Disclaimer: The following story is a work of fiction. If you are offended by descriptions of homosexual acts or man/man relations, please exit this page.
THE LIFEGUARD
Copyright c 2000 by Orrin C. Rush. All rights reserved.
Neither this story nor any parts of it may be distributed electronically or in any other manner without the express, written consent of the author. All rights are retained.
Lifeguard 12
"I feel like I've let you down," Eric said. "I didn't support you when I should have."
"Don't worry, babe," I told him. "Nobody could have predicted this. We'll talk about it tonight."
"Just know I'm with you," he said.
"Don't be surprised to find the gates closed at home," I told him, changing the subject. "Your garage door opener will open them."
"Come home early," he begged. "I need to hold you."
The gates were closed, and company security had installed a guard. He waved me through. Better to be safe than sorry, I guess, but I hated the necessity for all this.
Eric was waiting in the garage. When I stepped out, he silently took me in his arms, tears in his eyes. "Will you forgive me?" he almost begged.
"What's to forgive?" I asked. "We disagreed, and this time, I happened to be right."
We walked into the house, arm in arm, coming into the den.
"Let's not blow this out of proportion," I told him.
"I love you so much," he said. "I never want to disappoint you."
"Listen, my love," I said seriously, "over time, we're going to disagree about a lot of things. We'll see things differently, and have different opinions. I don't expect you to always agree with me, and I hope you don't plan on me always agreeing with you. We're two different people who just happen to love each other, but we're bound to have differences."
"That's true," he said. "I guess it's how we handle them that's important."
"It is," I said. "Since this is the first time we've been on opposite sides, we can learn from it. We have to learn how to agree to disagree without allowing anything to get out of control. Probably, I overreacted last night myself."
"Whatever happens, we have to stick together," he said.
"Speaking of that," I said, "we'd better get ready for a lot of changes. Let's watch the news and see how bad it's going to be."
It was the lead story on the local news. As expected, the innuendos were rampant. Without actually saying so, carefully worded questions were asked about my involvement in the mess unfolding in Las Vegas. The unanswered questions invited speculation, and opened up all sorts of grisly possibilities, none favorable to me.
The Las Vegas Sheriff was keeping mum. Spokespersons would only say that the investigation was ongoing, promising dramatic revelations soon, but fueling speculation in the meantime.
The national news even picked up the story, intimating that the investigation was centering on me. Trial by the media, without a scrap of real evidence. It was sickening.
The news was barely over when Eric's cell phone buzzed. We weren't even answering the other one. "It's Dad," he said, handing the phone to me.
"Hello, Dave," he said. "How're you holding up?"
"I don't know, yet," I answered.
"As your Attorney, and a father, and father-in-law, too," he chuckled, "I'd like to come over and talk with you guys."
"Come on over," I said. "Can you stay for dinner?"
"Sure, see you in about 20 minutes," he said.
"Your Dad's on his way over," I told Eric.
He was snuggled in my arms when Annie burst in.
"This is absolute bullshit!" she yelled. "They're making it sound like you 'offed' the guy, Dad."
"I know, we just watched the news," I said. "There's not a damned thing we can do, either."
"I'd like to 'off' a couple of people myself right now," she said, plopping into a chair.
"Karl's on his way over," I said, "Want to sit in?"
"If you don't mind, I'd love to," she said.
We chatted about the unfairness of the whole situation.
Karl was smiling when he came in. "No great news," he said, "but some progress."
Eric gave his Dad a hug then made drinks for all of us.
"I talked with the Mayor of Las Vegas this afternoon," Karl said. "When he was a defense Attorney, we worked on a couple of cases together. He's not very happy about what's happening either.
"He says the Sheriff is a loose cannon and won't listen to reason from anybody. A lot of people are really pissed about his grandstanding, and his political future is definitely on the line. Unless he nails somebody with a smoking gun damned soon, he's going to be out on his ass."
"Do they have anything solid yet?" I asked.
"Nothing that I've been able to find out about," he said. "I hate to tell you this, but if this really is a Mob hit, then they m never nail anyone. Remember Jimmy Hoffa?
