Among the Ducklings

by Marsh Brooks

  “I want to marry you. I don't care if you remain an invalid. I was the one driving that night. I promised myself that I will take care of you,” Richard implored. “Let me take care you.”

  “I don't need your pity, Richard. Get out and don't ever come near me again,” Isabel said, as she slammed the door behind Richard.

  ##

  In the morning, when Stacy had told him that she wanted to take him to Arenal in Costa Rica, Phil was amazed that Stacy remembered. He had always wanted to visit Costa Rica, especially Arenal, a volcanic area that was about four hours from San Jose. He had heard that the area had beautiful vegetation with unpredictable torrential rains, caused by the volcanic ashes. He had also learned that some of the nearby hotels boasted natural basins from the running springs that were heated by the volcanoes.

  “You're awesome Stacy. I can't believe you remembered.”

  “You were never out of my mind, Phil. You should know that by now,” Stacy had said, as she came and planted a teasing kiss on Phil's forehead. He was still lying on the bed, her breasts rubbing against Phil's face, awaking Phil's desires.

  “I can get used to that,” Phil teased.

  “I hope so,” Stacy replied.

  ##

  While Isabel was locking her front door, after Richard’s departure, Phil and Stacy were already on a flight to Costa Rica.

  As the chartered plane approached the Juan Santamaria International Airport, near San Jose, the Costa Rica capital, the attendant came and confirmed that a helicopter was waiting to take them to Fortuna, the town adjacent to the Arenal Volcano National Park.

  “Perfect,” Stacy replied.

  Although Phil had lost the love of his life, Stacy was teaching him how to enjoy life again. With time, I will forget you Isabel.

  “You're right,” Phil replied. “This is perfect.” This time, he meant it.

  ##

  Vanna Francis was having lunch when her cell phone started to vibrate. She had already gotten a hefty sum from The Query, the tabloid magazine that printed her story about Stacy on the beach with her new man. She had enjoyed her stay in Miami. She was able to wire money to her elderly mother who lived with Vanna, to help take care of Vanna’s teenage son. Although Vanna lived in Eagle Pass, a town in Texas that bordered Mexico, she was never home, always on the move after the next story to help put food on the table for the three of them. It was Vanna's first time in Miami, however, and she made a point to sample a variety of food she didn't usually find on her travels. Her passion for food was what brought her to lunch today at a Haitian Restaurant, in Miami Beach.

  When she picked up the phone, a young female voice came on the line sounding as if she was whispering. “Is this Vanna Francis?”

  “Yes, who is this?”

  “My name is Stephanie Marshall, Andy Marshall's sister.”

  “The actor?”

  “Yes.”

  “How is he?”

  “He died and was buried yesterday,” Stephanie said. Vanna could feel the sadness in the woman's voice.

  “I'm sorry to hear that. He was still very young. Was he sick?”

  “Yes. But that's not what killed him. He killed himself,” Stephanie said, her voice cracking on the line.

  “I'm deeply sorry, Stephanie. How can I help you?”

  “I saw that you wrote a story about Stacy Marshall a couple of days ago, and I wanted to know if you can help me sell a story about her.”

  “About who?” Vanna asked.

  “Stacy Marshall.”

  “Well, it depends on the story. The tabloids are the ones that will pay and therefore they will make the decisions on whether the story is worth publishing. So what is it about?”

  Stephanie then told her.

  “Are you sure of that? She has a lot of money and is very powerful.”

  “I can prove it,” Stephanie said, explaining her intimate knowledge of the situation and how she was going to prove it.

  “Well, this can be big. What's your phone number? I need to make some phone calls and I will call you back,” said Vanna eagerly. After Vanna had written down Stephanie’s number, she quickly finished her Griyo, a Haitian dish made of chunks of pork, and left the restaurant in a hurry. “Miami stands for good luck in my book,” Vanna said to herself, as she called the editor of The Query.

  ##

  Stacy had just reached her rented villa when her satellite phone rang.

