Separating Riches (9 page)

Such a proper young woman, with such a heavy burden to carry. “Dear, I’ve dated a few bastards in my lifetime, and if your step-father is anything like they were, that word would be fitting.”

She nodded, pleased with my response. I could understand why she was afraid of the baby; she had no support at home, no encouragement.

“May I tell you a story, Kate?”

“Of course,” she replied.

“When I was just about your age, I ran off to Hollywood to become a movie star. I was an extra at first, and then I landed a supporting role in a movie. I fell in love and married the producer. He was a wonderful man, who encouraged and supported me, that is until I married him. It turned out that he wanted a wife to cook and clean and have his children. I never promised him any of that. At first, I thought that was what I wanted also, but deep down, I knew it wasn’t. I wanted to get back to my career, not have children I wasn’t prepared to care for. He had no more use for me, so he began criticizing everything I did, telling me I was a woman, and a woman’s place was in the kitchen.”

“What did you do, Norma?” Kate asked with wide-eyed curiosity.

“What any self-respecting woman would do. I told him to go fuck himself. I had quite the sailor’s mouth in my youth. Well, not only in my youth. My husband, the man that I had professed to love, was slowly taking away my self-esteem with each insult. I divorced him and the next year I starred in my first feature film. You see, I believed enough in myself that I refused to allow him to control me. I’m not saying that it was easy, going back out into the scary world, but I had a dream, and by God, I was going to live it. What’s your dream, child?”

She put down the grape and looked at me contemplatively. “Oh, um, well, before the baby, my only dream was to get out of that house. Now that I have the baby to think of, my dream is to give her a better life than I had, and unfortunately, that means staying with my adoptive mother for a while longer.” 

“And how can you do that if you’re afraid to be around the child?” I asked bluntly, catching her off-guard.

“What?” she stammered. “I um, I don’t know.”

She fought the tears welling up in her eyes, and I felt so sorry for her. I had an idea though, of how I could help her, but I needed to talk with Melinda and Chris first.

I took her hand. “It’s going to be all right, child. You have friends here, you are not alone.”

This time she didn’t fight her tears, and I handed her the tissue box sitting on the coffee table.

Afternoon Delight — Melinda Blackstone-Livingston
and
Chris Blackstone-Livingston

“I thought we were heading home?” Chris asked, when I turned the car toward the Mt. Sutro Open Space Reserve.

Mt. Sutro is a wilderness sanctuary in the heart of the city, with trails for hiking, or bird watching, or nature inspiring scenes of greenery.

“Feel like going hiking?” I asked, with an ulterior motive.

“Sure, but I don’t have my hiking boots with me,” she replied.

“Yes, you do. I put them in the back this morning. Along with a picnic that Konani prepared for us.”

“You planned all this without my knowing? What a nice surprise.”

“Well, it wasn’t planned as much as it was a spur of the moment inspiration. When you went to powder that adorable nose of yours, I ran into the kitchen and asked Konani to pack an ice chest with food, and while she did that, I ran to the closet and got your boots.”

“Aren’t you the sly little devil?” Chris laughed.

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” I bragged.

We drove around until I found the parking lot and pulled up. Jumping out, I went to the back of the SUV, clicked the entry button on the remote, and waited for the liftgate to raise up. Then I picked up the backpack ice chest and slung it over my shoulders, while Chris changed her shoes.

“When on earth did you have time to go buy a backpack?” she asked.

“Charlotte, being the ever efficient butler that she is, asked me for a list of things I thought we might need, before we ever left Memphis,” I replied, adjusting the strap on my shoulder.

“She asked me too, but I didn’t even consider extracurricular activities,” she smirked.

Laughing, I said, “Well, you know where my mind was at.”

“Oh, yes, since the second time I met you,” she said, and bumped her shoulder against mine.

We traversed our way through the green carpeted woods and up and down several hills. I was trying to find a secluded place, off the beaten path, were we could be alone, but it wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be. Still, I found a hidden crevice under a clump of eucalyptus trees. I set the backpack down and looked around. The area was quiet except for the birds chirping in the trees. It was so quiet, in fact, that I could hear the flapping wings of hummingbirds nearby. It was the perfect spot.

I pulled out the picnic blanket and spread it out on the ground. Chris began pulling out the containers of food, and soon we had a banquet fit for a queen.

“Did you tell Konani what to pack?” she asked, opening the lid on one of the containers.

