Mr Destiny (29 page)

When his sisters had jumped in to voice their opinions on what he should do about Kate, his father had taken mercy on him
and offered him a way out of what was becoming an extremely uncomfortable conversation.

They left the family dinner table and the usual commotion behind. Tony followed his father up the back stairs into the apartment
he'd grown up in. They passed through the kitchen, then up another flight of stairs that would take them to the roof of the
building.

The roof had been where he and his sisters had played when they were children. It was where his father often sneaked away
now for a little peace and quiet.

His father pushed the door open and motioned Tony through. But when he closed the door, he grabbed a wooden handle from an
old broom that was propped up beside the door. He dropped the handle into place—it across the door, both ends of the handle
resting on two large hooks—and Tony laughed.

“So that's what you wanted with those old hooks I took down at my apartment building and was going to throw away.”

Mario tapped his finger against his forehead. “A fool, your papa isn't,” he said. “You want privacy in this family? You find
a way to get privacy in this family.”

Tony laughed again, then walked over and plopped down onto one of the aluminum folding chairs that were scattered around the
roof. He shook his head when he saw why his father had suddenly taken such an interest in one of Mama's flower boxes.

Mario dragged a chair up beside him, dusting dirt from the large plastic baggy he'd hidden and buried in the soil. He pulled
his pipe out first, then his can of tobacco.

“You think
I
just got an ass chewing?” Tony said. “You won't have an ass left if Mama catches you smoking again.”

Mario tamped the pipe full, fumbled in the baggie, and pulled out a lighter. He waited until he took a few deep draws from
his pipe before he said, “Mama knows about the smoking. She pretends she doesn't know, so I won't smoke in the house. I pretend
I don't know she knows, so I can get away with it a little bit longer.”

“I guess that's what thirty-seven years of marriage gets you, isn't it?” Tony said. “Compromise.”

Mario glanced at him through the haze of blue smoke.

“Marriage gets you a lot more than just compromise,” he said. “When you find the woman you love, you think your heart has
no room for anyone else. But then she gives you the children the two of you can love together, and your heart swells to include
them. Then your children give you the grandchildren who fill your heart with more love than you ever believed possible. Add
all that up, and what you have is a lifetime of happiness.”

Tony frowned. “I'm not in the mood to talk about a lifetime of happiness right now, Papa. I don't think that kind of happiness
is ever going to be in my future.”

“Maybe you should tell me about it,” Mario said.

After Tony finished a rundown of the situation and his argument with Kate, he looked at his father and said, “So? What's your
opinion about the whole situation?”

Mario said, “I think it's a blessing you're rid of this woman.”

Huh?
“What?”

“She's probably changed her mind about the attorney,” Mario said. “He's a big important man, he has big money. He can offer
her a big fancy life. We're simple people, Tony. She wouldn't fit in with our family.”

“But that's just it, Papa,” Tony argued, “Kate isn't like that at all. She's one of the most down-to-earth people you could
ever meet. We might not have a future together, but she won't marry Harold. She won't change her mind about that.”

“I don't know,” Mario said. “Sounds like she was having second thoughts to me. If not, why didn't she let you go with her?
Let you slay all those dragons in her path? Show everyone concerned that you are the big man in her life now?”

Tony didn't answer—but he knew the answer.

Excess testosterone.

Too much testosterone obviously is hereditary.

“If you ask me,” Mario said, “I think she was just stringing you along.”

“That's ridiculous,” Tony said, frowning at his father.“She didn't have to come to the cabin at all, Papa. She could have
put the check in the mail. Or she could have done nothing at all. Not so much as even a thank-you note is what she could have
done, Papa.”

Mario shrugged, then took another draw on his pipe. “She still sounds like a user to me,” he said. “In the future I'd watch
out for women who just show up and move in with you for five days.”

“She did not just show up and move in with me!” Tony was getting angrier by the minute. “Kate never would have stayed at all
if I hadn't practically begged her to stay.”

Mario frowned. “You practically begged her to stay? Why did you do a stupid thing like that?”

Tony launched himself out of the chair before he said something smart to his father that he'd regret later. He walked up to
the concrete barrier around the roof, braced both hands on the concrete, and stood looking out over the street below.

With his back still to his father, he finally said, “I asked Kate to stay because I'm crazy about her, Papa. Hell, I'm past
crazy about her. I love her.”

When he turned back around his father was smiling.

Tony pointed a finger at him. “Why you old fox! You knew exactly what you were doing. Admit it.”

Mario tapped out the ashes from his pipe onto the concrete floor, then got up from his chair and walked over to where Tony
was standing. He slid the baggie back into its hiding place in the flower box next to Tony and put his arm around his only
son. They both stood there for a few minutes, surveying the neighborhood they both loved from their lofty position on the
roof.

Mario said, “If you love something, son, set it free. If it comes back to you, it's yours. But if it doesn't come back to
you…”

“It never was,” Tony said, and sighed.

“No,” Mario said, “if Kate doesn't come back, you go to Manhattan and get her.
After
you give her the freedom to do what she needs to do.”

