by Nancy Adams
“No, it’s okay,” Sarah mumbled meekly.
“See, she’s not offended,” he then put to me.
“It still doesn’t give you the right to—”
“Surely she knows about your past?” he interrupted haughtily.
“Yes. But it’s the past.”
“I hope so,” my father said, his voice becoming sterner. Then brightening his tone, he went on. “So, Sarah, when was this barroom romance? The faint whiff of men’s odor and spilt beer under the hazy lights of the pool table, some tribute act playing in the background, eh?”
“It was the day before Josh was involved in the accident,” Sarah said in a brave tone.
“Ah! You saw him on the news with those two boys over each shoulder, and he seemed much nicer than the barfly who’d drunkenly groped you and given out his number the night before. Especially when you found out he had money, eh?”
“It wasn’t like that,” she said shyly.
Sarah sat chewing her lip for a moment, and I really felt for her now.
“Hey, Dad,” I scolded, “leave off of her. This is the first time she’s seen you—can’t you at least lay off the asshole act this once?”
“Whoa! Sorry, Josh. I was only playing.”
“Well, don’t. Just let her eat her fucking breakfast. Okay?”
My father looked over at me, and his grin slowly sank from his face. In fact, he surprised me with a look bordering on guilt. Only bordering, mind.
“Sorry, Sarah,” he uttered apologetically. “I have a rather macabre sense of humor. Can you forgive me?”
Sarah looked him in the eyes, smiled, and said, “Of course.”
Dad grinned warmly at her, and I was put at ease. After that, conversation was general, my father laid off his bad-tempered jokes and questions, and we simply ate breakfast in each other’s company, the Financial Times doing most of the work in pacifying my father’s behavior. Once we were finished, I led Sarah to my bedroom. There we sat at my desk in front of the large dome-shaped window at the end wall, looking out across the city vista of rooftops and distant streets.
Once I was seated, Sarah placed herself neatly across my lap, and I held her delicate frame within my arms.
“Your father’s intense,” she remarked.
“He most certainly is.”
“Do you think he recognized me?”
“Of course not. How could he recognize someone who he last saw a glimpse of when she was only ten years old?”
“He could,” she commented, looking brightly into my eyes. “I felt in his look that he knew something.”
“He’s just intense, like you say. It’s how he secures all those business deals. He has a way of looking into a person and unsettling them.”
“What about his crass jokes?” she put to me.
“I’m sorry about that. He likes to joke at my expense. It’s more for the purposes of putting me in my place rather than unsettling you.”
She shuddered in my arms.
“He gives me the creeps,” she couldn’t help remarking.
“Hey! He’s still my old man.”
“Sorry.”
“At least he talks to you,” I remarked. “Your father hasn’t said squat to me.”
“Daddy’ll come around. He just doesn’t want to see me hurt.”
“I would never hurt you, Sarah.”
I contemplated her for a moment, our gazes entwined, and felt lost within her. Like some pathogen, she’d gotten into my very blood and coursed through my veins, pumped onward by my ever-beating heart. I squeezed her tight, and we kissed passionately as the city went about its business behind us on the other side of the window.
SARAH
For the next two weeks, I spent every minute of free time with Josh. I felt like some high school cheerleader messing around with her football jock boyfriend. I’d help him study for a few hours, me guiding him through the legal speech contained within his books, and then we’d take breaks, lie in his big comfortable bed, watch movies, make out. In that department, things were hotting up, but no further than I was willing to allow. My mind was disciplined, and I held back, wanting to stay true to my virtue. My body, on the other hand, was urging me to go further, and when we’d lie in one another’s arms, kissing and sliding our hands all over each other’s bodies, his hand would skirt slowly up my thigh from my knee and my legs would instinctively part for him, encouraging him to reach the top. It would only be when I’d feel the warmth of his hand near my groin that I’d close my legs sharp and stop it all.
He was never frustrated, though, and always accepted each denial with cordiality and understanding. I’d not mentioned my virginity yet, and he’d not pressed upon the subject, but it was obvious that he could tell I wasn’t as experienced as his ex-lovers. And for that reason, he was prepared to take it easy.
