“I have no idea, but I’m guessing not. Otherwise, Derek would not have been allowed in the house.” She shook her head. “Even the dogs were allowed in the house,” she added and my eyebrows rose a bit at the reference.
“Do you have siblings, Auggie?”
“This is beginning to sound a bit like an interrogation, don’t you think?” she asked. “No, I’m an only child. How about you?”
“I’m an only child as well. I had an older brother who was killed in a car wreck when he was sixteen,” I quickly mentioned. May as well get it out of the way now.
“Woah, that’s got to mess with your head,” she said candidly. “I’m sorry.”
“He was the good son. He did anything Father put before him. Yes, by the look on your face, I can tell you understand that my Father has some things in common with your mother. She may be a bit less shady than he is, however.”
“Can I ask you something?” she looked at me. I nodded. “What do you want with me?”
I looked at her; at the shining hair, the eyes and the sweet innocence of her face. “I want all of you.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Auggie
I was all aglow that night as I crawled into bed. I had taken the initiative of putting my arms around his neck and kissing him on the cheek at the end of our date. I wanted to maintain control of where this was headed. Although Worth wasn’t quite the sarcastic bastard I had pegged him to be, I had the distinct impression that he preferred to be in control. I almost felt disappointed, as though I’d lost a foe. This also complicated matters. For the first time in forever, there was a real man interested in me. Someone Mother could not object to. His family was even more respected than ours.
There was something essentially wild about him. I could sense it as strongly as if I were seated upon him, riding the jumps. He was unpredictable and refused to follow the course although I suspect he always won. This was rather appealing. Could I rein him in?
The next morning, Mother was waiting for me in the breakfast room. I knew she was lurking there. I could smell her morning perfume. I thought twice about following through, but I’d come to the conclusion that Mother would have to learn that she was no longer the only player in this household.
“Auggie,” it began. “Mrs. Jessup had to be put in a retirement home.” I almost rolled my eyes at her euphemism. Nursing home wasn’t in Mother’s parlance. “I’d like you to go by and pay her a visit today.”
“Is that so you don’t have to go and smell all the urinals piled in the hallway, Mother?”
“Auggie!”
“Mother? Tell me you’re not above that. You may end up there one day yourself, you know…in a ‘retirement’ home.” I was feeling particularly sparky.
“Elizabeth Augusta!” she sheared off and threw at me. But I caught it well and stomped all over it.
“Mother, calm yourself or you will have an attack and I will pack you in the back seat when I go visit Mrs. Jessup this afternoon.” I grabbed an orange, a cup of coffee from the Keurig and headed back to my room to think about the night before. Let’s see, which would I rather dwell upon? Mrs. Jessup or the handsome Dr. LaViere. Poor Mrs. Jessup.
***
The ‘retirement home’ took on the far more realistic name of “Sunset Village” and when I arrived, and I knew why. I’d never been in one of these places before and the moment I crossed the threshold, I could define everything I didn’t want in life.
I stood at the reception counter for at least ten minutes before a dark-haired woman in nurse’s scrubs and a name tag reading “Betty” strolled past with her cell glued to her ear. She nodded to me and finally ended her call.
“Help you?” she asked in a bored tone.
“Mrs. Jessup, please.”
“Is she a patient?”
I decided to overlook the ludicracy of that question and nodded. I didn’t want to get upset and suck in any more of that air than was absolutely necessary. I could almost see the germs floating around.
“You family?”
What was this, a prison? Why so many questions?
“Yes,” I lied. It was much simpler.
“Room 334, bed two,” she announced finally and pointed behind her. There was one central hall and two wings branching off from that. She didn’t indicate which branch but I thought I’d probably figure out the lay of the land.
I found Mrs. Jessup without any problem. She was the scared woman in the robe with worn-heeled slippers and a bewildered look upon her face. “Hello, Mrs. Jessup,” I said softly. She looked at me, trying to place me. The last time I’d seen her was the previous year at one of the teas held by young ladies who wanted to make it known they were now of marriageable inclination.
Cocking her head, she finally ventured, “Auggie, is that you?”
I nodded and smiled, feeling pity for her. She really was a prisoner and that was a feeling I couldn’t abide. To know one would never leave a place like this still standing, it made me ill and I shuddered.
“I didn’t recognize you without your horse, dear,” she said and smiled sweetly.
“May I take you down to an activity room or somewhere?” I asked.
She nodded and I slid behind the wheelchair and pushed her into the hallway where we went in search of any room that didn’t have a toilet. We ended up in the cafeteria and I chose a sunny table in the corner.
“How are you doing, Mrs. Jessup?” I began, taking the seat opposite her. I spoke loudly, as seemed customary in a place like this.
“You needn’t shout, Auggie,” she said, patting my arm. I’m here because the diabetes is out of control and I’m on dialysis. You know, dear, they hook you to a machine and clean your blood three times a week?”
I tried to look interested, but it felt like I was watching a horror movie. I just didn’t know how to act. How does one say goodbye to someone you know isn’t long for the world and yet you want to cheer them up?
