BOMAW 1-3 (35 page)

"No doubt the usual."

"Your daughter was in the process of finding a place to live. A place in Wisconsin, to follow McPherson. I had to talk her out of making a fool of herself by pursuing him."

Oscar waited for something from his wife, but she grew suddenly quiet. "Well?" he pressed.

"Well,
what
? You…you talked her out of it...right?" she asked, still sitting with her mind working. "Is that where he is, in Wisconsin now?"

"Why do you wish to know?" he asked with a snarl clear in his voice. The toilet flushed, she walked out still adjusting her panties. "Just a simple question, don't get your hackles up."

He snatched her arm, tugging her towards him, anger in his eyes. "Don't tell me not to get my hackles up! Where have you been?" he ground out. With a lifted brow, she looked from his eyes and glanced down at his hand gripping her arm, growing tighter as the seconds ticked by. "Have you taken leave of you senses, turn me loose," she commanded in a low voice.

"You tell me why you asked where he was?"

"Curiosity...just good old-fashioned curiosity."

"Curiosity...is what got the cat killed."

"You threatening me?" she asked. Both stood staring at each other, thinking and wondering who hated who more.

"Know this...a man can live with only so much humiliation. Don't push me to the point where I don't care," he warned.

She snatched her arm free. "You? Don't care? Ha! You've got what you want...a name, money, power. I don't delve into your affairs and I expect you to leave me to mine."

She walked away, her heart pounding. There were days, times, when there was a slight seed of doubt as to whether he could be pushed to the edge.
No...he likes this life too much.
She dismissed him immediately as her mind went to Shawn. Whirling about it was an incomplete fantasy of him; she donned her robe and walked out on their balcony, leaving her husband behind to wonder at her thoughts. They were both thinking the same thing at the same time. What was going through her mind, were her two fantasy adventures at Melba's Women's Club. Few knew of the true functions of the house. Few knew of the fantasies that privileged women, such as herself, could pay to be fulfilled.

Hearing about Shawn brought back to mind the young man from so many years ago, over 20 years now, yet he remained fresh in her mind. Her fantasy, the one she had paid so well for, had been to be set up as if she had been kidnapped and treated like a hostage, taken by her captor, tied hand and foot and then ravished for hours. Her captor had been masked, his identity hidden. All she knew about him were the things he did to her body, the way he gave her her money's worth. She'd requested him a second time, same fantasy…and then a third. Disappointment...the third time had been a different masked captor. She'd searched high and low for her masked tormentor/captor with little luck. Melba held a contract that she must protect the identity of all of her guys. Georgiana had never felt his touch again...and since him, none had ever made her feel as he had.

Then her daughter brought home Shawn Everett McPherson. Something in the way he looked at her, sent her senses of wonder reeling. Then she'd had time to listen to his voice, so similar to her lost fantasy man. Although he did all in his power never to be left alone with her, never to make eye contact with her, she knew. She knew that it was him, no matter what she did to manipulate him into admitting that he was the one, he remained indignant that she was mistaken, saying,

"I've never heard of such a place."

Georgiana knew better, her body responded to his closeness, even if he refused to confirm it, her body knew. Besides, he was the same height, same build, only broader, which could have taken place with working out over time, he had the same dark hair color, almost black, and the eye color was the same and last, the voice - she knew that voice. From the moment he walked in with her daughter, she'd worked along with her husband to destroy her daughter's marriage. Using her disdain for her bad choice as the reason, she for once, was in unity with Oscar on a mission.

Oscar stood watching her back. Every time his mind recalled the evidence presented that Shawn Everett had worked for Melba's, around the same time he knew his wife frequented the place, his blood boiled. He hated Shawn Everett with a passion that was beyond the extreme. To know that he had both screwed his wife and his daughter was enough reason for him to wish the man ill. He turned away from her, thinking of Brighton's last call, Ray Olivetti had failed him.

Two Weeks later...

"You must have the most coordinated hands. I'm just amazed at what you can do with them," Sylvie commented with a pussycat grin, complimenting his artistic ability as well as his other skills, standing in the doorway of the back room, after leaving what was cooking on the stove a moment to check out his progress for the book cover of the trilogy Mercy James had written. She leaned on the door jamb behind him as he was finishing up for the evening. "Why, thank you, madam." He grinned, turning around to wink at her. "By the smells wafting in from that kitchen, your hands have been busy whipping up something incredible, I'm sure."

"Ummm, I think you'll like it."

"You know, you still owe me," he said, wiping up his brushes, dunking them in the fluid to clean them after moving the canvas to a safe spot. He would pick up in the morning where he'd left off.

"Owe you…owe you, what?"

He looked up at her, his playful twinkling eyes taking her breath away. "A pose...a portrait, remember?"

"Aaah, I see. We-e-ell, we'll see...one day, maybe," she answered, turning away to go and check on the food.

They sat at the table eating. Sylvia was telling him about her first marriage, her children, things that had them both laughing about the way of kids. "This is nice, isn't it?" he commented after coming down from a nice laugh, sipping his water. "Yeah...it is," she returned.

"You should move in with me, or I should move in with you," he suggested.

"Why?" she asked in all seriousness, rising to scrape her plate and then his.

"Well, why not? We are getting married," he reminded her.

"Yeah, I guess we are, and when we are, that's soon enough to live together."

"You're kidding me, right?" he asked in disbelief.

"Of course I'm not. What's wrong with the way things are now?" she asked.

Shawn sat for a moment stunned with his mouth open, trying to digest the fact that she was actually serious. He rose, shaking his head, walking to the sink to turn on the tap and rinse his hands.

"Do you love me or not?" he asked.

"What's love got to do with it?"

"It has everything to do with it! When you love someone, you want to spend as much time with that person as you can."

