by Jw Grodt
“Sit down, boys. What can I do for you?”
Gardner dressed like your typical banker: three-piece, navy blue pinstriped suit and black wing-tip shoes. He was balding on top, gray on the sides and clean-shaven. He was so round he would make the perfect Santa.
“Gardner, first off we must have your absolute promise not to divulge what we’re about to discuss and that includes your family, mine and Stan’s. Do we have your solemn word on that?”
“Of course, gentlemen. Of course.”
“I’m going to sell my business to Stan, but he doesn’t have the quarter mil to consummate the deal. So, we want you to make him the loan.”
Gardner sat back in his chair, his chin retracting to form two more. “Wait a minute—”
“No you wait, let me finish. I will co-sign the note for him. He has been with me since day one, and I need total liquidation or I’d gladly finance him myself. He is by far the most qualified man to run this business—hell, he’s been doing it since April died.”
Brad shut up at that point and looked at Gardener. The banker looked down at his desk and rubbed his forehead, thinking for a minute.
“Boys, give me a week to get the papers prepared and Janet will call you when they’re ready. The three men stood. Gardner shook their hands and Brad and Stan departed. As they walked to the car, Brad reassured himself. The term life policy I bought should pay off the loan when I stage my death. We’re in good shape.
When it came time to sell the house, Brad became sentimental. It was full of a lifetime of memories. He owned it free and clear, so the selling was easy. It was the parting that gave him pangs. He tried not to think of Jared’s childhood or reminisce about the times with Julie. The guilt was too much.
Brad contacted a client of his who had several investment properties. Over lunch in a booth at Dan’s New York Style Deli, Brad pulled out a yellow legal pad and laid out his proposal. The man could buy his house and have a tenant, Brad, for an undetermined period of time. Brad would advance him two month’s rent, along with his vacate notice. That would give the man plenty of time to secure a replacement tenant, but he was not to advertise or otherwise let anyone know that Brad was leaving. Another condition was that he would not record the deed or date it until Brad had left the area. It was an offer not to be refused. The two men shook hands and Brad’s attorney prepared the proper paperwork.
When everything was accomplished, Brad had amassed two and a quarter million. He and Nicole would have the life they deserved. What brought them together may have been a crime, but he now had the power to make that up to her. Far away in some exotic place, in a new home, with no Jared, that horrible night could fade into the distant past. It would be some forgotten blip on Brad’s timeline that need never be thought of again. He would sail into his future, riding waves of tan flesh and clinging to pink life preservers in the shape of Nicole’s bulbous lips, formed into “o’s” of passionate release. He was the luckiest man in the universe.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
There was one item that Brad wasn’t prepared to sell: Pocahontas, the 1959 Catalina. He would give her to his son. It seemed like a fair trade, really. He placed a call to the gentleman who bought his house and arranged to lease back the garage where Pocahontas was housed for one year after he moved out. In the meantime, she needed a tune-up. It had been some time since he had driven her. He could only recall a couple of times since Nicole had come on the scene.
He devoted a weekend in his man-cave to regular maintenance along with a thorough waxing and buffing. It was like saying goodbye to Julie all over again. Brad took his time. He changed the oil, drained the old stall fuel and added fresh fuel, changed the plugs, checked tire pressure and examined the brake fluid reservoir. After he replenished the brake fluid he noticed the battery cables were corroded, so he pulled out his toolbox and retrieved a wrench. At once he noticed the sticky residue. Brad was meticulous about his tools: he always wiped them clean before he placed them back in the toolbox. Someone other than himself had used the wrench. Looking into the toolbox he found a pair of side cuts with the same residue. He detected a faint odor but he couldn’t place it. He cleaned them up and put them in their appropriate compartments in his toolbox. He would ask Jared about it later if he remembered.