“No, I just told her we were going on a picnic. Why, what’s in there?”

She held out a container full of strawberries, and another container full of dark chocolate cubes.
Thank you, Konani!
Not that Chris or I needed an aphrodisiac, we were newlyweds after all. Still, it would be enticing to feed those succulent strawberries to my bride. I pulled out my cellphone and clicked on my playlist of love songs. I have had that list for years and the songs have never failed to set the mood.

Konani had also packed assorted cheeses, fruits, cold cuts, a half loaf of bread she had baked this morning, and a thermos full of non-alcoholic Sangria. As Chris would say, bless her heart. She knew exactly what I wanted.

We munched on the food and talked about Mooney. It wasn’t exactly the kind of romantic conversation I was hoping to have, but it was good to get some things worked out regarding him. Chris decided she would call his wife, Teresa, later, and set up a time to meet. I think Chris has some real reservations about the man, and talking with Teresa might satisfy them. I’m okay with that, as long as she doesn’t go alone. It wasn’t because Chris couldn’t take care of herself, it was just that I didn’t want to be separated from her for one second.

I was tired of eating, so I stretched out on the blanket and picked up a piece of chocolate. I reached up to Chris’s lips, and with one finger, pulled back her bottom lip. I placed the chocolate just inside her mouth. She wrapped her lips around my finger, and as I slowly pulled it out, her eyes rolled back in pleasure at tasting the dark chocolate. I selected a plump, juicy strawberry, and offered it to her lips, and she slowly, deliberately, took a bite of it, a drop of the fruit’s juices lingering on her chin. The sight of that sparkling drop of liquid set my loins on fire. I pulled her down to me and collected that tantalizing droplet with my tongue. Then I kissed her, deep and hard, and slid my hand under her blouse until I found what my clit motivated me to search for.

“You are so beautiful,” I growled, squeezing her breast until she arched her back. I love how her body so willingly surrenders to my touch. I kissed her again, stoking the fire so hot that she was wet with need.

Breathing heavily, she picked up a piece of chocolate, and with her thumb, pushed it inside my mouth. The chocolate melted instantly on my tongue, but I couldn’t swallow. My throat was choked with desire.

“I love you so much, Melinda. Make love to me.”

I pushed her blouse up and cupped both breasts, massaging the silky-soft skin until her tips were hard and hot.

“Oh, yes. Hurry, Melinda, please hurry,” she gasped.

I hurried, as much for me as for her. I was as close to an orgasm as she was, and I didn’t want to come before she did. I unzipped her jeans and slid my hand inside. She locked it in place with her thighs, and I teased her clitoris until her nerve endings bulged with blood. Her screams of release scared the birds from the trees, and just as they returned to the roost, my own orgasmic screams startled them out of the trees once again.

Chapter Eight

Do You Want Our Help or Not? — Chris Blackstone-Livingston
, Melinda Blackstone-Livingston
and
Teresa Mooney

The next day, I called Teresa and introduced myself. We set up a lunch date at the Buena Vista Café on Fisherman’s Wharf. I tried to get Melinda to stay home, thinking that Teresa might talk more freely if she weren’t there because of the antagonistic way Teresa felt toward her. But Melinda didn’t want me going alone, after what we had learned about John. I kind of liked her being so protective of me, but I also wanted to protect her. So I suggested that she sit at a table where she could see us, and I made her promise not to interfere, no matter what she heard Teresa say. We needed to learn all we could about John so that we could figure out how to help him.

“Mrs. Mooney, thank you so much for agreeing to meet with me. My name is Christine Blackstone-Livingston.”

Teresa was prematurely gray, although I don’t believe she was much older than I was. Her long hair was black, which made the gray stand out more, and her face was long and strained. Her dark brown eyes reminded me of Melinda’s eyes when she’s angry. Piercing and unrelenting.

“Please, call me Teresa,” she said.

“Thanks, and you can call me Chris,” I offered.

The waitress brought the menus and we looked over them for a moment as she pointed out the specials of the day. I ordered the tuna melt, and Teresa ordered the patty melt. The waitress wrote down our orders and left. I found it oddly distracting at the way Teresa was looking at the well-endowed waitress. Having been a waitress myself not too long ago, I recognized leering when I saw it.

Teresa looked at me curiously. “You said on the phone that you were helping Blackie. Are you her sister?”

