They had a chapel at the hospice; they could do it there. It was morbid planning her father's funeral and he hadn't even died yet, but it would be key to her escape. She was almost sure that Ricky wouldn't come with her to the funeral. Ricky didn't do funerals. He thought them too depressing.
She would need a car. She had been using a joint account with her father to save some money through the years. She was going to check how much was in it and make her plans around that.
She needed his bankcard though. Surely Ricky wouldn't be suspicious if she stopped at her old home.
Then she would move to Kingston or maybe Montego Bay. Somewhere far enough away from Treasure Beach, with lots of people around.
Hopefully she would have enough money to survive on until the baby was born; after that she would find work.
Do something...She had to survive somehow.
She had extra products that she had done at the spa but she couldn't take them with her. If she went to the funeral with more luggage than she should Ricky would be suspicious.
The weather hadn't eased up by the time she arrived at Ricky's house. It was raining so hard that Marla didn't want to get out of the car. Even the security guy was reluctant to leave. He parked as close to the house as he could and helped her out.
Ricky was in the living room tottering about on his walker.
"Hey." He looked at her and gave her a rare smile. "How is the old man?"
"Dying," Marla said simply. "Tomorrow I need to go to the house for some things."
"What kind of things?" Ricky asked.
"Some documents…his health cards."
"Okay." Ricky eyed her. "Would you like to join me for dinner?"
"No thanks," Marla said, turning toward the stairs, "I don't have an appetite."
"Wait, don't leave," Ricky said, his voice almost gentle. "I want to talk."
"About?" Marla stopped, barely glancing at him. Why was he looking so happy? When Ricky looked happy it usually didn't bode well for her.
"We haven't really talked, Marla," Ricky said slowly. "We just talk at each other. You know. I was thinking that this is not a good environment to bring up a child with the two of us as gladiators constantly at each other's throats."
Marla felt the baby kick and she sunk down into the nearest chair and rubbed the area where she felt the fluttery movement.
Ricky hobbled over to where she was. "Marla."
Marla inhaled raggedly. She wanted to snap at him, she wanted to growl, she wanted to shout but she couldn't tick him off, not now.
Freedom was close. But how dare he talk about bringing up her child? It was never going to happen, not if she could help it.
"I...okay..." her voice was thready when she finally spoke. She cleared her throat. "Yes, let’s talk."
"I am sorry," Ricky said. He sank into a chair across from her.
"Sorry for threatening me, taking my virginity, marrying me under duress, threatening to send me to jail, ruining the Scarletts, imprisoning me in the house, forbidding me to have friends like some dictator, forbidding me to talk to people." Marla's voice was rising and she couldn't control it. "Why exactly are you sorry, Ricardo?"
"Whoa." Ricky looked at her, "Why are you so worked up?"
"You ruined my life." Marla growled, tears in her eyes. "You..."
"Take it easy." Ricky looked uncomfortable, "I didn't do anything, Marla. You always had a choice; you chose me. Am I not better than prison?"
"Shut up!" Marla struggled to get up from her seat. "One day you are going to push me too far!"
"And I don't want that," Ricky murmured softly, like he was quieting a wild animal. "Just calm down. Really, I come in peace. You know that the annual end of year party is coming up, don't you?"
"Yes," Marla gritted through her teeth.
"My mother is coming this year," Ricky said. "She just called. She is coming with her new husband and I have invited Yuri. Sent him an email. I told him to RSVP but really I just care if he comes. I think it's time this silence between us was broken, don't you think?"
Marla didn't move. She couldn't. No wonder Ricky was looking happy. He had found a spectacular way to show off in front of Yuri, to taunt him. She wasn't going to be a part of it. The annual party was Dec. 13, two weeks away. She hoped to be long gone before then.
"I expect you to look fabulous as usual," Ricky said smugly, "and to act happy."
Marla started toward the stairs, refusing to answer.
