The War of the Roses: The Children

by Warren Adler

  From his perspective, the only major fallout would be Victoria finding out. From panic had come realism.

  Dominic Bocci came into his office seething with anger. Josh had been prepared for that. He was wearing the same outfit he had worn the day before, but anger had erased all pretension to charm.

  “You’re lookin’ for trouble, man,” Dominic said. “Here I thought we had a deal.”

  “We do.”

  “So where’s the bread?”

  “I’ve committed myself to your plan, Dom,” Josh said. “So cool down. It’s not as easy as you originally contemplated.”

  “I just want the bread and the signed paper. Don’t tell me no sad stories.”

  “Let me explain.”

  “The hell with this, man,” Dominic said, moving toward the door. “I’m going to the company.”

  “Your prerogative. But first hear me out. Sit down. Please.”

  Dominic hesitated and shook his head. Begrudgingly, he seated himself in the same spot he had taken the day before. Josh sat facing him.

  “I’m listening. It better be good.”

  Josh felt stronger than he had felt yesterday.

  “No confrontations, Dom. I’m not negotiating. I’m fully prepared to meet your demands. This has nothing to do with morals or ethics or whatever. It’s strictly business. All this has to do with is access.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “I don’t handle the family exchequer.”

  “Shit, man. Talk American.”

  “My wife handles the money, Dom. Sorry, but all I know is how to work the ATM machine.”

  “What kind of crap are you handing me, Rose?”

  “It’s the truth, Dom.”

  He watched the blood drain from Dominic Bocci’s face.

  “But everything will be okay. Tonight I’ll know exactly where everything is. With a little luck we can conclude this deal tomorrow.”

  “You gotta guarantee on that?”

  “Once I know what’s what, I’m sure I can get you the money without any problem.”

  “By tomorrow?”

  “Hopefully.”

  “What’s this hopefully shit?”

  “Look, Dom. I’m not going anywhere, and I’m not foreclosing on any of your options. Considering my situation, your time frame was unrealistic.” He cleared his throat. For some reason, the insecurity that he had felt yesterday had returned.

  “I don’t like this,” Dominic mused. He offered Josh a hard-eyed glance.

  “Dom. I know the stakes here. I just need time.”

  “I ain’t got time.”

  “What difference would a day or so make? I’ve agreed. Raising cash takes time. I have to borrow and I don’t want my wife to know.”

  He felt Dominic’s eyes studying him.

  “You better not be playing games.”

  “My God, Dominic,” Josh said. “You’re playing with my life. And you know exactly what I have to lose.”

  He was immediately sorry for the outburst. He was showing weakness, an exploitable emotion.

  “What happens if I come here tomorrow and get this same song and dance?” Dominic asked. His threatening demeanor retreated, but Josh could see he was cooking up some plan.

  “It won’t happen,” Josh said, trying to maintain a stance of total confidence.

  “You say your wife handles the dough?”

  He seemed to grow thoughtful.

  “I’ve already told you that, Dominic.”

  “Doesn’t sound very smart. Never let them handle the money.”

  “In our case, it works. My wife has an extensive accounting background. I’m practically an illiterate when it comes to finance. Victoria I’m sure has invested very wisely.”

  “But you don’t know where the dough is?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  Dominic was silent for a long moment. Finally, he spoke.

  “So you could be worth a lot more than you think you are?”

  Once again, Josh felt blindsided.

  “I doubt it.”

  “But it’s possible?”

  “Anything’s possible.”

  Dominic nodded as if he was satisfied with the response. Josh could see he was still pondering the situation.

  “Tell you what,” Dominic said, allowing a long pause of silence to ensue. Josh waited expectantly. He hated the idea of being at this man’s mercy. “Double the deal.”

  “What are you saying?” Josh asked. He was sure that something had been lost in translation. He noted that Dominic’s face was suddenly free of tension.

  “I’m saying four hundred thousand,” Dominic said. “No big deal. We change one number is all.”

  “Now you’re pushing the envelope,” Josh muttered.

  “Right. Good way to put it, Josh man. I was fishing around for a way to make up for my disappointment of today. Four hundred thou….” He shook his head and chuckled.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Josh sneered.

  “You said it’s possible.”

  “I said anything’s possible.”

  “I’ll buy that.”

  “Two hundred thousand and not a penny more. What do you take me for? You’d never be satisfied with any sum you get, paper or no paper. You’re a goddamn cheap little blackmailer.” He knew he was throwing caution to the winds, but he couldn’t help himself. “And don’t be so sure you’ll be able to get custody of your kids.” Again he had blurted out something he regretted.

  “So you and she had a nice little chat?”

  “Yes we did,” Josh said retreating slightly.

  “And what did the little bitch have to say?”

  “She wants me to pay up and sign the paper.”

  “Good advice.”

  “She’s scared shitless,” Josh said. “Who could blame her?”