“No, I’m her wife. We just got married last week, and—”

“Her wife?” She sat back and put her hand to her cheek. “Oh, no, are you one of those people?”

Instantly my temper boiled until my face flushed red.
Those people, my ass.
I looked at Melinda, who could hear the conversation from her table across from ours. She winked at me, and it calmed me. “Oh, no, are you one of
those
people?” I asked sarcastically.

“I’m a Christian, if that’s what you mean.” She said it like she belonged to an exclusive club.

“That’s funny, I’m a Christian, too,” I retorted.

“The Bible says that you’re an abomination,” she venomously responded.

God, please give me the words to keep from choking this bitch. Amen!
“That old rhetoric again. Listen, Teresa, we have all sinned in the eyes of God. You’re sinning right now.”

She shook her head. “No, I’m a good Christian.”

“And so am I.”

“You can’t be a Christian, you’re a…” she leaned forward and whispered, “a lesbian.”

Melinda stood up and I knew she was about to join us. I looked at her and shook my head lightly, and she sat back down, but she wasn’t happy about it.

“Yes, I am a lesbian,” I said, returning my gaze to Teresa. “I’m also one of over eight million Christian homosexuals in the United States. You cannot deny me my Christianity because my faith is stronger than your ugly, misconceived words. You say that you’re a Christian, and yet you sit there persecuting me in the name of our Lord? According to the Bible, that is a sin. So how is it that your Christianity is any better than mine?”

“Oh,” she mumbled.

I could see she was actually processing what I had said. That or she’s searching for a Bible verse to prove me wrong.
Well, bring it on sister. I can match you, verse for verse.
My first real crush was on a girl who would soon become a novitiate, and I helped her memorize Bible verses. I didn’t realize at the time that she would leave me to marry Jesus.

“I, um...” She smoothed down her blouse and then pushed back her hair from her face. “So, what was it you wanted to see me about?” she asked pointedly.

Wow. I may have actually gotten through to her.
That was my first confrontation with a heterosexual Christian and I thought it went really well, if I did say so myself.

The waitress brought our food, and as I placed my napkin in my lap, I said, “Melinda and I talked with the station owner yesterday, and he seemed to really like your husband. But he also explained to us why John was laid off. I was wondering if John was still drinking.”

She sat her fork down and looked at me sternly. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

“You saw our public service announcement, so you know that Melinda and I were both drinkers, and that we caused a lot of damage with our drinking. If John is still drinking there’s nothing we can do to help him until he decides he’s ready to get help. Trust me, I know, because I’ve been there. My parents tried everything to get me to stop, but it wasn’t until I woke up in an alley that I decided it was time to quit. No one could convince me to stop drinking until I convinced myself.”

She looked at me as if she was deciding whether to trust me or not. After our confrontation, I was frankly surprised she was even considering it. That said a lot about the woman sitting in front of me, and I needed to give her the benefit of the doubt.

“Yes… he is still drinking,” she stated.

“Teresa.” I looked closely at her, hoping I conveyed concern. “Is he abusive to you?”

She gasped, and I watched as her face transformed into righteous indignation. I half expected her to jump up and leave, but she didn’t. She just sat there, staring at me. After a moment, her face softened and she wrung her hands together.

“How did you know?” she asked.

“I didn’t. But if we’re going to help John, we have to know if he’s worth helping. By that, I mean it won’t do us any good to invest in his future if he’s going to waste it on liquor.”

“Chris.” She looked at me softly. “He is a good man, worth his weight in gold. He’s just run into some hard times and needs a reason to quit drinking.”

I looked at the sincerity in her face and felt that she must love him deeply. That kind of love should not be disregarded. It told me that John had once been a man worth loving.

“Teresa, why did he start drinking in the first place?”

She sighed, took a sip of her cola, and wiped her lips with her napkin, then looked at me. “Personally, I believed it started when your
wife
got him kicked out of college. He lost his scholarship and couldn’t afford the tuition, so he got a job washing dishes. Then when he did get back on his feet, and we got married, the market crashed, and he lost everything again.”

I was suddenly hit by an inspiration so simple in its genius that I dropped my fork and it clanged about on my plate. “Teresa, you called Melinda because you saw her on our commercial. Did you realize that it was for college scholarships for students with a drinking problem? John should apply, and if he qualifies, he’d have his college tuition paid for. And I can almost guarantee that he would qualify.”

“And what would he have to sacrifice for this generous opportunity?” she asked sarcastically.