Harold looked around the hotel suite, satisfied that everything was perfect. He'd decided they would dine in tonight, skip
the hassle of dressing formally and making an appearance in some fancy restaurant in town.

They'd started the morning off with a relaxing massage. He thought Carla might enjoy ending the evening on a relaxing note
with no specific schedule.

No specific schedule.

A first for him.

But didn't everything have a first time?

Room service had already delivered a feast fit for a king and his queen—lobster and filet mignon, the perfect combination.
All of the other bases were also covered. Champagne, chilled and waiting. Lights, dim and romantic. Billie Holliday singing
softly in the background.

The only thing missing was his guest of honor.

She'd told him she'd be back at the hotel by seven, that she had errands to run she couldn't put off. Harold glanced at his
watch, becoming a little concerned that it was already half past seven and Carla still hadn't arrived.

Friday night traffic, most likely, he decided, but he glanced at the bedside phone just in case. No blinking light, indicating
a message. He even checked his cell phone. No message there, either.

For lack of anything else to do, he walked back over to the room service cart and adjusted the crisp linen napkin, making
sure the long blue velvet box was hidden completely. The late Audrey Hepburn had nothing on Carla when it came to a neck made
to wear pearls.

Carla having nothing on
but
pearls?

That wasn't a bad idea, either.

Harold breathed a sigh of relief when he finally heard the click of the electronic lock. He walked toward the door and smiled
when she walked into the room.

She didn't smile back.

“Is something wrong?”

She looked at him for a long time.

Then she fished into her purse and tossed a DVD disc on the bed. “You're off the hook, Harry,” she said. “I can't blackmail
you.”

What?

Was she nuts?

Of course, she was going to blackmail him.

It was part of his fucking master plan!

“Don't be ridiculous,” Harold said. He walked over to the bed, picked up the disc, and stuffed it back into her purse. “You're
going to blackmail me, and that's final.”

“You're not listening, Harry,” she said. “All that crap I told you about wanting respectability? Well, that's exactly what
it was, just a bunch of crap. I was after your money, that's all, and I wasn't going to risk the chance of being arrested
for extortion. I was going to marry you. And then in a few months I was going to divorce you and take you for every penny
I could get. I just never expected that I would…I would…I would like you, dammit.”

“You like me?” Harold was surprised.

He wasn't sure if anyone actually
liked
him.

“Believe me,” she said, “liking you is a big shocker for me, too. You're not that easy to like.”

“My mother adores me,” Harold informed her.

“I wouldn't be too smug about that,” she said. “I'm sure even your mother has her moments.”

She turned and headed for the door.

“Carla, wait,” Harold said. “We can still work this out.”

She whirled back around. “Are you deaf, Harry? This whole game we've been playing is over. I don't want to marry a man I have
to blackmail into marrying me. Especially if I like him too much to swindle him out of his money.”

“But that's the beauty of this whole situation,” Harold said, grinning from ear to ear. “I lied to you, too. I wasn't going
to marry you at all. I'm actually getting married next Thursday. To my fiancée back in Manhattan.”

The color drained from her face.

It came rushing back—red and angry.

“And what were you going to do with me?” Carla demanded, hands on her hips now. “The plane ticket to New York? The key you've
already given me to the apartment I'm supposed to move into in a few weeks? Were those arrangements nothing but lies, too?”

Harold walked over and took both of Carla's hands.

“You're going to be so happy when I tell you this,” he said in a cheerful singsong voice. “The ticket, the apartment, everything
I've told you about your allowance, your charge cards, everything. All of that is absolutely one hundred percent true. I've
planned for you to come to New York from the very beginning. Just not as my wife. As my…”

“Mistress?” Carla finished for him.

“Yes!” Harold said, delighted that she'd finally caught on. “See? Everything is going to work out fine. You can be my full-time
mistress. And I'll give you anything you want whenever you want it.”

Carla jerked her hands from his.

The look in her dark blue eyes turned icy.

Harold shivered for a second.

“You'll give me anything I want?” she asked.

“Anything,” Harold assured her.

“Then lose my number, Harry. I'm done here.”

She turned around and headed for the door.

She stopped long enough to take the disc from her purse and toss it back on the bed again. When she opened the door, she looked
back at him one last time.

“Don't worry, that disc is the only other copy,” she said. “I only made one copy for me and one copy for you. Keep your copy
for those nights when you're bored with your respectable life and your respectable wife, Harry. Give my copy to the bride
as a wedding present from the woman who is
not
interested in becoming your mistress. I'm sure she'll be thrilled to add the pictures to your wedding album.”

Carla slammed the door.

Harold slumped down on the edge of the bed, stunned.

“What the hell just happened?” he yelled out.

None of his yes-men were there to give him an answer.

A
lex held her hand out.

Eve placed her hand on top of Alex's.

Kate placed her hand on top of Eve's.

“We can do this!” they said in unison.

It was a ritual they'd started back in college. Except back in college they'd only been facing final exams. The grown-up stakes
were higher. They were going their separate ways later today—facing much more serious problems than final exams.