Scarlett Promise (The Scarletts

by Brenda Barrett

  "Good." Lisa bit into her toast and picked up the paper that Ricky had already read. "You see this?"

  Investigation continues in the contracts awarded by the late Raybourne Cross. His latest awardee, whoever it is, can be liable for prosecution, pursuant to section 6 in the anti-corruption law. The country waits with bated breath to see who the ministry reveals as the successful bidder in the Wind Energy case. Deductive reasoning would suggest that the successful bidder was the one with the highest bribe.

  "Yup," Ricky said, looking over the top of his paper.

  "But that means that Francine could be in trouble."

  "Yup." Ricky nodded again.

  "Aren't you the least bit concerned?" Lisa squeaked.

  "She'll deal with it." Ricky folded the paper he was reading and looked at her with his full attention. "Francine is a big girl. I am pretty sure that she can handle herself well in this situation. She has handled worse."

  "Good morning all." Madison breezed into the kitchen happily. She was dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt. She wheeled in her suitcase and stopped to get a plate.

  Lisa and Ricky looked at each other in surprise. Madison was acting quite different than she was last night but she was still leaving.

  She came to the table and sat with her plate piled high.

  "You know what I am going to miss about this place?" she asked, her eyes lively. "The hotel food. Your chef is simply amazing, Mr. Mills."

  Ricky was watching her silently. He didn't respond.

  "I'll be getting a ride back to Kingston with Nathan. He is going to Kingston for a photoshoot, which you must know already, Miss Lisa Barclay, since you are his girlfriend and all," she said chattily. "I can't say I'll miss either of you."

  Madison chewed and then pointed her fork at Ricky. "You are all broody and grumpy and you," she pointed at Lisa, "you were doing everything but housekeeping."

  She smiled slyly. "Now I know why."

  Lisa frowned. "What are you talking about?"

  "Let's just say, I am now enlightened," Madison widened her eyes dramatically, "and I will ensure that Nathan knows, and anyone else who will listen to me."

  Lisa's fork clattered on her plate. "You don't know anything."

  She was saying it bravely but her heart was beating a mile a minute in panic. What if Madison did know?

  Madison cackled, reading the fear in her expression. "You are worried. Good. As for you," she turned to Ricky, who was watching her, quite relaxed, "I am going to make sure that your little political schemes are exposed."

  Lisa gasped. She knew, but how?

  Ricky chuckled. "Do your worst, Madison Sullivan. You signed an airtight non-disclosure contract with us. You will feel the wrath of Francine if you so much as breathe a word to anyone about this household while you were in it. That includes anything to Nathan. If you so much as give any specifics, you will be fried."

  Madison swallowed. Ricky was looking at her coldly.

  "What are you going to do, kill me?"

  Ricky said flatly, "Tread cautiously."

  Madison got up, knocking back the chair in her hurry. "All your little secrets and lies will be revealed somehow!"

  "But not by you," Ricky said, fanning her off. "Be a good girl and keep your mouth shut, mmmm."

  Madison wheeled her bag out and viciously slammed the door.

  It reverberated against Lisa’s erratically beating heart.

  "She's going to tell him," Lisa moaned. "She is going to tell him and then it will be over."

  Ricky snorted. "She is all bark, no bite. Relax."

  ****

  Lisa couldn't relax. She did not absorb a word of what was said in her morning class nor her evening class. To make matters worse, Nathan hadn't called. He said he would. She checked her cell phone every couple of minutes.

  She was sure without a doubt that Madison had told him her secret. She felt a hard pit of fear lodged in her stomach.

  She trudged home in the rain to find Ricky lounging in the living room, absently watching a documentary. He had his box of old pictures strewn around him. Some of them were on the floor in disarray.

  "What's going on?" She fluffed out her wet hair and took off her raincoat.

  "Nothing," Ricky said, turning down the television.

  "Just trying to recapture your memories," Lisa mumbled, bending down to pick up some of the photos on the floor.

  "Don't touch them with your wet hands," Ricky cautioned.

