Read Second Time Around Online
Authors: Darrin Lowery
Second Time Around (36 page)
Chapter Thirty-six
DeVaughn and Brandon closed their deal. In the corporate world they were like an educated, yet urban Batman and Robin. They closed the deal in record time. It only took four days to convince their competitors to fold, and another two to draw up the proper contracts. Brandon wanted to hurry up and get home. He wanted to meet with Jayna and speak with her. He wasn't sure about what he would say, but he assumed that DeVaughn was right. One way or the other, they needed closure.
Both men wanted to get home, but both men wanted to experience Germany as well. It was their first time there, and from what they understood, there was in fact plenty to do.
The concierge at the hotel where they stayed explained that Germany was one of the most beautiful places in the world. The concierge also stated that Germany had some of the most beautiful women in the world. Seeing that Vaughn and Brandon were of African American descent, the concierge told them that Germany had beautiful women of all nationalities, including black women.
Vaughn smiled at the suggestion but declined. Brandon, who was still trying to put Jayna out of his mind, was intrigued. After some talk, Brandon reluctantly convinced Vaughn to go to a nightclub in Germany their sixth night there. That night they ate, drank, and enjoyed themselves in the VIP section of one of the most expensive clubs in the country.
Women watched them; men watched them and the jealousy in the air from seeing two African American men, whom they referred to as caffers, live like kings, incensed some of the clubs patrons. Vaughn watched the people that were watching him. He was not unfamiliar with jealousy. It was something that he dealt with his whole life. Brandon simply shrugged them off as haters. He figured that haters were a worldwide problem. Brandon took two women back to his hotel room that night. He did it in an effort to forget about Jayna.
He failed.
No matter what he did, it seemed that Jayna was a permanent fixture in his heart.
During the next few days, the two men visited Stuttgart to visit the Mercedes home office and Munich to visit the BMW home office. Vaughn rented a top-of-the-line Mercedes. Brandon rented a top-of-the-line BMW. The two men decided to make their last four days a working vacation and although they came together, they had separate activities during the remainder of their stay.
Brandon needed a distraction. He needed time to get himself together, time to reflect on what, if anything, he would say to Jayna. She hurt him. Worse yet, she embarrassed him. Still, he loved her. He tried to tell himself that her past was simply that: Her past. He tried to tell himself what she did was not his concern, and should have no bearing on how he felt for her.
He felt that she was promiscuous, a whore, and a loose woman. The thing that burned at him most was the fact that she didn't have to be. She was a successful businesswoman who had no need to bed a man for anything other than companionship. Yet here she was sexing men like it was a hobby or a race.
He then thought about all the women he bedded over the years and wondered to himself why it was okay for him to do it, but not okay for her? He was considered in many circles to be a playboy. He thought, couldn't she just be considered a playgirl? He looked for reasons to forgive her and then wondered to himself why he would even consider such a thing.
Because I love her, he thought.
Brandon went to Berlin's Pergamon Museum to look at antique art. He went to a number of galleries, where he saw pictures that he and Jayna had talked about while looking in art magazines at home in the United States. Germany was one of three places Jayna said that she wanted to see before she died, along with France and Africa.
He visited the Charlottenburg Palace on the east side of Berlin. It was the largest surviving palace in the capital, built for Sophie Charlotte, wife of Prussia's King Friedrich I, in the late 1600s. While there, he then wondered if he could simply just go home and tell Jayna that he loved her. He wondered if perhaps the two of them could run away somewhere and get married. They could marry somewhere like here. Somewhere like the very palace he was visiting.
But running away was not the answer.
And Brandon was not a runner.
Like everything else in his life, he had to tackle this issue head-on. He needed to examine how was it that he could come to love a woman so deeply who hurt him so bad. She wasn't malicious. It wasn't her intent to hurt him. In fact, she was trying to get help.
But how do you marry a woman who has slept with many men that you know?
He was torn. He was conflicted. Worse yet, he still loved her. He needed time to think. He thought to himself where better to think than halfway across the world? Brandon ventured to the Harz Mountains, the Black Forest in Schwarzwald, and the Bavarian Alps. He went walking, skiing, and watched people training for the winter games. He bought a camera and took pictures of everything he saw. The trips he took were magnificent. The views he saw were breathtaking. He saw sights that some people would never see in a lifetime. All he could think was one thing: I wish she was here to see these things with me.
The next day he took a one-day cruise on the river; the day after that he rode a historic steam train in Saxony; and another on the coast of Mecklenburg. He went to a theme park in Friedberg, a soccer match in Hamburg, and a number of vineyards. He found beauty in every stop, romance in every stop, and with each stop he thought how wonderful it would be if she were with him. He imagined himself holding her hand, her passionate embrace, and he even thought about the intoxicating scent of her perfume. He missed her. He needed to go home. He needed her back in his life.
He was incomplete without her.
He loved her, flaws and all.
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Vaughn's last days in Germany were quite different. He was in his hotel room having a sip of brandy and deep in thought his first day of his working vacation. He phoned Korie every day that he was gone. He missed her; he missed her a great deal. However, it seemed that to a degree that the tables had somehow been turned on him. He would phone her and tell her that he missed her, but these days she was always busy. She would talk to him anywhere between ten and twenty minutes, but the conversations seemed as if they were changing.
