Misty (20 page)

M
isty waited patiently for Gavin's tears to subside, watching as he dabbed his eyes and returned the handkerchief to his pocket. Deciding that he'd sufficiently pulled himself together, she addressed him.

“I've made a recent discovery,” she said, gazing into Gavin's red-rimmed eyes. “It's a huge money-making venture.”

“I already have money; I'm not interested in any venture, especially if it involves you giving public readings like a gypsy at a carnival,” Gavin said with a look of repugnance.

Misty chose not to take offense to the verbal jab, at least not at the moment. She'd pay him back for insulting her when he least expected it. At present, she needed him to be on her side.

“Your income, though immense, is doled out to you on a semi-annual basis. Wouldn't it be awesome to earn billions of your own?”

“Billions?” he asked with a smirk. “I doubt if there are any clairvoyant billionaires.”

“I'll be the first,” Misty said confidently. “I've made a recent discovery that will rock the world, but I don't want to go public, and that's where you come in. Through your family's connections, you have access to some of the wealthiest people in the world. I plan to do business with only the affluent; I want a select and very elite clientele.”

“You can't be serious. You expect me to contact business tycoons from the
Forbes
Billionaire List and tell them about your marvelous ability to see into the future? A nebulous future without any sense of a time frame, I might add,” he said sarcastically. Frowning in disapproval, Gavin made a scoffing sound.

“I have more than the ability to foretell the future. I have exactly what the filthy rich are not able to buy,” Misty said knowingly.

“And what might that be?” Gavin gave a weary sigh. “Love? That's such a cliché. Believe me, money can buy you a wonderful illusion of love, and with that in mind, I've decided to self-medicate my love sickness by taking a solo trip to Brazil. I'm sure I'll meet a buff young, hottie on the beach—someone who'll take my mind off Randolph for a while. That's the kind of instant gratification that money can buy.”

“I can offer something much more lasting.” Misty gripped the arms of the wheelchair and slowly, dramatically pushed herself up until she was standing upright.

“You…you're standing. How is that possible?” Gavin stammered, his face suddenly deathly pale. Stunned to the point of shaking, his trembling fingers began to fidget with his collar, and then the buttons of his crisp, light-blue shirt. “I don't understand how you're managing to stand.”

Showing off, Misty took graceful steps and even twirled around.

“I knew you had some movement in your arms, but I thought you were completely paralyzed from the waist down.” Gavin's vocal tone changed from shocked to indignant, as if Misty had been faking her inability to walk.

“The medical profession couldn't do anything for me. Doctors said I was doomed to sit in this disgusting chair for the rest of my life…” She paused and angrily gave the chair a hard shove, knocking
it on its side. “But I cured myself.” She stretched out her arms. “With these hands, I'm able to heal. People spend fortunes going to fake-ass healers. I've done my research and I know what I'm talking about. Sites of so-called healing water springs and wells are scattered all over the world, and hordes of desperate people travel far and wide to get the magical water to rid themselves of AIDS, cancer, blindness, all types of maladies. I read online that up to ten thousand people a day visit this place in Mexico. They stand in long lines for hours to get a bottle of the
supposedly
miracle water. They're fools, but that's on them. Initially, I wanted a mega church that would attract thousands for readings. But after acquiring this new ability, I decided to cut to the chase. Instead of exhausting myself with all the work involved in building a following, and getting a lot of small sums of money from the working stiffs, I'm going to offer my services only to the super-rich and get paid a big chunk of their ever-accumulating wealth.”

Misty sat on the couch. Wearing a smirk, she faced Gavin, leaned back and crossed her legs. Watching him closely, she noticed a spark of interest in his eyes.

“This may be a great idea,” he said, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

“It's an amazing idea. Go on and admit it,” she said with teasing laughter. “Even the richest of the rich get sick. And they want a quick cure for what ails them and their loved ones. The starting price of my cure will be one million and upward, depending on the severity of the illness.”

“Okay, I'm interested. But I need to know that you can really heal before I put the word out. Also, you and I have to legalize our partnership.”

“You better pump your brakes, Gavin. I didn't say anything about a partnership.”

“You couldn't possibly think I'm going to hand over an elite clientele out of the kindness of my heart. I've already paid to restore your beauty, and I didn't ask for anything in return except to learn the whereabouts of Randolph, and you've failed to hold up your end of the bargain.”

“You didn't do anything out of the kindness of your heart. You want me to be your personal fortune teller, but you had ulterior motives, also.”

“I did not!”

“Yes, you did. You're so fastidious and squeamish, you wouldn't have been able to look at me without having to fight the urge to vomit, so don't pretend that you're all merciful and full of grace, because you're not.”

Gavin lowered his eyes guiltily. “Okay, I admit that when I saw the picture on your website with your face caved in on one side, you were an eyesore, Misty. It would have been extremely difficult to look at you without gagging. But despite my motive, I helped you. You can't deny that.”

“You're absolutely right, and that's why I'm going to pay you ten percent of my earnings.”

Gavin opened his mouth to protest, but Misty shut him up before he could speak. “Hey, ten percent of a billion dollars is a lot of paper, so don't turn your nose up.”

He leaned forward in his seat. “Do you honestly expect to make a billion dollars?”

“Several billion,” Misty said smugly. “I'd be one of the new billionaires featured on next year's
Forbes
list if I was willing to go public, but I'm not trying to put myself out there like that. I'm not trying to give Uncle Sam a cut of my hard-earned money.”