“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Jessup,” I said to the lady who had always been impeccably groomed and whose Derby party invitations were sought after by everyone who was anyone.
“Don’t be, dear. It happens to all of us eventually. I’ll be fine here. They let me have pudding on Wednesdays, even if it is sugar-free.”
Pudding on Wednesdays?
“Is there anything I can bring you, Mrs. Jessup. Anything I can do?”
“No, no, dear. They won’t let you bring anything in and I have everything I need. There is one thing, though…” Her thin lips pressed together and she looked away.
“Yes?”
“Could you stop by once in a while just to say hello? I miss hearing all the gossip and especially what’s going on with the young people. I know a great many secrets, you know, dear. A great many secrets.” Her white-tufted head was quivering a bit and I could tell she wanted to cry. I patted her shriveled hand, blackened by the constant poking with the dialysis needle.
“Mrs. Jessup, I’m sorry, but what happened? You had funds. How did you end up here?”
Her smile faded then and she looked down to her lap. “You remember David and Sarah, right?” I nodded. “I signed everything over to them about a year ago. It seemed so much simpler than probating a will someday. Last Christmas, they told me it would be my last year at home. They were going to find me a place where I would be well taken care of. I have to travel to the clinic every other day.” She laughed. It was a bitter sound. “That’s how I ended up here, you see? This is where they’re taking care of me. They have a driver who takes me.”
I wanted to rip someone’s head off. This was a travesty. Mrs. Jessup and her late husband had a huge estate and once bred a Derby winner. They threw lavish parties and everyone was invited. I remembered them from when I was younger. Governors and even a President once attended. Here she sat, shriveled and blackened in a wheelchair among pots of piss. It simply wasn’t right.
“Don’t worry, Auggie. They will get theirs in the end. You wait and see.”
&nb
sp; I nodded. It was the only thing I could do. After another half hour, she asked to go back to her room and take a nap. I wheeled her back and settled her into the flat-mattressed bed with the cheap, dollar store spread and turned the old thirteen-inch color TV so she could see it. It was secured to the metal cabinet upon which it sat with a bicycle cable. As I kissed her forehead goodbye, I made an oath.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Worth
I can’t get the mahogany-haired colt out of my mind. My schedule is full and while I listen to a series of bitches whine about their husbands, I remembered how green her eyes were. I wanted to decorate her lovely, long neck with green and white diamonds. I wanted to breathe that sweet scent at the base of her neck as I fastened them, to run my finger down her chest until it came to rest upon one pert nipple. Damn! I felt myself growing hard for the fifth time today and judging by the look on the bitch’s face, she was taking full credit. Look at the way she’s winking at me… the tawdry blonde of her hair showed gray at the roots, and she had a neck that matched that of a turkey. I couldn’t daydream with that looking at me.
“I think that’s enough for today, Mrs. Tilling.” I urged her to get out with my voice, followed with the purposeful opening of the door. She looked at her watch, shrugged and winked again as she passed me on her way out. The acid rose to the back of my mouth and I wondered, once again, why I had chosen this profession.
My waiting room was thankfully empty and I locked myself behind the inner door. I dialed the colt and she answered on the second ring. “How about dinner, fair one?” I asked.
There was a girlish giggle at the other end. “You’re asking me out again already?” Another coquettish laugh went straight to my dick.
“Miss Homecoming Queen, you know I want you. Why pretend?”
There was silence and a wave of fear passed over me. Had I offended her? “Are you there?” I asked finally.
“I had to put my crown on the dresser,” she came back with a witty retort and I knew I had my work cut out for me. “Well, now, what did you have in mind?”
“I know a quiet little place downtown that serves the best Italian food outside Jersey,” I invited. “Pick you up at seven?”
“Hmmm… so now I’m a pick up, huh?” She laughed again and it was musical. “You know where I live?”
“I have my ways,” I reminded her.
“Ahhh, yes, your ways. See you at seven.”
The line went dead and I grabbed my things and headed home to shower and change. On the way, I stopped at a small flower shop that was just closing. I bought a dozen long-stemmed red roses and had the box wrapped with a gold ribbon.
It was an obstacle course at the house to avoid Mother and Father, but I pulled it off. Now that they were not paying tuition, my accountability to them had ended.
I was to inherit the trust Grandfather had left for me in a few weeks. Staying at the farm had been a convenience up until this point. It was time for that to change.
I pulled up to Auggie’s farm, the gravel drive lined by dogwood trees spaced fifteen feet apart. Their leaves were beginning to color, a sign that winter would be early this year. I pulled into the wide turnaround between the house and the paddock and shut off the car. I debated on waiting to give her the flowers until she got into the car but realized they needed water. Armed and yet even a bit nervous, I approached the door, but she met me there.
“Jesus, you’re gorgeous!” escaped from my mouth before I even thought about it. Her hair was wound into a series of braids that seemed to crisscross her head in an intricate pattern. She had little glittery studs I assumed were diamond-headed pins tucked between them. She was wearing a low-cut pale pink silk dress with six-inch heels that wound up around her ankles. Her make-up was minimal, which suited her perfectly. I wanted to pick her up and fuck her right there, but settled for a light kiss on her cheek because I had no idea who might be spying on us.