The woman was a hard ass, but I guess I would be just as skeptical if it was me. “He would have to pledge in writing not to drink. Also, he will be investigated by our private detective, to assure that he’s not doing anything illegal.”

“Oh, is that all?” she asked snidely.

“No, he will also have to be enrolled in an accredited college to be eligible. But we can help with that too.”

“Let me get this straight. He’s unemployed, we are living on my minimum wage cashier’s job, and you want him to go traipsing off to college?”

“I want him to get sober, and he needs a reason to do that,” I explained. “If we provide him with a reason, do you think he would stop drinking?”

“Yes, I do. He just needs a chance, that’s all. He’s been knocked down so many times that it’s hard for him to see much of a future.”

“Teresa, I’m going to ask you a personal question, and you don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to. I want to know how far you’re willing to go to keep your marriage safe.”

“I went to the devil herself, if that tells you anything,” she replied.

I took immediate offense to that, but then tried to see it from Teresa’s point of view. Nope, I was still offended. “Look, I don’t know what you think you know about Melinda, but she is a loving, caring, charismatic woman who is trying to do the right thing. Is your husband willing to go on national TV and say he was wrong and that he hurt people?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“No, I didn’t think so. Now if you would kindly get your head out of your ass and see what we are offering you, we might be able to help John.” I was probably a little too aggressive, but she was talking about my wife, and I’m not going to let anyone berate Melinda, not when she’s trying to do some good for people.

I glanced over at Melinda, who was silently clapping. I had to swallow a laugh bubbling up inside of me before I could look at Teresa again.

“All right,” she finally relented. “But I don’t know how I can convince him to go back to college, when we’re barely making ends meet as it is.”

“First we need to get him employed.” Melinda held her thumb up and nodded. She had a plan. “Okay, you leave that to us,” I said. “Melinda and I will help John get back on his feet.”

Teresa’s mouth opened slightly, and tears welled up in her eyes. She nodded, but said nothing.

I wiped my mouth with my napkin and then laid it over the top of my empty plate. I don’t remember having eaten, so intense was our conversation. But I obviously did, and I felt full and satisfied. Satisfied because I was able to get through to that stubborn woman. We had reached a pragmatic working relationship, and that was probably the best either of us could hope for.

*

“So, what’s your plan, honey?” I asked, strapping on my seatbelt.

She started the SUV and then put her seatbelt on also. “I’m going to get him a job,” she said pithily.

“I thought we decided that was just paying him off?”

“Not if we can get him sobered up. It won’t be a handout. He’ll have to pass a drug and alcohol test, which means he’ll have to be sober for a least a week, maybe two,” Melinda explained.

“I’m still confused,” I replied.

“Okay, here’s what I’ve got in mind. Tell me if you see a problem with any of it. I’ll go back and talk with Jarod, and persuade him to rehire John, if John passes the tests. And if he does pass it, then Jarod convinces him to go to college because the new owner, which will be me, requires a general manager to have a bachelor’s degree. He’ll tell him about our scholarship program, and hopefully, he’ll sign up,” Melinda finished with a smug look.

“One problem. Why would Jarod be willing to do all that? He’s ready to retire and if you buy the station, who will run it?”

“John will. He’ll want to stay sober, especially when he learns he’ll have a chance to own the station,” Melinda said.

“There’s just a couple of flaws in your plan,” I told her.

Not so smug now.

“Considering the way John feels about you, I doubt he’ll apply for the scholarship out of pure stubbornness. And, when he finds out you bought the radio station, he’ll freak.”

“Well, if he doesn’t take advantage of the scholarship that will be his choice and not my fault. I’m hoping that by the time he finds out I own the station, he’ll be too heavily vested in it to quit.”

“Won’t he know the minute you buy it?” I asked.

“No, my father’s lawyer will handle all the details, and keep my name out of it. My father has done it this way many times.”

“All right, you’ve thought it through pretty well. I think it’s a good plan, and if he doesn’t take advantage of it, then like you said, it will be his choice.”

“I’m glad you approve. So what else do we have to do today?” Melinda asked.

“Nothing else until tomorrow. Our first scholarship winner, Emily Morton, attends classes on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Friday’, so Kate set up a meeting with her for tomorrow, which is Wednesday.”

“Fantastic. Then I suggest we go home and work up an appetite for dinner,” Melinda said.

I had to admit that I was growing hungry, and it had nothing to do with food.