"I don't have to threaten you, do I, Marla?
She didn't even react. She couldn't. Tears were gathering at the sides of her eyes and she felt like melting into a helpless puddle at the bottom of the stairs.
She pulled herself up and then sank into her bed, crying uncontrollably. Once she started she couldn't stop.
*****
Yuri realized that being an employee and being a boss were very different things when it came down to the end of the year. He was ambushed with invitations for all sorts of events.
He had a bundle of them on his laptop beside him on the passenger seat of his car. His secretary had handed them to him and told him that they were arranged according to importance. He had spent most of his day in the IT lab. He had skipped several meetings to brainstorm with the guys about their software and they had solved most of the issues associated with it. He felt a sense of accomplishment so strong he turned up the Adele song, Rolling In the Deep, that was playing on his car radio and sang along to it, bobbing his head with vigorous energy.
When he reached home he was going to pour himself a glass of cold apple juice and read through his email. He had not been keeping up for days.
When he turned into his driveway he saw that Amoy's car was there already. She was leaning beside it, talking on her phone. She was dressed casually in jeans shorts showcasing her legs and a slinky silver blouse.
He hadn't seen her for a few days. And they had only spoken briefly since he told her about Marla being pregnant.
He felt ridiculously happy to see her now. He hadn't realized how much he had become used to having her in his life.
He grabbed his laptop and his invitations and waved to her after arming the car.
She smiled at him and ended the phone call.
"Hey, you."
Yuri opened the door and she followed him inside. "I have gotten over my sulk."
"Good," Yuri said, heading for the living room. He put down his laptop beside him and watched while Amoy adjusted the temperature on the AC.
"So," she sat beside him, her feet curled up under her, "how are things?"
"Busy," Yuri said, indicating his laptop and the pile of invites. "See? I brought home work."
"Ha. I know, parties can be totally work. A curse of the corporate world, I am afraid." Amoy picked up the top invitation. "You should go to this one. The Minister of Technology and Commerce will be there."
"My secretary did say she arranged them by order of importance." Yuri shook his head. "I think the other partners and I will have to come up with some sort of arrangement as to who will go where and when."
"Because parties are not your thing." Amoy smiled. "You hate to schmooze."
"Yes." Yuri opened his laptop. "All of that small talk and laughing at bad jokes—I would much prefer staying home and watching Fast and Furious reruns or ESPN."
Amoy made a face. "Bleh. I much prefer Lifetime TV."
Yuri laughed. "It's amazing how much I have been schmoozing these days. I feel so fake."
"Well, it comes with the territory," Amoy said, rifling through the invites. "Hey, this one is our office party. Your secretary has it at number ten. We made the top ten, woo-hoo."
"When?" Yuri asked absently.
"December 15. Every year. It's a tradition. Make sure that you are there," Amoy said, pouting. "I need a date. You look drop-dead gorg in a tux. My law clerks are going to be envious."
"Well, put it at the top of the pile. My secretary will put it on the calendar."
He c
licked on his personal mail before his business one. He had nearly a hundred unread messages. He hastily scanned through them. There was one from Terri. He clicked on it.
Hey big bro. Heard you were in trouble. Obviously Mom and Dad are not taking it well because I got an earful about living well and uprightly and staying away from one-night stands and keeping my virtue till marriage. Why is it that I am the one getting that lecture when you are the one in trouble...hmmm? Anyway, will call you this weekend when I get the chance to hear what you've been up to. Love you.
Yuri smiled at the trail of emoticons that followed.
"Somebody made you smile," Amoy said, feigning indifference, but he could tell she was curious.
"My sister," Yuri said, "Terri."
"The one who looks like a model." Amoy grinned. "My brother noticed."
"Yes," Yuri grinned, "she noticed him too."
"Would be interesting," Amoy said softly, "if we both hooked up with Scarletts."
Yuri glanced at her contemplatively. "It would be, wouldn't it?"