  Lisa rubbed her hand on the side of her jeans. "Okay, grumps. Madison was right; you really are grumpy. What's this?"

  She picked up a business card: Troy Scarlett, Counseling Psychologist.

  "Yep. He gave me his card." Ricky chuckled. "He probably went back to his family and said, ‘Guess what? I saw broken Ricky by the side of the road. I am going to do my charitable best to make him well in the head again, while I torture him with memories of how bad he used to be.’"

  "Ah, stop it," Lisa muttered. "Maybe he gave you his card because he was genuinely concerned for you or something."

  "Now, why would a Scarlett be concerned about me?" Ricky smirked. "Troy Scarlett said he wanted to strangle me but it wouldn't make any sense now. I didn't even ask him what I did, didn't want to know. I am already burdened with the rest of it."

  Lisa sat across from Ricky and put the bundle of photos on the table between them.

  "You should just talk to him. Get it off your chest."

  "I might." Ricky yawned. "Maybe some other time, when I am not feeling so down in the dumps and can take the news of what I did to him."

  Lisa nodded. "I understand the whole facing your past business. I have to call my grandmother and I can't muster the courage. All I want is the legal documents I left behind. Something about making that phone call terrifies me."

  "Get it over with." Ricky shrugged. "What more can the old bat do?"

  "Old bat." Lisa chuckled. "I haven't heard that term in a while."

  "That's what Francine used to call her grandaunt." Ricky chuckled. "Grandaunt Clara was the one who raised Francine and Leandra when their parents died. Grandaunt Clara used to live here in Treasure Beach as well."

  "And she was an old bat?" Lisa asked.

  "Nah," Ricky said, "not really. To Francine and Leandra maybe. Francine was the mistress to a married man; of course Clara wasn't going to sit around and feel good about it. And Julia—I think she left home as soon as she was able to. I can't remember much about her, of course. What I remember was that she was probably the only really close family I had. She would hug me and make a fuss about me, you know?"

  "Yes—no." Lisa shrugged, "I lived with Miss Vera from age seven. So no."

  Ricky picked up a stack of photos. "Here is Grandaunt Clara." He passed over the photo to Lisa.

  Lisa looked at the aged photo. Grandaunt Clara looked to be in her thirties. She was looking sternly in the camera; she had a big afro style and wore bell bottoms.

  "She was pretty," Lisa said, feeling a longing to have a family of her own. She had seen similar pictures of Miss Vera in a similar hairstyle and dress scattered around the living room in Portmore. As cantankerous and twisted as Miss Vera was, she was still alive and she was still family.

  "Yes," Ricky said, taking the photo from Lisa. "She also was a singer at the church we went to the other night."

  "We should go back," Lisa said wistfully. "In the day."

  "Why not?" Ricky muttered. "When all else fails try God, huh? Maybe I can be at peace with myself then?"

  ****

  Lisa went upstairs, her feet heavy. She checked her phone for the umpteenth time and called Nathan. She got voicemail but she didn't leave a message. His silence was starting to worry her.

  What had Madison told him? What did she know? Better yet, how did she know?

  It was crazy. Maybe Madison had been messing with her head this morning. Trying to fish around and then had gotten a reaction.

  She tried to dismiss it from her mind;
maybe Nathan was in the photoshoot and had turned off his phone. She was fretting for nothing. She took a deep breath and called Miss Vera.

  Miss Vera answered gruffly.

  "Hi Granny, it's me," Lisa said, her voice trembling.

  "Chubs. Where are you, child? Why did it take you so long to get in touch?"

  Lisa swallowed. It sounded as if Miss Vera missed her or was at least concerned.

  "I am in Treasure Beach, got a job down here," Lisa said, swiping the tears that had run down her cheek.

  "Oh," Miss Vera muttered. "You left quite a few things here. I was wondering why you didn't come get them."

  "Yes," Lisa sobered up. She didn't sound as if she missed her at all. "I have some papers that I need, my passport and other ID."

  "I don't know where those are," Miss Vera muttered. "To tell you the truth, Chubs, I just packed all your things in one heap and dumped them in a box. I am tired of looking at the box, Chubs. I want it out of the house. It is taking up space."

