the parking lot and drove, without direction or purpose, willing herself to suffocate in the heat. Pulling the scotch out from under the seat again, she drank a quarter of the bottle down before stopping. When she did stop, she gagged on the taste of the alcohol, and then drank some more. She needed to go find some pills.
Hours passed before she found herself back at her condo. Alone. It had been almost two days since her life ended, and in her drugged and drunken state, she now accepted her fate with a grim finality. She’d gone to a bunch of drab little neighborhood bars, in drab little middle class neighborhoods. She couldn’t remember how many now. Five maybe? Certainly not more.
With her life now over, she had been determined to pound every nail into her coffin, to sully herself completely. She’d gone into every single one of those bars, with their dim lighting, non-descript stools and wooden walls filled with mirrors advertising different brands of beer. With their blue collar working stiffs dressed in jeans and jogging shorts and muscle shirts. Then she’d picked out the most attractive man in the place, and let him take her outside to his car, giving herself to him in any way he wanted. One man after the next, after the next.
There were actually a few men who wouldn’t take her. As if she wasn’t good enough for them. One had offered to call her a cab. But she remembered at least three who’d been more than happy to take her. She still throbbed from their kisses, and the overly eager caresses of their rough, calloused hands. She did recall one of the men had recognized her as the woman in Nick’s tabloid. A further indication of just how over her life really was.
Even the working stiffs thought they were better than her.
It didn’t matter anymore, though. She’d let the men ply her with alcohol, cocaine and valium in their quest to get her out of her clothes. She laughed softly to herself. If only they’d known how easy their task was going to be. Today, there would be no restraints, because today would be her last.
She switched on the bedside light in her room. On the fortieth floor. Overlooking the ocean. With a balcony. Hands shaking, scribbling practically, she wrote out her suicide note. She explained everything in her note. Her father needed to at least know about how Preston and Maggie had set her up and deliberately ruined her life. He needed to know it was their fault what had happened. Not hers.
She felt sorry for herself now. And she started to cry, undressing as she sobbed. She would never be perfect again. Even her own father was ashamed of her. She’d crossed the line. She’d gone too far. She’d gotten caught.
The clock on the bed stand read eleven fifty-nine p.m. The very last minute of the very last day of her life.
She opened the sliding glass doors to the right of the bed and stepped out onto the balcony. Her body swayed. A blast of salty, night air cooled her naked flesh, whipping her hair into her face. Between the whiskey and the drugs, she could hardly stand now, and wobbled as she pulled herself into a sitting position on the balcony’s railing.
The ocean below blurred in and out of focus. It was such a long way down.
It was her last thought before jumping.
Chapter 69
Preston read about Taralynn’s suicide feeling a mixture of shock and disbelief. Taking in the details, he wondered what had made her finally snap. Found naked at the foot of her swanky, high-rise condo. Her body pumped so full of booze and drugs, the coroner figured she probably would have died anyway. It was an act Preston never would have expected. She’d never seemed the suicidal type. The story mentioned she’d left a suicide note, but failed to disclose its contents.
Almost as if on cue, the telephone rang. Called ID listed an unknown number. The names of at least a dozen people who might be calling him after reading about Taralynn’s death occurred to him. He just hoped it wasn’t someone from the press. He hesitated for a moment before answering. “Hello.”
“I’m going to kill you for this, Tyler. I’m going to make you pay for taking Taralynn away from me.”
Strain and emotion characterized Andy Clarke’s voice. Guy had to be about ready to jump off a building himself, losing his only child that way. “I’m sorry to hear about Taralynn’s death, Andy. Really. I understand you’re in a great amount of pain right now. I don’t think lashing out at me is going to serve any useful purpose, though. This war between us has already gone too far.”
“Don’t you get smug with me, you asshole! My daughter is dead because of you!”
Alarm wound it way through Preston’s bones. Andy sounded irrational. His tone had gotten higher as he’d spoken. The man needed calming down. “I did not have anything to do with Taralynn’s death,” he said. “You have my absolute word on that. The last time I saw her was almost two weeks ago, and she gave no indication whatsoever she was contemplating something like this. The only person she wanted dead then was me.”
