Blood Brothers (14 page)

Michael’s old friend wasn’t about to be
shrugged off so easily. “Well, you see, Michael, as it stands, this
isn’t simply a social call.”

“Oh, really.” Michael was back in control of
himself. Yet, there was no denying that Jerry’s presence left him a
bit uneasy.

“And just what is this then.”

“Well, old buddy, old pal, your friend Jerry
has been having hard times as of late. Out of work, down on my
luck, you know the spiel.”

“Yeah,” Michael said. He closed his eyes for
the briefest of instants, trying to mentally calculate how much
this unexpected visit was going to cost him.

“It’s not my fault, you understand. Jobs are
hard to find with a record like mine. You do remember my record
don’t you…Mikey?”

Michael flinched at his abbreviated name. It
had been a very long time since he’d last been addressed that
casually. He didn’t care for it, either.

“How much?” Michael asked simply.

Though he was quite sure Jerry heard him
well, “What’d you say?”

“How much? How much will it take for you to
just get up and leave, and not to come back?”

Jerry sat up straighter in his chair, his
hands gripping the chair arms tightly. “It’s not going to be that
easy, Mikey. Not that easy at all.”

Finishing his own drink, Michael swaggered
back over to his desk. Now that the conversation had turned to
matters of money, he felt more in his element. He sat behind his
desk, pulled his large, faux leather checkbook from a drawer—the
business account. Blackmail was a nasty thing, he knew all about it
up close and personal, but a man like him used such shady tactics
from time to time. He was not averse to paying a pittance to make
this man walk away. Michael pulled his pen from his shirt, a Mont
Blanc ballpoint, an exquisite writing instrument.

“Name your price.” Michael sounded not unlike
a confident loan officer.

“I said it was not going to be that easy,
Mikey. And I meant it.” Jerry was standing now, close to the desk,
too close for comfort.

“Look, take the money and go. I need to go.
I’ve had enough of this get-together to last me a while.”

Jerry reached over and slapped him.

“You motherfucker,” Michael spat, coming
around the desk. Jerry grabbed him and slammed his face down onto
the desk. Jerry applied pressure to his wrist and it started to
hurt…a lot.

“Now, Mikey. I know you’re all grown up. But
if you can’t play with the big boys, then keep your seat.”

There was something hard pressing into
Michael’s back. Somehow, Michael didn’t really think that it was
Jerry’s manhood, aroused by his cologne.

“You’re pulling a gun on me, Jerry? In my own
fucking office, you’re pulling a gun on me!”

“Don’t sound so outraged. If it weren’t for
you, I wouldn’t even know how to use one. Or did all your big time
money make you forget that, too?”

“I haven’t forgotten anything. Not one single
thing, you crazy bastard. Now, let me up.”

And then he was free. He spun around. Jerry
held a very large pistol on him. He must’ve secreted it in tucked
in the waistband of his pants.

“You going to shoot me, Jerry? Right
here?”

“You sound as if you couldn’t fathom such a
thing. Does your wealth insulate you to such a degree that you
actually don’t believe violence can be inflicted on you? Do you
think you are so high and mighty that no one would dare pull the
trigger on you? Well, if you do, you’ve got it real messed up.

“And let me tell you something else,” Jerry
said, the gun never wavering. “No one knows I’m here. No one. I
could empty the clip in your cranium, walk out and be gone. Do you
really think anyone would ever catch me? You’re not the fucking
president, you’re certainly not Donald Trump, and you’re not even a
movie star. You’re playing big shot, but you’re nothing more than a
bloated goldfish in a very tiny bowl, you pathetic piece of
shit.”

“Just cool it,” Michael said, slowly stepping
away. “Just cool it.”

“I want it all.”

“Huh?”

“Everything. I want it all. You wouldn’t have
any of it without me. I want every penny. Twenty million.”

A nervous laugh escaped Michael; he couldn’t
hold it in. “Twenty million? I don’t have that kind of money.”

“Oh, you do. Not liquid, I know that. You
have about ten in cash, another five coming from last night’s
transaction. Your homes, plural, your car, your stocks, bonds, and
hell, even your wife’s wedding ring…that should just about do
it.”

