Separating Riches (21 page)

Chris walked into the dining room and looked at the spread. “Wow, this is great,” she said, as she walked around the round table, snatching a grape from the fruit bowl.

“Yeah, Charlotte pulled my ass out of the fire again. Surely Meg can’t find fault with this,” I said proudly.

“Now, honey…” Chris looked at me and then laughed. “No, never mind. You’re right, she can’t find fault with this.”

George came in and immediately helped himself to a hors d'oeuvre. Norma came in next, looking regal in her tunic-length jacket and slacks. Norma always dressed for dinner, while I usually wore a T-shirt and torn jeans.

Charlotte walked in and announced that Meg and Frankie had arrived, and then she stepped to the side and showed them in.

“I see you were able to take care of your business,” I teased.

Meg looked me up and down, and leaned in close. “I see you did also.”

Laughing, I nodded proudly. We all sat down to eat and of course, the conversation was all about that bastard, John Mooney.

“Oh, try one of these,” Chris suggested, passing the hors d'oeuvres over to Norma.

“Thank you, dear,” Norma said. “So, you two discovered that Tori’s boyfriend is John, the man you came to help, Melinda.”

“Yeah, bizarre, isn’t it?” I interjected.

“I’m actually wondering if that wasn’t a ploy just to get you here,” Meg elaborated, as she speared a piece of meat with her fork.

“How so, Meg?” Chris asked, passing the meat plate over to Frankie.

Meg put her fork down and looked up from her plate. “I’ve been trying to figure out how John even knew you were in the city. He either overheard his wife on the phone with you, or put his wife up to calling you in the first place.”

“That’s an interesting theory,” George said. “Could you please pass the casserole, and Meg, could you elaborate on your presumption?”

“Here you go.” I passed the chicken parmesan casserole to Chris, who passed it on to George.

“If John put Teresa up to calling you, Blackie, then he would know that you were coming here,” Meg said. “And if he had Teresa meet with you, Chris, then he would know where and when you two would meet. He may very well have been at the pizzeria when you met with her.”

“Ew, that’s so creepy,” Chris said. “Melinda, did you see him there?”

“No, but then I remember a young, pimply faced kid from college. He probably looks a lot different now.”

“I’m glad you insisted on coming with me,” Chris said, squeezing my hand.

Smiling, I said, “Me too, baby. My question is, what should I do about John? I mean, like you said, Norma, we were here to help him, and we don’t know for sure why he’s doing this. Personally, I’m for telling him where to stick it, but, Chris, I’ll let you make that call.”

“Oh gee, thanks, honey. Very thoughtful of you,” she teased. “I vote we have a talk with the Mooneys and find out why he’s so fixated on you, and then you can tell him where to stick it.”

“Good plan,” Meg said.

“Yeah, I like it too,” I agreed.

“Might I offer a suggestion?” Norma asked, looking around the table.

“Of course, Norma,” Chris said.

“Invite them here for dinner under the pretense of reconciliation. Just as we played a part in interviewing Charlotte, we could do the same with them.”

“That’s a nice thought, Norma,” Meg said. “But John isn’t going to want to come out in the open like that.”

“He would if the stakes were high enough, and he felt safe,” Norma replied. “I was thinking of a masquerade ball, where everyone’s face is covered. And the guest list would be very short, just the ones at this table, the Mooneys and maybe your parents, Melinda, as a way to entice him to come to the ball.”

“Damn, Norma, you can be a devious bitch – no, uh, I meant,” I stuttered through my embarrassment. “I really did mean that as a compliment, Norma.”

“And I took it as one,” she replied. “Thank you, Melinda.”

“How long would it take to put something like that together?” Frankie asked.

“Chris, your mother could help with it, couldn’t she?” Meg inquired. “That would speed things along some.”

“It would have to be a rushed affair, dear,” Norma warned. “Unless we want to stay here for a few months more.”