  “Are you alone?” her publicist asked.

  “Just one second.” She motioned to Phil that it was a business call and she stepped outside of the house.

  “What is it?”

  “I just got a call from Vanna Francis and she wanted to know if you have any comment about a story that will be published in The Query.

  “Did she say what it was about?”

  “No. She said it was personal and wanted to speak to you directly.”

  “Ok give me the phone number. I will call her,” Stacy said. A few minutes later, Stacy was on the phone with Vanna.

  “What's this all about?” Stacy asked.

  “Thank you for calling me,” Vanna said.

  “How couldn't I? You said it was urgent,” Stacy said.

  “I'm writing a story about you for “The Query” and just wanted to give you an opportunity to respond to what's going to be written.”

  “What's the story about?”

  When she told Stacy about it, a furious Stacy asked, “Who told you this garbage? Andy?”

  “Your ex-husband killed himself few days ago.”

  “Well, you have no story.” If Stacy was saddened about Andy's death, she didn't show it.

  “Actually, I do. I have witnesses.”

  “Listen to me clearly, Vanna. I have a lot of money. I will sue you for every penny you have if you publish this story and get your facts wrong. As far as I am concerned, you've got all your facts wrong,” Stacy said, still wondering who Andy might have told about it.

  “Don't threaten me Stacy,” Vanna said. “I'm just doing my job and I was giving you an opportunity to tell your side, and I see that I've wasted my time.”

  “Actually you haven't,” Stacy said calming herself. “How much is The Query paying you for the story?”

  “That's none of your business.”

  “Be reasonable. I can triple what they are paying you if you make the story go away,” Stacy said.

  “I'm not for sale, Stacy,” Vanna replied.

  “Everyone has a price. Name yours,” Stacy insisted.

  “Actually, it may come as a surprise to you, but I'm a professional journalist. It's true that I make living writing articles for the tabloids, but it's not just about the money and, as I said, I'm not for sale,” a resolute Vanna said.

  “I'm sorry to hear that. But mark my words, I won't stand here and let you print this garbage about me. Got it?”

  “Clear as ice,” Vanna said and hung up.

  ##

  Arnold Blanchard was in his limousine, going back to his house outside of New Jersey. Enjoying a strong alcoholic drink during these trips home from the office was one of the few things that he enjoyed in life. At sixty years old, he always wondered how his family life had turned out this way.

  He would admit he wasn't a saint. He didn't become one of the richest men in the tabloid publishing industry by being nice. Once in awhile, he had to embark on the usual hostile takeover of competitors, which made his work worthwhile. He had three kids who were constantly suing each other for money and a wife of thirty years who hated him, blaming her hate for him on his philandering, while she herself was sleeping with her personal trainer. The only time he got a respite was in his limousine, alone, with a drink in his hand. Even the pleasure of spending time with his twenty-four year-old mistress couldn't top the quiet time that he enjoyed in his limousine, with his bourbon. Sometimes he even wondered if he wasn't an alcoholic. “If he was an alcoholic, he had a heck of a designated driver,” he said to himself, before gulping the bitter tast
ing liquid.

  He was still a long way from home, and decided to pour himself another shot of the drink, when the car phone rang.

  “Arnie, it's me Ben,” the male voice said. Ben was a partner of a major law firm in New York City. He and Arnie had known each other since they were in graduate school.

  “Ben it's been a while. What can I do you for?”

  “There is an issue with the Query. I have a client who is furious and wanted me to sue for an injunction against the magazine to stop it from going ahead with a bogus story about her.”

  Arnold, who was the majority owner of The Query, didn't need this. Among all of his magazines, The Query was the only one that was currently losing money. Fighting a lawsuit or being liable for damages would destroy The Query.

  “Who's your client?”

  “Stacy Marshall, the movie producer. The Query is trying to print a story about her personal life. She told me to do anything to stop it.”