  Lisa swallowed convulsively. "Okay, I'll come and get it."

  "Good," Miss Vera said grumpily. "I gave your shoes to Desmond's girl Hilda, so don't expect to find them when you come back."

  "Okay." Lisa was finding it more and more difficult to breathe.

  "And Jane said to tell you hello. She is right here on the veranda with me."

  "Tell her hello." Lisa's voice had gotten softer as she heard Miss Vera's uncaring voice.

  She was still the same; the weeks out of her presence had not miraculously changed her. Miss Vera didn't even ask how she had coped after she chucked her out of the house.

  "Oh and Chubs," Miss Vera's voice broke into her contemplation. "There was a man looking for you a couple of weeks ago. His name is John Sauce. Said to tell you that he wanted to get in touch with you. He wouldn't tell me why; said he was a private investigator. I thought he was one of your customers because I seriously thought you were working on Back Street. I could swear I heard that you were working hard over there."

  Lisa swallowed, feeling hurt all over.

  "He left his card. One of the kids must have thrown it away because I can't find it." Miss Vera continued, "Oh, by the way, Chubs, when you left, I had a big light bill and water bill. If you can find it within your heart to refund the money for the bills, I'd be grateful."

  "Sure." Lisa's voice was choked up. "I'll come for my things sometime soon."

  "You better," Miss Vera bit out, "’cause I am about to charge that box rent."

  Lisa hung up the phone and curled into a ball, her eyes stinging.

  Instead of crying she focused on what Miss Vera said about a private investigator looking for her.

  Why? Did it have anything to do with Raybourne Cross?

  She stared at the blank wall, running the name John Sauce through her head until she fell asleep.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Madison turned to Nathan, opening and closing her mouth so often that she was sure if someone saw her they would think she was doing some sort of silent mime.

  She was itching to tell him what she knew from the moment that she had got into the car. Instead she told him that she had had it with Ricardo Mills and Treasure Beach.

  Nathan had commiserated with her. "The countryside is not for everyone, Maddie. Treasure Beach is as laid back as it is possible to get. I actually applaud you for staying so long."

  No, that's not why I'm leaving! she wanted to scream. It's you and Lisa and the fact that I am lonely and maybe a little bit jealous. Well, a lot jealous. I thought we could reconnect but you never even seemed to acknowledge that I exist.

  Nathan had turned on the music as soon as they had left the Junction area and she had run out of small talk.

  Gregory Isaac’s voice came over the speaker.

  Madison rolled her eyes. She hated reggae and lover’s rock but Nate seemed to be enjoying himself, tapping his hand on the steering wheel and singing along to the music. He was oblivious to the turmoil that Madison was going through after singing Night Nurse, one of Gregory Isaac's most popular songs. It was his House of the Rising Sun version.

  Her cup was almost full when she heard that song.

  "Do you know that the song is talking about a prostitute house?" She almost yelled the question.

  Nathan looked at her and frowned and then turned down the song. "What?"

  "That song. House of the Rising Sun is talking about a prostitute house!"

  "Oh." Nathan grinned. "I always thought that the house of the rising sun was a place of addiction which he finds hard to avoid. You heard the verse, Oh mother, tell your children, Not to do what I have done, Spend your lives in sin and misery, In the House of the Rising Sun.”

  "Hmmph," Madison muttered.

  "I am curious as to why you think prostitution though." Nathan glanced at her. "If anything I would say gambling or alcohol. The song mentions drunkenness and gambling. Besides, a prostitute house doesn't strike me as a miserable place for a man."

  "I knew it! You like prostitutes." Madison slapped her leg. "I knew it. You are just like your father. I don't know what I ever saw in you or why I was ever jealous!"

  "For the love of all that is holy, what?" Nathan looked at her incredulously. "What a conclusion to come to. First of all, I am not like my father. Second, I am upset that you would even hint at that. Third, I have never paid for sex--will never do it, ever."