"The Mayor's really pissed about the whole thing, too," he continued. "Vegas is trying so hard to put on a 'wholesome' image and this kind of publicity isn't what they're looking for at all. They'd like the Sheriff to keep it quiet instead of shouting from the housetops. The pressure on the Sheriff is definitely mounting."
"What can we expect from all this?" I asked.
"I told the Mayor about your predicament," he said, "and he was very sympathetic. To prove my point, I sent a copy of the interview tape to him by courier this afternoon. With that, he will have a lot more leverage.
"Bottom line, Dave," he continued, "is you'll eventually receive an apology from the Sheriff. Too little, too late, I agree, and the media'll ignore it, not sensational enough."
"Grin and bear it, I guess," I said.
"That's about all you can do," he said. "It's not a legal matter, everybody's being real careful, but I do have some advice for you guys. While this media feeding frenzy is going on, the last thing you want to do is give them any more ammunition. I'm talking about you and Eric. If they got hold of that, they'd have a field day. For god's sake don't be seen together in public. In fact, it might be a good idea if Eric moved home until this blows over."
In a very low voice, but one full of vehemence, Eric spoke for the first time. "There is no way in hell that I'm going anyplace unless Dave throws me out."
I smiled at him. "That's never going to happen," I said.
"Hell, if anybody asks," Annie said, "Eric's MY boyfriend!"
We were a united front. Karl saw that immediately and changed his tune. I realize that his intentions were good, and that he wanted to protect us, but this was a family thing, and we were together.
For the next two weeks, virtually nothing happened. The Sheriff held frequent press conferences to keep his name in the headlines, but no arrests were made, and he didn't mention my name. When asked, he had a standard reply, "We're still investigating."
Our lives returned to some semblance of normal. Annie and I went to work, Eric went to school.
A deluge of support came from all directions. Our home phone, now forwarded to the Company's communications center, rang day and night. There were calls of encouragement from people we didn't know, and people I hadn't heard from in years. There were a few nasty ones, too, but they were very few in number.
Our credit was evidently still good because refinancing of the hotels went through without a hitch, and we ended up with almost 500 million more in the bank than we'd started out with.
Annie did a bang-up job on the project, and took over coordinating integration of the new company into Metalco. It would remain a subsidiary, but she saw to it that all real control, the money, in other words, was handled by Metalco people.
Chateau's headquarters in Las Vegas would be gradually dismantled, with employees given the option of moving or being laid off. It was generally agreed that we didn't want to do business in Nevada after the treatment I'd received there.
One evening, Bill followed me home. Eric was in his study working, but came out to have a drink with us.
"Got something here for you," Bill told Eric, taking an envelope out of his pocket and handing it to him.
"What's this?" Eric asked, looking at the envelope.
"Open it," Bill urged. I already knew what it was.
"Oh my god!" Eric shrieked. "This is a joke, isn't it?"
"No, it's very real," Bill assured him. "It's your fee, and you damned well earned it."
"But five million bucks?" he asked.
"We figure that's 25% of what we saved, and you're entitled to it," Bill continued. "Don't spend it all in one place."
Eric looked like he was in a daze.
"If we ever make a deal with the Miltons, you'll get another one," Bill added. "It might be a little more substantial."
"What am I going to do with this?" Eric asked.
"Maybe our tax boys could help you," Bill offered. "There are ways to keep the IRS from gobbling it all up."
"That'd be great," Eric said.
"Call me and I'll set it up," Bill said. "I've got to hit the road see you guys later."
When he had gone, Eric came over to me, took me in his arms, and said "I don't know how to thank you."
"Don't thank me," I said, "first, you earned it, and second, Bill demanded that we pay you for services rendered. This is strictly business, remember."
"At least, now I can pay my own way," he said. "I'm going to close those accounts you set up for me."
"Please don't. Use this to start a nest-egg for yourself," I said, pointing at the check he was still holding. "You know by now that I don't even know what's going on, and don't care, but I'd like you to continue using them."