  Among all of the stories about B movie stars and drug addicts, why would The Query want to fight a big fish, when it couldn't even make payroll? Arnold asked himself. “Ben, I'll call the news director and take care of it.”

  “Thanks Arnie. Say hello to the wife and kids for me.”

  “Take care.”

  ##

  “We can't do it Vanna.”

  “What do you mean, you can't do it?” Vanna asked. She was talking to the editor of The Query.

  “The boss called and he said that we were exposing ourselves to too much liability,” the editor said.

  “How did he know about the story? Does he track the day to day publications?”

  “Not really. Someone very powerful must have threatened a big lawsuit on this.”

  “So?” Vanna asked. “In our business we get threatened with lawsuits every day. What makes this one different?”

  “You're talking about someone who has a lot of money and many powerful lawyers.”

  “I see,” Vanna said. “Thanks for trying. I'll shop it around. Sooner or later, I think another magazine will pick it up.”

  “Sorry about that. Good luck.”

  “Stacy, you may have won the battle but not the war,” Vanna said to herself, while grabbing her rolodex.

  ##

  After her confrontation with Richard, Isabel spent the next few days home and venturing out only for her therapy. She had spent years being engaged and had nothing to show for it. Messages left by both Marcia and Lucy had gone answered. So far, she had not told anyone what happened between her and Richard.

  It was late in the evening on Friday, when Rebecca, came to her room.

  “Isabel, Lucy left me a message saying that she was worried about you.”

  “I'm not sure why she would worry.”

  “You're not returning anyone's calls and Tia Marcia said that you've been avoiding her, even when you are at the Center.”

  “I've had a lot on my mind lately,” Isabel said.

  “Does it have to do with Richard?” Rebecca asked.

  “Why would you say that?”

  “We know he is in town and he has stopped coming around,” Rebecca said.

  “Well, we broke up.”

  “What happened?” a speechless Rebecca said.

  “He is married,” Isabel confirmed.

  “What?” Rebecca was stunned.

  “While he was with me, he was married to another woman and even had a baby.”

  “How did you find out?”

  “Long story, but better late than never.”

  “I'm sorry, Isabel.”

  “Me too.”

  ##

  Phil and Stacy had spent a wonderful three days in Costa Rica. They spent time swimming in hot springs, eating delectable fruits and visiting nearby towns. Phil was learning to be happy again. Stacy was relieved after she had spoken to her attorney, the day after she had the conversation with Vanna.

  “What happened?” She had asked her lawyer.

  “I talked to the Query’s owner and told him that we were contemplating a lawsuit.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He said he was going to take care of it.”

  “And you trust him?” Stacy had asked.

  “Of course. I know him. Besides, I also talked to the editor who confirmed that The Query won't run the story.”

  “Great,” Stacy said. “Thanks.”

  “No Sweat. Stay out of trouble.”

  ##

  The morning of the fundraiser, Lucy came to pick up Isabel. They were going shopping for clothes for the party and making a stop at the beauty salon.

  “So why haven't you returned my calls?”

  “Sorry Lucy, I've had a lot on my mind. I was going to see you today anyway.”

  “Rebecca told me that you broke up with Richard.”

  “What else did she say?” Isabel asked. She wanted to tell Lucy herself.

  “Nothing really. She told me to ask you why, when I saw you.”

  “Richard was cheating on his wife with me.”

  “You're not serious?” Lucy was dumbfounded.

  “I talked to his wife, who hung up the phone on me.”

  “What did Richard say? Did he deny it?”

  “He said he was going to divorce his wife for me,” Isabel replied.

  “Did you throw your engagement ring in his face?”

  “I forgot to give it to him. I still have it.”

  “What are going to do with it?”

  “Mail it to him. Better yet, give it away for charity, tonight at the fundraiser.” Isabel tried to laugh but no laughter came out. The episode had been deeply embarrassing.

  “I hear you sister,” Lucy said. “I’m really sorry about that. He seemed to be a nice guy.”

  “Don't worry about it.”

