Della

by Julie Michele Gettys

  As the years passed, she enjoyed his attentiveness, the gifts he gave her. She even enjoyed his sexual prowess, which surprised her since he was forty-three when they married. In the beginning, she thought of him as a father figure. Over time, with all the attention and the power his name gave her, she was proud to be Mrs. Wesley Gates. L.A. society bowed to her.

  From time to time, Wes permitted her to help him select his closest associates, the ones who worked side by side with him. He trusted her judgment, he had said. In reality, it was her jealousy of younger, prettier women that drove her to that practice. The only part of the business she took interest in was protecting her turf.

  Wes hated jealousy, believed there was no reason for it, but appeased her pleading by allowing her to look over those who would work closest with him. She wasn’t proud of this weakness, but she felt better when the people who sat around his conference table were people with whom she felt comfortable. And these associates attended many meetings in her home.

  In her room, she lay on her bed, closed her eyes and listened to the workers below, setting up the bandstand and the buffet tables. Preparing for opening night was like the circus coming to town. The thrumming activity lulled her into a light sleep.

  The next thing she knew, Wes stood over her, shaking her arm gently. “Hi. The place looks like a big shindig is coming down.”

  She squinted up at him. He was still in his gray three-piece suit that hid his recently acquired thickened middle. The wrinkles, the wavy gray hair, the sagging jowls were all badges of honor to him. All he wanted was a few more decades to finish what he had started. To her, he was the handsomest man in the world.

  He sat on the edge of the bed. “Time to get ready. You must have slept away the afternoon.” He stroked her thigh, sending a quiver through her. Power was a lusty thing.

  She sat up, stretched and yawned. “I feel refreshed. I’m ready to party. How was your day?”

  “Good.” He stood up, removed his jacket and loosened his tie. “I did have a little setback, or Iris did. Globe travel fired the woman who was taking care of our account. Iris is worried that no one can handle our business like she did. You might remember her–she set up our trip to Europe a few years back. Didn’t you meet with her briefly?”

  “No. Everything was delivered by messenger.”

  “Well, with all the travel we do, she never made a mistake, always fixed everyone up when their accommodations went wrong.”

  “So, hire her. Let her do it within the company.”

  “I’ve thought of that. She’s a whip. She’s young and has potential.”

  Young and has potential were the wrong words for Wes to use. “Why don’t we do an interview? Want my input?” This was a younger woman he was talking about, which accounted for the niggling sensation revving up in her stomach. She felt an immediate need to check her out.

  Wes hung his jacket in the closet, took off his pants and hung them up, and put on a bathrobe. All the while, she stayed on the bed, watching his every move.

  “I don’t think you need to be involved. She’s only going to be doing a menial job. You don’t help with the secretaries. This gal will be working with Iris most of the time. You have better things to do with your time. Let Iris make the decision.”

  Arms outstretched, she beckoned him to her bed. There was always one way to get him to do what she wanted. “Honey?” her tone dulcet. “It’s time for a little birthday present from baby.”

  “Not now.”

  His tone flattened her, as though he knew what she was up to.

  “I’m pooped, and this big party you’re planning is going to take a lot of energy.”

  “You’re showing your age, Wesley Gates.”

  “Seventy deserves some respect.” He pulled her up and slapped her fanny, laughing. “Now, you show it.” He winked. “Later, after Mildred’s pie.”

  Carrie scurried to her private bathroom, turned on the water and climbed in fast to hide her resentment from Wes. She had a funny feeling about this woman Wes wanted to hire. Why, she didn’t know, but something wasn’t right. The party tonight wasn’t going to be as much fun as Carrie had planned.

  4

  Monday morning, Wes Gates stood at the window in his designer office on the eleventh floor, looking down at the parking lot, waiting for Della Garland to arrive. He was as nervous as a schoolboy on his first date.