"If it means that much to you, I will," Eric said. "But, at least know that I can repay you at any time. That makes me feel a lot better."
After a month, even the media got bored with the whole thing. Even though the announcement rated only a third page paragraph in the local papers, the Sheriff's statement that I was totally vindicated meant a lot to me. The notoriety would pass.
Someone else evidently read about it, in another paper, because we got a call from one of the "Texas Widows" inviting us to Texas for a down home kickass party.
Eric and I talked it over. We'd been virtual hermits, even through the Thanksgiving holiday, and maybe this was just what we needed. Why not? We could even try out one of our hotels. Not only did we accept, we both got kind of excited about getting out again. We considered how the "Widow's" husbands would react to a couple of gay men, but decided that the gals wouldn't lead us into an embarassing situation.
Eric was more animated than he'd been in a long time. When I asked why, he just grinned. He was up to something.
The party was on a Saturday night, but we decided to fly to Dallas Friday afternoon. We had two hotels there, and wanted to spend Saturday looking them over. From the moment we arrived, we were treated like visiting royalty. The manager met us at the door and insisted that he was "at our disposal" for the duration of our stay, and invited us to have a drink with him that evening in the hotel's bar.
We had requested a two-bedroom suite for appearances sake, and once there, unloaded most of our stuff in the largest. Eric took one suitcase into the other one while I was unpacking. He was gone quite a while, but I didn't pay much attention.
It was a Portman designed hotel, so we met the manager in the rooftop revolving restaurant for a drink. He laughingly told us that he'd reported our pending arrival to the chain's headquarters, and that they'd put a lot of pressure on him to make sure we were happy. They'd be re-negotiating leases on some of our other hotels that they operated, and they wanted us to be happy with them. I liked his openness and asked a lot of questions.
We had a leisurely dinner in another, more intimate, restaurant in the hotel with the chef himself hovering over us.
Back in the room, I headed for bed. Eric wanted to putter around awhile, he said. When he finally came in, wearing a big grin, he started a slow, sensuous strip. It took him at least fifteen minutes to get everything off. He stood there bumping and grinding with that wonderful cock of his bobbing and swaying. He beckoned with his finger for me to join him. I was hesitant, I just wanted his hot body to get into bed, but he insisted.
He didn't stop there. Once he had my hand, he led me out and into the other bedroom. He had been busy. Lighted candles were everywhere, and there was what looked like a plastic sheet on the bed. He led me over to the window overlooking the city, and we were standing on another piece of plastic. His hands were all over my body, rubbing, touching softly. The next thing I felt were his hands, again, but coated with warm oil. He continued, oiling me up from head to foot, with a more than generous coating on my cock, balls and ass.
"Here," he said, softly, handing me the bottle of oil. "Your turn.
I was incredibly turned on, and into whatever he had planned.
I took the oil and started with his back, coating him completely. When I got down to his butt, I rubbed it into his hard cheeks and down the crack and under to his balls. Down his legs, then back up the front. I detoured around his dick, working up his abs and across his chest and nipples. Last, using both hands, I generously coated his dick and pubic hair, and with a handful of oil, massaged his balls.
He took the bottle from me, set it down, and took me in his arms. It was unbelievably sensual. We rubbed against each other, our dicks sliding together against our bellies.
Leading me to the bed, he pulled me down on top of him. We were pressed together full length. I started moving, enjoying the wonderful feeling of all the lubrication that had the nerve endings all over my body going berserk. We kissed, we rolled, our hands going everywhere on the other. He rubbed my ass, I rubbed his, and our dicks enjoyed the sensations from whatever body part they happened to be rubbing against.
There was very little talking, but occasional giggling when we'd slide unexpectedly. It was, without doubt the most sensual experience I'd ever had. Orgasm wasn't the immediate objective. Feeling good was.
I was on top of him, grinding my pelvis against his with him thrusting against me when he asked "Can you cum like this?"
"Don't want to," I answered, "this feels too damned good!"
