“Jesus, Mitch!”
“Sorry, doll. Hey! Look at you!” He whistled, referring to her fluffy robe.
“Like it, Mitch?”
“I like you. You look like a queen.”
“Thanks. What’s up?”
Mitch closed the door softly behind him. Anne scooted over as he plopped down heavily beside her, causing the bed to bounce and creak.
He paused for a second, looked down at his thick fingers, and crackled the knuckle on one hand. “Anne. I’m only asking cause…ah…you got any booze with you?”
“No. I had a flask in my bag but I can’t find it,” Anne said, adding, “Maybe I dropped in in the limo.”
“Dropped it nothing.” Mitch’s face fell. “They took it out. I had a bottle stashed in my bag, and now it’s gone.”
She shrugged. “Karla’s serious about getting us in shape. Might as well make the best of it.”
“Well, I’m not ready to go cold turkey even for a million dollars.” His voice jumped an octave. “I need a drink, and I need one now!"
“Mitch, you’re shaking. What’s going on?”
Tiny beads of sweat formed on Mitch’s flushed face as he told Anne the entire story from the drunken hit-and-run to his escape from rehab, casting himself as a sympathetic victim of a disease he couldn’t control.
“I was getting the DT’s real bad. That’s why I left. I couldn’t take it, Anne. I’m afraid the same thing’s gonna happen again. I thought as long as I had my bottle I’d be okay, but that bitch took it.”
“You’ll be okay,” she said, stroking his moist head. She noticed the join of his hairpiece at his temple and felt a surge of pity rush through her body.
“No, I won’t. I’m hurting already. Look at my hands. I need a drink!” Mitch's eyes shifted around the room as if hoping for a mini-bar to magically sprout from the wall.
Anne gestured for him to keep his voice down. “You can’t leave and lose that money. I could use a drink too, but I’m not crazy enough to walk away from a million dollars.”
A glimmer of hope flickered across Mitch’s anguished face; he lowered his voice. “Listen I know this sounds crazy, but remember when we were kids we used to sneak out at night, cut up behind the lake and out to the road? There was an old bar there: Tappy’s Taproom. Remember?”
“Yeah. I do,” she said, smiling at the faded memory. “The crazy guy who owned the place would let us drink draft beers and play pool all night.”
Mitch took her hands in his. “When we drove in today I saw it. Tappy’s—it’s still there.”
Anne looked at him for a second, then suddenly understood where he was going with this. “Wait! Are you suggesting we go now?”
Mitch nodded, his brown eyes twinkling.
“You're crazy!” She let go of his hands and sat back on the stack of pillows.
“It’s still early. It's got to be open. Let’s sneak out and have a couple of drinks. Come on.” The old, wicked smile she remembered so well returned to Mitch’s face.
Anne was an impulsive woman, as her many ill-conceived affairs had demonstrated. She certainly wasn’t going to get any sleep that night.
“Okay. Let’s do it," she said. "I sure could use one after all the drama today. Just let me change my clothes.” She swung her legs out of the bed and started for the closet door; he grabbed her arm, catching the sore spot under the bandage.
“Hey!” She turned.
“You look fine. Let’s just get outta here.”
“I can’t go like this!” Anne looked down at her nightgown.
“I know you. By the time you change your outfit ten times, the bar’ll be closed.”
They heard a stirring in the hallway.
Mitch put a thick finger to his lips and walked slowly to the bedroom door, opening it a crack just as Jan, carrying a ceramic tray covered with a sterile white cloth, walked past the room and continued farther into the darkened west wing.
Mitch closed the door. “The goons are on duty tonight. We’ll have to go out the window like we used to.”
With a bit of maneuvering, Mitch got the window open and pushed Anne through it. She made the small jump uttering a soft cry, and landed on her ass, instantly staining her delicate nightgown. But before she could voice a complaint, Mitch’s strong hand was in hers and they were bolting past the lake into the woods like two breathless teenagers. The sense of daring and adventure, of slipping past the prying eyes of authority made Anne suddenly feel young again. She hadn't felt that young in years.