He wondered in the back of his mind if she were upset with him because of his work schedule. He wondered was she mad that he left the country. He also thought, how much money is too much? He made millions of dollars. He made his company billions. He would never want for anything and neither would his children.
Children he didn't have.
Children who would be heirs to his empire.
His wife died before they could have children. He never thought about having children with anyone other than his wife. He gave that idea up when she died. That is, until Korie.
Vaughn needed an heir.
He wanted to have a baby.
He wanted Korie to have his baby.
If his wife were alive she would be too old to have children now. He always assumed when he married again, if he married again, that his wife would most likely be too old to conceive.
Korie was young. Korie was fertile and Korie would make a great mother. He sat in his hotel room and thought about his future. He thought about who would carry on his family name. He thought about marriage. He was ready. He made up his mind that he would ask Korie to be his wife.
He stopped sipping his brandy long enough to go into the bathroom and relieve himself. His view of Germany from his hotel was breathtaking.
She should be here, he thought.
He was just about to get dressed when there was a knock at his door. Vaughn assumed that it was Brandon. It was his last day in Germany and he assumed that Brandon wanted to know what time they would be meeting at the airport tomorrow morning.
He opened the door and on the other side was a distinguished-looking older gentleman. He looked like the actor Willem Dafoe. He had distinct glasses on, round John Lennonâlike spectacles. He wore what looked like a 3,000-dollar custom-made suit, and with him was a briefcase in hand.
“Can I help you?” Vaughn asked.
“May I come in?” the man said with a heavy German accent.
“That depends. Who are you?”
“I am a dealer, Mr. Harris. The concierge suggested that I stop by to see you.”
“The concierge?”
“Yes, sir. You are DeVaughn Harris, are you not?”
“ I am.”
“Then I am in the right place. May I?”
Vaughn stepped aside so that the man could enter. He walked into the vast hotel room that could double for an apartment. He sat at the table in the foyer of the hotel room area and opened his briefcase.
“Hold on. What exactly is in the briefcase?”
“Something better than drugs.”
“I didn't ask for anything. I especially didn't ask for anything better than drugs.”
“But in the States, you do use Elite Escorts, do you not?”
“Double E, so that's what this is about. Listen, I no longer need the services of your company, I told you all that.”
“I am not with double E, sir.”
“No, then who?”
“I'm a private dealer.”
“Then how do you know about my history with double E?”
“I make it my business to know when men of means leave one of my competitors.”
“One of your competitors? So you have . . . products in the States as well.”
“I do. I'm global.”
“And your name is . . .”
“Here is my card.”
The man who looked like Willem Dafoe handed Vaughn a black card with gold numbers on it. There was no name, only the silhouette of a woman. He pulled two catalogs from his briefcase. One for the United States, one was global. Vaughn looked at the man and laughed a bit. It took balls to come to his hotel room like this. Aside from that, Vaughn was impressed. Damned impressed.
“So what else is in the briefcase?”
“Models. There are portfolios of beautiful models, worth every penny.”
“Well, like I said, I am no longer in need of your services. But just for shits and giggles, how much?”
“Five thousand American dollars, for one night.”
“That's a lot more than double E.”
“My workers are that much more than the workers at double E.”
“That's a pretty arrogant statement.”
“Yes it is. Do you know who Alannah Xavier is?”
“No. I'm afraid I don't.”
“Well, she is a German model. She is Negro. Like you. She's very beautiful. More beautiful than America's Halle Berry. I have a girl who looks just like her, just for you.”
“Right, look, Mr . . . What is your name?”
“Adler. Adler Bergan.”
“Well, Mr. Bergan, I think I'm going to ask you to leave.”
“May I leave the catalogs?”
“No. Please take your catalogs.”
“Mr. Harris, please. I tell you what . . . keep the catalogs. Let me send someone to you this evening, for free. Call it a onetime special for new customers. I think you will be especially pleased with the worker on page thirty-three. Again, she is more beautiful than Halle Berry. I will send her at six o' clock.”
“No, Mr. Bergan. But thank you, though.” Vaughn escorted him to the door.
“I shall send her anyway. If you send her away, I understand.”
The man headed toward the door and Vaughn politely smiled at him as he closed the door. He was impressed with the man, but he was also offended by his audacity. Vaughn went to the shower and planned his last day in Germany. He had a lot to do, including returning the rental car. He looked at the clock and it said 2:00. He showered, threw on some clothes, and grabbed his hotel key as he headed toward the door.
Then he saw it.
He looked at the catalog. It was sitting there on the nightstand.
It was sitting there like cocaine.
He looked at it like an addict.
He walked over to the catalog, which was bound in leather. He looked at the gold leaf pages that adorned its exterior. He picked it up. It had quite a bit of weight to it. The book was valuable looking. It looked like the type of book you would find in a German library. Someone went through a lot of trouble to make the book look impressive. Someone spent a great deal of money. Vaughn held the catalog. He measured its weight in his arm. He ran his fingers alongside the leather.
The book was impressive.
He opened it up.
What he saw was equally impressive.
He turned the pages, one at a time. The book was filled with women. Each was beautiful in her own right. Each woman was flawless. Some were tall, some were short. The book contained women of every ethnicity. They were black, white, Asian, German, and even a few Americans. Based on what he saw, these “workers” were more impressive than the workers for double E. They were enchanting.
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