BOMAW 1-3 (42 page)

None, of course, knew it was made from Mr. Shawn Everett McPherson. With the money, he tried to use it to help him purchase paint supplies to get back into it, something that he'd neglected when he arrived in California. Problem was, after investing the money, being hungry many days, without lights and the danger of being evicted, he had to face the heartbreak of his paintings not selling...no interest in them, whatsoever. Oh, he sold a few here and there, but the money was just enough for food and a few other extras. He went back to the restaurant where he worked for three years, doing the occasional porn movie for cash payments until at the age of twenty-four, when he was talked into working for a women's club. Melba's...there it wasn't too bad. He got to dress up in stupid costumes and grant women their fantasies. $500 plus tips a night, three nights a week. The louder and longer he made them scream in pleasure from their climax, the bigger his tips. A couple of them kept requesting him again. Then an older lady in her sixties talked him into being hers exclusively, full time. He didn't understand why, because all she had done with each visit was talk to him. Her fantasy…that he was her son, coming home to visit and dote on her. Merriam Eleanor Styles, the one person he was happy to belong to...all she seemed to want was missed affection from a child. She was lonely, missed her son who had been killed a few years previously, and in her own way...she became Shawn's hero. He lived with her, took care of her, talked to her, spoiled her. In return, she travelled all of Europe and took him with her. By the time they returned he was thirty, and she was talking him into returning to school, willing to finance him in his dream of getting a degree in Commercial Arts, Visual Communications, Business Management and Marketing, and also courses in Architecture and CAD. In his third year, he met Deidre. She carried herself with a quiet aloofness that captured his attention. While she had taken notice of him, there was no fawning or drooling and acts to get his attention. He went for her because she had class, carriage, elegance, and a soft manner. He told Merriam about her and with a smile, she blessed him in pursuing the girl. While they dated, Merriam got him his first cover art job. He was elated! That one led to another, then another and then another. Following that, Deidre became pregnant. Feeling as though his life was finally turning around with so much to be happy about, he talked her into marrying him, he had wanted a big wedding and to take her home to meet his parents. She pressed for an immediate ceremony and he gave in. One year later, Merriam Eleanor Styles died, leaving a fourth of her wealth to Shawn.

Shawn's closed lids felt stuck to his eyes, unable to open. There was an intrusive sound forcing him from his sleep. A ringing...his cell phone. He lay across the bed, barely able to lift his head, trying to get his eyes to open. Feeling around on the side table by his bed, he knocked it on the floor, then searched for it with his eyes still shut; wondering about the time. Bringing the phone to his ear, his thumb clicked the talk button.

Smacking his dry mouth, he could barely speak. "Hello."

"Shawn?"

"Yeah." He throat was croaky from a deep sleep that he wanted to return to.

"It's Deidre! Where are you?"

"In…bed," he answered, feeling himself about to drift back off to sleep. "What time…is it?" he asked.

"It's 8:30! Where's Angela?"

Silence...Deidre waited. "Shawn! Are you there?" she shouted.

"Yeah! What?" he snapped, cranky from lack of sleep.

"Where—is—Angela?"

"She's...with...Sylvia."

"Sylvia! That woman, Sylvia?"

"Yeah," he mumbled.

"Where are you? Where is that? Where is she?"

"In…Madison...a hotel. We're sleeping...call back later," he said.

"Which hotel? Why is she with Sylvia and not you?"

"Call—back—later!" He clicked off, dropped the phone, and turned over.

Sylvia lay unmoving. Her eyes opened. Discomfort strong enough to wake her, made her lay for a moment to understand where it was coming from. Then she realized what it was. Her breasts were aching from laying on her stomach. She turned slowly to her back in the bed of the comfortable hotel room, shifting her covers slowly as she turned her head to look over to the bed next to her. Shawn's daughter lay there sleeping. She was in a deep sleep, the sound of her soft snoring filled the otherwise quiet room. She turned her head towards the window and saw sunlight shining through the slits of the curtains. Suddenly her mouth grew very moist as nausea washed over her. Her eyes grew wide. She stayed still, willing it to go away. Forced to swallow, the nausea continued.