  His youth had paralleled Della’s in many ways. They both came from poverty, were both raised by a single parent, and both vowed to chisel a future from nothing.

  Wes was born in Porterville to field workers who migrated from Oklahoma. His mother died during his birth, leaving him with a father who drank his life away. From the time Wes was old enough to see what the world had to offer, he decided to conquer it, without a formal education. He had no time for that.

  Six months as a checker in the local supermarket and two thousand dollars later, Wes struck out to make his fortune. Luckily for him, he met up with a man who had a plan, and that plan put Wes on the path to riches–oil in Pennsylvania. Wes invested a thousand dollars and struck a gusher three hundred feet down. At twenty, he was a proud partner in several lucrative wells, and life was good. He sent money home to his father, who wanted no part of it. He put it in the bank and never touched it. Wes continued to fill his dad’s coffer, seeing that the money was well invested, hoping one day he’d come to his senses and live the good life. He never did.

  Everything he touched turned to gold. He bought out small businesses in trouble and rallied them, making them bigger and more successful than they had been. He had an uncanny eye, not for any particular business, but for those he thought had something to offer.

  In the flurry of success and money, he fell in love with a woman he met on a plane and married her a week later. After ten years of marriage, with no children and an empty heart, he quietly led his own life and she hers. They finally divorced.

  One night in Chicago a few years later, he ended up at the Gilded Cage for a few drinks to escape the rain after a hard day’s work. The singer, Carrie Moore, sat with him at the bar after her set. She was twenty years younger than he, but with his money, who cared? He finally accepted her tenth proposal and married her.

  He bought a run-down hotel, refurbished it and built a nightclub for her, where she could sing with the best band money could buy.

  His business took him to L.A. Reluctant to ask Carrie to give up her new toy and move out west, he spent many lonely nights in hotels.

  One night, he got drunk and ordered himself a prostitute. She turned out to be a cute little thing, a strawberry blonde with green eyes. Her name was Lillian Garland, and he became smitten with her, he called for her each time he came to L.A. On one of his trips, she announced she was pregnant. By him!

  Not wanting Carrie to find out, he arranged for Lillian to have an abortion. He gave her ten thousand dollars, and returned to Chicago without a backward glance.

  As time passed and his business grew, he found it necessary to move to Los Angeles permanently. To entice Carrie to move with him, he bought out the top recording artists’s management firm, Henshaw and Associates, to handle her singing career. Not too long after she arrived, she became pregnant with their son, Steven. Wes had never been happier. He had everything he’d ever wanted: a loving, glamorous wife, a handsome young son, a thriving business. Then, one day, he received a call from Lillian Garland. She wanted money for his daughter or she’d expose him, because it was damn hard raising a child on welfare, she said. He fumed over her not having the abortion, but he sent her money to help his daughter on the condition his identity remain a secret. She agreed.

  Wes hired a detective to keep track of Della’s life. He received pictures of her on a regular basis. He admired her determination. Whenever the opportunity arose to help her without her knowing it, he did. She reminded him of himself. He had always wanted a daughter, but Carrie was unable to have more children after a terrible miscarriage.

&nb
sp; Finally, he gathered the courage to make contact with Della. When he and Carrie were planning an extended vacation, he couldn’t resist using Globe Travel, where she worked, to plan his trip. Not yet ready to make personal contact, he and Carrie handled the transaction by phone and messenger. He decided to help her along, and gave his extensive travel business to her, knowing full well it would boost her career at Globe.

  His heart stopped. Far below his office, he saw her; a small woman, striding across the parking lot in front of the building. He moved quickly to his desk, and with a trembling hand he rang for coffee service–all silver and crystal, he insisted. Nothing but the finest for his new protégé, who was arriving momentarily. Everything must be perfect.

  When the intercom buzzed, he straightened, leaned forward, and folded his arms on his desk. Could he contain himself with her so close and not tell her he was her father? He must. Too much rode on his keeping this secret. Carrie wouldn’t be pleased sharing his name with a bastard child. In fact, she would probably divorce him over this one. She had a jealous streak in her long enough to clean him out.