He looked back at his computer missing the look of fear that crossed Amoy's face at his lackluster response.
He saw a message from his brother and he clicked that too. His parents were really upset. They were doing the rounds. He couldn't recall the last time both his siblings emailed him on the same day.
Good morning Yuri, I thought I was the current black sheep with a marriage on the brink of ruin, a wife who will not take my calls and social services hounding me long distance to do that DNA test. But you have gone and taken the heat off of me. Thank you. I am grateful. On a serious note, can I offer some advice? Don't let Ricardo Mills have anything to do with your child. I mean it, don't do it.
Anyway, talk to you soon. When I say Canada is cold, I mean it. Cold. But as cold as it is, I am sure my house in Pedro is colder. Chelsea is making plans to spend Christmas elsewhere just in case I come home. So I am staying put for the season. I miss you all, though, and Dahlia most of all. Don't let Chelsea withhold her for the Christmas. You must make sure that you see her for the holiday. I already told Mom and Dad.
Talk to you soon.
"Long note?" Amoy was lounging at the end of the settee, her feet thrown over the back.
"Yes. My brother." Yuri sighed. "He is not coming out for the holidays. So he wants me to go and see my niece, Dahlia."
"You guys are big on family, huh?" Amoy said lazily, "I like that."
"Yes, we are. Pops started it. He had this thing about us sticking together through thick and thin...It got worse over the years the less contact he had with his son, Peter..."
"Peter Scarlett." Amoy shook her head. "He's skillful at disappearing. Our office cannot find him."
Yuri nodded in response to her and then highlighted a whole bunch of junk mails and deleted them. "Want to go get something to eat?"
He didn't hear Amoy's reply. The next mail was from Ricky. He clicked it with trepidation, his fingers trembling slightly on the touch pad. It seemed as if it took an eternity to open.
And when it did he saw that it was an invitation to Villa Ingles for their annual end of year party.
What was Ricky playing at? As if he would go. He had never gone through the years. He had been skillful at giving Ricky one excuse after the after.
The first year it had been work and Ricky had offered to change the date just for him. He had gone through some gymnastics to avoid that one. Then one year he had told Ricky the truth: he didn’t want to see Marla.
Ricky had been silent for a while and then he had said quite pleasantly that he understood.
He still sent the invitations though.
Terri was right. Ricky liked to torture him. He reckoned that this particular invitation was to torture him even more.
To see Marla pregnant with his child and hanging onto Ricky's hands would be the very height of torture.
"Hey Yuri." Amoy snapped her fingers in front of his face. "Chinese or pizza?"
Yuri focused on her face. "What are you doing December 13th?"
Amoy smiled. "Day or night?"
"All day," Yuri said. "I think I am going to need a date to a particular party."
"Well, well, well." Amoy looked at him solemnly. "Should I dress to kill or dress to wow?"
"Both," Yuri murmured. "I think I just got a plan."
Chapter Fifteen
"Wow," Francine stepped out of her high hand vehicle and stared at Marla in shock. "You do realize that there is something wrong with your belly; it's swollen."
"She's pregnant, Ma," Ricky said, enjoying his mother's grimace when she called him Ma.
"How are you, my dear one?" Francine said, going over to hug him. "You are on your feet again; this is a wonderful miracle!"
A young man who looked to be about Ricky's age stepped out of the car behind her.
Marla had to force herself not to react. He actually looked younger than Ricky, tall, blonde tousled hair, electric blue eyes. He looked like he just stepped off a surf board and was ready to party, but then again Francine did not look her age either. Marla forced herself to stop staring and to smile politely.
"This is Leandro," Francine pulled him forward, "the current love of my life."
Ricky shook Leandro's hand and the two of them sized up each other.
He finally turned to Marla. "Congratulations on your pregnancy. I guess this now makes Francine a grand mama."
"Oh hush. I will not be called grand anything," Francine said, waltzing into the house. "It is glorious to be back in wonderful, gorgeous, rustic Treasure Beach!"
