by Adams, Naomi
Clara realized just how much faith she placed in a man she hardly knew.
Stupid!
Foolish!
Dammit!
Clara snatched another strip from the toilet roll to blow her nose.
Thinking of Lisa she said, "I need to scream at you for setting me up with that lying scumbag. Then I need you to help me unpack this bullshit, so I can forget about it. Forget about him. I hope no one ever finds out about us, or the Benjamin James Against Gambling Foundation is finished."
She dared to leave the bathroom and retrieved her purse from the hallway where she had dumped it, and grabbed her cell.
For a second time, she dialed her friend's number.
"Come on Lisa, quit cooking and start talking."
"Hi Clara," Lisa answered in her usual singsong voice, right before Clara was about to give up and hang up. "What time is it? I thought you were on a date with your horny fire fighter tonight?"
After a sigh, Clara slid to the floor again and began her rant.
"Turns out the guy you set me up with against my better judgment is also the son of one of the biggest gambling tycoons, and the owner of Walters Group, Inc."
After a short pause where Lisa struggled with the facts, she said, "Fuck. Really?"
"Really."
"Didn't you tell me once that they had casinos are everywhere and they hire out slots in airports and shopping centers?"
"Yes, I did." Nausea rebuilt its ladder to her throat at the enormity of how awful this one simple fact was. "You may just have screwed my entire life's work by setting me up with him."
Lisa didn't bite, perhaps because of her part to play in this shit storm.
More likely because she figured Clara's backlash was emotion driven, not genuine, and so biting would be like kicking an injured pup.
"Hey, okay, okay. I'm Lucifer's sister. Now, take a breath, lady."
Clara did as her friend said, silent now the crappy truth was out there, her mind still buzzing.
"Right, the story so far sucks." Lisa asked, "What did he say about all this? I take it you confronted him?"
"What is there to say?" Clara rolled her shoulders, her attempt at relieving the pain down her back. "I mean, come on?"
"He could explain why he hid his connection to the company, and why he's a fire-fighting billionaire. Seems illogical to me that he hid in plain sight without you, or someone else in your charity, recognizing him as the son of your archenemy?"
"Why would I? Everyone knew about his father, but I couldn't have told you what he looked like. Why would we recognize his son? I deal with the fallout of their business, not them."
"Surely there are pictures of them online? I don’t know, something?"
"Why would I waste my time searching online to look at scum?" Clara had to ask, "I take it there was no mention of this connection in his dating profile?"
"Of course not. Don't be ridiculous . . . like I'd set you up with him."
Clara winced, taking less pleasure in attacking her friend than she expected, but finding it difficult to stop herself.
Biting her lip helped.
"So, what did he say in his defense?" Lisa prodded. "Clara?"
She thought, but there was no answer to give.
Why would she give that creep the time of day, let alone listen to his excuses and lies?
She continued to bite her lip.
"You did give him a chance to explain himself this time, I take it? I mean, you said you learned a valuable lesson last time--that your stubbornness gets you nowhere, right?"
"Nowhere?" Clara snapped, finally. "Stubbornness would have prevented me associating with a major player in the gambling industry, which may well have saved the foundation. Honestly Lisa, I can't imagine how it will survive the connection."
"No way. Your donors know how passionate you are about . . . "
"Sorry, but my donors see corruption everywhere. It comes as standard in most industries where money changes hands. My stubbornness came from an instinct to protect myself, and my instincts clearly are far better than yours."
Lisa groaned, "For heavens sake. When will you learn? Your instincts pulled you towards him, and he offered you something fabulous. I don't believe he's a bad guy because his dad contributed to his DNA. What bad guys run into burning buildings for a living? He could even be a volunteer if he doesn't need the money. If so, he volunteers to risk his life for others. That's the definition of a good guy in my book."
Clara's rage fed her nausea as she listened to Lisa's attempt to defend the person responsible for the time-bomb about to blast her foundation into the stars.
"Let me explain something to you, Lisa. No matter what Fredrick does in his free time, he is still living off corrupt earnings and he knew how abhorrent his livelihood is to me. And I'll tell you this; it wouldn't surprise me if our entire relationship was planned purely to put my foundation out of business. It's exactly the kind of thing his father would do. Huh, if he's looking down on him right now, I bet he's proud of his son."
"His father is the shark, not him. I think you're being paranoid."
"They aren't Fredrick's casinos because of anything he did. They must be his through inheritance, and if his father was as bad as you've told me, maybe he got screwed in the will? Try to remember what Fredrick told you. I'm sure there's an explanation for all this."
"Like anything he can say will make this not the worst news ever."
A film of cold sweat covered Clara's body again, so she unbuttoned her blouse and fanned herself with her hand.
When she imagined the conversation, she imagined Fredrick's mouth zipped tight.
"Well, I bet he has a reasonable explanation. I mean, he's the son, not the actual tycoon, and he sounded like a keeper the way you gushed about him to me. No matter how his father built his empire, Fredrick saved your life."