Gavin nodded while deep in thought. “I have an aunt who's suffering
from Alzheimer's. She doesn't recognize her own children, and it breaks their hearts. Do you think you could reverse the effects of that disease, and you know, give her back her mental faculties?”

“I'm positive. But I'm not giving away any family freebies. Your aunt has to come out of her pocket, like everyone else.”

“But she's not capable of handling financial affairs.”

“Get the money from her kids.”

“That's not possible. Her children—my cousins—have their own inheritance and their mother's money is being handled by the executors of the Stallings estate. I couldn't possibly convince them to write a large check—”

“I don't accept checks. I need my money in cash,” Misty said with an excessive frown.

“Cash? You're being completely unreasonable. This business venture doesn't have to be handled like an illegal drug operation, you know. There are ways to get around the IRS. We can set ourselves up as a religious organization or a nonprofit group.”

“There you go with that ‘we' shit. Ain't no
we!
You work for me, Gavin, and I call all the shots. That nonprofit mess you're talking will involve attorneys and a whole bunch of other people wanting a piece of my pie. That is not gonna happen. If those rich muthafuckas want what I can offer, then they better make a huge withdrawal out of their Swiss bank accounts.”

Gavin sighed heavily. “You're impossible, Misty. You seemed so sweet when I first met you, but now your true colors are showing. You're greedy, mean, and narcissistic.” He shook his head. “I'm not surprised that someone tried to take your life.”

“Since you want to be mean and insulting, I'll take back my generous offer. I don't need you to generate business. I figured I would expedite matters by having a member of the prestigious
Stallings family as my mouthpiece, but you know what? Fuck you, Gavin! The billionaire list is public information, and I'm perfectly capable of seeking out every person on that list on my own.”

Gavin resorted to tears again. “I want to be a part of this. I spoke out of anger and I apologize,” he whined, pulling his monogrammed hanky from his pocket, again. “I'm tired of living on a stipend from my family. It's demoralizing. I tried to make it as an artist, but I failed. I know I could succeed as a…” Gavin went silent. “What is my job title, exactly?”

“If I decide to hire you, you'll be my assistant.”

“Assistant? That sounds so lowly. I need a much more prestigious title.”

“How about director of life enrichment?”

Gavin smiled. “Hmm. I like that.”

“Good, glad you like it. Okay, so, you're hired, but only on a trial basis. Use your resources to get me wealthy clients, and please use discretion. Clients don't need to know my full government name; they can simply refer to me as Misty.”

I
n less than a week, Gavin called Misty with a lead. “There's this software guy named Jeffrey Backus; he has a thing about aging—”

“I never said I had access to the fountain of youth; I said I could cure diseases and shit,” Misty hissed.

“His disease is age-related. He has rheumatoid arthritis. His hands are horribly misshapen to the point where he can't play golf anymore. He's had surgery on one of his hands, but it's still infirm and causes him a great deal of pain. Not to mention embarrassment. He wears gloves to hide the deformity.”

“A pair of fucked-up hands should be a piece of cake to heal, but don't tell him I said that. I'm gonna need a million upfront to lay hands on dude.”

“I don't know if I'm comfortable asking him for money before he's been, uh, treated.”

“Trust me, if he wants to play golf bad enough, he'll come up off that cash. Two million is like two hundred to a billionaire. Call me back when you've made the arrangements. Tell him he can come to a hotel here in Philly or he can fly me and my people to his location. It's his choice.”

“Your
people?”

“Yes, I get fatigued if I'm on my feet too long, and I need my
nurse with me. I also need you to handle the money transaction, and I need a bodyguard to look out for me. I'll never travel without one ever again. If I'd had a bodyguard with me the night I was assaulted, the punk who tried to kill me wouldn't have been able to get to me. But you know what they say: live and learn.”

“It's politically incorrect to use the word
punk,”
Gavin said dryly.

“I don't care about being politically incorrect. By the way, when you talk to the software guy, make it clear that I don't want a commercial flight; tell him I require a private jet.”

“I'm feeling more like an assistant than a director of life enrichment,” Gavin complained.

“Whatever. Handle the details and call me back.”

Misty hung up, feeling satisfied and superior. She was making it abundantly clear to Gavin that she didn't feel indebted to him in the least. He could stop thinking of her as his charity case now that he was working for her. Hopefully, he wouldn't meet his brutal demise before she earned her first billion.

•  •  •

Brick was avoiding Misty again. On his side of the bed, he had his back to her and was sleeping so close to the edge, it was a wonder he didn't fall on the floor. Misty was horny as hell. It seemed like her coochie was vibrating, sending off waves of need in Brick's direction, but he was stubbornly ignoring the signals.

Ever since she'd become unparalyzed, her sex drive was amped up, as if trying to make up for all the time she'd gone without sex.

“Brick,” she murmured, tapping him on the shoulder.

“What?” he said grumpily.

“I need you.”

“Nah, I'm not feeling you like that.”

“This isn't working,” she said with a sigh.

He sat up, his back propped against the leather headboard. “I know the way I'm acting isn't fair to you, but I can't fake feelings, Misty. Something is off between us. It's not your fault. It's on me. When you came out of the coma, I was so relieved that you made it. I mistook that feeling for love. To be honest, I love you in the purest sense—like family, but not as my woman. That kind of love died a long time ago.”

“Well, thanks for finally letting me know,” Misty said, throwing the covers off of her. “I'm leaving; going to get a hotel room until I can find my own place.”