A chorus of no’s went up in the air. It wasn’t that we weren’t enjoying the city by the bay, but it wasn’t home. And as the saying goes, there’s no place like home.

“Um, Norma, dear,” Chris teased. “Here’s a funny coincidence. We actually already have a masquerade ball planned for the week after next… um…” Chris looked over at me, and I nodded. She looked back at Norma, smiling sweetly. “It was to have been a surprise for you, Norma.”

“Surprise,” I said lamely.

“What on earth?” Norma asked, the shock evident in her eyes.

“Mom’s been working on it since we decided to come to San Francisco,” Chris explained. “We, um, told you she was working on the scholarship fundraiser, which she still is. We just didn’t tell you that the masquerade ball was for you… and that, um…”

“And that we were going to have it in Hollywood!” I exclaimed, knowing full well that Norma didn’t want to go back to Hollywood. We all knew that, but Chris and her mother planned the party anyway. And now we got caught in our own little devious plot to get Norma back in Tinsel Town.

Norma became quiet for a moment, and then she finally looked at us and smiled. “Oh, my. Well it’s too bad. But this thing with Melinda being drugged and blackmailed is much more important, don’t you think?”

“Oh, I’m sure we could—” Chris kicked me under the table.

“Yes, Norma,” Chris said, as I rubbed my leg. “It is more important and I’m sorry, but we’ll need to cancel the ball in Hollywood.”

“It’s for the best, dear,” Norma stated.

“Okay, so what are we doing?” I asked, still confused by the kick under the table.

“We’ll have a fake ball here, to bring John out of hiding,” Chris said. “But, Norma, I think we’ll need more people at the ball for it to look authentic, don’t you?”

“You’re probably right, Chris, but where would you get stand-ins for something like this?”

“Hey, why not ask the theater class at Berkeley?” I asked. “I had a semester of theater just for kicks, and it was a lot of fun. Tell the students that we need them to play a part to, uh, I don’t know, work out blocking or a script or something theatrical like that.”

“That’s a great idea, Blackie,” George said. “What kid wouldn’t want to dress up and play make believe?”

“Exactly, George. Toss in free costumes and food, and they’ll agree to help in a heartbeat.”

“Oh, that brings up another question,” Chris said. “Mother was working on a ‘come as your favorite actor or actress’ theme. We could still do that, couldn’t we?”

“What a fun idea she had,” Norma said.

“Well, I was going to dress as you, Norma,” Chris said, smiling, “from your Oscar winning movie,
Mr. Washburne Takes a Wife.
”

Norma smiled. “Are you referring to the scene where I was wearing the skin tight, rose sequin dress, with that scandalous deep front slit that went almost to my navel, and had another slit running up my leg, exposing my thigh?”

“Yes, that’s the one,” Chris said. “My mother is having it made for me because we couldn’t find a replica. And although it was probably scandalous in the sixties, no one will give it a second look now. Especially with me wearing it.”

Just the thought of Chris in that dress had me panting and drooling like Pavlov's dog.

“Down, girl,” Chris joked, and patted my thigh. I let out a howl, and panted harder.

“Oh, I would love for you to wear that dress, Chris,” Norma exclaimed. “That is if Melinda can keep from howling like a wolf again, when she sees you in it.”

“No promises, Norma,” I joked.

We sat at the table, eating, talking, and brainstorming, and finally had a plan in hand. Meg and Frankie would fly home and come back in two weeks. That was Meg’s idea, not mine, so I called my pilot and asked him to fly them and Kate back to Memphis tomorrow afternoon. Chris called her mother and they arranged for Felicia to fly out here to work on the ball. My job was to check with the theater class to see if they’d be willing to playact for us, to find a venue to host the party and to arrange rentals with a costume shop. Never one to do the actual leg work, I plan to have Kate help me with my to-do list before she leaves in the morning. Chris’ job will be to call Teresa and convince her to come and bring John with her. She’ll explain that my father will be there and has had a change of heart about John. That should bring the roach out of the dark. 

