A PORTRAIT OF OLIVIA (24 page)

Winifred shook her head as she retrieved the forgotten bags of groceries from the trunk of her car. “You really are a nasty old lady,” she told herself.

“Takin’ a delight in that poor woman’s misfortune—and her such a nice person.” She chuckled as she closed the trunk. She turned, then gasped as she saw Brenda standing behind her, a murderous glint in her eye.

“Listen to me, you old bitch,” she rasped, her voice thick with venom. “You better watch that mouth of yours if you know what’s good for you…”

“Oh, please,” Winifred shot back, “You don’t scare me, missy…”

J.P. Bowie

150

“Shut up!” Brenda shoved her up against the trunk of her car. “Old broads like you think no one’s gonna beat up on them, right? Well, guess again. You sass me like you did back there again—and I’ll beat the crap out of you.”

“My, such a lady,” Winifred said, rubbing her elbow and trying not to look scared, though indeed, now she was.

“I’m warning you. Keep that mouth of yours zipped—got it?” Brenda turned to go, then looked back at her. “Maybe I should just give you a little taste of what I mean…”

“Everything all right there, ladies?”

They both looked at the security guard who stood, hands on his belt, peer-ing at them curiously.

Winifred breathed a sigh of relief as Brenda drew back and walked quickly away.

“You OK, Miss Owens?”

“Yes thanks, Armstrong.” Much to her annoyance, Winifred found she was trembling. “Could you give me a hand with these bags?”

“Sure thing.” Armstrong grabbed the shopping bags out of the trunk and walked with her to the elevator. “Wasn’t that Miss Winter’s manager?” he asked. “She seemed angry or something…”

“Yeah, she was asking if I enjoyed the shows and I guess my answer kinda pissed her off.”

“You don’t enjoy them?” Armstrong sounded surprised.

“They’re OK, I guess—just not my kind of entertainment. People blabbing about their hang-ups and problems…I’d rather watch a good movie.”

Armstrong smiled down at her. “Want me to come up with these?”

“No thanks. I’ll manage from here. Thanks again.” Winifred returned the guard’s smile as she pressed the button for her floor. Jeez, she thought, as the elevator hummed smoothly upwards, that woman is nuts. Well, with any luck she won’t be back here, now she’s been given the old heave-ho.

Her phone was ringing as she opened her apartment door. Dropping her bags, she picked up just before her answering machine cut in. “Hello?”

“Hi, Winifred—it’s Peter Brandon.”

“Well hi, you cute thing. What’s new?”

“I just wanted to thank you for the drinks and the good company the other night.”

“You are so welcome. Having two hunks in my apartment at the same time, just made my night.”

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Peter laughed, then said; “Well, we enjoyed that part of the evening very much.”

“How was dinner with DG?”

“DG?”

“The Dragon Lady!”

“Oh…” Peter laughed again. “Well, as a matter of fact, that didn’t go too well. We didn’t go to dinner with her as it turned out. She laid some news on us we didn’t like and it ended up with Jeff and her having a few words, so we decided to leave.”

“Wow…” Winifred exclaimed, enjoying this bit of gossip. “That must have really made her mad.”

“Oh, she was mad all right. But she’s getting mixed up in our friends’

lives—people we really care about—and making the whole situation worse just so she can boost her show’s ratings. Jeff and I think it’s pretty despicable.”

“Well, I have some news for you,” Winifred said with relish. “Hot off the press, I may add.”

“What’s that?”

“I just rode in the elevator with that bimbo manager of hers…”

“Brenda?”

“Mm-hmm…And she’s been given the boot. Fired, axed, eighty-sixed—and boy, was she mad.”

“She told you this?” Peter asked, surprised.

“Yep. She looked kinda upset, and me being the sweet old lady that I am…”

she paused to chuckle over that. “I asked her what was wrong. She came out with it real fast and furious. I guess I was a bit flippant and that made her even madder. She actually threatened me with bodily harm, no less.”

“You’re kidding…”

“Nope. I was real glad to see one of our security guys show up, I can tell you.

I think he saved me from a really nasty scene.”

“Winifred, that’s terrible. Are you all right?”

“Oh yeah, I’m fine. Takes more than some jumped up nobody to scare me…But I’ll you something—that woman is nuts and is capable of getting rid of whatever’s in her way.”