After cleaning and replacing the battery terminals he was ready to fire her up and take her for one last spin. He cranked her: nothing. “Come on, you cold-blooded bitch!” The third turn of the key caused her to fire. He fluttered the accelerator to keep the old tri-carb motor going until she warmed up a bit. He eased her out of the garage and onto the street, where he accelerated hard and burned twenty feet of rubber.
Brad drove about forty miles out to Middleburg via Route 50. It felt good to be driving Pocahontas on a cloudless afternoon. It brought back a cascade of old memories of Julie, Jared as a young boy and their trips to places like Concord, North Carolina, Carlisle, Pennsylvania and Columbus, Ohio to major car shows. Pocahontas was a crowd pleaser at every event and had even won Best of Show at Columbus.
After cruising for a few hours, he backed Pocahontas into the garage, covered her, and went inside the house. It was six o’clock and he was about to phone for Chinese take-out when he heard the electronic voice of the alarm system announce “Front Door” and Jared and Nicole walked in.
“Hi, Dad. Nikki thought you might be hungry so we brought your favorite. Hope you haven’t eaten yet.”
“Your timing couldn’t have been better. I was about to order out.”
He watched as Nicole placed the food on the table. She was looking fetching in a black, low-cut top and white capris. Her hair was pinned up and fell in loose, wispy strands. The solitaire glistened on its gold chain at the top of her cleavage. When Jared went back out to the car to get a few more things, she kissed him long and hard on the mouth. He squeezed her ass and longed to take her to his room right then and there.
After dinner, Brad asked Jared to take a walk with him while Nicole cleaned up.
“Huh?” Jared hesitated, surprised by the request. “Oh…sure.” Be back shortly, babe.” He kissed his wife and the two men walked out the front door.
As they walked along the street, Brad commented on the weather and then casually asked, “Jared, do you by chance remember using any of my tools in the last year or so and not cleaning them?”
He shook his head. “I don’t think I used any of your tools in years. Seems even when I cleaned them it wasn’t ever good enough, so if I used them it was only upon absolute necessity.”
Brad faked a slight laugh, annoyed the judgment in Jared’s words.
“Are you positive? It’s okay if you did.”
“Absolutely sure, Dad. I have what tools I need at home.”
Jared changed the subject and eventually Brad forgot about it. After they returned Nicole had everything in the car and the couple left, with her giving him a curious look from the car window as they backed out of the driveway.
The radio alarm went off the next morning and Brad lay there in a fog, listening to the news broadcast. The mention of Thaddeus Carter’s name jolted him into awareness. The man who had been convicted of April’s murder had been murdered himself, in prison. Brad phoned Jared.
Did you hear about April’s killer?” Brad asked as soon as he heard his son answer.
“Yes, Nikki and I were just discussing it when you called. Good riddance. Saves the taxpayers some money.”
They chatted a bit longer and Jared mentioned he was going out of town for four days on the following Monday. More good news.
Brad prepared for his alone time with Nicole by visiting a sex shop. It was time to live out some fantasies he had had since his marriage. Julie, of course, would never have had anything to do with such things. He purchased some lingerie and various toys and stashed them in the bedroom. During those glorious four days, besides having his way with her in all pos
sible configurations, he also intended to inform her of the official date for “D-Day,” or “Departure Day.” She had been stashing clothing and other personal effects at his place, things that Jared would not notice. It was almost time to put their plan in motion.
A nor’easter blew in on Monday and the weather was dismal. Brad had taken three days off work to spend as much time with Nicole as possible. This would be the last opportunity to play house for a while. Brad showered and shaved, threw on some Old Spice, fixed some coffee and paced through the house waiting to hear the front door alarm.
Finally he heard the key slide into the tumbler. She walked in without a word. He grabbed her and led her to the bedroom. She shrieked when he produced the bag of tricks he had purchased at the sex shop, but she made no protests. Brad thought he would faint for lack of oxygen: the sexual excitement was so intense. He had never felt so empowered. Nicole let him do things to her that would have landed him in divorce court had it been his first wife. All his senses were hotwired and he thought he would explode with sheer ecstasy.
