by Robin Cain
“That was Citra. She called about something at work but I didn’t want to talk about it now.” The tone in his voice was matter-of-fact, dismissing Sadie in the few words he spoke.
Questions formed in Sadie’s mind but she figured she already knew the answers. Citra was an employee; she and Frank would have to speak from time to time. As much as it bothered Sadie, there was nothing she could do to change that.
The phone started to ring again.
“God damn it!” Frank rolled over and shut it off in mid-ring.
“Tenacious little thing, isn’t she?” Sadie remarked, rolling out of bed in search of some aspirin. Her head was still pounding and all these phone calls weren’t helping.
“That one wasn’t her, for your information,” he offered, without looking up.
Sadie didn’t comment. She walked out of the room in search of what she expected would be a completely overpriced mini bar. Aware that motion sensors kept track of items taken for purchase, she picked up the ten-dollar package of Excedrin and a twelve-dollar bottle of Pellegrino, leaving everything else intact, and headed to the overstuffed leather sofa in the living room. Elegant, custom-made silk drapes framed the room’s oversized floor-to-ceiling windows, which looked down onto the Bellagio’s musical fountains and faced the Paris hotel. France, the Eiffel Tower and all of Europe appeared to be waiting just outside their suite. That alone, she hoped, would make her feel better.
“I’m going to jump in the shower,” Frank hollered from the bedroom. The suite offered his-and-her bathrooms and dressing rooms, one outfitted with a steam room and shower and the other with a Jacuzzi tub and shower. Each provided separate commodes and bidets as well. It was mind-boggling square footage for the simple ritual of bathing.
“Alright,” Sadie said, but Frank hadn’t heard her. He had already locked himself in his bathroom. While Sadie reclined on the buttery softness of the living room sofa thinking about all that had happened in the last twenty-four hours, Frank took the opportunity to make some phones calls. There was some unfinished business.
Frank didn’t feel comfortable using his family connections but, determined to make this problem go away, he knew this was what had to be done. He had only used this guy once before, on a recommendation from his father. But the matter—getting his building permit in hours when it should have taken weeks—had been taken care of easily and quickly. That had been years ago, so it took Frank several phone calls to track him down again.
After explaining his needs, Frank reiterated his last statement one more time—just to be clear. “Just a warning, do you understand? There will be no future for him in Hollywood or anywhere else if he comes near her again.”
“No problem,” the man on the other end of the line replied before hanging up the phone.
With that matter now hopefully behind him, Frank called Citra back. Her phone only rang once before she answered.
“Why the hell did you hang up on me?” Citra immediately demanded.
“Hello to you too.”
“You sound like hell. Where are you?”
“That’s why I called you back. I’m in Vegas.”
“Vegas? I just saw you last night. What are you doing in Vegas?”
Though he had prepared an entire alibi ahead of time, the question still caught Frank off guard. His answer, he suddenly realized, didn’t even make sense to him anymore.
Ah, what the hell, he told himself. She’s going to find out sooner or later. He hadn’t wanted to do this over the phone, but she’d left him no choice.
“Sadie and I got married last night.” The silence on the other end of the line sounded like he had lost the connection. “Hello?”
“You mother fucker son-of-a-bitch,” she said, rather succinctly.
“Why don’t you tell me how you really feel?” Frank joked, realizing a second too late that it might not have been the best approach. “I didn’t want to have to tell you like this. I was going to come see you today. Honest.” Citra hung up on him without saying another word.
“Fuck!” He yelled to the tiled walls, hoping they would absorb the noise. He redialed her number and listened to it ring several times. “C’mon, pick up. Pick up,” he said to no one. After the eighth ring, she finally answered.
“I’m sorry, you’ve reached the wrong number,” she said, her voice eerily calm now.
“Citra, c’mon. Talk to me. It doesn’t have to be like this.” His gaze focused on his feet and he noticed his toenails needed clipping.
“I’m not the one who had sex last night, ran off and married someone else. I’m still here.”
“It wasn’t planned. Honest. When I left your house, I was headed home. The thought of this hadn’t even crossed my mind.”
“So you were forced into this—is that what you are trying to tell me now?”
“Of course not.”
“Well, sounds like you willingly made a choice then, asshole. And it isn’t me.”
“Citra, I’m sorry. I told you I wasn’t ready to marry you.”
“Yes, but you also never mentioned that you were ready to marry someone else.”
“I didn’t realize it until... well, it just happened.”
“Oh, drop the whole charade, Frank. Be a man and be honest for once in your fucking life. You’ve made a choice; it wasn’t me and you can’t have both. We’re done.”
Before he could say another word, Citra hung up again. While she threw her phone so hard against the wall of her office that her assistant came running, Frank went and got in the shower, resigned to the fact that he could do nothing more from where he sat.
Still reclining on the sofa, Sadie startled and realized she must have nodded off. She sat up and, not seeing Frank, assumed he was still in the shower. She lay back down and studied the Eiffel Tower. She still couldn’t believe where she was. Even harder to grasp was who she now was.
