Beauty and the Beast

by Deatri King Bey

  “No, I won’t do that to them.” She turned away. “I’ll figure out something.”

  “You’ve got enough money. You can even use the east wing or maybe the guesthouse and hire psychiatric nurses to help care for them. They might hurt themselves or someone else if they lose control again.”

  “Thanks, Anna. I know you’re trying to help. Let me find out what triggered this episode, then I’ll go from there.” She faced Rachel. “I hope we haven’t scared you off.”

  “No, Miss Victoria.” She crumpled her dust cloth in her hand. “I’m hangin’ in there,” she said more surly than she appeared.

  “Good for you. And don’t worry, I’ll hire a service to clean up their mess.”

  The relieved look on Rachel’s face had everyone in the entry laughing.

  Peaceful. Victoria set the only chair to make it through the destructive duo’s rampage in the middle of the mess and watched as the two slept on the cushions of the couch, which were now on the floor. Nefertiti was spooned into Bruce’s body, and both were snoring lightly. How the two had gone from such rage to total peace was beyond Victoria. The scene—minus the mass destruction—took her thoughts to the time when Nefertiti was five. Playing ninjas, the “destructive duo” would wreck her living room before they eventually tired themselves out and fell asleep. Nefertiti usually used Bruce as a pillow. Even then, Victoria had felt these two would marry some day.

  She returned her thoughts to the present. Bruce hadn’t had a tantrum of this magnitude since he was ten and found out that the gifts he routinely received from his mother on Christmas and on his birthday weren’t actually from her, but from Victoria. What hurt you this time, baby? She focused on Nefertiti. And you. This isn’t like you at all. Nefertiti had long since grown out of her destructive ways.

  “Auntie Vic,” Bruce whispered. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay, baby. But we can’t have this.” Though Bruce was over six feet tall and a shrewd businessman, she still saw him as the scared little three-year-old her sister had abandoned on her doorstep so many years ago.

  “I know, but…” He closed his eyes and held Nefertiti close. “I’ll never let anyone hurt her again. Never.”

  For several minutes, Victoria gathered her thoughts. “This is an awful lot for you to handle. Maybe I should call Dr. Herman.”

  Bruce had been diagnosed with a mood disorder shortly after the tantrum he’d thrown when he was ten. The proper dosage and medicines for children hadn’t been well tested or even known, and the prescriptions had made his problems worse. Soon his anger had taken on suicidal tendencies.

  “I won’t take drugs. They make me crazy.”

  “Medicine has come a long way in thirty years, Bruce,” she continued softly. “There is help for you. Just talk to the Dr. Herman.” She’d convinced Bruce to see Dr. Herman once, sometimes twice a year. He’d just seen the man a month ago, so she wasn’t sure he’d agree. She silently prayed she wouldn’t have to order him to go. Out of respect, she knew he’d do as she said.

  His gaze traveled from Nefertiti to Victoria to the destruction of the room, then back to Victoria. “Have Janis make me an appointment.”

  Proud with his decision, her heart sang. “Good.” She nodded. “Very good.” Tantrums were not a new thing for Bruce, but he controlled the time and the magnitude of them. Something about this tantrum didn’t sit right with Victoria. She motioned at the devastation. “Why in here, Bruce? Why so much? This isn’t like you.”

  “I just flipped.”

  The love in his eyes as he watched Nefertiti sleep provided the real answer for Victoria. “There are better ways for her to control her rage, Bruce.”

  His devilish smile told her she’d picked the winning numbers. “Sometimes rage shouldn’t be controlled, but released.”

  “Then teach her how to release it in constructive, not destructive ways.”

  “I know this is hard for you to understand, but sometimes… sometimes destruction is the only answer. Blowing off steam.”

  She raised a brow. “This was more than blowing off steam.”

  “After what she’s been through—is going through…” He trailed off. “She needed this. I’m sorry I scared the household, but she had so much hostility and rage built up inside. She needed immediate release.”

  “I’m not happy about this mess, but I understand. I still want you to see Dr. Herman.”

  “I will.” He slowly lifted Nefertiti’s veil.

  “No, Bruce. Don’t rush her.”

  He stopped. “I don’t care about scars. Hell, I’m one big scar.”

  “But she does. Give her time.”

  “You aren’t going to make her leave, are you? This was entirely my fault.”

  For a second, she saw the eyes of the scared little three-year-old. “No, darling, I would never do that. But I do need you to help me.” She bent over and picked up a broken leg of the game table. “Now that she’s had pressure released, I don’t expect a repeat performance. Teach her how to control her emotions until she is in a place where she is free to vent if need be. Help her build on what she does have instead of wallowing in self pity about what she doesn’t have.”

  Nefertiti rolled over and snuggled in closer.

  “Has she always been such a heavy sleeper, Auntie?”

  A smile crossed Victoria’s face with the memory of the one and only tornado she’d ever seen. She’d traveled down to central Illinois to see her new goddaughter for the first time when a twister hit. By the end of the storm, every other house on the block was history, and the ones left standing weren’t much better off. The tornado had sounded like a roaring train, and the crashing and decimation of the houses like explosions. Yet three-month-old Nefertiti, cuddled into her mother’s bosom, had slept the whole time.