  The door opened. The sight of his daughter took his breath away. Della was small, well-proportioned, with auburn hair neatly arranged in a twist. She wore an impeccable burgundy suit. Her green eyes sparkled. She was the image of her mother at that age, but with an added depth and richness somehow. Maybe it was just the contrast of the auburn hair, but he didn’t think so. Fond memories flooded back.

  He rose, walked around his desk to greet her. He wanted to wrap his arms around her, but instead, held out his hand and saw his eyes reflected in hers. “Finally, we meet.”

  “Thank you for interviewing me, Mr. Gates.” She handed him her resume and took a seat on the couch. He sat in the chair across from her and poured coffee, then raised his eyebrows as he held up her cup.

  “Black is fine,” she said.

  He glanced over her work history. On the page where she listed family, she had listed her father as deceased, and gave the name of her mother as Mary Leland. Her address was in Europe. He looked up. “Is Garland your married name?”

  “Yes,” she said with a slight tremor in her voice. “But I’m divorced. Changing the name is such a pain.” She laughed nervously.

  He laid the resume on the coffee table, and sank back in his chair. His heart bled for her, sitting there, struggling to be somebody for him. If he were honest with her, she wouldn’t have to do this. But he didn’t have the courage to upset both their lives, not right now. One day, an opportunity might present itself, and then, everyone concerned would know the truth. She had no choice but to conceal her past, especially in this town where you were ranked by your stripes.

  Resuming their interview, he said, “When I heard you’d left Globe, I thought, why not have you come here and do the travel arrangements in-house for us.” He paused, watched her eyes flicker with excitement. “Does that interest you?”

  “Yes,” she said without hesitation. “Very much.”

  He leaned back in his seat, relaxed. She crossed her ankles and sat erect, holding her cup steadily for a young woman in the hot seat. She didn’t seem nervous. He liked that.

  “Do you have your heart set on the travel business?”

  “No,” she answered quickly. “I fell into that job as I was leaving City College. I want to get my degree in business administration, when time permits. I like anything that needs organization, anything in business.”

  Her eyes brightened considerably. He liked the subtle boasting. A nice light touch. It made him proud.

  “I’m a detail person,” she said. “I like to work trouble spots, watch them smooth out. I hadn’t settled on any particular business until Jack Davis offered me his newest office. I liked the work there, and the travel opportunities I hoped to use someday; but that fell through.” She glanced down, losing her cool. Her cup rattled against the saucer for the first time.

  Wes’s heart went out to her. Again, he wanted to take her in his arms and comfort her, make her feel good about herself, as any father would under the same circumstances. He resisted, and changed the subject. “Well, then, that leaves a mighty big door open for you here. We have a full range of companies just itching for new blood and organization. I thought since you and Iris get along so well, you might be interested in taking the office next to hers. You can work for both of us. I know you’re not a secretary, but I’d like to give you some projects that’ll help you learn what we do. It would entail some typing and Dictaphone work. But not often, just on specialty projects.”

  She flinched.

  “Have you had any experience?”

  She leaned back, smiled sheepishly. “I know my way around the computer pretty well. Using the Dictaphone is a snap.”

  “I’ll pay you twenty percent more than you were making at Globe. As you learn, we’ll discuss future financial arrangements. Iris will go over the benefit package with you.”

  He rose–not anxious to end the interview, but he needed time alone to reflect on what he had just learned about his daughter’s past. And, more importantly, he didn’t want to seem overanxious or solicitous. There would be time to share plenty of things later. That was his promise to himself.

  She stood, smoothed her skirt. “When would you like me to start?”

  “Tomorrow?”

  She reached out, her small hand gripped his large hand like a vice. “Thank you, Mr. Gates.”

  “Wes, please.”