Mrs. Sadie Campelletti.
Who’d have thought? And what the hell possessed me to do such a crazy thing?
Frank’s reasons for rushing to Vegas and tying the knot were just as unclear to her. He had never discussed marriage prior to that night, yet his conviction and sincerity seemed to be heartfelt and very real. Sadie knew his impetuousness was a result of her altercation with Billy. She had never seen Frank so worked up about anything, but now his reaction made more sense.
While they had stayed up talking for hours that night he had begrudgingly explained to her that his sister had nearly been raped back in high school. Though never coming out and directly saying what had happened, he had made it clear that the guy would never try anything like that again. He admitted he’d lost his temper protecting his little sister, but who wouldn’t? Try as she might, though, Sadie couldn’t really compare that to her incident with Billy.
Sadie did love Frank and, besides, what was the worst that could happen—find out they were completely incompatible and get divorced one day? At this point in her life, she could think of worse things. Billy’s unwanted presence in her life lent credence to that.
Yes, maybe it is time for life to be a little different.
Frank entered the room, interrupting her thoughts. “Are you going to shower? I need to get back as soon as I feasibly can.” He stood in the adjoining dining room, a huge bath towel wrapped around his long, lean frame. His towel-dried hair stuck straight up in a wet version of punk.
“Yes, just trying to get rid of my headache.”
“Well, okay, but I need to get going.” He already had his business face on.
“How romantic,” she teased.
“Sorry, baby. Things to do. This wasn’t exactly planned, so I’ve messed up this day pretty good already.” He walked over and gave her a kiss on the top of her head. “You mind?”
“Okay, okay, I’m going.” She dutifully headed to the bathroom.
Thirty-five minutes later, she was showered, dressed and ready to go. Frank was dressed, but involved with his e-mail. When he told her it would just be a
few minutes, Sadie went back to lie down on the bed. Her headache wasn’t quite gone and the energy she’d expended getting ready hadn’t helped much. Why had she let herself drink so much? She shut her eyes just as Frank’s phone began to vibrate on the table beside her head. The ringer was turned off and that seemingly unimportant fact toyed with her logic.
When the phone stopped vibrating, she took it from the bedside table. Punching a key on the phone, she called up the menu, quickly scanned through new calls, received calls and time stamps. Confirmation of her suspicions took only a few seconds. There, in plain sight, was a record of ten phone calls—the last three of which were between Citra and Frank—and all in the span of a little over an hour.
What the hell? Is anything that important?
She replaced the phone on the nightstand and went back into the other room. She found Frank at the dining table, still working on his laptop.
“Problems at the office?”
“No, no. Everything is fine.”
“Well, what did Citra want when she called earlier?”
“Citra?” He pronounced the name like it was the first time he’d heard it. “Uh, she was just wondering if I was going to make it to a meeting later today.”
“Well, why couldn’t you talk about that?”
“What?” It seemed obvious to Sadie he was pretending he hadn’t understood.
“When she called, you rushed off the phone. You said she wanted to talk about work stuff and that you didn’t want to.” Sadie saw his jaw tighten at the sound of her words.
“No. No. She was just making sure I was going to be there is all.” Frank snapped his laptop closed and stood up. “Ready to go?”
Sadie knew what she had heard. What he was telling her now was nothing even close to that. “Well, did you ever call her back?”
“What is with all the questions? No, I didn’t call her back. I said I’d talk to her later. Now let’s get going, Mrs. Campelletti, okay?” He leaned over to kiss her and grazed her turned cheek instead. Sadie didn’t understand what was motivating him to lie and she didn’t like it. She didn’t like it at all. But this was all new for both of them and, so, for now, she decided to let it go.
It was nearly eight o’clock at night by the time Frank and Sadie made it back into town, but Frank insisted on going in to the office anyway. He dropped Sadie off at her place, promising to come back to get her when he was done.
“Now, you’re not going anywhere tonight, right? You’ll be here when I get back?” Frank asked her as she got out of the car.
“Where would I go? I’ve got to pack.”
Before she made it to the front door, Frank had already pulled out of her driveway and was on his phone. He was thinking about the entire day he’d lost at the office. Shuddering to think of all the issues that awaited him, he dialed Janie and left a message telling her he wouldn’t be back in the office until late morning and to cover for him.
Thirty minutes later, Frank made it to MineWare. Pulling into his designated space in front, he noticed Citra’s car parked in her spot. No surprise. He had a feeling she’d be there.
Frank got out of his car, went to the entrance and slid his card into the reader. Once his access was confirmed, the door unlocked. The night security guard sat at a workstation right inside the entrance, surrounded by surveillance monitors displaying all activity in numerous locations in and around the building.
“Good evening, Mr. Campelletti.”
“Evening, Hank. How we doing today?”
“No complaints, sir. Just happy to be here.”
“Excellent,” Frank absentmindedly replied and headed down the hallway, occupied with thoughts of Citra and her capabilities in particular. Knowing how her mind worked and assuming her anger would likely get the best of her, he had planned to take some precautionary measures before letting her know he’d married Sadie. God only knew what had happened since their last phone call. He walked into his office and found Citra sitting in one of the side chairs.