"Didn't you warn me against hero worship?" Clara wanted to hang-up, angry at her friend for continuing to defend him. How could she be so blind? "Lisa, shouldn't you be on my side?" Her chest tightened, "I hoped you, more than anyone, would understand what this means to me."
"This isn't about taking sides. It's about your inability to see the shit for the trees. Calm down." Lisa said, "You're hyperventilating. Breathe."
She was right.
Her breathing had become erratic.
Clara tried to slow it down, to breathe air deeply, slowly, to exhale completely, steadily.
But it wasn't working.
She put Lisa on speakerphone so she didn't need to hold the handset in her sweaty hands.
"I'm always in your corner," Lisa assured her. "All I'm saying is he's earned your consideration. He's earned a moment of your time and your ears to listen. Think for a moment: Would you like to be judged by the actions of your father? Do you think you'd be trusted with all those donations if people did that--Anon trusts you with millions of dollars a year for fuck-sake."
"Don't compare that liar's father to mine!" Clara's stomach flipped at the idea of Anon finding out who she'd been sleeping with, finally pushing her to dash to the bathroom and spew down the toilet, "Ugh." She gasped, her phone discarded a few feet away in the hallway, "Fuck!"
"Are you actually being sick?" asked Lisa, barely audible to Clara.
"Yes," she shouted, "you know how my stomach gets."
Lisa shouted, "Which is why you need to calm the fuck down."
"Don't change the subject." Clara staggered to retrieve the cell and back to the bathroom. "Dad was driven by a sickness, not by greed. You're out of order comparing him with a gambling tycoon."
"I'm not comparing those two, I'm comparing the situation you found yourself in and the one Fredrick finds himself in. And I know your father was sick but many don't view addiction so compassionately. Most people see them as people who indulge their whims, and who end up taking what isn't theirs so they can continue to indulge them. You see Fredrick as the Devil because of his association to his father; prejudice is prejudgme
nt in ignorance, remember? You've preached it in your speeches all over the world, yet you're treating him as ignorant people once treated your father."
Clara leaned back against the bathtub, eyes wide and watery.
"He's taking his dates to posh restaurants using gambling money, so as far as I'm concerned he's enjoying the spoils of his father's evil. Ergo, he's evil. Look, if you're going to preach to me, I'm hanging up. I feel lousy enough without you adding to my misery. I shouldn't have called. This is my mess, I'll deal with it."
"You should always call me when you feel lousy, I'm your best friend, and I love you. I'm not preaching because you disagree with me, I'm just trying to help you see past your own stubbornness. As for this being a mess? Really? He's just a guy, Clara."
"Like I said, my donors won't trust me when they find out I consorted with the enemy. It's about more than some guy."
"How will they find out? You met him a few times, while unaware of his association. Like I said, if your donors were so judgmental, would they be donating to an anti-gambling foundation? Wouldn't they write checks to safer organizations like Save The Children or Red Cross?"
Clara decided their conversation was over.
"You can't understand my side in all this. It wasn't your father. It wasn't your family going through hell because of men like him. He's the reason I need those donations, yet because of him I might lose them. His casinos--because they're his now, whatever you say--allow addiction to cripple thousands of people. If people find out I dated him, it doesn't bear thinking about. I mean, what was I thinking, listening to you in the first place?" Clara paused, her mind whirling with regret, "What if I'm right?" She considered it, but now she actually feared the possibility. "What if he is trying to undermine my reputation? What if he was trying to close down my foundation and I walked straight into his plot."
Lisa sighed. "What I think is, you're getting all this way out of proportion, honey."
"No, it makes sense now." So much sense it's alarming. "Because if I can't help the gamblers fight their addiction, they spend more money in his casinos."
Clara stood on shaky legs and splashed her face with water.
"Yesterday he was a good guy, a gorgeous compassionate fire fighter who saved your life. Today he's the Devil incarnate because of something he couldn't do a damn thing about. I wish you would allow him to explain rather than letting your imagination run away with you like this."
Her stomach rolled.
Stooping over the toilet, she vomited again.
"Clara? Are you okay? Please try not to get so worked up over this. Listen, I'm finished in an hour. I'll come over. We can talk."
Clara spat and used tissue from the roll to wipe her mouth.
"I will be fine, but I need to be alone a while . . . work this out in my head, yeah? Talk soon."
She hung up, feeling anything but okay.
Chapter 5
Clara had a week to make sure no one learned about her brief liaison with Mr. Casino Tycoon before the auction.
And she had less time than that to erase the absurd idea of Fredrick becoming her long-term partner clear from her head, if not her heart.
Dreaming of what might have been was impossible to control however, and meant every morning she woke frustrated, glum, and heavy with the loss of hope.
Much of her belongings from the first floor were saved, or repaired thanks to Anon.
The investigation into the fire said faulty wiring caused it.
This baffled her, as the wiring had never failed a routine inspection.
Still, at least it had nothing to do with death threats.
Plus, because she didn't cause it, the insurance paid out.