  “Why don’t you carry her on upstairs? She can sleep in my bed.”

  “Nah, I’ll take her to my room. It’s more comfortable.” He grinned. “And I have the perfect way for her to focus some of that energy.”

  Chapter Three

  “How could you do this to me, Roy?” Catherine kicked her stilettos off in the direction of her brother, then plopped onto the hotel bed. “What in the world was going through your mind?”

  From his bed, he pointed out, “You’re the one who said I need to be more involved in the business.”

  “There’s a hell of a lot of difference between being involved and selling the business. Dixon Textiles has been a fixture in Virginia for over a hundred years.” She flung her arms into the air. “Dixon, Virginia, is named after our great-great-grandfather!”

  “How can I forget when every damn thing in the town is Dixon this or Dixon that?”

  Dark brows furrowed, she reminded herself that murder was illegal, and she’d probably be caught; plus, she loved the idiot. “Please tell me this isn’t your way of getting back at Dad?”

  Roy had fallen out with their father years ago when Daddy Dixon gave Catherine twenty-six percent of the company and Roy twenty-five percent. Roy had barely made it through high school and never lifted a finger to work in the factory. Catherine had shadowed her father in the factory from the time she was ten until age fifteen, when he allowed her to start working on the factory floor. She earned a bachelor’s in management and a master’s in business. When their father divided his holdings in the company, he had said that Roy wasn’t serious about anything except partying; thus Catherine had earned that extra percent. Since that time, Catherine had become CEO and purchased another four percent of the company.

  “I’m older than you, and I’m also his son,” Roy finally countered.

  “So because you are the oldest you should have been given the extra percent? Because I’m just a lowly daughter how dare he—”

  “I’m not saying that,” he interrupted.

  “Have I ever kept you out of the business?”

  He stared at the tan carpeted floor.

  “Look at me, Roy!” She waited for him to lift hi
s head. “You didn’t do this to Dad. He’s retired and living it up in Arizona. You did this to me.”

  “I’m sorry. I just…” He ran his hands over his dark hair. “This is all Dad’s fault.”

  “Oh puh-leez. Nothing is ever your fault.”

  “But this time it is Dad’s fault. Do you know he told me he should have given you the entire fifty-one percent?”

  “What? When?”

  “Right before I met Bruce Maxwell. I was so angry with Dad that I wasn’t thinking clearly, so I was easy pickings for Maxwell. Yes, I like to have fun, but I could have run the company if he had given me the chance.”

  Exhausted, she massaged her temples. “Why do you feel everything should be given to you?” she asked. “I worked my ass off to be where I am today, and you think I shouldn’t have received it because you were born first and a male.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “That’s exactly what you meant. I earned every single percentage point Dad gave me and then some. But have I complained one time about how he split his holding in the company?”

  He returned to staring at the carpet. “Dad never believed in me.”

  “What did you give him to believe in?” In an attempt to calm herself, she drew in several deep breaths. Unable to find calmness, she continued, “You’re missing the point. Dixon Textiles is no longer Dad’s. It was ours to run how we wished. Combined, we owned fifty-five percent. If you had been spending the past few years investing in the company instead of blowing your money on Lord knows what, we’d own even more. We!”

  Air blew out of his cheeks as if he were letting air out of a balloon. “You can have the money Maxwell gave me and buy a larger percentage of the company.”

  The saying, “slap the snot out of him” came to her mind with his tone of voice. He sounded as if he were doing her a favor. Too tired to put him in his place, she said, “That won’t work, Roy. I can’t outspend him.” She was certain Bruce was contacting the present shareholders and offering to purchase their stock at above the market rate, as he had Roy. He was the kind of man who didn’t want partners. She’d also been contacting stockholders, but they weren’t returning her calls.

  “I swear I didn’t know Maxwell’s intentions.” He resembled a sad puppy dog, but she wasn’t falling for it this time. “He manipulated me. I didn’t even know who he was.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. If he didn’t shut up soon, she would slap the snot out of him. As if he’d read her mind, his body language and features shifted to repentant.

  “You’re the only one who ever believed in me. I’m sorry I let you down—let us down. Don’t give up on me.”

  She knew when she was being given a line, especially a line from Roy. She’d heard them all too many times. Instead of dwelling on her anger, she had a company to save. “You know Dad will find out, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  The regret in his clear blue eyes and sorrow on his face would have softened her toward him if this were the first or even only the tenth time he’d let her down in a major way. “This is the last time, Roy. I love you, will always love you, but if you choose revenge over family again, I’m through. Now tell me everything, starting with why I’m just finding out about the sale.”

  Instead of an answering, he bit on his jaw.

  “I’m tired and not in the mood to pamper you. Stop the pouting. I have a business to save.”

  “I was too ashamed to say anything,” he said softly. “I went back to Maxwell a week or so later to see if he’d sell the stock back, but he wouldn’t. I tried to wait for the right time to tell you, but that time never came.”

  “Do you realize who Bruce Maxwell is?”

  “I’m starting to. We’ll get the stock back, Catherine. I know you’ll think of something.”