She walked to the patio area where there was a view of the beach beyond and stood up and inhaled dramatically.
She turned around and eyed Marla and Ricky with a wide smile, "So what’s new kiddies, apart from Marla's swollenness?"
"Nothing much," Ricky said quickly. He didn't want Marla to talk to Francine. And in the five years they had been married, she had not gotten much of a chance to talk to Francine much anyway, nor did she want to.
Ricky and Francine were cut from the same shallow cloth. They were not very deep people and their conversations usually bored Marla.
She watched Francine as she twisted and turned and gesticulated—straining and stretching her spectacular body for the admiration of her audience. She was overly dramatic in her laughter, her speech. She was over the top.
Marla sat and listened to Francine as she commandeered the conversation. It seemed as if both Francine and Ricky had forgotten that she and Leandro were sitting in the living room.
Leandro looked at her and grinned. "You are happy about baby, yes."
"Yes," Marla finally responded after she deciphered what he was saying. He had a very thick accent.
"Is it a girl or boy?" he asked with interest.
"Boy," Marla said softly. "You like children?"
"Yes," Leandro nodded, "very much. I am trying to convince Francine to give me some."
"She's too old for that." Marla snickered.
Francine stopped her prattling with Ricky and looked over at Marla. "I'll have you know I am just forty-seven, I can still have children. My grandaunt had a child when she was forty-eight."
"Good God, no!" Ricky exclaimed dramatically. "Don't bring another child into this world and torture it, Francine."
Francine laughed. "I never tortured you, honey-pig. Did I?"
Ricky grinned at the nickname and the two of them moved on to some other topic of conversation.
Marla rolled her eyes and got up. "I am going to the hospice."
"But why?" Francine asked putting her hand to her heart in her overly dramatic way.
"My father is there; he is not doing too well."
"Oh," Francine said, "my condolences, dear."
"He’s not dead yet," Marla said sharply. "You only offer condolences when someone is dead."
Francine flinched at her tone and then turned back to her son as if Marla hadn't spoken. "Well, let’s talk party. It's tomorrow, right?"
"Yes," Ricky said, "Dress code--all white."
"Ooh goodie!" Francine clapped her hands like she had just gotten exciting news. "I have just the outfit. Backless, side-less, but completely demure at the front."
Marla walked out of the room just when she was describing it.
She wouldn't have stuck around to greet Francine if Ricky hadn't insisted. She was just about ready with her plans to escape him.
Her father had lasted longer than anyone thought he would, but she knew she would soon be able to. Very soon.
*****
Yuri woke up feeling grim on the day of Ricky's party. He had told his parents he was going to stop by with Amoy and they had been quite pleased. When he told them that he was going to the party their joy seemed to turn to sorrow.
His mother wanted him to stay away from Marla. His father was not very pleased about the whole situation, but had told him to do what he thought was best.
So here he was, in his car, on his way to pick up Amoy, feeling uncertain about the whole trip and wondering grimly if he should be taking Amoy with him in the first place. He was using her as a confidence boost.
He had told her as much and she had said that she didn't care. He figured that she was curious to see the cast of players in his little soap opera. They would all be in one place this evening.
He puttered around the house until it was time to pick up Amoy at her apartment at twelve. She had a meeting with a client that morning and was only available to leave after noon.
He drove to her apartment and called her. Her place was just five minutes from his and had an even better view than his did, he thought while staring out over the city to the sea in the distance.
He glanced at his watch. It would take them nearly three hours to drive to Treasure Beach. The party was at sunset, which was almost five-thirty at this time of the year. They could stay for a good hour. He could show that he wasn't affected by Ricky or Marla and that he had moved on with his life.
But he hadn't. He couldn't. He was finding that every day he was getting more and more agitated as he thought about Marla’s pregnancy.
Scarlett Baby (The Scarletts Page 11