  Josh could tell from the way the man’s eyes glared that he was on the verge of explosion. Dominic stood up. Unlike yesterday, he reared himself back and came at Josh with a hard one-two combination to the body that knocked the wind out of him and brought him to his knees. Holding his stomach, Josh retched with the dry heaves.

  “I’m raising the ante another hundred thou, man. Half a mil. And I don’t give a shit how it comes.”

  As if to emphasize the point, he lifted his foot and pressed Josh in the butt. He collapsed supine on the floor.

  “Two hundred thou. No more,” Josh managed to say.

  “Fuck you.”

  Josh heard Dominic leave the office and the door slam behind him. He lay on the floor for a long time trying to contemplate his options. He had miscalculated everything. The fact was that he had proven himself incompetent.

  Left in limbo, he wasn’t sure how to proceed. He had to assume that the man would be back at him tomorrow, but there was no way he was going to give him a half a million dollars, even if he had access to that amount. If Victoria found out, how could he possibly explain it?

  In the end, he decided to stick with his original plan. He would find out tonight where their principal accounts were and take it from there.

  Chapter 9

  Victoria rushed to the bathroom and brushed her teeth and used a whole bottle of mouthwash to get the taste of Tatum out of her mouth. Then she showered for a long time, soaping herself furiously. While she was in the shower the phone rang, but she ignored it. The voicemail would pick up the call. Finally, she felt cleansed and uncommonly exhilarated. Now, she vowed, she must find a way to tuck this episode into the dark recesses of memory.

  She went into the garage and got into the car. It was then that she remembered she still had the tape in her handbag. At first, she thought she might put it in the strong box at the bank where she kept their birth certificates, insurance policies, and other impo
rtant documents. Although she had the only key, she felt it was the wrong place both on moral grounds and the fact that if she died suddenly, a thought planted in her mind last night, Josh would have access to the box.

  She got out of the car and roamed through the house looking for a suitable place where Josh or the children were not likely to discover it. There was a box on the top shelf of her closet where she kept old letters and mementos of her girlhood. It seemed like a safe place, and she carefully wrapped the tape in her plaid skirt and dropped it there.

  Thankfully, she had a great many Mommy chores to do that day. Before leaving the house, she checked the answering machine to see who had called while she was in the shower. It was Josh. He sounded harried.

  “Tried your cell. No answer. We’ve got a great communication system going. I just wanted you to know I’ll be holding you to your promise on the financing issue. Tonight for sure. I’ll be home for dinner. Oh yes, I love you more than I can find words.”

  Her eyes misted at the message. She was delighted by the idea. Especially, that last part. It offered just the right soothing touch to the psychic bruises she had sustained earlier.

  On the matter of the finances, she was amused by his concern. Why now? Perhaps Evie’s plight frightened him. She was delighted by his interest. For years, she had tried to persuade him to take a more active role in their finances. He was, at that moment, the sole family breadwinner, although she had added to the family coffers through her skilled financial management. She would never give up her role in the process. She was the one with the expertise. Of course she would keep her promise to him, eagerly.

  By such a gesture, perhaps, she might dismiss any residual guilt for her action. Under no circumstances could it be defined as infidelity. In fact, by most legal and moral definitions, it was the equivalent of rape. Yes, she assured herself, she had been raped.

  The strange events of the day had made her slightly manic. She felt an uncommon high as she continued to rationalize what she had done. It was not easily exorcised from her psyche. She had endured humiliation, but she had prevented a monster from harming her child.

  Despite her initial sense of disgust and degradation, she felt, in the end, that she had won a great victory. It was worthy of celebration, and she was determined to mark the traumatic event with a commemorative feast.

  After driving Emily and her friends to their ballet class, she stopped at a florist and bought flowers for a centerpiece. Then she went to a liquor store and bought two bottles of Dom Pérignon. What was a celebration without vintage champagne? After that, she went off to the supermarket to get the ingredients for a spectacular family dinner.

  She would roast a turkey and cook a wonderful array of vegetables. Brussels sprouts, carrots, peas. For starters, she would make a Waldorf salad and end with a bouquet of fresh fruits and a scoop of fat-free ice cream; a healthy feast for her beloved family.

  A brief image of Evie intruded suddenly, but without malice. Poor Evie. She was to be pitied. Josh’s worries about her future were certainly understandable. But the sad fact was that poor Evie probably hadn’t much of a future. If only she didn’t proselytize her half-baked theories about the psychic power of food. Nevertheless, Victoria’s antagonism of yesterday had faded. Josh should be a loving sibling. She would want nothing less for her own children.

  She couldn’t wait to explain their finances to Josh. She hoped he would be surprised by their good fortune. By any measure, they were rich. They were millionaires, three times over, which put them in the .0005 percentile of Americans in terms of net worth. All in all, their lives were blessed with wonderful things. Josh had a satisfying and lucrative job. They lived in a great house in a lovely area. They had their health. Their children were lovely and smart. They all loved each other.

  Yet, this exercise of counting blessings always required acknowledging that they had been lucky to escape the consequences of their past and had by courage, discipline, and self-awareness risen above their early traumas, she as a child of divorce, he as a premature orphan. She felt a great deal of pride in that achievement. They were, after all, a statistical miracle.

