BOMAW Vol. 10-12 (15 page)

As soon as Dean left, Laek Chan resumed his torment.

"Now, where was I?" He asked, "Ah yes, you know I've learned from experience, two sure fire ways to get a woman's full, undivided attention. One, get her good and wet, giving her a good fucking. Or two, terrify the hell out of her. You won't let me give you a good fucking, but I
have
, fucked with your mind." Having said that, he slowly turned the gun, pointed it directly at Vivian and squeezed the trigger.

Covering her face, Vivian screamed out, "NO-O-O!" And then felt a cold wetness, on her chest, running down over her stomach.

Laek squeezed the trigger three more times, as Vivian threw her arms up looking down at herself, realizing it was just a water pistol.

Her abject terror now turned into an outraged shriek of fury, "YOU SORRY ASS, MOTHA'FUCKIN', TOKYO JO BASTARD!"

Standing up, satisfied with the outcome, dropping the toy pistol into the waste basket, Laek reached for the door handle just as security burst in grabbing his arms, throwing him against the wall. Belligerently, Laek yelled at them, "Hey! Take your goddamn hands off of me! It was just a game! I was just playing with her! Harmless fun!"

"Are you okay Ms. Cooke?" One of the guards asked.

"Yes! I'm okay... just get him out of here!"

As they hustled him from the office, he looked back at Vivian with a smile and said, "Hmph, I bet that Jake never got you that wet!"

Dean stepped in, looked back at the departing doctor, then back at the disheveled Vivian, *tsk tsk* and said, "Testosterone is overrated."

L.A.

Oscar T. shook his head looking in at his wife from the doorway of her bedroom. Her nurse and maid stood at the door, partially blocking him, wishing to close it and him out. Of course, orders from her; the mummy from the bed.

"She needs her rest Mr. Wherrington, please - let's not upset her. She needs to peacefully recovery from her surgeries."

"Hmph, and how much did that cost? She'll still be a whore." He stated to no one in particular. He stood with disdain oozing from him and drifting into the room as if it were a living thing.

"Mr. Wherrington please, not now." Georgiana's maid pleaded this time.

"I'll leave when I damn well please!" He snapped at her, eying the nurse as well; his manner clearly saying that declaration included her.

"Please, she doesn't need to be upset in anyway right now." The nurse tried again.

Angry, Oscar T. reached for the door handle and pulled it, slamming it close himself. Striding off down the long expanse of the hallway, he felt himself steaming. He found that most often now, he also felt more lost, displaced and out of sorts. For once, in all the years of pushing his presence, of forcing himself into this world, he felt, today, no part of it. Of late, he was hating everything connected to Georgiana and this empire. Of late, he was hating himself. Even the wealth, the power, the control and prestige. He felt like a prisoner of his own making. Any modicum of happiness could not, nor would not be found for him ever again; of that he was clearly aware and so accepted that as fact. He hated where his life had taken him. He hated what he knew about life, about politics, about religion, about crooks; the ones who wore suits and had all the world fooled. He hated them. Once more, he hated himself because he was just like them. Guilty of the things they were guilty of. And the only one true, decent, clean, right something in his wrong life, was gone. He paused in his steps; staring to his right. With all things coming to him now in maddening speed, besides all else, he knew that also, he was losing his mind. Yet, because he was aware that he was losing his mind, he wondered if then it was so? Right then,
she
stood there, gazing at him, enticing him, smiling at him, teasing him, beckoning him into the closet he used to trap her in. His
un-corruptible
temptress. She was standing right there, at the very door he would close them inside of and do whatever he had a mind to do once inside with her. He stood a moment more, gazing at her, giving it a little time. Sure enough, she slowly evaporated into thin air; disappearing before his eyes, just as she'd appeared. That was something else that he hated. That she, had been able to control him when she lived, and still now, she controlled him, controlled his mind. She, was deliberately making him insane.

Bea Rose, Bea Rose .. a ghost that was now haunting him, everyday so it seemed.

Oscar T. took a deep breath, turned his head back towards the expanse of the long hall before him, and once more, putting one foot in front of the other, resumed his firm strides to the top of the curving staircase leading to the downstairs grand foyer.

The moment he appeared midway down the stairs, his driver announced, "Your car is ready Mr. Wherrington."

A mere nod was all that was called for as he made his way down and then out the door. He climbed into the back of the limo. The driver closed his door and then made his way to the drivers seat. Once inside, he turned back, looking through the small window, asking, "To your office Mr. Wherrington?"

Oscar T. sat a moment staring through him. Without warning, he opened his door, climbed out and walked towards the garage stall of vehicles. He took out of his keys, climbed into one of the Mercedes', started it, backed out and made his way around the big driveway and then, out the gates as they opened for him. He turned onto the street, made his way around the long curving road lined with palms, hedges, other luxurious homes and found himself stopped at a light.

Then out of no where, he began shouting.

"A-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-IH ... A-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-IH ... A-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-IH!" Deep, guttural, spaced out bellowing of frustrated rage and anguish; breathing hard, red and now sweating he sat staring with tears pooling in his eyes.

"Now that's just stupid, acting like you crazy." She said to him as calm as could be.

Oscar T. turned to look at her sitting there next to him and started laughing.

"You let somebody see you like this, they gone certify you." She went on to state.

Horns were blowing at him, the light had changed. He pushed the auto open for the window, put his arm out and then stuck his middle finger up to all who it applied.

"Wouldn't it be better to just start driving so they can get on where they going?" She said, once more, a voice of reasoning.

Oscar T. started driving but kept his arm out of the window, his finger up.

"That arm either gone get tired Oscar, or something gonna take that arm off. Get it back in the car now."

"No!" He refused shaking his head.

"Bring that arm in Oscar for someone call somebody about you now."