* * *
Jan moved with wooden steps down the west wing hallway and stopped when he reached a section of oak paneled wall where a carved wolf’s head jutted out in three-dimensional relief. He looked over both shoulders to make sure no one observed him, then turned the wolf’s head to the right. The gears inside the wall groaned painfully, then part of the paneling opened with a pop.
He stepped inside to a hidden hallway where exotic crystal wall sconces cast a red hue on dark paintings in gold-leafed frames. A luxurious Persian runner led the way to an imposing door. Jan knocked.
A voice gruff answered, “Ja?”
“Doktor ist es Jan mit der Medizin,” Jan said.
“Kommen sie Herein.” The door opened and Jan stepped inside.
* * *
Jenna stretched out on her bed reading one of the romance novels she’d found on her nightstand. The plot was a familiar Cinderella tale about a young woman who was so beautiful and sexually alluring that her mother and jealous sisters rejected and abused her till ran away to the big city where a series of Wall Street wolves in sheeps’ clothing took full advantage of her innocence. Jenna figured Mr. Right (the girl’s savior) was just around the corner. She knew the formula, yet she read with rapt interest until the rumbling storm outside her window made concentration impossible.
Soon the book was in her lap, and she found herself staring at the flickering lights dancing on the ceiling, and wondering how she would get through this month without losing her mind. She thought about the million dollars and sighed. It was just like Karla to dangle a carrot in front of them. Talk is cheap, and so is our sister, she reminded herself. Besides, a lot could happen in a month, especially with her volatile family. It may be a complete scam, in which case Karla would be hearing from her lawyer, she reasoned, but it could be legit. Karla was, after all, a good businesswoman. Her success had proven that. Whatever the case, Jenna intended to stick it out, at least for now.
There was a cheerful knock at the door, and in popped Chrissie’s smiling face. “I hope I didn't wake you.”
Jenna was annoyed at the intrusion, but she didn’t show it and welcomed Chrissie in, hoping to repair the tension that had erupted between them earlier. Within seconds Chrissie was sitting at the foot of her bed rattling on about how excited she was for their unexpected family reunion, even if she did find the old manse intimidating and the summer storm unnerving.
Jenna noticed Chrissie had on a chiffon peignoir set similar to the light blue one she wore, only Chrissie’s hot pink confection had twice the fluff and bows and seemed ridiculously out of place on her athletic figure.
“I thought you were staying with Anne,” Jenna said, suppressing a yawn.
“I was, but she wanted to take a bath so I left,” Chrissie said, nervously running her tongue over her chapped lips. “The lights are off in her room so I guess she’s asleep. I don’t want to disturb her.
Jenna leaned back, marked her place in her book and set it down on the nightstand. “Did you stop by and chat with Karla?”
“No, why?”
“Just wondering. You two seemed so chummy tonight,” Jenna said, trying to keep the bitchy tone at bay.
Chrissie looked up, “Karla’s not even staying in this section of the lodge. She probably has a private suite somewhere.”
“Figures. She can’t associate with the common folk.” The bitchy tone seeped in, despite her efforts.
Chrissie’s youthful face turned serious. “Wh
y do you hate her so much?”
“I don’t know. She’s been famous for so long I can hardly remember when she wasn’t famous. When we were kids, coming to camp every summer, Karla seemed so grown-up to me—so beautiful and confident. I suppose even if she hadn’t become this superstar I would’ve felt inferior to her in some way. Her fame just makes it worse. I can never get out from under it.” Jenna was surprised by her own candor.
“You don’t think the therapy will help us? Because I’d love it if it brought us all together,” Chrissie said hopefully.
Jenna smiled knowingly at Chrissie’s naiveté. "I wouldn’t hold my breath. There is only one reason why I’m staying here for this so-called therapy, and that’s the money. With a million dollars I can make a fresh start…” Jenna eyes shifted to the window where a flash of lightning rendered the lawn white for a split-second. “…forget I ever had a family.”