  Finally, he was going to really do something for his daughter.

  * * *

  Outside in the parking lot, under a bright sun, Della stood next to her Ford Escort, threw her arms in the air and whispered joyously, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

  The freeway through the pass to the Valley was jammed, as was her mind with thoughts of lies and more lies. The only thing she knew about computers was operating a travel program. And Dictaphones? Egad, nothing. She had never used one in her life. What had she been thinking? She prayed Wes didn’t expect too much from her the first few days.

  Forty-five minutes later, she entered her apartment building and collected her mail. On her doorstep, she spied a small box wrapped in brown paper. She picked it up, looking for a return address. There was none, simply her name printed on the side. She shook it, curious.

  Inside, she lay the mail down on the dining room table and slowly tore the paper wrapping from the box. She discovered a two-hundred dollar bottle of Joy perfume, her favorite, but out of her reach financially. She removed the seal, lifted the glass wick and sniffed the heavenly scent of roses.

  Attached to the wrapping she found a note:

  See you tonight. Let’s celebrate, Rick.

  “You should have called.”

  Adonis leaned against the door frame with a cocky smile on his handsome face. “You didn’t give me your number.” He unpropped himself from the door, his blue eyes glittering.

  “Why the two-hundred dollar bottle of Joy?”

  He snapped his fingers. “Nothing’s too good for a beautiful, successful lady.”

  The sight of Rick gave her a rush, erasing all the doubts she had about him. The charm of his devastating smile and his unwavering desire to be with her melted her resolve like an ice cream cone on a triple-digit day. She fell blithely into his open arms. Her loneliness, her need to share the excitement of her job with someone, and the feeling of his strong arms around her were so overpowering, she instantly forgot every negative feeling she had stacked against him. He stroked her back. The sound of his heart beating against her ear was warm and loving.

  “We have to celebrate.”

  She looked up, surprised. “Celebrate what?”

  “Your new job.”

  “How’d you find out?”

  “A little bird told me.”

  She pulled away and drew him into the room, wondering who this little bird was, since they had no mutual friends.

  “I’ve made reservations at Spago.” With both her hands in hi
s, he stepped back. “You look ravishing. I like your hair up like that. You look sophisticated and gorgeous. So, tell me all about Gates. Did he make you vice president?”

  “You tell me, since you know so much.”

  “I don’t know the details. It was just a little deduction on my part. I’ll explain later.”

  By the time they reached the restaurant, she had told him every detail of her interview and her prospects. “It’s a dream job,” she said, holding his hand through the entrance of the Beverly Hills Spago Restaurant.” This is really an important step in my career. I feel it in my bones.”

  The host promptly seated them in the center of the large, busy room. Waiters passed their table, bearing picture-perfect plates heaped with exotic delicacies and leaving trails of glorious aromas. Della panicked. She wanted everything she saw–the lobster, the duck, the salmon. Where would it all end? On her butt, of course.

  Rick ordered Crystal champagne.

  Taking her mind from the food, she said, “I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something about Wes Gates I like very much.” Her excitement grew. “He’s truly interested in my career.” She spread her cloth napkin on her lap. “He said he liked what I did for him at Globe. My interview was shorter than I’d hoped, but we covered all the bases. He hired me, almost as if it were a done deal before I walked into his office.” She slapped her palms together, like brushing dust from her hands. “I got the job; that’s all that matters.”

  The champagne arrived, and the waiter poured. Rick raised his glass. “You sure it’s your career he’s interested in?”

  She reached across the table and grabbed his shirt cuff. “I’m certain. He’s happily married to a beautiful woman, a former blues singer. Of course, she’s retired now. Iris filled me in on all the details over lunches when I worked at Globe. Besides, Gates is always looking for talent. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t be where he is.” She let go of his shirt. “I’m talented.” With a grin, she said, “What if he’s interested in me personally? Would that make you jealous?” She gave Rick a come-hither glance.