“Honeymoon over already?” she offered as a greeting.
“How did you get in here?” Frank asked, ignoring her question.
“I convinced your dim-witted secretary that I had your permission because I needed to work in here. You really need a new secretary, Frank. You never know what people would do if they got access to your office.”
“Should I be worried about you?” Frank set his briefcase down on his desk and nonchalantly scanned the messages fanned out next to his keyboard. It crossed his mind that Janie would have left them in a neatly stacked pile.
“You should always worry about me, Frank, but you won’t have to anymore. Here’s my resignation,” she said, leaning over and placing a single-page, typewritten letter on his desk.
“Citra...” He let her name linger while he collected his thoughts. Her decision took him by surprise. He had considered this as one of her options, but he’d written it off as highly improbable. Based on her ties to him, the company and her compensation package, she’d be committing professional suicide if she left.
Then again, he thought, maybe she’s bluffing.
“Don’t act surprised, Frank. What did you expect? You run off and get married, without even a word to me. All our history? I can’t possibly stay here now,” she sneered in exasperation.
No matter how much Frank would have liked to think MineWare could do without her, the reality was something entirely different. She had client contacts and loyalties that were priceless. She was singlehandedly responsible for three of MineWare’s biggest accounts.
No, the timing wasn’t good at all—maybe with some advance notice, but not like this. He had to buy some time.
“What’s it going to take to get you to stay?”
“More than you can afford, Frank,” she said, her eyes boring holes into his.
There. There was a number after all.
“Try me,” he told her.
“Frank, you’re missing the point. You’ve made a complete ass out of me by up and getting married.”
“Citra, I said I couldn’t marry you,” he said, pausing briefly for effect to make sure he had her complete attention. “I never said we couldn’t be partners.” Frank purposefully let his words float through the air. Their boundaries were as indefinable as cigar smoke.
“Partner? As in business?” Her weak attempt at nonchalance convinced Frank he now had her.
“As much as I’d like to think you’ve hung around for my good looks and skill in bed, Citra, I’m having no such delusion.”
“Don’t fuck around with me, Frank. You know exactly how to keep me and you know exactly what you have to do to keep me.”
Ah Citra, forever the fighter. I can always count on you.
“You know this is my company and it will forever remain my company. That is non-negotiable. What I am willing to do for you is give you half ownership of the new software project. You certainly know what that’s worth. My plans are to eventually make that an entire self-supporting arm of the company, so you’d own half of that. If you have any long-term vision whatsoever, you know that what I’m offering you is one hell of an opportunity.”
Frank watched as Citra chewed on his words a minute, savoring their flavor. The original encryption program he had developed for MineWare, one of several programs to which the company sold and held rights, was being upgraded to include this newest project. Called OurWare, the project involved an expansion on the original idea, allowing the encryption code to be modified for the licensing of software, without compromising the software’s performance.
Now, instead of being a media-delivery encryption product, OurWare had the potential to flawlessly encrypt any form of digital material, preventing piracy across many more industries. The sales potential of the product was nearly inconceivable—critical not only to the growth of MineWare, but to Citra’s future earning potential as well. He knew she’d already tempted a few clients with talk of its introduction and that their future business and loyalt
ies were likely based heavily on this new product.
“Half the project; half the management; half the ownership? Right down the middle on everything, right?”
“That’s my offer.” Frank’s words, void of emotion, defied negotiation. “The drawback, if that’s how you want to look at it, is that you have to stay on in your current position until I can make the transition. I can’t upset the apple cart right now to accommodate you.”
“As long as I get a contract and it’s all legal.”
He folded his hands on his desk and looked her straight in the eye. “Of course.”
“Contingent on my accepting the contract?”
“Of course, but I will expect that this stay between us in the interim.”
Citra didn’t even blink. “Of course.”
Frank came around his desk to congratulate her on a decision well-made. Citra stood up as well and they collided in the middle, embracing in an awkward hug. Citra said nothing more as Frank inhaled the ever-present lavender scent of her hair. In less than twenty four hours, he’d gone from single man and owner to married man and partner. He just hoped all the puzzle pieces fit.
seven
LATER THAT NIGHT Frank picked up Sadie and went directly back to his place. Exhausted, they fell asleep the instant their heads hit the pillow. The next morning Sadie woke up feeling like she’d been hit by a truck, only to find Frank already up and dressed.
“Well, sleepyhead. I was wondering if I should check for a pulse soon,” Frank said when he heard her stir. “I can’t believe how hard you’ve been sleeping.”
“How long have you been up?” She asked, still groggy. She glanced at the clock. It was still only a little before six.
“A while. I have things I need to take care of. Thought I’d get an early start. I have to head out. Help yourself to whatever and I’ll give you a call later, alright?”
“You have to go now?”
“Things to do,” he said. “Are you going to be alright? I want you to just stay and get some rest.” He bent over and gave her a quick kiss goodbye. She watched him walk out the door.