A roll of thunder rocked the room and Chrissie’s chin quivered. Jenna picked up her hand. “Oh, not you, darling, but the rest, especially Karla...I don’t care if I ever see her again.”
Chrissie never had anything but admiration for her famous sister, but she acknowledged that the rest of her family did not share her opinion. She chalked it up to envy, a natural emotion considering Karla’s enormous success. Still, she was hopeful they would come around. “You don’t think she’s changed?”
“Nope. I don’t believe anyone ever really changes. Not you, not me, not Warren.”
Chrissie rolled her eyes at the mention of his name. “Warren is so cynical!” She loved her brother, but his verbal barbs had hurt her over the years.
“He hides it well,” Jenna said, coming to Warren’s defense despite her own reasons to be angry at him. “She’s hurt him more than any of us. Remember when he used to follow her around like a personal slave? He took so much crap from her during those years. His relationship with Peter finally gave him the strength to break away from her. He’s only now getting in touch with his anger. That was coming out tonight from just our first session with Doctor Weiss.”
“What do you think of him?” asked Chrissie, cocking her head towards the door, indicating their earlier encounter with the strange German physician.
Jenna sighed and stretched. “A typical over-the-top character in Karla’s life. When you’re that rich, you can afford to indulge your eccentricities, which is precisely what I intend to do once I survive this therapy.” She accented the last word with finger quotes.
“Well, I’m excited about it," said Chrissie, defiantly pointing her chin at Jenna who had to chuckle at her younger sister’s persistence. At that moment Chrissie’s kind, round face reminded Jenna of her mother, and she offered Chrissie a big, sisterly hug, which her younger sister accepted warmly.
Their embrace was interrupted by angry voices spilling in from the hall. They rushed out the door in time to see Warren, red-faced in black silk pajamas, pushing Jan up against the wall, his forearm pressing into the young man’s throat.
“If you ever come into my room again, you’ll leave rubbing your ass, and it won’t be from having a good time!” Warren’s practically spat the words in Jan’s face.
“Warren, what the hell are you doing?” Jenna nearly shouted.
Warren kept his eyes on Jan. “I woke up to find this dickwad shining a flashlight in my eyes.”
“I was doing routine room check, that’s all,” Jan whined in his clipped accent.
“For Christ’s sake, Warren, let him go!" Jenna grabbed hold of her brother’s arm.
Warren released his grip, but kept his face close to Jan’s. “From now on you stay the hell out of my room. Got it!”
Jan straightened his white server’s jacket. “All right, but Doctor Weiss will hear about this!” He shot Warren a hostile parting glance before heading quickly back to the main hall.
Warren followed him for a few steps, yelling after him. “Tell Weiss he can shove that flashlight straight up his ass!”
Jenna put a calming hand out towards her brother. “Warren, are you okay?”
“Yes Jenna, I’m fine,” he replied, pacing in a small circle.
Chrissie added softly. “If you want to talk...”
Warren’s hand sliced through the air. “If I want to talk to anyone, it won’t be a little twit like you.”
Tears sprang to Chrissie’s eyes. “If that’s how you feel about it...I was only trying to help.”
Chrissie started back towards her room; when Jenna tried to stop her, she pulled away. “Leave me alone,” she shouted, her face red. “You don’t care about our family!”
After Chrissie’s bedroom door slammed in her face, Jenna turned back to Warren. “Nice job.”
“I don’t give a shit.” He stopped pacing and rubbed his forehead. “You didn’t happen to bring any opiates with you, eh Jen?”
Jenna shook her head no.
“Didn’t think so.”
Jenna, attempting to lighten the mood, said with mock frivolity, “Shall we go to the lounge for a late night cocktail? Oh, I forgot. No spirits on the premises. Perhaps a midnight stroll around the grounds.” She spun so her nightgown flared around her legs.
Warren was not amused. He turned a serious face at her and said, “I’m going to find a phone and call Peter.”
Jenna was serious too, about the million dollars, and in the back of her mind she worried that one loose cannon would screw it up for all of them. She lowered her voice. “But the contract clearly states that we aren't allowed to contact anyone outside the camp."