On the subject of his father, I’d only bumped into Andrew briefly on a few occasions, and each time he’d been pretty polite and friendly. Two days after that first meeting, Holman had informed Josh that Andrew had requested information on me. Holman, of course, had given him the intel on the other woman, and it appeared that Andrew believed for now that I was Sarah Kline and not a dreaded Dillinger. Whether Josh’s father suspected anything prior to his request, or if it was just routine, is anyone’s guess. Josh assured me that it was most definitely the latter, routine, and I wanted so much to believe him. But a gentle, lingering trepidation swallowed up a part of my bliss and made me a little restless when I was at the house.
As though sensing my unease within the confines of his luxurious two-story penthouse apartment, Josh managed to arrange at the end of those two weeks a weekend away on one of his father’s yachts. It was perfect timing, as I was both free that weekend and my legs had improved to the point where I was no longer feeling any real discomfort, even from prolonged exercise. We were to sail off for the Caribbean, where we’d spend eight hours at sea before arriving at New Providence, one of the main islands of the Bahamas. Josh’s father had a villa there, and we would stay the night. The next day we would sail off again and spend the night in Havana, Cuba. Josh had it all planned out, although he did state that if I wished to change the plans at all, I was free to. But it already sounded so wonderful, and I agreed that his plan was perfect. I awaited the trip with restless glee.
The weekend finally arrived, and I reached Josh’s apartment in the morning by taxi, Holman having warned me not to take my own car or any vehicle attached to the name Dillinger. We were to have breakfast before driving to the harbor. When Holmes brought me into the kitchen, I found Josh and Andrew drinking coffee and arguing about something. It was often the case that they never discussed anything, simply argued instead. I’d learned not to worry about these flaming debates and simply entered the kitchen unconcerned, taking a seat while they went for it.
“You’re full of shit, Dad,” Josh gasped out.
Then, noticing my entrance, he paused his argument, got up, and kissed me hello before reseating himself.
“Good morning, Sarah,” Andrew said, before turning back to his son and continuing his argument. “I’m telling you, son, if people have freedom, the majority won’t know what to do with it. It’s better that they struggle and are kept in line, because at least it keeps them working. They need debt and insecurity—it keeps them on their toes.”
“But it’s cruel to ground people down like that, make them desperate and sell themselves cheaply.”
“If all they have is their labor, then they have nothing more that everyone else on earth hasn’t already got by birth. It’s simple economics that they won’t get much for it, when labor is in abundance.”
“You know what, Dad,” Josh replied, “I’m gonna end this argument here. Because”—and he placed his arm around me as he said this—“Sarah’s here and I don’t want to spoil her mood for our trip.”
“A good idea,” Andrew agreed. “I wouldn’t want your girlfriend to see you crumble in a debate.”
Jos
h’s face took on an aggrieved look, and he was about to burst out with something, but instead, he steadied himself and merely stated in a calm tone, “Let’s just eat breakfast, hey.”
“My word,” Andrew let out, before turning to me and adding, “You must have some kind of magical touch, Sarah. Usually when I see that look on his face, I know that a storm is coming.”
“Then you shouldn’t aggravate him,” I said calmly, buttering myself some toast as I did. “Especially if you already know he’s upset.”
Andrew shook his head lightly, a big grin cast across his features. Over the few occasions that I’d spent any time with him, I’d found him a very aggressive and zealous person. But I’d also quickly discovered in my life that it was no good to cower in front of men like Andrew Kelly. No, that would win neither his compassion (for he had very little), nor his respect. I found early on that the best way to deal with him was head-on; don’t be afraid. Andrew was a bully, and bullies only work if there’s someone willing to be bullied. The moment you stand up and show them that you won’t buckle under their weight, you’ll earn their respect. And I believed that, even in this early stage, I had Andrew’s respect.
“Ha!” Andrew exclaimed. “Where did you get this one? She’s a marvel!”