J.P. Bowie

152

Brad rolled over in bed and stared at the clock on the nightstand beside him. Shit, ten o’clock, he thought—I must have dozed off. He flipped on the bedside lamp and looked around him. He was alone.

“Olivia? Where are you, baby?” He swung his legs out of the bed and padded, naked, across the room. “Olivia?”

“Out here.”

He walked over to where she sat by the window in the living room, nursing a drink. She looked him up and down, her lips lifted in a sardonic smile.

“Well, well,” she said. “Think you’re still quite the stud, dontcha?”

“You seemed to think so, earlier,” Brad replied with a smirk. “Or was all that heavy moaning just an act?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.” She rose and walked toward him. “I’ll have to admit though, you’re in good shape for an old guy.”

Brad chuckled. “I’m younger than you, don’t forget.”

Olivia frowned. “Well, we won’t make that public, now will we?”

“It’s pretty fashionable these days.” He drew her into his arms and kissed her, hard. “Tell me you didn’t enjoy what we did,” he said, his voice husky. “You and I—we were always right for one another.”

“Maybe…” Olivia kissed him back then stepped out of his embrace. “We have to get a few things straightened out before we go any further with this.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Go put some shorts on. That thing waving at me is sorta distracting.”

She watched him as he swaggered toward the bedroom.

He turned and grinned at her. “Enjoying the view?”

“Hurry it up,” she growled. Damn him, she thought, she always had found him irresistible. Back then, when they’d first met, she’d craved him night and day. When it all fell apart and she and Brenda had left him behind, she had missed him and the great sex they’d had. If only she hadn’t listened to that crazy scheme to make a sex video—‘Just for laughs’. Yeah, but who was laughing now?

He came back into the room wearing his jeans and a tee shirt that showed off his sculpted torso and muscular arms. “Not too over-dressed, am I?” he asked her with a grin.

“You’ll do. Okay, first—Brenda…”

“What about her?”

J.P. Bowie

153

“She can’t stay fired. She knows too much.”

“I can take care of that…”

“How can you take care of that?” She swallowed the last of her drink and walked over to the bar to fix another.

“You drink too much,” Brad said, following her and taking the glass from her hand.

“No kidding! Is it any wonder with all that’s coming down around me?”

Olivia glared at him. “Crazy broads threatening my life, some nutcase stalking me, faggots telling me what I can do on my own show, you showing up after all these years I’ve paid you off, telling me you want a bigger piece of the pie. Now, Brenda’s out there, no doubt planning some kind of a hit—that’s what she wanted to do with you, you know. Get someone to scare you, or failing that, bump you off.”

“Stupid bitch!” Brad yelled. “And you want her back here?”

“It’s the only way to keep her quiet, Brad. Out there, she’ll be some kind of loose cannon, ready to blow our names and reputations all over the tabloids. I know her…she won’t take this lying down.”

“Okay, okay,” Brad muttered. “Unfire her then—but keep her away from me. I don’t trust her.”

“Oh, that’s droll…” Olivia’s voice was heavy with sarcasm. “The blackmailer doesn’t trust the blackmailer.”

Brad looked contrite. “I’m not blackmailing you, baby. All I ever wanted was you and me to be reunited. Telling Brenda I’d go public was the only sure way I knew you’d see me.”

Olivia looked at him through narrowed eyes. “You really want to go through with this, don’t you? The marriage thing, I mean.”

“You bet. It’ll be the event of the year…”

“It’ll be that all right,” Olivia muttered.

“Look Olivia…” Brad took her in his arms. “We’ve been through some bad times, you and me…but in all the time we’ve been apart I’ve never stopped wanting you. I know I come across as some kind of gold-digger, ‘specially now that you’re the queen of daytime TV, but I’ve missed you, honey. Really and truly I have. I wish I could make you believe that. Just give this time. It’ll be great, I promise.”

Olivia leaned against his chest and sighed. He had no idea how much she really wanted to believe it. The sex they had just shared was as fantastic as she remembered it to be. She could not deny it—he was good. If only she could trust him—if only…

J.P. Bowie

154

Later, after another bout of athletic sex, Olivia rose and left Brad sleeping like a bear in hibernation. Quickly, she crossed through the living room into her office, and picked up the phone. She glanced at her watch as she listened to the ringing tone.