  “I don’t know if I can this time.” She readjusted herself on the bed and replayed her meeting with Bruce in her mind. Her advances toward him had made both of them uncomfortable. “Maxwell buys companies that are valued less than ten million, breaks them into smaller units, sells off what he can and keeps the real estate.”

  “In other words, he runs a chop shop. Just with companies.”

  She raised a brow. “Your brain actually does work,” she teased. They both laughed.

  “So what did he say?”

  “After I presented the ten year plan, he said he wants production moved to Asia. We’re having lunch tomorrow, and I’ll try to talk some sense into him.”

  “And what does he want our land for?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Well, you’ll just have to change his mind. Show him a little more leg or something.”

  “I have no more leg to show.” She straightened her blouse. “I look like I shop at Sluts ’R Us or something. I can’t believe I allowed you to talk me into trying to seduce him. Business is all he cares about. I made a fool of myself.”

  “But it worked, didn’t it? You have a lunch date for tomorrow.”

  “Actually, I don’t think I’m his cup of tea.”

  “You’re joking, right?” He slapped the bed as he laughed. “You are a beautiful, white woman. Of course you’re his cup of tea. That is… unless he’s gay.”

  “You are so racist.”

  “That isn’t racism, that’s men. Okay, so I said it wrong. You are a beautiful woman. Men don’t give a damn what race you are when it comes to taking you to bed. Sex is the great racial equalizer.”

  “What are you doing in there?” Nefertiti asked from the sitting area in Bruce’s suite. Victoria had bought several small, plastic barrels filled with colored geometric chips for Nefertiti who sat on the floor organizing them by color, shape, and size. Victoria had said with Nefertiti’s creative mind, she was sure she’d come up with something to do with the chips. Nefertiti knew Victoria was trying to give her another way to express herself artistically—a way that didn’t require full range of motion in her wrist—and was grateful.

  “Auntie was tweaking last year at Christmas,” he called from his walk-in closet. “I want you to see what she gave me.”

  “She sent me socks and underwear, but I’m not showing you mine.” She continued sorting pieces. The vibrant colors stood out against the lush black carpet. She took in his room again. The walls and ceiling were painted black. The bedding had been changed to burgundy and royal blue. The furnishings were a deep mahogany. Even the drapes, drawn back from the large windows, were black. Most would find the room depressing, but she found the room comforting.

  A flash of red startled her. “What the…?” She quickly faced the closet.

  Bruce, dressed in red pajamas, red socks on his hands and feet, and a red silk shirt wrapped about his face below his eyes and tied behind his head, said, “I am Bruce, fire ninja!”

  Laughter crumpled Nefertiti and gripped her stomach so tight it hurt.

  “Fight or die, water ninja!”

  “You are entirely too big to wear all of that red.”

  He gently pulled her up. “You dare to insult me?”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “Yeah. I dare to insult you. Whatcha got, big boy?”

  He picked her up and tossed her back onto the bed.

  “Ooooo, suki, suki now.” She snatched one of the pillows and scooted across the bed after him. “It’s on.”

  He ducked and dodged his way to the bed, where he snatched the spread. “Surrender!”

  “Never!” She threw the pillow at his head. The motion hurt almost as much as hitting him, so she knew she’d have to stop soon. She didn’t want her therapy to go to waste. She reached for a second pillow off the floor.

  He bobbed, flung the spread over her, then pounced. “Do you give up?” He wrapped his arms around her so she couldn’t escape.

  “Trapped like a rat!” She poked her fist out from under the spread. “I’ll get you, Red Baron!”

  His hearty laugh spread sensual tingles within her. “That’s Snoopy, not the ninjas.” He picked
her up and placed her on the bed. “Do you surrender, water ninja?”

  As children they had played ninjas a countless number of times, but she didn’t remember it being this sexually stimulating. Boy, did she want to surrender! But not in the way he was asking.

  “Answer or feel my wrath.” He allowed her to straighten her legs.

  Wrath was definitely what she didn’t want to feel. His lips on hers would be nice. She felt him lower the spread from her face. He’d taken the silly shirt off his face.

  The desire in his eyes matched the feeling that flowed through her. His sock-covered hand slipped under the spread and caressed her waist. The tingles that flowed through her began to ignite. She inhaled his wild, passionate scent and about lost herself.

  He lowered his head to her, whispering, “We both want to make love. Why can’t we?”

  When she’d graduated college, they’d almost made love, but he’d pushed her away. Later, when she became engaged to Dennis, Bruce explained he considered himself damaged goods and not worthy of her.

  All of the passion from a few seconds ago suddenly vanished.

  As if sensing the change in her mood, Bruce sat up. “What?” he asked. He yanked the red socks off his hands, then reached for the remote controlling the drapes. “If you’re more comfortable in the dark, I’m game.”

  “No way! I’m not game.” She wiggled out of the spread, then scampered off the bed over to the geometric chips.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” He knelt beside her.

  “The only reason you want me now is because you think I’m not good enough for anyone else. I’d rather be alone.”

  In silence, they sorted through the pieces and properly grouped them. Glad he didn’t speak, she picked a red triangle out of the green square pile.