“Don’t play with fire, Dad,” Josh remarked. “It’s not just her hair that’s red.”
“I bet it isn’t,” Andrew muttered mischievously. “You know, Sarah, how many of Josh’s girls I’ve met in the past?”
“No” was my curt answer, my tone doing its best to portray nonchalance at his question.
“A lot. Not that he introduces them, I just come home and find them lounging around my house. But all of them cower. They run off and hide somewhere.”
“That’s usually because you’re incredibly rude to them,” Josh stated.
“Yes, he’s right in some respects there. But not one of them has ever answered back. Not even Heather.”
I glanced sidelong at Josh and saw his face go dark at the mere mention of his ghost.
“Dad,” he scolded softly.
“Oops! Sorry, son.” Then addressing me, he added, “You know, you should be careful. She was one of the last girls he took out to an island and—”
“Dad!” Josh shouted, launching up from his stool and knocking it over in the process. “For Christ’s sake, can you just be pleasant for five fucking minutes while we eat breakfast before going away, huh? Must you soil everything?”
I noticed something genuinely taken aback in Andrew’s face. He appeared to sense something of the wrong that he had committed. But before this trickle of emotion could be truly spotted and registered, his face hardened again.
“I’m sorry,” he said in a solemn tone that didn’t give away too much remorse.
“So,” I began in a soft tone, wanting to cut through the viscous tension, “do you go up to the Caribbean much, Andrew?”
“Sometimes,” he answered with a gentle smile. “Not so much now. Only when I have a business deal and I know the client has a thing for the place, so I take them there as a treat. Before I used to take Josh there often. Didn’t I, Josh?”
“Yeah” was his son’s blunt answer.
“Remember that day we were in the dingy and that small hammerhead shark kept coming toward us?”
“Oh, yeah!” Josh broke out, his former darkness swept over by the light of this recollection. “I paddled us back with one paddle while you used the other to fend off the shark.”
“He was attacking you?” I had to ask.
“We don’t know,” Josh replied.
“He seemed intent on getting in the dingy,” Andrew put. “He’d swim up real fast, I’d bonk him on the head, he’d splash about in the water, and then swim off.”
“But no sooner would he swim off,” Josh continued, taking the baton from his father, the story something that they’d probably shared several times, “than he’d circle round again and come back, Dad having to hit him again.”
“The worst thing”—Andrew retook the baton—“was that the boat was only one of those small, inflatable cheap things you buy from beachside stores. I’d bought it for Josh to teach him to row, and I wasn’t sure how it would fare from a shark bite. So every time the little bugger came in for a chomp, I’d knock him one.”
“And he kept coming back?”
“All the way to the yacht,” Josh replied with a grin.
“Feisty little guy,” Andrew remarked. “Followed us all the way back, had real guts. I must’ve hit him about a hundred times with the paddle, and he was bleeding on his head but still he kept coming back for more.”
The two of them melted into the warm arms of nostalgia for a moment, and all was quiet around the breakfast table for the first time since I’d stepped in. I was happy to have triggered this happy father/son memory.
“Did you ever do anything similar with your father?” Andrew suddenly put to me.
A cold wave stunned my skin, and I felt momentarily dumbstruck. I instinctively glanced at Josh, and he too looked a little ill from the question. It had been the first time that Andrew had mentioned anything about my father, and even though it was asked innocently, I still felt bad for having to now enter into a new set of lies.
“Nothing as dramatic as fighting off sharks,” I said.
“It was only about a meter long,” Josh stated. “He makes it sound like Jaws was on us.”
“I would’ve liked to have seen you jump in the water and wrestle it,” Andrew put to his son. Then, turning his eyes back on me, he said, “You know I’ve never even asked you about your father. What does he do?”
“Whoa, Dad!” Josh exclaimed. “What is this, an interrogation?”
“It was an innocent question. I was just asking what he did for a living. If he’s a spy or in the CIA or something, then I’ll leave it, but I meant no harm.”