“I might have expected you to deny all responsibility for what’s happened.” Andy’s tone now turned accusatory. “But you can’t hide from the truth. My daughter’s suicide note, the very last words she wrote in her entire, short life, said she killed herself because of you!”
That couldn’t possibly be true. Could it? “Look,” he said. “I know Taralynn was upset about our break-up, but she certainly wasn’t upset enough to kill herself.”
“It wasn’t your breaking up with her that had her so upset and you know it!”
Maybe the man really had lost it. “Andy, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Liar!” The charge sounded shrill and loud. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. Taralynn detailed the whole ugly, sordid plan you and that McKenzie whore put together to ruin my poor baby’s life.”
Preston’s gut instantly tightened at the mention of Maggie’s name. How dare Andy drag her into this. “I have no idea what story Taralynn might have concocted in her suicide note, Andy, but there most certainly was no plan to ruin her life. Whatever she did to her life, she did completely on her own. I didn’t have anything to do with it, and neither did Maggie. You just leave her the hell out of this.”
“I might have expected you to try and protect the bitch.”
“That much, Andy, you are right about.”
“I’m right about everything, Tyler! And believe me, I’m going to make you pay for this if it’s the last thing I do.”
The threat in Andy’s words was clear. “What do you mean by make me pay?”
“If I’m going to lose, Tyler, you’re going to lose.”
“Lose what, Andy?”
The old man actually started to laugh. Certainly, he’d finally lost it. “What the hell do you think, Tyler? What is it you can’t bear to lose?”
So it was back to the battle for Ty-Ken. He should have known. In his own sick way, Andy had twisted his daughter’s death into justification to continue this childish feud and his misguided attempt to buy out the company. No wonder Taralynn had been screwed up. Even in death, her father wasn’t above using her as a pawn to satisfy his own desires.
Preston cleared his throat, all sympathy for the man now lost. “I guess this means you won’t be calling off your bid for my company then.”
He listened while Andy sucked in an indignant breath. He knew it was probably a hit below the belt, but he’d taken enough hits in that region himself, and Andy sure as hell had that one coming. If he couldn’t realize after losing his own child just how extreme and out-of-proportion this situation had become, then he really was a misguided fool. “I really am sorry about Taralynn’s death. And I mean that.
But she killed herself and I am not taking the blame for it. Although, you might try taking a little of the credit yourself. After all, you did raise her.”
“Shut up!” Andy screamed. “You’re going to regret every word you just said to me, Tyler. I’m really going to hurt you now.”
It was almost a relief when Andy slammed the phone down. Preston wanted to get off the roller coaster ride his life had become. He didn’t want to fight with Andy Clarke. The man’s daughter had just died, and now, rightly or not, he had just laid the blame squarely back in the man’s lap. As if the battle for Ty-Ken hadn’t already become ugly enough, now it had turned into something sick and deadly. Worse still, by enlisting Maggie’s aid, he had brought her into it. Andy probably would not stop at trying to ruin him now, Preston realized. He probably would try to ruin Maggie also. Maybe she was right after all. Maybe he really had been putting the company before her.
A thought occurred to him then, and it was so simple, so amazingly obvious, he felt almost embarrassed he’d never considered it before. He would do exactly what he wanted to do. Get off the ride. After talking to Janelle two days ago, he realized he knew exactly how he could do it. He was so grateful to have finally found the answer to his problems he could hardly punch Nick’s phone number into his cell phone fast enough.
“Hello.”
“Nick, hi. It’s Preston.”
“Preston. Speak of the devil. Your sister and I were just about to call you.”
Perfect. “Janelle’s there? Good. I can talk to both of you about this at the same time.”
“Preston, you don’t sound quite yourself,” Janelle spoke up, her voice laden with concern. “Is everything okay?”
Her question surprised him. He’d expected her and Nick to both immediately bring up the subject of Taralynn’s death. “You mean how am I despite being accused by Andy Clarke of causing his daughter’s suicide?”
“Taralynn’s dead?” Nick and Janelle echoed his own initial shock.
GRATIFICATION (Desire Never Dies) Page 27