They lay in a sweaty tangle of limbs, both panting and laughing at the same time. When he could finally speak, Brad asked “Are you ready for D-Day?”
“Oh, yes Brad! She kissed his bare chest and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Do you have everything ready and can we really make this happen?”
Brad kissed her forehead. “Yes, I now have a little over two and a quarter million dollars already moved into various accounts. First, though, I have a present for you.”
He got out of bed and retrieved a small, wrapped package from the dresser. She ripped off the paper like a kid would, with enthusiastic anticipation. On top was a new iPhone.
“I have one as well,” he said. “When you go, leave the old one behind, but be sure to delete all the numbers from it and remove the sim card.”
Under the phone was an envelope containing a six-month lease for a property on Duck Island on the outer banks of North Carolina. “This is far enough away that he won’t run into you and yet close enough where I can fly down and visit you often.” She unfolded and read it. “Am I Vanessa Phillips?”
“Yes you are.”
He retrieved another document, an Ohio driver’s license, and handed it to her. “Your Ohio driver’s license, Mrs. Phillips.”
She looked it over. “The mafia dude you know?”
“How did you guess?”
He showed her his own forged license. “I will keep all these papers here until you leave. Can’t risk Jared stumbling upon them. Also note the lease starts April fifteenth.”
He then produced a set of car keys from the nightstand and pressed them into her hand. “Your new chariot. It’s a two-year-old SUV registered in your name. When you get to North Carolina, just go to the DMV and re-apply for a state license there.”
“Sure, that’s easy enough.”
“I had all the glass tinted to the maximum allowable under North Carolina law. I will load your suitcases from my attic the day you leave.”
The last item she retrieved from the box were some papers, including a bank statement and a signature card from the First National Bank of North Carolina in the name of Robert A. and Vanessa Phillips.
“I’ve opened this account in both our new names, but I need you to sign the signature card for me so you can write checks and get access to money. And remember to sign it ‘Vanessa Phillips’.” He handed her a pen from the nightstand.
She signed it as instructed and gave it back to Brad.
“As you can see, the initial deposit is one hundred thousand dollars.”
She squealed and jumped and threw her arms around his neck. He was getting off on feeling like a sugar daddy.
“Now,” he said, pushing her away from him so he could look at her, “when you go back to the house, you need to pack some specific things. I’ve made a list for you and it’s on the Post-it Note there on the bank statement. You have some smaller bags, items stashed at your place, right?”
“Yes.”
“Good, that’s perfect! I will pick Jared up at the airport and give him an excuse as to why I’m the one picking him up. I’ll drop him at your house and leave. He’ll find the note you wrote—you did copy it down in your own handwriting, didn’t you?”
“Yes. I’ll leave it on the nightstand along with my keys to the house and the car plus my wedding ring.” The look in her eyes was distant, her reply automatic.
“Are you excited to be starting our new life together, dear?” he asked.
She pulls her knees up to her chest and rests her chin on top. “It’s so sudden. I need time to wrap my head around it.”
“Sudden? I’ve been putting this whole thing together for months!” he protested. “Look, I can’t stand the thought of him fucking you! One, because I want you for myself, and two, he’s my own son! I need to be free of this whole mess! I would think you would be as anxious to get away as I am!” Brad felt his chest tighten.
She reached out and touched his chin with her index finger. “When he fucks me, as you put it, I close my eyes and pretend it’s you. It’s not the same but it helps.”
“Well, that doesn’t help much from my perspective! I become jealous and even resentful towards my own son.”
“I’m a little frightened, Brad. I need to mentally prepare. Look, today is Tuesday, he gets back on Thursday; I just learned he has another trip the following week. He’ll be gone from Monday until Wednesday—that’s when I’ll go.”
Brad protested again and again, put up valid arguments, but ultimately she won out. “Besides I need a little more time to make sure this all goes smoothly. I don’t want to make any missteps.”