"You're gonna cum at least twice before this is over," he said, increasing his thrusting and pulling my lips to his. His legs went around me, and we got even more frenzied. It built fast, and before I could back off, I was spewing my load all over him. Feeling that evidently set him off too because he began spasming beneath me. I had to really hang on to keep from sliding off.
Even while we were still panting, Eric's finger was playing with my asshole. I revived in record time, and wanted more than just his finger in me. I slid forward and got on my knees above him. He hadn't softened noticeably, and slipped all the way in on my first downstroke.
With all the lubrication, I was able to slide around and feel all of the internal nerve endings getting stimulated. I dipped my fingers into the pool of cum that covered his chest and tasted it, then fed him some as we looked into each other's eyes.
He started thrusting upward, and I raised up to give him more room to move. Longer strokes, enough to set me on fire. He took my dick in both his well greased hands and started stroking in the same rhythm that he was thrusting. I met his thrusts, pushing him as deep into me as he could go. I wanted everything he had.
I started to build. He sensed it and moved faster, harder. It was raw, powerful, pleasure, and ended all too soon. More white stuff was sprayed on his chest, and I felt a big load being deposited deep inside me.
"God I love you!" I said, smearing the cum all over us.
"Helluva mess," he giggled, "but more than worth it. That was awesome!"
We kissed, softly, tenderly, with him still inside of me, still har
"Wanna try for thirds?" he teased.
I started moving again, impaling myself on him.
"Just kidding! Just kidding!" he laughed.
Reluctantly, I let him slide out of me.
Cleanup was easy. The plastic sheets were disposable.
We took a shower together, and had a lot of fun getting all, or at least most of the oil off of ourselves. Spooned, in bed, he asked "Can we do this in every one of your hotels?"
Claire sent a car to pick us up, an elegant black Rolls. Quite a change from the last Rolls we'd ridden in.
Dress was "Dude Western", so we wore blue jeans, western shirts and cowboy boots.
They seemed totally inappropriate when we pulled up in front of a shining white portico connected to an enormous neo-classical mansion.
Claire came running out and threw her arms around us. "So good to see 'yall again," she drawled.
We followed her in, and were met by "Big George", her husband. George lived up to his name. He was just plain huge, with a pleasant, happy, smiling face.
"So you're the men that took care of our womenfolk down there in the Carrybeeean!" he roared. "They been tellin us some pretty good stories bout you guys. Glad to have yall in Texas."
He pumped our hands with real strength and sincerity.
"C'mon yall," Claire said, "party's out in the back yard." She led, we followed her blue Squaw dress and about a half pound of diamonds.
The "Back Yard" consisted of about 5 acres of manicured lawn surrounded by huge old oak trees. There was a dance floor and a bandstand where a Country- Western band was playing. There were people everywhere, must have been a couple of hundred. As we came through the doors, we were almost drowned by a sea of blonde. The rest of the "widows" were upon us.
I don't think I've experienced such an effusive greeting in my life. It was wonderful and made me feel really good and very welcome.
We were drug off to meet all their husbands. Without exception, they were downright friendly. A couple of them, in turn, took us to meet more of the crowd. No way could I remember all the names. A "y'all" would have to do for the evening. Eric had been pulled in one direction, me in another. We met up again in a crowd surrounding Big George.
"That was shore some shitty deal you got up there in Las Vegas," he said to me.
"Not a lot of fun," I answered.
"If'n that asshole Sheriff was here in Texas, I'd a shot the sumbitch and got away with it!" he roared.
"I thought about it," I admitted.
"Wouldn't a worked up there," he said "them people just ain't civilized!"
Conversation drifted to business in general, oil in particular. I listened, mostly. I also mused about the situation we were in. Here were two gay men standing around talking business with the supposed epitomes of Southern Redneckism. I'm almost certain all of them knew we were gay and not a one showed the slightest problem with it. Amazing. Times were changing.
Dinner was Barbecue. What else? Served out of a full-size Chuckwagon, of course. There was the typical Texas Barbecue as well as a more refined version consisting of broiled quail, pheasant, and several types of seafood. I sampled everything, and it was all great.