"Nooo," she whined softly to herself. Swallowing again, she closed her eyes. Her hand went down over her rib cage to her lower belly. "I can't be," she whispered softly to herself. Thinking back to her other two pregnancies, she reflected on the time she knew she carried Crystal. Morning sickness had started almost exactly two weeks after her conception. This was now day sixteen since she and Shawn made unprotected love to each other. "Oh Shawn, we really don't need this right now," she mumbled, wishing the nausea would pass. She lay wondering was he up yet. She turned and looked at the digital clock next to her bed, it was 10:40am. She couldn't get back to sleep and wasn't going to try. There were things they all needed, like toothpaste, a change of clothes, deodorant. She slowly sat up, and sure enough, a stronger wave of nausea surged within. Again she sat still on the side of the bed, wishing she had a saltine.

Looking behind her, she checked to see if Angela was still sleeping soundly, and she was, tossing her head the other way for her hair to stream down the side of the bed. Taking a deep cleansing breath, Sylvia stood and waited to see what would happen. The queasiness was still there, but nothing stronger. She walked to the bathroom and used it, washed her hands, splashed her face, and shook her head gazing at the way her hair looked. Running her fingers through the thick wavy mass, she shook the bed-head flat area out with her hands because she didn't have a comb on her. Coming out of the bathroom, she grabbed her jeans from the chair and put them on. Then her socks and shoes. She went to Angela's bag to see what was in it. She'd packed for herself, four pair of pants, three shirts, socks, underwear, a comb and brush, toothbrush, perfume, a little girl's make-up compact, a diary, and her little pink wallet.

Sylvia set it down. There was no deodorant or toothpaste. She would have to go down to the gift store and pray they had some of the things she and Shawn would need. Taking the pad by the phone, she wrote out a note for Angela just in case she woke up while she was gone. Grabbing her purse, she quietly left the room.

Down in the gift store, she bought two tubes of toothpaste, two toothbrushes for herself and Shawn, deodorant for him and one for her. She thought he might need a comb, so purchased him one; clean shirts for them both, Tshirts would have to do, a shower cap, shower cream and lotion for her and Angela, the day's paper, a teenage magazine for Angela and a few of the little cheese and cracker snacks, skip the cheese, she needed the crackers.

Entering their room, Angela hadn't moved, she was still sound asleep. Nibbling on the narrow saltines, again she wondered if Shawn was awake yet. He couldn't be, or else he would have called or been over there. Knowing that either of them could wake any moment, she jumped in the shower. Washing over her body, little could be denied with her breasts proving to be sore and achy, her nipples were very tender. She refused to dwell on it. She just couldn't, not now...there was enough on her plate. Going through her afterbath routine, she dressed, put on a little face powder that she always carried in her purse, and some lipstick. The smell and taste of it made her mouth water, she was queasy again. She ignored it and went out of the bathroom, straightening up the room. Angela slept on. It was 11:30am. She grabbed the things she bought for Shawn and again left a note for Angela to get in the shower if she woke while she was across the hall, to get dressed so they could have breakfast.

She tapped on his room door, within seconds, he snatched it open, surprising her. He was on his cell phone, obviously just awakened by it and not happy, holding the door open for her to come in. She did, sitting the things she bought for him on the TV table. He was standing in his boxers.

"Angela is still asleep, Deidre, and before we meet you, we're going to clean up and have breakfast," he said, Sylvia stood staring at him as he talked. He was certainly bed-head fresh and grumpy. His eyes looked a bit puffy as well, as if, he'd had a hard night...dare she imagine it, he'd shed a few tears. The thought of him in that room alone, sobbing in silence, made her look away from him. Her feelings of protectiveness, coupled with the need to take care of him, was surprisingly overwhelming. Going through her mind was the possibility that he was the father of her next child, should all symptoms prove to be what she was unable to face at that moment. He was rubbing his eyes, leaning against the bathroom door, holding the phone to his ear. "You know what...I'm not in the mood for this. I have your number, I know where you are, and I'll give you a call as soon as we get our shit together. Go shopping with your mother or somethin', I don't know." He sighed deep and looked at Sylvia, reached over and lifted her chin to make eye contact, then gave her a weak smile and a wink while his thumb caressed her lower lip gently. He brought his hand away, keeping the eye contact with her.