  “Are you going to call Phil?

  “Rebecca didn't tell you?” Isabel asked.

  “What?” Lucy said, puzzled.

  “He was seen in the Keys with another woman,” Isabel answered.

  “Did you talk to him about it?” Lucy asked.

  “No. What's the point?”

  “Didn't you tell Phil on two different occasions that you didn't want to see him?”

  “Yes. So?”

  “You didn't expect him to just wait around forever, did you?”

  “What are you getting at?”

  “He's good looking, charming, nice and has a good job. Lots of women would be after the guy. All I am saying is that the ball is in your court.”

  “You didn't hear me. He was seen with another woman,” Isabel insisted.

  “So? You were with Richard. What did you expect? Talk to him. There may be a simple explanation.”

  “There is nothing to talk about,” Isabel replied.

  “Didn't you talk to Richard and give him a chance to explain himself after you found out about his cheating?”

  “Yes, But...”

  “My point,” Lucy said, with a satisfied look on her face. Beside Lucy's unpredictability, what drove Isabel crazy was Lucy's tendency to make Isabel see and do things that Isabel tried to avoid doing. At that moment, Lucy was driving her crazy.

  ##

  When Lucy and Isabel returned to Isabel's place, it was late in the afternoon. They were sitting and drinking lemonade by the kitchen table, when the door bell rang. Lucy got up and opened the door.

  “Are you Isabel?” the young pretty blond woman asked Lucy. She looked to be in her early thirties.

  “No. May I help you?” Lucy asked.

  “I need to talk to Isabel. Is she here?”

  “May I ask who is asking?”

  “Tell her that I'm Kristin, Richard's wife and that it's very important that I talk to her.” Lucy was speechless. She couldn't believe that the woman would come here.

  “Who is it?” Isabel's voice was coming from the kitchen.

  “Richard's wife. She wants to talk to you,” Lucy replied.

  After a long pause, Lucy heard Isabel say, �
��Let her in.”

  ##

  By the name, a person would think that Key Biscayne is part of the Florida Keys. Actually it isn't. It is a small island located east of Miami and connected to Miami by the Rickenbacker Causeway, which is mostly a long bridge with a toll booth. Phil had not gone to the island since his early college days when he and his college buddies used to go to a Hispanic night club there, and dance to salsa and merengue rhythms. This evening, as he and Stacy were crossing the bridge that would lead them to Marcia's condo, he wondered what he would say when he saw Isabel. He had tried his best to forget her. But it hadn't been easy.

  He was sitting next to Stacy, who was driving a rental yellow Ferrari convertible. The convertible top was on. He never knew car rental companies carried these types of cars and wondered how Stacy managed to change cars so often. He would have preferred a less conspicuous automobile, but the car had already been delivered to Stacy.

  “Turn left here,” Phil said to Stacy. He had printed the directions from the internet, and was holding the piece of paper in his hands.

  “I think we're here,” Stacy said at the sight of the majestic front of the resort and condominium building at the end of a cul de sac. The night was dark and crisp, and the smell of the salt water carried by a light wind was strong and pleasant.

  In the resort parking lot, Stacy looked at herself in the mirror one last time before both got out of the car. She then grabbed Phil's arm as they entered the building. Stacy was excited and could not wait to meet Isabel face to face, just to see the look of defeat on her's face. She sensed that Phil tensed as they approached the elevator that would take them to Marcia's condo on the top floor. She turned and with her nicest and warmest smile said, “Don't worry honey, I will be there with you and everything will be OK.”

  "I wish I was as sure as you are," Phil thought, as they stepped into the elevator.

  ##

  Hours before, after Kristin had left Isabel, Isabel made Lucy promise that she would not reveal what Kristin had told them. At first, Kristin insisted that she speak with Isabel alone. But Isabel wouldn't have that. She wanted Lucy to be there. Both of them were still in shock, after Kristin's departure, when Lucy asked, “Do you believe that really happened?”