As Chris and I undressed and got ready for bed, I asked her why she kicked me under the table.

“Oh! I almost forgot about that,” she said, laughing. “I have an idea that I wanted to talk to you about, and I thought you were about to inadvertently mess it up.”

“Uh, okay,” I said. “But it had better be a good idea, because I can barely walk now.”

“Oh, poor baby,” she cooed. “Here, let me massage your leg and make it up to you.”

Score!
Not only did I get a relaxing, sensual, arousing massage out of the deal, but Chris had a really good idea for the party that was going to be too much fun to implement.

Chapter Sixteen

Behind Door #1 - A New Car! — Chris
, Melinda
and
Emily Morton

I spoke with Teresa this morning, and she seemed excited about attending the masquerade ball. Her behavior was odd though. After I invited her and John to the party, she did a complete three-sixty toward Melinda. Her attitude changed from belligerence to benevolence and apparently all is forgiven. At least with her. But she’s not the one we’re after.

When I heard that Emily had so far to commute to college, and that most of her money went for taxi rides, I knew we had to get her a car. But I wasn’t sure that it should be as part of the scholarship award. There were strict rules about students soliciting gifts, and about representatives of the program offering gifts as an incentive to attend a certain college or that type of thing. But nowhere in the rules or fine print did it state that I couldn’t personally buy a car for a student if I wanted to. Melinda, who grew up sitting on the lap of a lawyer, her father, advised me to check with our lawyer first, just to be on the safe side. It was good advice because our lawyer stipulated that we not use the gift as a marketing tool for our promotions of the scholarship. I hadn’t given it much thought, though I see now how it would have been a marketer’s dream advertisement.

So, today, after I talked with Teresa, we finished working on the rest of our to do list for the party and waved goodbye from our front porch to Meg, Frankie and Kate, as they left for the airport, and their flight to Memphis. Now Melinda and I were sitting in the tiny office of a car dealership, about to purchase a Mini Cooper S Coupe for Emily. Melinda thought Emily would look really cute in one. I drew the line at the color though. Having talked with the shy college student, I knew she would not want to drive around in a black car with red flames over the back tires, which is what Melinda had picked out. But we both agreed it should be a convertible. They are such cute cars. 

Since Melinda had purchased cars before, and I hadn’t, I let her do the bartering. That was a mistake.

“Do you know who I am?” Melinda asked, leaning toward the salesman.

“Yes, he knows, Melinda,” I answered for him. I bumped her shoulder playfully, and she looked at me, then leaned back in her seat.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” she said to the salesman.

I leaned over and whispered in her ear, “I’m proud of you, sweetheart.” I knew that apologizing to people was not her strong suit.

Melinda smiled and poked me in the ribs.

“No, I’m the one who should apologize, Mrs. Blackstone-Livingston,” the salesman groveled. “I will be happy to factor in the gas and warranty for you. I believe you wanted a four-year coverage, is that correct?”

“Yes, and four years worth of gas too,” Melinda reiterated, even though he had just said that.

At one time, dealerships offered gas as an incentive to get people to buy a car. But that was during the economic crisis. Apparently they don’t do that anymore, except for people who can well afford it, and demand it, as in Melinda’s case.

“Of course,” he said, entering information into the computer. A minute later, the printer began to spit out legal-size paper.

The salesman stapled everything together and handed Melinda the contract with an ink pen. “Since you requested dual ownership, you both will need to sign here, and here, and initial here and here,” he said as he pointed out the signature lines.

As we signed it, Melinda asked me if I wanted to do the honors and drive the car over to Emily. I panicked. I had not driven in over a year. Not since I hit the jogger when I was drunk. I shivered just thinking about the terrifying sounds, the horrifying sight of him flying over the hood of my car.

“It’s okay, baby,” Melinda said, looking at me knowingly. “I’ll get someone to drive it for us.”

“Thanks, that would be good,” I said, very much relieved. I was ashamed to admit that I was scared to drive and sensed that Melinda understood. That horrible day was always with me, but I’m learning to live my life around it.