His gentle gesture, seeing that smile and wink, relieved her a bit. No matter how bad his mood, he wasn't going to take it out on her. She knew that Deidre was on the other end, and wished they all could get along better, but considering the way the woman was with her, he just might have his reasons for being short with her.

"I told you because she had to!"

Sylvia figured that they were no doubt in the midst of a small argument over why Angela was with her.

"Because!" He refused to explain now.

"I'll tell you about it when we get together!" he answered, growing more upset.

"No! I'm not gonna tell you now! Now let me off the fuckin' phone!"

Shawn let out a deep sigh, listening, then looked to the ceiling rolling his eyes with the shake of his head, softly he apologized, "Don't cry. I'm sorry for cursing at you. I know you've gone through a lot. Yes...I understand." More pauses and listening. Sylvia thought she better leave him to talk alone and went to exit the room. He grabbed her arm, pulled her back, shaking his head at her, wanting her to stay. "Deidre … Deidre …Deidre...let me off the phone, the sooner we get it together here, the sooner we can meet."

"Yes! She
will
be there with us! Most certainly she will."

Sylvia didn't need to be told who the
she
was.

"You'll find out what it has to do with her when we meet...goodbye!" He clicked it off, whether she was done or not, and stood looking at Sylvia. "Let me go wash my mouth out. My breath, no doubt, smells like shit."

Sylvia grinned and passed him a toothbrush, the tube of toothpaste, deodorant and a new T-shirt. "Here you go, take care of everything. While you're in there, I'll go check to see if Angela is awake yet," she told him, heading for the door. "Hey, it's a new day, another morning, you still love me?" he asked in such a little-boy-like voice, it gripped Sylvia's stomach. "Oh, Shawn, of course I still love you," she said in the open door. "It sure would be nice sometime, if you said it first," he whined. She chuckled. "I'll have to work on that, promise...now go clean up."

"Well, can I hear it?" he asked.

"I love you," she reassured him, smiling, and then headed across the hall.

Angela was just sitting up when she walked in the room.

"Good, you're up. I brought some toothpaste and deodorant for us. There's also shower cream, lotion, and the shampoo and conditioner the hotel provides. We need to get moving, your mother is here."

Up until she said that, Angela was drooping, still sleepy, but hearing that her mother was there in Madison perked her up. "Here! In Madison?" she asked with a panic-stricken look on her face. "Well, yeah, surely you knew she would come for you?" Sylvia asked standing by the TV stand in front of the bathroom door. "Not this fast! I don't wanna go back with her! I don't! I wanna stay here! Please, Sylvia...I wanna stay here!" she started right away.

"Ohhh, Angela, under the circumstances, you can't, sweetheart. Perhaps if what you said hadn't been said, the courts might hear you out and give you more time with your dad. But now, I'm certain they wouldn't hear of it."

She started crying. "I can't believe I'm so stupid! What am I gonna do? I don't wanna go back there, Sylvia! I hate it in that house! They don't even like me there! They never talk to me, only my mom does! When I'm there, they expect me to stay up in my room all the time! I can never have any friends over! I can't have a cat, a dog, nothing! I don't wanna go back!"

Sylvia stood listening in sympathy for her, but was at a loss of what to do. "What about when you get to visit your friends? Won't you miss them?"

"Grandfather doesn't allow me time with friends. He says people with means and wealth shouldn't be with people that don't have what we have. It makes them think they can just drop over, or borrow money! Or use me to get in to see what we have so they can plot to steal it!"

"What!" Sylvia asked incredulous.

"It's true. I only see my friends at school. Or when my dad comes, he'll go get them and then take us all out and bring them back to the condo, so we can play in the pool, and he barbecues for us and stuff, he's always let my friends come over. But...mom can't, because we live with her mom and dad."