“Come in! I want you to meet Dad and Mother.” She tugged at my sleeve.
Why do I feel sixteen, awkward and as if my acne just exploded? “These are for you,” I told her and handed her the bouquet, for which I got a second kiss.
She handed them off to someone behind her and then led me through a maze of the kitchen, hallway and into a large room that was banked by floor to ceiling windows. A grand piano was guarding one corner and I saw the backs of a man and woman seated on a floral upholstered sofa.
“Mother, Dad, this is Worthington LaViere, III. Worth, I’d like you to meet my mother and dad.”
Auggie’s dad stood and came toward me. I shook his hand. He looked a bit pale and overwhelmed, the sort of fellow who wears that look indefinitely.
I wasn’t prepared for what came next, however. Auggie’s mother began to stand and then fell back against the cushions, her face robbed of a smile and any shade of human color. I felt a jolt and fought to keep control.
The woman whose extended hand just dropped into her lap was none other than Jervis’ Jezebel.
Auggie
I couldn’t believe Mother’s reaction. You would think Worth had just slapped her. Of course, I noted that he had an odd look as well. Had they met before? I’d better not have any trouble out of her over this. She would not win. Her days of running my life have come to an end.
I sensed trouble was coming so I quickly said, “Night!” and tugged at Worth’s sleeve to come with me. We got into his Porsche and the poor man behaved as though the devil was at his heels.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Not a thing,” he said shortly and without conviction.
“You’re lying. Have you met my mother before?”
“She just reminded me of someone I knew once. Took me a minute to realize it wasn’t the same person,” he said. I chose to believe him... for now, that is.
We were at the restaurant in no time. I liked my car, but I liked his better. Everything about him had his personal sense of style. He was sleek, fast, smart, witty and self-possessed. His car fit him well. I wondered if he felt as good as he looked and then blushed for my own benefit.
We had a quiet table in the corner with a linen tablecloth, real silver, and china… at least we did. I noticed other tables had simpler settings and when I picked up my fork and looked at it, he said, “Only the best.” I was blown away by his attention to detail.
“So, why did you become a psychologist?” I asked him.
“To play with peoples’ heads,” he said without hesitation.
My head jerked back a little at that response. “What… like you’re entertained by what people think?”
“No, because people are essentially malleable. They become what you suggest they are. They are what they think they are.”
“And how does that help them?” I was confused.
“Doesn’t, not every time,” he said coolly while cutting the lasagna he ordered. “They come to me because they think they’re broken. They’re generally not broken at all. If I let them go home thinking they’re still broken, they will be. It’s that simple.”
I swallowed, needing to know the answer to the next question, but dreading his answer at the same time. “So do you? Do you let them go home feeling broken?”
“Depends.”
“On?”
“Whether they’re a good person. I let bad people go home broken.”
“Wait,” I said, setting down my fork. “Are you saying you mess with people’s lives and don’t legitimately help them like your oath compels you to do?”
“You’re living in a bubble, dear Auggie. People don’t come to me to be fixed. They come to me to hear it’s alright to be a total screw up, or to use others, or to cheat on their spouse. I’m sort of the medical version of a confessional priest.”
“That’s wrong,” I said, and felt the flatness of the words.
“Why?”
“Because you’re supposed to make them better.”
“So,” he said, laying down his knife and looking at me. “Yo
u think a priest listens and helps or does he simply give his parishioner the illusion that he’s forgiven and the guy goes right back to what he was doing?”
I frowned. “Never really thought of it that way.”
“Of course you didn’t, Auggie. You’re a sweet-hearted idealist and I like that. You don’t want to become sour and cynical like me.” He seemed resigned to some sort of inherent evil within himself.
“How did you get that way?” I asked carefully, not sure if he knew what I meant. He did.
“I suppose you could say it was bred into me. Father dabbles in finance and business, I dabble in the psyche that supports his finance and business. Men are only as important as they believe themselves to be. I prefer to look at what I do as evening the odds. Making all men equal.”
“What a fascinating, although perverted, way to look at the world,” I said before I thought about it.
He looked at me, the strangest expression on his face. “You’re smart, you’ll see it eventually and that makes me sad.” His voice held real regret.
“Why sad?” I was drawn to this man’s opinion and words like a moth to a flame. I sensed there was a danger of rejection more powerful than anything I could imagine, but it was like stepping into the cage with the lion in the meantime. I liked the danger… the thrill of his mocking bluntness.
He looked over the table at me and stared at my eyes. “My dear Auggie, I happen to want to be like you again, and if I can’t do that, I want you with me. I want to be in the glow of your innocence and goodness, to smell the world as you must sniff it, to give people the benefit of the doubt that they are innately good before you look for the cracks that always eventually appear.” His words ended in a wistful whisper.
I felt sort of pleased and sort of offended at the same time. “I’m not a child, you know. I’ve seen some things.” I stuck up for myself.
“I don’t doubt you have. I would prefer you forget them. It would please me very much if you would begin life anew, right now, right here, with me.”
“What are you saying?” I felt a heat deep within me.
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