I didn't get to talk to Eric. He was seated across the table, monopolized by a "Bubba" and one of the widows. Eye contact was frequently made, and I knew he was having a good time.
The band had been playing kind of background music, then the tempo and volume stepped up considerably. "Time to do si do," Claire informed us.
Even before I was dragged onto the dance floor, I had decided to give it a good try. Luckily, it was a line dance, and I could follow pretty well after a few minutes. I worked up a sweat in the humid air. The next one was a rather complicated square dance, and I begged off. Eric, however, seemed to be in his element. He obviously knew what he was doing, and appeared to be having a wonderful time.
"Looks like we got us a ringer," Big George commented. "That blond feller's damned good!"
It surprised me too.
Eric didn't leave the dance floor until the band took a break. I talked with the "Good Old Boys" about everything from "awl" to "farmin." I got dragged onto the floor every time there was a line dance, and did my best.
Around midnight, another buffet was set up, we ate again, then danced some more. Eric far more than me. Finally, the party started to break up, and we were driven back to the hotel after a really long goodbye with our hosts.
We were tired, but I, at least, felt more alive than I had in a long time. Alone in the elevator, Eric backed into my crotch and wiggled. "I want you tonight, bad," he said.
I don't think either of us were disappointed.
We got home in midafternoon, and Annie was waiting for us. Grinning.
"You're not going to believe this," she said. "Better sit down, Dad, for this one."
I sat, she continued. "Tina arrives on Thursday."
I felt like I'd been struck by lightning.
Eric looked at me, then at Annie. "Who the hell's Tina?" he asked.
"My little sister," Annie smirked. "The world's most selfish, spoiled, conceited, egotistical brat, who also worships my Mother and doesn't think much of Dad."
"I don't want to see her," I said.
"What's going on here?" Eric asked.
I was still stunned, but Annie filled in. "Tina's three years younger than me. She was Mom's favorite, and believed all the crap Mom spouted about Dad and grew up to be a first class bitch. I grew up resenting her, and I still don't like her. Now, here she's paying us a royal visit, and even bringing her fiance, Baron Gunter von something."
"Then why are you so happy about it?" Eric asked.
"Because it'll give me a chance to show her something she'll never experience. Happiness. I want to rub her nose in it, show her what she's missing," Annie said, her eyes flashing. "It'll also make me feel real good for her to see how happy Dad is, too. The way she's treated him is downright criminal, but she got that from Mom."
"They're not staying here with us," I said. "There's no way I'm going to subject Eric to THAT!"
"I don't blame you Dad," Annie said. "We'll put them in a hotel."
I had a lot of questions. "WHY is she coming here?" I asked. "What does she want from us, and how long is she staying?"
"The only answer I have, Dad, is that they're going to be here a few days." Annie said. "I can only guess at the 'why'. Maybe she's been reading the papers and realizes how much you really have, and also, after the Las Vegas thing, might think that you're softened up. That's just a guess, but fits her devious mind."
"I do NOT want her around for Christmas," I said.
"I don't either," Annie said. "By the way, guys, did you have fun in Texas?"
Eric, obviously pleased that the subject had been changed, told her about our trip.
"Eric was the 'belle of the ball'," I added, chuckling. "You wouldn't believe what a dancer he is."
"I haven't danced like that since High School," he added.
We talked a while longer, then Annie left to meet Kevin.
"I'm really surprised about Tina," Eric said. "You've never mentioned her."
"After the last time she was here, 3 or 4 years ago, she ceased to exist as far as I'm concerned," I told him.
"What happened?" he asked.
"She had a fight with her Mother, didn't get something she wanted, so she came running here. I didn't give whatever it was to her either, and she turned into the nastiest person I've ever encountered." I told him. "Compared to her, a redneck homophobe is a pleasant person. I've never been called so many names or been so totally degraded in my life."
"That must have hurt," he said.
"A lot. She gets it from her Mother, who is a very unhappy, bitter lady who hates my guts." I said.
"You never talk about her, either," he said.
"Why? That's all in the past, over and done with," I said.