“You’re crazy.”

“I may be. But I know this: without me you
wouldn’t have two nickels to rub together. And don’t you deny
it!”

“That will ruin me.” Michael had to prop
himself up on the corner of his desk. His recently found courage
leaked away like air through a pinhole. “I can’t, Jerry. I
can’t.”

“Oh yes, you can.” He pulled his cell phone
from his pocket and dialed numbers on the keypad without taking his
eyes of Michael. “And you will.

“Send it.” After those words, he placed the
phone back in his pocket and began moving backwards, slowly and
cautiously to the door. As Jerry reached the door, Michael’s email
client chimed, informing him of new mail.

“Better check that, pal. I’ll be in
touch.”

And then he was out the door. Michael briefly
considered pursuit. He had no weapon in the office and he had no
inclination to wrestle Jerry’s away from him. It’d be nice to do
it, point the bastard’s own gun in his face. But he knew he
couldn’t confront Jerry like that. He had never been able to.

He jumped back behind his computer and
clicked on his email. Michael started nibbling on his lips as he
read:

From:
[email protected]

To: [email protected]

Hi Sweetie,

Missing you already. Thought u might like 2
check out this link 2 remember our time together.

https://mirrorblank.net/18896541/mp4

P.S. It made me so excited, I just had to
share. Hope Steph likes it 2.

It took Michael two tries to actually
double-click the link. When it did, his QuickTime player opened and
he was faced with the hotel room he’d taken last night at the
Peabody. The picture quality was remarkably good and despite the
low lighting, he could make himself out very well. Trista, as well,
was clear as a bell.

If the MPAA had viewed this little clip, just
a snippet of last nights events—he couldn’t remember much more of
last night than before, but it was clear that things weren’t close
to being over with—it would have easily earned a XXX rating.

He’d seen enough.

Michael closed the clip and tried to access
his wife’s email account. He wasn’t sure how many she actually had,
he just knew of the one. Unfortunately, he had no idea what the
password was. He tried a few combinations: birthdays, social
security numbers, wedding dates, anniversaries, anything and
everything he could think of. He even tried to recover a lost
password, but couldn’t answer the security questionnaire. It seemed
that Stephanie was a little more adept at online security than her
husband credited her.

He didn’t bother powering down the PC. He was
on his feet and running out the office, down the hall, and jumped
into the Porsche. There was no way of knowing whether Stephanie had
checked her mail recently or not. But if she hadn’t, he had no
intention of letting her do so until he could do something about
that whore Trista and her obvious boyfriend, Jerry.

He grabbed his Blackberry and dialed his home
number. The line rang as the sports car’s engine roared, and
Michael shot down the street like a round from a high-powered
rifle.

Behind the wheel of his hundred thousand
dollar plus automobile, it took Michael less than six minutes to
get from his parking spot in front of his office to the front door
of his house.

Bursting through the front door, he startled
Mrs. Wylder so badly she dropped the urn of coffee and silver tray
she was carrying. Trying to arouse no more suspicion than
absolutely necessary—and failing miserably—he apologized and
stooped, trying to help clear the mess.

“It’s okay, Mr. Cole. I’ve got it. I
shouldn’t spook so easily.” Mrs. Wylder, Annie, was a graciously
pleasant woman with light gray hair pulled tightly back into a bun,
pronounced crows’ feet at the edge of her eyes and laugh lines that
showed she’d had a happy life. At sixty-four, she wasn’t too old to
be working, but old enough not to have to. Christal and Stephanie
loved her, and if Michael ever pondered the question, he’d have to
admit he did as well.

“Nonsense. I was just in too big a hurry.”
Michael stood. “Is Stephanie around?”

“Yes, she’s in her office, I believe.”

“Thanks,” he said as he shot away from the
housekeeper. Her office was definitely not where he’d hoped she’d
be.

It was an unspoken thing between him and his
wife; when doors to offices were shut, the simple act of knocking
should be observed. This was so even before secrets began to fill
the gap, then widen the gulf between them. This was not a time for
such niceties, however, and Michael slammed into the room with
barely a turn of the knob announcing his presence.