“One o’clock,” she said to herself. “Wake up Brenda…”

“Yeah?” Brenda’s naturally rough voice was made even raspier with sleep.

“Hello, Brenda, dear. I have some good news for you…”

c h a p t e r 1 5

s

Anthony hesitated before ringing the doorbell to his mother’s home. He was not looking forward to this confrontation. His instincts told him it was not going to go well—but he could not just leave things the way they were. Surely she must be hurting, he thought. Perhaps now, when all that she had said and done had come back to haunt her in a way she could never have imagined, perhaps now she would listen to reason. If not now, she never would. Justin had wanted to come with him, but Anthony had felt that his presence might exac-erbate the problem. As much as he would have welcomed Justin’s company, he had felt it better that he went alone. With some reluctance, Justin had agreed to let him go alone, after a promise that he would call if things did not go well.

Taking a deep breath, he rang the doorbell and waited. And waited. He rang the bell again, then worried that there was still no response, he walked round to the back garden and peered through the French doors. Seeing nothing, he tried the handle—it was locked. Cursing the fact that his mother had demanded he return his house keys when he left to live with Justin, he pushed at the door then rapped loudly on the glass.

“Mom!” he yelled. “It’s Anthony—let me in—please.” He stepped back and looked up at his mother’s bedroom window. Picking up a stone from one of the flowerbeds he flung it up at the glass. “Mom!” he yelled again. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and speed dialed her number. After two rings her answering machine clicked on. He listened to the robot-like voice telling him to leave a message, then yelled into the mouthpiece; “Mom! It’s Anthony.

I’m outside. Let me in—
please
. I know you’re there. You’re car is in the driveway. I’m not leaving till you let me in!” He waited for several minutes until it became apparent that his mother was not going to respond to his entreaties.

- 155 -

J.P. Bowie

156

“Damn,” he muttered. There was only one thing he could do. It was going to make her very angry, but he was beyond caring about that now. He stepped back and delivered a hefty kick at the French door. The wood splintered enough that one more kick was sufficient for the door to swing open. He stood waiting for the alarm to begin its strident shrieking—but nothing happened.

“Strange…” He ran into the living room. “Mom, are you here?” He bounded up the stairs and flung his mother’s bedroom door open. The room was in darkness with just a slant of light appearing through the closed shutters.

His mother lay, face down, across the bed.

“Mom!” he screamed, racing to her side. He switched on the bedside lamp before turning her over onto her back. There was an empty pill bottle on the nightstand. “Oh, my God,” he whispered. He pulled his cell phone out and dialed 911. “It’s my mother,” he gasped when the operator answered. “She’s taken pills…” He gave his name and address and listened as the operator gave him instructions while waiting for the paramedics. He flung the shutters and the windows wide open, flooding the room with light. He pulled his mother to her feet and tried to make her walk, all the while encouraging her to wake up.

“Come on, Mom, please wake up. You can’t give up like this—you have to wake up. Mom,
please
.”

But even as he carried her around the room, he knew it was hopeless. His mother’s body sagged in his arms; there was no response to his pleas, and when the paramedics arrived and went into full emergency mode, they could do nothing to revive her.

One of them looked up at Anthony, his eyes filled with sympathy. “I’m sorry…I’m afraid there’s nothing more we can do.”

They took her body away while a police officer questioned Anthony about the possible circumstances that may have led to his mother’s suicide.

“She left a letter.” Anthony handed it to the officer. “She was very depressed…very angry about some things that had happened recently.”

The cop scanned the letter, then looked at Anthony with surprise. “She mentions Olivia Winters. Was she was on that show?”

“Yes. It hasn’t been shown yet…”

“I read about this—was she the one who decked Olivia?”

Anthony nodded and the cop grimaced. “I’ll need to take this with me.”

“Can I make a copy? My sisters will want to read it…there’s a printer in my father’s study. It won’t take a minute.”

“Okay.” He gave the letter back to Anthony. “Give my condolences to your sisters.”

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My dear Anthony,

So it has come to this. All my hopes that you might be saved from sin have been
dashed by my foolishness. I thought that by appearing on the Olivia Winters show,
I could reach out to the millions of good Christian people who need to be shown
just how easy it is for wickedness to enter their lives and destroy everything they
have hoped to achieve. It was my intention to alert them to the depravity that
exists all around us, and has even taken you away from me.