"I'd still like to hear the whole story, someday," he said.
"Someday," I promised.
"It's a real shame," he said, changing the subject. "We come home from a great weekend, and here's this waiting for us."
"Oh hell," I said, "we'll get through this one too. I just hate fo you to have to go through it."
"I'm with you, whatever," he said, taking me into his arms. "We're in this together, remember? And, that includes everything!"
Annie offered to pick up Tina and the Baron at the airport and deposit them in a hotel. She'd made reservations for them, separate rooms. I'm sure that would go over big. She was fiendish!
When she got home, she came straight to the den where Eric and I were waiting.
She looked pensive. "Something really weird is going on," she said as she plopped down.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"That just can't be the same Tina we've known and hated all these years!" she said. "This one is so damned nice you wouldn't believe it. She's actually human! This can't be the same person. Must be a clone with a different personality."
"Have you talked with her at all since she was here the last time?" I asked.
"Not until last Sunday," she answered. "This change in her is too good to be true. I can't figure out what's going on here."
I decided to wait and see for myself. "What about the Baron," I asked, changing the subject.
"Wait'll you see him!" she said. "He's one of the most drop-dead gorgeous men I've ever seen in my life! The only problem is that he's so damned smoooooth. He makes me nervous. Better lock up the silverware tomorrow night when they come over. I just don't trust that guy.
"I just can't see Tina hooking up with a guy like that," she said. "And, he's a real Baron to boot. Damn, she'll be a Baroness if they get married. Wonder if I'll have to curtsy?"
"It does sound too good to be true," I agreed. "Let's wait and see what happens tomorrow night."
Eric hadn't said a word. "I'm getting confused," he said. "All these changes. I'm not sure whether I'm supposed to love or hate this girl."
"We'll play it by ear," I said.
Annie picked them up at their hotel and brought them home. This wasn't the haughty bitch I'd expected, at all. She greeted me with a hug, a peck on the cheek, and a ravishing smile, treating me like a long-lost father whom she dearly adored. She even greeted Eric warmly, and introduced us to her handsome fiance.
He was everything Annie had described, and more. Utter male perfection.
Watching Tina, I saw her as almost girlish, childlike. Almost docile. Her conversation was animated and funny, telling us about her wonderful experiences in Europe where she'd met Gunter.
As the evening went on, through dinner, it was like there had never been any harsh words or animosity between us, ever. Mostly, I listened and watched, leaving the conversation to the other four.
Gunter was as 'slick' as Annie said. Polished and smooth. He also seemed to have an almost hypnotic effect on Tina.
It was like a model family get-together, everyone on their best behavior.
Annie took them back to their hotel. Eric and I slipped into the den to discuss what'd just happened.
"I don't know if I should tell you," he said, "but you should know about this."
"What?" I asked.
"Gunter made a pass at me," he said.
"That son-of-a-bitch!" I roared. "What the hell did he do?"
"While we were having drinks, do you remember me going to get ice?" he asked. I nodded. "Well, Gunter followed me, and while I was getting the ice, he came up behind me, ground his crotch into my ass and tried to play with my dick. I elbowed him in the gut, hard, and demanded that he leave the kitchen. He didn't say anything, and I didn't either."
"And that son-of-a-bitch wants to marry my daughter!" I said, not too calmly. "It's definitely OK to be gay, but leave the women out of it, my daughter in particular."
"Maybe he's bi," Eric offered.
"I don't buy that," I said. "In my opinion, you're either gay or straight. You like men or women, not both. I may be wrong, but that's the way I feel."
"I don't really know," Eric said.
"All things aside," I said, "Tina's still my daughter, and she deserves better than a two-timing fag for a husband. Is he so fucking arrogant that he thinks you wouldn't tell me about what happened? Even though I'm gay, doesn't the asshole realize that I'll be furious?"
"It doesn't make any sense to me either," he said.
At about that minute, Annie got back. She took one look at me. "What're you so hot about, Dad?" she asked.
"You're not going to believe this," I said. "That goddamned Gunter made a pass at Eric!"