The structure of the house was too damaged downstairs to repair, so she hired a realtor to find something she could afford to buy on the outskirts of town.
On her way into work on the morning of the auction, she received yet another text message from Anon.
He'd been getting more and more in touch over the past few weeks and although she was always pleased to hear from him, her head was so full of Fredrick lately she'd taken little notice.
That was until today.
He texted:
‘I have decided to come to the benefit this year, Clara. I hope this pleases you. This means we finally get to meet. No more Mr. Anon.’
Clara gasped, a smile lifting the droop at the corners of her mouth.
‘Well, whatever your reason I am more than pleased. It's a fabulous idea. Now I'm looking forward to the whole affair instead of dreading it.’
‘Good, I'm happy to hear it. Don't worry about your speech. Keep it short and sweet and it'll go well as always.’
‘Thanks. Seriously though, what made you change your mind? For years, you protected your identity with such passion?’
‘I'll need to explain all that when we meet. I just hope you understand.’
Understand what?
She was really in no mood for more disastrous revelations about men she admired…
Chapter 6
The time for her speech arrived and Clara had been throwing up for half an hour on the lead up, as usual.
She always suffered with performance anxiety prior to events like these, but they were a necessary evil to fund her projects.
She was also nervous about finally meeting Anon, nagged by a sneaky feeling she couldn't place and a worry he wouldn't live up to expectations.
Especially because he said he hoped she would understand.
"Are you ready to get up there, Ms. James?" asked a timid female voice. "They're waiting."
"Yes, thanks, Jane."
Jane was Clara's fabulous PA whom Anon had insisted on funding after the fire.
Because of her, Clara was able to focus on the more important aspects of fund raising instead of admin, and she became indispensable.
She was a large girl with a surprisingly small waist, big lips and a calm temperament.
"Is everyone here?"
"Everyone who received an invite, yes."
"What about Anon?" her voice shook.
Clara still couldn't believe she would actually meet him.
Jane smiled slightly, "Still anonymous I'm afraid, but don't worry about him. Get out there and do your thing."
"And Lisa? Where's she?"
"She's on the front row waiting to see her friend work her magic. Stop procrastinating, they're waiting for you."
"Good, yes, you're right of course." Clara stared at the red velvet curtain she would walk through when she gave the signal, and listened to the crowd beyond it waiting for her. "Okay, raise the curtain. Let's do this."
The curtain raised and Clara stepped forward to a round of applause and a few wolf-whistles.
She gulped, but wearing a wide smile, she said, "Thank you ladies and gentlemen. Please take your seats."
They did as she asked and she began.
"Don't worry, like all my speeches, this will be short and a little sweet." The crowd sniggered and Lisa clapped proudly from the front row, which eased Clara's stomach a bit. "Every year I bring you all here to celebrate your generosity, and this year is no exception. Your contributions helped us to build on former successes, helped us to hire more professionals to work with our service users, to secure premises for those services, and send educators out to schools and colleges in a twenty mile radius, who have explained the hidden dangers of spinning the Roulette wheel or playing the lottery. So please, give yourselves a huge round of applause." Clara clapped her hands and everyone in the crowd cheered and clapped too. She let them calm down before she continued, "More is needed to continue with these projects, and to set up more places where support can be found. I want to place onsite support centers in each of the casinos next. Will you help me? There are envelopes on each table. Please give generously and, of course, bid generously on the items up for auction. I think you'll be stunned by the value of some of them. Oh, and enjoy your evening."
Relieved to be finished
, Clara painted a grin on her face for the crowd but stepped back from the podium.
When everyone stood to clap, she could have sworn she saw Fredrick's face beaming up at her from the back of the room.
Who invited him?
He wouldn't come here would he . . .
Why?
To ruin me?
Clara spun around and left the stage, allowing everyone else to return to the party while she ran into the crowd, searching for Fredrick.
Is he actually here, or am I going mad?
Chapter 7
Fredrick studied Clara while she nervously addressed the crowd.
Sure that she saw him in the crowd and nervous about his next step, he wondered what she would make of him turning up.
Would she work it out?
The PA he sent to work for Clara put his name at the top of the guest list so security let him in.
Now he was there, his chest tightened and pulse drummed louder in his ears than the voices of the wealthy patrons surrounding him.
He refused to answer questions from those who recognized him and tried to ignore the whispers spreading like water through the crowd.
Their accusations could wait.
Only Clara's opinion mattered to him tonight.
What will she say when we meet?
Will she be disappointed when she finds out the truth, or will she understand and forgive me?
Passing tables and chairs on either side, he walked through the crowd, palms sweating and mouth dry.
Where is she?
Should he go backstage, would she be hiding?
And there she was.
Her eyes widened the closer he got to her, until she recognized him and mouthed, "Fredrick?"
When they reached each other, he could only look at her.
How he missed her face.
"Hello Clara."
"What do you think you're doing here?" She grabbed his elbow and pulled his face close to hers, to whisper, "Do you want to discredit me?"
"No. Course not. I'm here to donate, to support your cause."