Warren leveled his gaze at her. “Going to tell on me, Jen?”
He turned, and walked in the direction of the lounge.
Jenna found herself standing alone in the wide corridor, barefoot and vulnerable in her silly gown. She returned to her room and closed the door. The book on the night table had lost all its appeal, the cover depicting a shirtless hunk embracing a busty maiden: an embarrassment.
She turned down the covers and got into bed, curling into a tight ball to keep from shivering. The Egyptian cotton sheets were fresh, but cold. She longed for a lover’s arms to comfort her. It had been months since her last affair ended. Another married man (a relationship destined for failure) leaving her feeling empty and horribly lonely. She banished the depressing thoughts from her mind, and fell asleep just as the storm picked-up outside her window.
She woke hours later to what sounded like a scream coming from the front lawn. She reasoned the sound was just the wind hissing through the tower ramparts in the west wing and pressed the thick, down-filled pillow over her ears to blot it out.
6
A scud of inky clouds covered the near full moon, making the woods darker and increasingly difficult to navigate as Mitch and Anne fumbled their way down the path that seemed much less treacherous on the ascent. Stray branches and thistles had cut Anne's gown to ribbons, and the beer buzz she’d enjoyed earlier was dissipating rapidly, leaving a pounding headache in its wake.
She held onto Mitch’s hand tightly, although he was drunker than she was and not much support. The twins had made quite a pair at Tappy’s Tavern that night, he in his trendy t-shirt and designer jeans, she in a nightgown that probably cost more than the bar occupants’ combined monthly salaries. Some of the old-timers recognized them. The barmaid had breathlessly asked about her favorite superstar, but Mitch played it off saying that he and Anne were renting the lodge for a small family getaway, without her.
Mitch bought rounds for everyone, played pool, darts, and a competitive bout of shuffleboard with a local hunter that nearly came to blows, but ended with a handshake and another round of drinks. By four in the morning all the locals had left, and the owner told them (nicely) that they had to leave.
“We should come here every night. Okay? It will be our little secret. Just like old times,” Mitch said, his voice slurring as he navigated out of a near slide on the slick path.
“Keep it down, Mitch. We’re getting close to the camp,” Anne said
, spotting the yellow cast from the lodge’s lampposts through the trees.
“Ah, who cares!” He cut his arm dismissively through the humid air, then lumbered down the hill on wobbly legs. Panic gripped her throat as she followed into the darkness, nearly crashing into him seconds later when she discovered him pissing into the thick brush.
She swatted at the tiny gnats hovering around her face with growing impatience. Stupid Karla, she thought, looking down at the shredded nightgown. What a ridiculously inappropriate gift, when what I really need is money…support.
Mitch finished his business with a few unsteady shakes, then turned and rested his meaty arms on her shoulders, smiling stupidly as if he was about to say something funny, but couldn’t remember what. His breath, even his sweat, reeked of alcohol.
“We have to be careful,” she said, in a near pleading tone. “If Karla finds out, we won't get the money.”
“Fuck her!” Mitch’s mood pivoted to a dark place at the mention of Karla’s name. “I am so sick to death of that bitch! What did she mean tonight about me being her first crush? What kind of bullshit is that?” He nearly shouted, staring at Anne blankly. “I mean what kind of bullshit is that?”
Anne’s throat tightened with the realization that she was out of her depth where her troubled twin was concerned. She hadn’t known how advanced his disease was till now, but at that moment her selfish considerations took precedence. All she wanted was to get back to her room, crawl between the fresh sheets of her bed, and get some sleep. She considered making an excuse to pee and just run down the path for home. If she were careful, she’d make it back through her bedroom window, and no one would be the wiser.
Just as she was about to make a break for it, he moved in close again, his beer and cigarette breath slamming into her face in torrid blasts as he rested his elbows on her shoulders, pushing the damp strands of her blond hair back from her face with his thick fingers.
“Easy Mitch,” she whispered, near tears now.
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