"Ah, I see, well...we live right across the road from one another. If I want to see you—like tonight—I came over, cooked you a meal because I knew you were working, you ate, I ate, we talked, laughed and we've enjoyed each other’s company...and shortly now...I'll be going home."

"Just like that!" he griped.

Sylvia started laughing. "What is up with you? You should be glad I don't wanna be here right under your feet with every move you make."

"That's bullshit! You're the one that doesn't want me under your feet!" he accused.

Sylvia couldn't help but laugh some more.

"I don't see shit funny," he went on, making her laugh even harder.

"You need to quit trippin'! I'm right across the road, Shawn! Right over there! You're more than welcome to come over any time."

"Why can't we live together?" he blasted the question.

"Because I don't wanna live with you, Shawn. You've done quite enough sampling,
thank you!
That's not me, I'm not about that. I have a daughter and a son to think about."

"What have they to do with this?" he was trying to understand.

"They have plenty to do with it. I raised my kids right. I enforced serious moral values in them, I set up high expectations, and I definitely expected them to follow them. Just because they're grown and gone, doesn't mean that I am somehow free to live contradictory to what I demanded of them."

"If I remember correctly, Crystal was pregnant before any vows were said."

"That doesn't matter, Shawn! The fact remains, whether she failed to heed my direction or not, I have a responsibility to maintain the standard I set out for my children! I'm not about to lower that standard, just so you can have a bit of nookie in reach when you want it."

"Ach! That
is not
fair! Damn you, Sylvia Payne! This has nothing to do with sex! A piece of nookie is something I've never had to struggle to get. There are women right now, who would line up for the chance of me telling them, okay...come on in!"

"Well, you know what, Mr. Arrogant Ass? Call'em…tell them to
come on in -
I don't give a shit! I'm outta here! You done pissed me off...you not even
trying
to see it from my side!" she spat, looking for her coat and purse to head for the door.

Shawn rushed up to take her by the wrist.

"Now, see, why do you have to get so angry?" he pleaded, pulling her toward him, trying to get her to face him, but she had her stubborn jaw set and finally answered, "Because...I don't appreciate you pulling that crap on me. I'm not a stupid little girl or some woman begging for your goodies! I said I'm not living with you, and I meant it. Don't matter what my reasons are, you still have to respect them—
if you love me!
I am who and what I am, Shawn Everett McPherson, and if you can't handle her, let her leave. Then you can get on with your phone calls, start'em lining up."

"Ugggh! You are so infuriating! Do you know that?" He squeezed her close. "Okay...okay...now calm down. Geez, you are so hardcore, I swear! You know, you're lousy for a man’s ego."

"Hey, like I said, use your phone...I won't stop you. You had one that was ready to jump through hoops for you, why didn't you keep her?"

"Because I didn't want her."

"Why not? And quit pulling me toward the sofa...I'm going home." She bit into her lip not to smile.

"No, you're not. Not yet, you're not...not like this," he insisted, tugging her to his couch anyway, pulling her onto his lap.

"Excuse me, will you let me sit on the couch?"

"You're fine right where you are."

"It's getting late, I need to get home...and cut that out! Put the hard-on away...ain't nothing happening tonight."

"Lady...you are something else, you know that? I've never known anyone like you. So spirited, so steadfast, so firm and true to you. I love that about you."

"If that's the case, don't try to take advantage of me, Shawn, because I'm not the one."

"I know, I know. I just…like having you around, what's wrong with that?"

"Nothing wrong with that, and when we get married, you will have me around. Although, this arrangement of across from each other ain't a bad one. I mean, we could just go on like this. If you wanna piece, just come knockin'. I let you in, same for me."

"The hell I will! Now, I'm gonna put my foot down! When the vows are exchanged, you will be here with me or I'll be there with you...but I'll be damned if my wife is going to be sleeping in a different bed from me across the road... let's get that straight right now!" he asserted firmly. Sylvia couldn't help herself, a grin burst upon her pretty face. "Okay, okay, I hear you...but until then, I'll be across the road."

"Well, can I—" Just then the phone rang, cutting him off. "Now who is that calling at this time of night?" he asked, standing as she slid to the sofa. He walked into the kitchen as she stood buttoning her coat. Grabbing her purse, she walked in to see him on the phone with his brows drawn in a frown.

"What!" he shouted. Sylvia's eyebrows drew in, curious.

"What the hell do you mean, she ran away? When?"

Sylvia stood with her hand going to her heart for him.

"So how long has she been gone?"

"What are the police doing?"

"Dammit! I can't believe this shit!"

"Alright, alright...call me as soon as you know something."

"I may just have to!" Shawn hung up and looked at Sylvia.

"My daughter's run away from home."

Earlier in the week...

"I want outta here! I want outta here now! Why haven't you paid for my bail or something?" Ray pressed with flared nostrils, his index finger jabbing the table for emphasis as he consulted with his attorney at the Juneau County Courthouse.

"Because you're a stupid-ass sex offender; no bail for you,
idiot!
"

"Hey, don't fuckin' talk to me like that, you here t'defend me," Ray reminded him. It had been almost eight weeks since his attack on Sylvia Payne, his court date was coming up in a few days and he was starting to get nervous. Ray hated the thought of having to do time. He'd already done time once for a similar offence, which was the reason he was being held without bail. Every day that drew closer to that court date made him nervous, he had to find a way to get out. As soon as he'd recovered from that beating McPherson laid on him, he'd made his one phone call to Carl Brighton, who had in turn sent him the attorney that sat on the other side of the interview window from him. Ray had used that one phone call to get the message through to Carl loud and clear, that he had better see to it that he got cleared of this, that he didn't serve any time, because he knew things…he wasn't stupid, so he didn't appreciate this fancy California lawyer whom he suspected was gay, calling him stupid.