  "But you like a particular prostitute; she was your father's whore first. Bet he paid for her too. Only difference is, you are getting it for free," Madison ground out.

  Nathan pulled over on the side of the road and looked at Madison in angry silence.

  He was seething. He clenched his hands on the steering wheel tensely.

  There, it came out! Madison inhaled raggedly. She expected that Francine Mills would hire a hit man to kill her now for breaking her precious confidentiality clause, but at least Nathan knew the truth.

  "Explain," Nathan said coldly, "what are you talking about?"

  "You figure it out," Madison ground out. "And while you are at it? Figure out why Lisa Barclay is living with Ricardo Mills, presumably as a housekeeper, but has the time to go to photography classes or whatever it is she does.

  "Why is it that she is free to go exploring the countryside with you whenever it takes her fancy and why is it that she is always in designer wear?

  "Have you stopped to ask yourself the question which housekeeper can afford Louboutin shoes on their salary? I can't even afford Louboutins on my salary.

  "Why can she do no wrong for Ricky Mills? And no, they are not having an affair; that was a stupid assumption. She has something on Ricky and his mother and they are keeping her close to them. My belief is that it has something to do with some bribe that Francine Mills gave your father.

  "Apparently, Lisa in the capacity of your father's whore, overheard something."

  Nathan groaned and rested his head on the back of the car seat. "This is crazy. I don't believe a word of it. Lisa was never a prostitute; she didn't even know my father. This is bull."

  "Next Tuesday they are announcing the person who gets the Wind Energy contract. If Francine Mills gets it, then know that Lisa Barclay is up to her neck in this."

  Nathan started the car.

  "Okay, whatever." He turned up the music pretty loud after that. It didn't take a genius to know that he was pissed at her.

  Madison almost regretted telling him. But knowing Nate, he would stew over what she said.

  Lisa Barclay was not going to get out of this one unscathed.

  ****

  Nathan was in the foulest mood he had been in for a long time. If he wasn't such good friends with Watson, he would have called off the photoshoot, turned back to Treasure Beach and had Madison repeat her lies in front of Lisa.

  He didn't like 'he said, she said' scenarios, nor did he appreciate how bitter Madison was after all these years. To build up such a tall tale about Lisa and his father and the Mills was beyond the pale
.

  He had dropped her at her business place without telling her goodbye and he didn’t know if he wanted to see her again.

  He approached the receptionist at SofServ and told her what he was there for and was told to head up to the studio; Watson and the head of design, Yuri Scarlett, would meet him there.

  Scarlett.

  A pretty popular name in his sphere these days. He wondered if this Yuri guy was related to his buddy Oliver.

  When he went to the studio. Watson and a guy he assumed was Yuri were there.

  "Yuri Scarlett." He held out his hand and confirmed his assumption.

  "Nathan Cross." Nathan shook his hand. "You guys wanted me to photograph some of your products for a publication."

  "Yes," Watson said. "It's for Tech Today. They needed it like today to include in their March issue and their photographer can't make it. I was thinking that we could just get anybody with a camera to take the pics but the editor, Andrew, says that they only take pictures of a certain quality.

  "So of course I thought of you. You are the best and you are in Jamaica. So...thank you for coming."

  "Sure." Nate looked around. "I am going to have to get some of my lighting equipment."

  "Cool." Watson was grinning. "I have a meeting. Yuri can help you with anything. This is his baby. He'll choose the pictures."

  "Want help to set up?" Yuri asked when he put his bag down on the desk.

  "Yes. Sure." Nathan nodded. "In the meantime, you could tell me what exactly you are looking for."

  Yuri nodded.

  It took them two hours to get a shot that Yuri was happy with.

  He called a graphic designer to the studio, who took no time in getting the photo into the kind of copy they wanted.

  "I like working with you," Yuri said when he was packing up.

  "Likewise," Nathan smiled.

  "Come to my office for a bit," Yuri said, walking him out, "Accounts should send up your check shortly."

  Nathan nodded. He lugged all his stuff to the car and then went back to Yuri's office. It was a spacious place with a view of the Kingston Harbor.