I called Emily and asked her to meet with me again. I told her I wanted her to meet my partner and wife. She was eager to meet Melinda so that she could thank her in person.
Man, are you in for a surprise.
At first, Melinda had suggested that we have Emily meet us at the pizza joint, but when she saw the look of utter shock on my face, she realized her mistake and back pedaled, telling me she must have been having a brain fart.
Indeed, as Norma might say.
I laughed and let her off the hook. Melinda suggested that we meet at the Dwinelle Parking Lot across from the Durham Studio Theater. Parking spots were very limited on campus, and she wanted to talk with the theater group about the ball afterward, so we’re killing two birds with one stone, as it were.

Melinda made arrangements with the salesman to have someone follow us to the college with the new car. It took us a while, but we finally got there, and the surprising part was that we found two parking spots right next to each other. Melinda said that never happens. She paid the young man who drove the new car and gave him taxi fare and a generous tip. Emily texted and said she’d be out of class in about fifteen minutes and it would take her another twenty minutes to get across campus, so we had some time to kill. Melinda had an idea on how to kill it.

The SUV we rented had completely blacked out windows on the side and back windows, and a back seat that folded down. My first thought was that we’d get caught, but she told me to stop being a prude.
I’ll show you who’s a prude.
I climbed over the front seat and scooched all the way toward the back, where a person would really have to work at seeing us making out in the dark. Before Melinda could kiss me, I made her promise we wouldn’t go all the way, which felt like a déjà vu from high school, but I didn’t want to be screaming in the parking lot. Plus there was the whole germ factor in that I wouldn’t be able to take a shower before meeting Emily.
Maybe I really am a prude?

So our necking turned into more of a wrestling match, because I had to keep wrestling Melinda’s hands away from my crotch. Still, as hard as I tried not to, I did get aroused, which made it even harder for Melinda to control herself. Luckily for me, Emily called and said she was here, looking for us. So we quickly buttoned our shirts, combed back our hair, and jumped out the back of the SUV. Emily was standing there, looking at us oddly.

“Hi,” I said, smoothing down my blouse. “Um, have you been standing there long, Emily?”

“Oh, no, not long,” she replied. “I didn’t realize that was your SUV rocking back and forth.”

“How cool is that, Chris? We were rocking the wheels on this bad boy, and we didn’t even get to third base,” Melinda said with pride.

I could feel my face flush. “Yes, um, well, anyway. I’m glad you found us, Emily,” I said, and then put my hand on Melinda’s back. “This is my wife, Melinda, and she’s also my partner in the scholarship program.”

“Congratulations on being our very first award winner, Emily,” Melinda said, holding out her hand.

Emily shook her hand. “Thank you so much for the opportunity. I promise, I won’t let you down.”

“I believe you,” Melinda said.

“Emily, we have both been there, we know how hard it is,” I reiterated. “If you ever feel the urge to drink again, call me, and I’ll talk you out of it.”

“Thank you, that’s so kind of you. But I have a sponsor now, and she checks on me every day,” Emily replied.

“Oh, that’s very good,” I affirmed. “Now, there’s another reason that we asked to see you again, which has to do with a certain gift that Melinda and I want to give you, as our first awardee.”

“You mean there’s more?” Emily asked, looking all of twelve years old again.

“Yes. We understand that you have to take a taxi to get to school, so we—”

Melinda did the drum roll sound effect and I laughed at the way her lips were twitching.

“As I was saying.” I held up a set of keys. “We don’t want you to have to worry about getting to school, so we bought you a new car.”

“Tada!” Melinda shouted.

Emily turned very pale and for a moment I thought she might actually faint. Instead, she cried, her hands trembling at her lips. Melinda pointed at the Mini Cooper S Coupe parked beside our SUV, and said, “That’s yours.”