Stephanie was seated behind her desk, her
pink Mac monitor obscuring her below her slim shoulders. “Michael.”
She sounded startled. “What’s wrong?”

Michael willed himself calm, an exercise in
futility, but the effort itself admirable.

“Is everything okay?” Stephanie asked
again.

“Y-yeah. I just wanted you to know I was
home.”

“All right.”

Michael found his teeth nibbling at his
bottom lip. “Can I talk to you for a moment?” He, of course, had no
idea what he was about to say, only that he had to, needed to, get
her away from her computer.

“Michael,” she began, “you’re perspiring. Are
you sure there’s nothing wrong?”

She was standing from her chair, but not
quite fast enough to suit him. He moved toward her too quickly, and
she stepped back. But that would not deter him. He reached out for
her, took her wrist into his hand, and pulled her lightly, but not
loosely, towards him.

“I missed you.”

Her eyes were wide as she took in her husband
and his off-kilter actions. “I-I missed you, too…I suppose.”

“What’d you have planned tonight?”

“Tonight? Nothing. Nothing I’m aware of.
Why?” The fact that it was a Saturday night and they were a
financially sound couple who were welcome anywhere their hearts or
minds would take them, was not such an obvious thing. Rarely did
they spend time together outside of the home, unless it was either
to further Michael’s business endeavors or Stephanie’s social ones.
As far as Michael knew, no such affair was on the calendar.

“I thought you, me and Christal could maybe
drive up to the Wooden Pier for dinner, maybe catch a movie?”

His words were like the slap of an invisible
poltergeist to Stephanie. Not harsh in any physical way, but
toppling in their unexpectedness.

“I…suppose.” She pulled her arm from his
grasp without much of a struggle from him. “But why?”

There were a million ways to answer that
question, of course, but Michael had neither the honesty nor the
inclination to dream one up. Instead, he pulled his wife to him and
pressed his lips to hers. There are certain things in married life
that one just should not forget, paramount being the taste of your
lover’s lips. So much time had passed between them without a simple
kiss that for the briefest of moments Michael knew that he still
loved this woman. Loved her very much indeed. Apparently the proof
was in the pudding, as they say.

Stephanie, taking charge, pulled Michael
closer to her. Her tongue searched for his and found it. Passion
blossomed and bloomed, morphing from an ugly dead twig into a
breathtaking flower.

After the moment had passed, Stephanie asked,
“You feeling like yourself?”

“Yes. Yes I am.”

Stephanie was fully dressed in cotton slacks
and a loose, but attractive blouse. Her hair was finely done,
strewn across her shoulders. There was a slight haze to her eyes,
but that could be anything other than prescription euphoria and for
the time being, Michael let it slide.

“Well, let’s not stand here all day. Let’s
get ready.”

“Ready? It only past noon.”

Michael almost growled that he knew full well
what time it was. But this wasn’t the place and certainly not the
time for that kind of stuff. Instead, “Why don’t we make a day of
it? It’s beautiful outside. All three of us can drive up to the
lake, walk around, work up a good appetite, even get in a little
shopping.”

Stephanie was a good-hearted woman, Michael
knew, but she was no one’s fool. By the downcast look of her eyes
and the straightening of her shoulders, he could tell he’d played
the ham a little too strongly. He had, at times, produced
performances worthy of Academy Awards accolades, but not this time.
This time the performance was just plain shoddy. Perhaps the reason
was that so very much had been riding on it being played out
perfectly. Perhaps he had been so unnerved by the video. Perhaps he
just didn’t have the audacity to keep delivering such lies to the
woman he shared a home, if not a bed, with. In the end, the cause
mattered little. It was the result that ultimately rendered him
looking into the suspicious eyes of his wife and, by proxy, into
her doubting mind.

Stephanie walked away, taking small steps,
nonetheless the distance was large.

“I should have asked you to go with me last
night.”

This did not stop her.

“I should have had you there during the
interview.”

Stephanie was aware of the Entrepreneur piece
but had hardly commented on it.