  After preparing the turkey and putting it in the oven to roast, she went to her computer and called up their finances. As she looked over the various listings of their assets, the front door buzzer sounded. She moved to the hallway. Feeling secure and content, she opened to the door.

  Before her stood a pleasant-looking man with dark curly hair, immaculately dressed in a blue blazer and gray flannel slacks.

  “Mrs. Rose,” the man said. “My name is Dominic Bocci. My wife Angela has worked for your husband. May I come in?”

  Chapter 10

  After a long drive in which his mind raced with a plethora of conflicting scenarios, Josh entered his home and was greeted by delicious cooking smells. Michael ran to greet him.

  “Hey, Dad,” Michael said, embracing his father.

  “Quite a greeting, son,” Josh said. Michael’s embrace seemed to chase the blues.

  He went into the kitchen where Victoria was basting the turkey and Emily was mashing the sweet potatoes. Seeing him, Emily came over and hugged him.

  “To what do I owe this honor?” Josh asked.

  “Because you’re my daddy, that’s why.”

  Victoria looked up from her work and offered a smile.

  “What’s the occasion?” Josh asked.

  “Family party,” Victoria said.

  “Smells okay to me.”

  In the background, he could hear the mellow strains of Mahler coming over the stereo.

  He went upstairs, changed to jeans and a sport shirt, and came downstairs. The horrors of the day seemed dispelled and all his optimism came rushing back. He had his family. What else mattered? He would solve the problem with Dominic Bocci and never allow himself to get screwed up like this again.

  When he came down, the table was set. An ice bucket containing a bottle of Dom Pérignon sat beside the table.

  “Remember grace,” Victoria said, and the family joined hands. It was not an unusual occurrence, but there was a sense of something of importance in the air. Before Josh could assemble his thoughts, Victoria began:

  “We thank the Lord for the blessing of this food and we ask his indulgence to help us cope with whatever struggles we face ahead. Grant us the wisdom and the insight to make the necessary decisions for our peace of mind and, above all, to keep and protect our lovely children. Amen.”

  Josh felt oddly discomforted by her words, which made no specific mention of him. Nevertheless, he shrugged it off and busied himself with uncorking the champagne bottle, which made a large pop, much to the delight of the children. He poured Victoria and himself a glass.

  “Can I, Mom, please?” Michael said.

  “Just a little drop, please?” Emily whined.

  Josh and Victoria exchanged glances and Victoria nodded. Josh poured a thimbleful of the champagne into each of his children’s glasses.

  “Might as well begin them on the best,” he said, lifting his glass. “To the greatest family in the world.” He clinked glasses with Victoria and the children. Victoria smiled and drank. He noted that she drained her glass in one swoop, which was unusual for her. He drank half his glass, then filled both glasses again.

  “There must be an occasion,” he said. “Come on, you’re holding back. Something good has happened, hasn’t it?”

  His question sounded more like a plea than an inquiry. Above all, he needed something good to happen. The air of celebration felt surreal. There was simply nothing obvious to celebrate, which was disturbing. It made him feel alien and left out.

  “Not missing an important date, am I?”

  His question was met with confused shrugs. Victoria avoided his glance.

  “Champagne? Roast turkey and all the trimmings?” Josh persisted. “Mahler on the stereo? Must be s
omething.”

  “I guess I felt festive.” Victoria said, draining her glass again.

  “It sure looks like it,” Josh said, disturbed by his own touch of sarcasm. Victoria held out her glass and he poured her another.

  “What was your day like, Michael?” Josh asked suddenly, determined to deflect any overt signs of irritation.

  “Super,” Michael said, turning to his mother and nodding.

  “And Emily?”

  “Fun day, Daddy. The teacher hung my drawing on the bulletin board.”

  “How wonderful,” Josh said, turning to Victoria. “And yours?”

  “Best ever, Josh. Best ever.”

  Oddly, she seemed less than enthusiastic, but he let it pass. His own concerns focused on a single issue.

  “After dinner, we’ll go over the financial situation, won’t we, Victoria?” he asked.

  “Of course we will, Josh. Don’t I always keep my promises?”

  He nodded, surprised by the faint hint of sarcasm in her remark. He looked at her. She winked, raised her glass again, and drank.

  The dinner seemed long. Perhaps it was his impatience. When they rose from the table, Michael kissed his mother and went up to his room while Emily came into the kitchen to help her mother with the dishes.

  “Why not leave that ’til later?” Josh asked his daughter, anxious to get on with their financial discussion.

  “It won’t be long,” Victoria said, as she continued the process of cleaning up.

  But it was long, longer by far than Josh had calculated. By the time Emily was sent off to bed and he had kissed her good night, it was nearly ten.

  “Now?” he asked.

  “Now.”

  Josh followed Victoria into the den, but instead of her sitting down in front of the computer she sat on the couch and stared at him. He was confused by her sudden change of attitude.