She surprised me by bursting out laughing. "Nothing surprises me about those two," she laughed. "It's getting weirder and weirder."
"So weird," she turned serious, "that I snagged his glass at lunch today and took it back to Security. They lifted his fingerprints from it, and they're running a check on him as we speak."
I had to smile. That's my girl!
"When will you hear anything?" I asked.
"They're going to fax me anything they have here, tomorrow morning," she said.
"Will you let me see?" I asked.
"Absolutely," she said.
In bed, Eric and I reviewed the evening. Nothing made any sense. Maybe the reports in the morning would shed some light. I knew they'd be good. Our security guys could find out anything about anybody.
"That's the first time anybody's touched me 'that way' since I met you," he said. "I feel almost violated."
"That's my private territory," I kidded him. "I'm the only one who's allowed any violations."
"I wish you would," he grinned, spreading his legs and pulling them up.
Annie was already up when we wandered into the kitchen. She was at the table, reading.
"Verrrry interesting! Here, see for yourself," she said, handing me several pages.
"Coffee first," I said.
Eric and I sat side by side, the report on the table between us. We all read, silently.
First, his childhood. He'd grown up in Bavaria, been popular, athletic and a good student. He attended some Polytechnik school, majoring in international affairs, and sampling a wide range of boys and girls.
Following that, he completely dropped out of sight for over two years, surfacing in Venice as a Baron and jumping into the local social swim. The title had been legitimately purchased, and was authentic but not hereditary. Where he got the money to buy it was a mystery.
With his title, youth, charm and good looks, he was an instant hit. He soon married an American expatriot heiress, but she disappeared, leaving him a widdower and a huge pot of cash.
He was questioned in the case, but was dropped for lack of evidence. His wife's body never had been found.
After a proper period of mourning, he had rejoined the social whirl, not only in Venice, but all over Europe. He mingled with the rich and famous, and had affairs with both men and women.
He was hauled in for drug dealing several times, but got off with a slap on the wrist.
About the time he made the top of the social ladder, he got caught in an affair with a German tycoon's wife. The scandal subsided and he was as popular as ever, until he was caught with a male prostitute, freshly dead, in a London hotel room. He skipped bail, went to Paris, met Tina, and they both fled to the Caribbean. It was thought that Tina didn't know anything about all of this.
We finished reading. Eric broke the silence. "What're you going to do?" he asked.
"Fry his ass," I answered.
"I agree," Annie added. "The question is when, where and how. Let me think about this for a minute, I'm coming up with an idea."
I shrugged at Eric, and said "It'd only take one phone call."
"No," Annie said. "I've got a better idea. From here, they're going to Indianapolis to see Mom. We let them get comfy, and give Mom a chance to show off her Titled son-in-law to be, then we sic the cops on 'em. Let Mom get the publicity for a change, and she gets stuck with Tina instead of us."
"Diabolical," I said. "Do you think it'll work?"
"I'll make it work," she said, "personally if necessary. Tina doesn't deserve a jerk like that, but she'll probably come unglued when they nail him. Mom won't be any help, and we'll probably end up with her anyway."
"I can't believe you people!" Eric said seriously, then broke into a big grin. "I think it's a helluva plan! As you said, babe, fry the bastard."
"I'll handle it," Annie volunteered. "No point in getting you guys involved. I do need to find out if the Brits can extradite him, though."
"Call Dad, he'll know," Eric suggested.
"What's his number?" she asked, getting up and heading for the phone.
The conversation was short, and when she came back smiling, I knew she'd gotten the answers she wanted.
"They can nail him here in the U.S.," she said. "I'll arrange for the leak to come from someplace else."
"Go for it, kiddo," I said and gave her a hug. "Now that that's taken care of, Christmas is next week guys, what're we going to do?"
"It'll be our first together," Eric said to me. "Let's make it something special."
To be continued.
Author's note: Feedback and comments are always very welcome. I carefully consider all suggestions and constructive criticism. I'd really like to hear from you guys. orrinrush@yahoo.com.