“I’ve written everything down for you. It’s all right there in those papers.”
“Brad, you are unbelievable.” She kissed him and backed away, catching her breath. “Oh! I almost forgot! Painters are coming to our place on Thursday to do the rec room. Can Jared and I stay here to avoid the fumes?”
He shrugged impatiently. “Whatever. I guess. Don’t be hanging all over each other in front of me, though.”
“Aww,” she nudged him. “I promise that if Jared gets frisky I’ll take him out into the man-cave and let him do me in the backseat of Pocahontas. That way you won’t hear us!”
Brad’s anger flared. He wanted to hit her. She backed off and laughed nervously.
“I am kidding, okay?”
You sure as hell better be. Brad whipped the sheets in her face and headed for the shower.
When Thursday rolled around, Brad left the office early. Jared’s flight landed at four that afternoon and he didn’t want Nicole to be alone with her husband at his house for any length of time.
As Brad walked up his front steps, he glanced in the window and stopped short when he saw the two of them sitting on the couch in the middle of a full-on, open-mouthed kiss. When he walked in the door, Nicole ran to him and hugged him as if she hadn’t seen him in weeks. Jared stood up, pulling at his pants legs.
“Hi, Dad. How was work?”
Work’s fine. I attend to it between sessions of fucking your wife, you little shit.
“Fine, Jared. How was your trip?”
“Good, real good, although I missed my little Nikki.” Jared hugged her as he spoke and kissed her cheek. “Sorry we had to inconvenience you by staying here tonight; it was the only day the painters could come. Did Nikki tell you?”
“Yes, she did and it’s no bother. There isn’t much to eat here so I’ll just order some Chinese food. That okay with everyone?”
“Fine,” the two said in unison.
As he pulled his cell phone from his belt, Brad commented “Jared, Nicole tells me you have to do a turnaround trip next week, leaving Monday?”
“Yeah, really bad timing. I told the boss that our agreement was that I wouldn’t have so many trips.
He told me he was sorry, but that I was the best man to deal with these things. However, he promised that I wouldn’t have another trip for two months, guaranteed.”
“Oh, that’s good.” Brad gave Nicole a look of warning.
He ordered the food and then disappeared to his room to change. A short while later he heard the doorbell. He grabbed his wallet off the bureau and headed down the hallway toward the front door. As he passed the living area, the two were at it again, groping each other. Jared had his hand up Nicole’s top, massaging her stomach.
“Cut it out you two! Dinner’s here,” he groused.
He tipped the delivery guy and carried the two stapled brown paper bags to the table. Hot and Sour soup leaked slightly from the bottom of one of the bags. As he sat the food on the table, Jared came up behind him and slapped him on the back.
“Come on, Dad. Surely you remember how it was when you and Mom were young.”
Brad wanted to punch him. He adorned a fake smile and played the game. Nicole set the table. Brad grabbed three beers and sat down. As they consumed their food and drinks, Jared talked about his work, how he was rapidly moving up the corporate ladder, about the various corporate dinners he attended. “Of course, wherever I am, it’s never like home. I always miss Nikki’s cooking.”
“Oh, really? I thought it was her body.” It was out of his mouth before Brad could think to stop himself.
Jared and Nicole both looked at him with shocked expressions, although Nicole’s was more one of apprehension.
“What? I made a joke, jeez.” Brad brushed them off with a wave and a weak chuckle.
“You know, Jared,” he continued as he chewed his Moo Shu pork, “I always wondered why you call her Nikki? It sounds like a boy’s name to me, and she looks nothing like a boy.” He gave his son an accusing look.
Jared looked at him with a mildly challenging stare. “It’s just my endearment for her.”
Brad went back to eating. After dinner Brad poured everyone some brandy and tried to delay their retiring for as long as he could. Maybe if he got Jared drunk he would pass out before he could touch her. They drank between short conversations and television and when the late news came on Jared began to yawn.