“It’s okay, Andrew,” I said. “My father is a teacher in Longview, Maine.”
“Oh, what does he teach? College, schools?”
“He teaches high school science.”
“Ah! A science teacher. A noble profession. What’s his name?”
“Jonathon Kline,” I answered without pause.
It was a lie that was kind of true. Sarah Kline did indeed have a father called Jonathon, who did teach secondary school in Maine. But I wasn’t Sarah Kline, and Jonathon Kline wasn’t my father. I felt terrible for taking another person’s identity, but it was something that was required if I was to stay with Josh. Though how long the charade would have to continue was anyone’s guess.
“Jonathon Kline the science teacher,” Andrew rasped out. “It has a nice ring to it.”
He smiled teasingly at me, and I was sure that he even winked. A shiver ran through my spine as he gazed across the table at me, sipping his coffee. In that moment, I felt certain that he hadn’t believed me, that he saw through me as if I were made of air and he could see all my thoughts floating inside. I shrunk under his gaze and would have shrunk further if it hadn't been for Holmes’s appearance at the door.
“You told me to warn you, sir,” Holmes announced the moment he entered.
“Warn me of what?” Andrew snapped, his predatory stare coming away from me and lunging onto the figure of Holmes.
“When it was nine o’clock.”
Andrew shot his eyes at the clock on the wall.
“Shit!” he let out. Then downing his coffee in one and getting up from his stool, he turned to me and Josh and said, “Have a good trip. Both of you. I mean it.”
He gave me a kiss on the cheek and winked at Josh before leaving with Holmes.
“Thank God,” I let out in a bluster of relief when he’d left. “I thought I was going to explode. Do you think he knows?”
“I’m sure he doesn’t. He’s always that odd, I wouldn’t worry. He likes to have control over things.”
“Is that why he winked at me just then?”
“Of course. He was teasing you. He winked at me
just now, to try and piss me off. Even after he’d been real nice and said goodbye he had to rub a little chili into things.”
We ate breakfast and were soon taking our bags down the elevator to the car lot, where a host of vehicles awaited us.
“I fancy an open top,” Josh remarked when we reached the line of impressive cars. “Do you fancy the air running through your hair?”
“I think I do,” I put back to him with a cheerful beam.
“Splendid. Then we’ll go for a classic. The 1967 E-Type Jaguar XK. It’s my dad’s, but so long as I’m careful, he’ll be cool.”
We walked over to an old-style two-seater red car. It looked absolutely beautiful, the seats right at the rear with a long, curvaceous bonnet stretching out the front, like the swish of a blood-red wave crashing over the front wheels. I got in and Josh went around the rear to wind back the roof, which had to be done manually with a handle. When I sat down, I was surprised at how low the suspension was, the ground only a few inches underneath me. Once the roof was all the way down, Josh leapt in, not bothering to open the door.
“Buckle up,” he said, before firing the ignition, the engine roaring at first and then settling down into a trembling purr. Shoving it in reverse, he moved us out of there with a sudden jolt, and I only just managed to have my seat belt clicked in when we tore off toward the exit in a quick burst of fire.
Soon he was threading us through the morning city on our way to the harbor, the sunbeams swooping down from the sky and the gentle slipstream of air weaving through our hair. It wasn’t long before the inner city deserted us in the background and we were flying down the freeway.
As he drove, Josh had his free arm across the seats and I balanced my cheek against it. Occasionally he’d glance sideways at me and show off his glittering smile of white teeth, the sun dancing off them, his eyes covered by the shield of his black Ray-Bans. I’d feel so good in those moments, a small ejaculation of rapture bursting into life inside of me, and I’d smile back, before resting my cheek once again on his gentle arm.
JOSH
It was an eight-hour journey to the port of Nassau in New Providence. Along the way I showed Sarah around the eighty-meter super yacht. Having shown her the top deck with its bar and swimming pool, followed by the opulent function room complete with dance floor, we were walking along a corridor on the basement level of the boat toward the rear, or stern for all you nautical nuts.