"I do it if you stay with me Bea, I do anything, if you just ... just stay with me." He pleaded, tears rolling down his face.

"Now Oscar ... how I'm gone stay with you? I'm gone. Remember Oscar ... you killed me ... you killed me ... you killed me, I'm dead ... and I'm gone."

Oscar jerked the wheel over to the side of the road, almost causing an accident, grabbed his steering wheel, tugging it, shaking it, trying to rip it out as he resumed his shouting, "AI-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-IH ... AI-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-IH ... AI-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-H!" He didn't see the police bike that pulled up behind him, nor the officer that climbed off and walked up to his window.

"Sir, what is going on sir?"

Oscar T. sniffed, wiped his hand across his nose and looked up at the police officer and smiled, "Good morning officer." Oscar T. stared a moment and then added, "Stock market ... everything ... all my ... everything, fell through." He said, obviously not as crazy as he was acting.

The officer nodded. "Sir, might I suggest that you return home. Call your doctor. Get something to calm you down, help you through it. Better that than driving with your arm out of your vehicle, your middle finger in the air and shouting at the top of your lungs. That's not behavior I would advise; may give people the wrong impression sir. Would you like me to phone someone for you sir?"

Oscar T. sat with his head titled back, his mouth partially open. Realizing that it was, he closed it. Then said, "No. I won't do that no more."

"That's all right then. So you'll be fine from here, is that right?"

"I'll be fine from here, thank you officer."

"Okay now, I don't wanna have to speak with you again."

"No sir, I'm fine."

The officer tipped his head, helmet and shades still in place and strode off back to his bike. Climbed on and rode off leaving Oscar T. sitting there.

He sat in the same spot waiting for her to show up again; fifteen minutes later, with his car still running, his foot on the breaks, she didn't show. Not again. "You ungrateful little bitch you! I gave you everything! EVERYTHING! All you had to do ... was ... just ... stay with me Bea. That's all you had to do. Just stay with me." Angry once more, he pulled off suddenly and decided, he needed to go look at their son. He was alive. Real. Strong and breathing, with many of his looks and his mothers as well. His son was good looking. He had a walk about him, a talk about him, big strong strapping young man and he was going to see him.

"I'm going to see, my son. He's my son. Mine. His name is, Maxwell. I know he's mine. He belongs to me. Hear that Bea ... I'm going to see him right now. How you like that? Huh Bea Rose, how you like that? When I see him, he sees me Bea! Ha! Bet he don't see you! You go see him Bea? Bet he don't see you. Not like I see you. But he see me! Ha ha ha!" He laughed after the sing song teasing way he taunted her.

Twenty-five minutes later, "Hey Max man, I don't know wha's goin' on, but he back,
again
."

"Who?"

"Mr. Money-bucks, in the limo. Come on man, come clean, wha's up with that? Dude be back for the third time, this time, he drove hisself."

Max walked around Dexter, out of the large garage doors to the side yard where their moving vans were parked, walking towards the tall gates that surrounded the area of Bay Palm movers. Leaning against the chain link enclosure, his fingers gripping adjacent diamonds, sure enough, waiting to cross the busy thoroughfare, standing there, was none other than, Mr. Oscar T. Wherrington. Max couldn't believe his eyes. Shaking his head, he stood irritated and called out to him. "What the hell you doin' back here?!"

Just then, two vehicles from the opposite direction, stopped to let him cross. He nodded at them both and then looking up at Max in the fenced in yard, he smiled and waved; redirecting his steps towards him instead of going into the office of the moving company which had been his first intention.

"Good morning, Maxwell." He greeted as if they were old acquaintances, friends from way back when.

"Good morning my ass, what the hell you doin' back here?"

"To see you, of course. I was hoping you'd be in a better state of mind. Given some time to think, I figured you'd be ready by now to talk with me?" Oscar T. looked from Max to over his shoulder at the black man standing behind him. Realizing they had an audience, Max turned to look at Dexter, "You mind?" His meaning was obvious, he wanted privacy.

"Man who is this motha'fucka?"

"Don't worry about who he is, mind-..."

"I'm Oscar T. Wherrington, his father."

"What?! Oscar T.? Dude who been on the news, ain't your daughter that chick who got shot?" He asked Oscar and then turned to Max, "Dude, the one you saved?"

Angry that Oscar had disclosed that so readily, Max retaliated by saying, "He ain't my goddamn father! Now if you will excuse me, I need to get rid of his ass so we can get to work!"

"Yeah right, lookin' at yo'ass and now at him, yeah ... uh huh, he definitely yo' sperm donor! Yo'ass look like'im!" Dexter informed him nodding his head as he walked away; now more than ever wanting to know what was happening with him. He would definitely be asking some serious questions later.

Max turned from Dexter back to Oscar T.

"Why in the hell did you tell him that?"

"Because, it's the truth. Even he could see it once I said so. You may be black, but your looks are mine, my features."

"Man look, I don't know what yo' problem is, don't know what you after, but you need to leave me the hell alone. That ain't no bullshit! I ain't interested in shit you got to say to me. Now I'm askin' you for the last time, stay the fuck away from me."

"Can't ... do that."

"Excuse me? Why the hell not?"

"You ... all I have left, of my Bea Rose."

"SONOFABITCH! See what yo' crazy ass get for comin' here!" Max raged coming out of the gate rushing towards the street were someone was in progress of stealing the car Oscar T. came in. "Did you lock your goddamn car up fo'you got out?!" He asked looking back and forth in haste for an opening to cross and stop it from taking place, but it was too late, the guy burned rubber pulling out of there.

Oscar T. stood calmly watching and a bit amused by it all.

Max turned around standing on the curb, hands on his hips. "You just gone stand there?!" He yelled impatiently.