“Now, there’s only one proviso with this car,” I said. “When you’re able, you have to pay it forward. You have to do something nice for someone else, just because you want to. And I’m not talking about family, it should be someone you don’t know, and you should swear them to secrecy so that you don’t profit from the gift.”

“I will, I’ll do it,” she replied eagerly.

We left Emily sitting in her new car, watching its roof mechanically retract into the trunk, and then hitting the switch again to watch it come back out.

Tough Love — Melinda
and
Chris

Emily was so cute, sitting in that coupe when we left her. I have never felt so noble before. Usually it was all about self-aggrandizement, but helping others is very liberating. Change feels so good for a change.

Chris and I walked across the street to the Durham Studio Theater and talked with the kids, who were hanging around between classes, dancing, singing and otherwise practicing their craft. They were very eager to play dress up and party at a ritzy masquerade ball, as I suspected they would be. Even after Chris informed them that there would be no alcohol at our party, they still wanted to attend. Who wouldn’t want to party at one of Blackie Blackstones blowouts?
Oops, we mustn’t speak in the third person anymore.

It was fun being on campus again. My father has been nagging me to continue my education and become a lawyer. Supposedly so that I could better understand the legalities in doing business on behalf of the Blackstone Corporation. I managed to get my bachelor’s degree in business so it would only be a few more years of college and then pass the bar exam. Being back on campus makes me want to reconsider my options.
I wonder if Chris would go back to college with me. That would be a blast. We could help each other study while we neck behind the book racks the library.

  Kate had set up an account for the kids at the largest costume rental place in San Francisco, and I instructed them to come dressed as their favorite golden age of Hollywood movie star. They were to play their part as sophisticates at a prestigious Hollywood gathering. I told them I was going as Katharine Hepburn so they needed to pick something else to wear. Some of them didn’t know who Hepburn was.
What are they teaching the kids today?
When I was a kid, I would stay up late and watch old movies on the weekend, and I was always partial to Hepburn’s character in the classic film
Sylvia Scarlett
. But even when she wasn’t playing a boy in a movie, she was wearing trousers and controlling her own career. It was obvious that she was so far ahead of her time.

“Arrive at six,” Chris instructed, “and we’ll need everyone to leave at 8:30 P.M. sharp.”

With another task marked off our to-do list, we jumped in the SUV and headed home for some playtime. Except what I was about to do could have me sleeping on the couch tonight.

“We did a good thing today, didn’t we, baby?” I asked.

“Yes. Feels good, doesn’t it?” she replied.

“Oh yeah, that feels good, but my stomach doesn’t,” I complained.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. It’s cramping pretty bad.” I grabbed my stomach and groaned. “I think I’m going to throw up,” I exclaimed.

“Oh, no. Do you think you can hold it? We’re almost home,” Chris said, looking through her purse. “Damn it. I don’t have anything to help you, sweetheart.”

I pulled the SUV over and scrambled out of it and ran around to the shallow ditch beside the road. Chris jumped out of the car and knelt down beside me. I hunched over, holding my stomach with one hand. Chris held me as I heaved, but nothing came out.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she said, rubbing my back.

Finally, I sat back on my knees and wiped my forehead.

“Come on, I’m taking you to the emergency room,” Chris urged.

“No. It’s just something I ate. Please, get me home, where I can puke in private.”

“Are you sure, honey?” she asked, helping me stand up.

“Yes, positive. We need to hurry, okay. I feel another wave coming on.”

Chris helped me into the passenger seat, buckled me up, and then rushed around to the driver’s side. She climbed in and buckled her seatbelt, and then started the car. She hesitated. She looked at me in panic, and I didn’t think it was entirely over me. I groaned again, rubbing my stomach.

“Hold on, honey,” Chris said, patting my shoulder. She put the SUV in drive, hit the gas and spun the tires back onto the road.

“What did you have to eat that might do that to you?” she asked, as she turned onto Pierce Street.

“Baby, could you at least do the speed limit, I’m cramping again,” I asked, when I saw she was only doing ten miles an hour in a thirty mile an hour zone.