Bulls Island (24 page)

“How’s eleven?”

“That’s fine. See you then.”

It wasn’t long until I had reshowered, blow-dried my hair, and dressed in something only slightly provocative. The black skirt and jacket were well tailored and very conservative, but the little white blouse was something that might have made Lolita blush. Did I dare wear this to a business meeting? Oh, why the heck not?

J.D.’s offices were located right next to Saks Fifth Avenue, which was very convenient, as they had a parking garage. Parking was always at a premium downtown. I arrived at his offices, opened the door to the reception area, and smiled at the receptionist. The reception area was beautiful—dark wood paneling, Lowcountry artwork adorning the walls, thick area rugs in deep plum and gray—it was inviting and all business at the same time.

The receptionist led me to J.D.’s office. J.D. had rolled up his sleeves and rolled out the plans. He was in the midst of explaining what six to eight million dollars, before landscaping and outside lighting, could buy someone to build their ultimate dream home on Bulls.

I tossed my jacket over the arm of a chair and I knew I was looking pretty good. I could tell by his breathing, which alternated
between breathy, uneven inhalations and steaming sighs that shouted old-fashioned lust. Or was it love? Two compatible people of like minds who are wildly attracted to each other and had been all their lives?

“Well, here we are, J.D.” I just said it, knowing he would understand exactly what I meant.

“I know. I’m willing to admit it, even if you’re not. I’m in love with you, Betts. I always have been. All that stuff I said yesterday on the beach? I thought about it last night and I know this. I let you get away once. I’m not letting you get away again.”

“J.D., you know I’m still in love with you. God help me, but it’s the terrible truth. But there are problems, J.D. You have a wife. And I won’t be your mistress.”

“I’m not asking you to, Betts…”

Then there came the shrieking voice of Valerie.

“Well then, J.D., just what are you asking her to do? I can’t believe it! Your mother was right!”

We didn’t know how long she had been standing there and we were uncertain how much she had overheard. What was the difference? In just a few sentences, J.D.’s commitment to his marriage had begun to unravel, and I had been so very willing to pull the first thread. I began shaking all over.

Valerie’s face was bloodred and I think that if she’d been in possession of a pistol she would have blown our brains out. Instead, she turned on her heel and stormed out.

My cell phone rang. By sheer force of habit I answered it, although I was in no condition to talk to anyone. It was Ben Bruton and he was not happy.

“I’ve got a plane waiting for you out at Corporate Wings. Wheels up at three. I want you on it. Understood?”

B
etts was visibly shaken by the one-two punch. We weren’t positive what her boss was so angry about, but we were reasonably sure it was the newspaper article. And before that, there had been the advent of my lovely wife. I wasn’t exactly looking forward to the warm loving glow of a home-cooked meal that night, even if Val had been a cook, which she was not.

With Betts gone to New York and Valerie very likely positioned up on the chimney with a shotgun to kill me dead when I pulled into the driveway, I decided perhaps it would be best to spend happy hour in other company. I called my dad. In times of trouble, it’s best to stay loose and keep out of the corners.

“Feel like a bourbon, son?” Dad said when he greeted me at the back door. “I never heard of a little trouble with the wife that can’t be resolved with a double shot of O Be Joyful on the rocks.”

“Where’s Mother?” I followed him toward his study. I didn’t want to deal with her.

“At your house consoling your, ahem,
wife
.”

“Is Valerie, um, hysterical?”

“I would say
hysterical
sums it up quite nicely.”

He opened the glass door over the bar and removed two tumblers, put a handful of ice from the ice bucket in each of them, and covered them generously with Virginia Gentleman.

“This is the best whiskey in America, son. Let your old man hear the story.”

“Where to start? Okay, here it is. I’m still in love with Betts, Dad. It’s pretty straightforward. Haven’t seen her in almost twenty years, took one look at her, and knew right away I was still dead in love with her.”

Dad settled himself in his favorite armchair and I sat on the sofa.

“Hmmph.” He raised his glass to me and said, “Cheers. Are you sleeping with her?”

“No, but I intend to. In fact, I intend to sleep with her for the rest of my life. Do you know what kind of bull is going on with Valerie? Is anyone here even vaguely aware of the nonsense that’s going on in my life?”

“I am well versed in the ways and wiles of the fair sex. There’s not much you could tell me that would surprise me. But divorce is a horse of another color, son.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean to say that every now and then a man has to do what he has to do. I’m not saying that infidelity is right, but it happens. Great God! Look at the Italians! They’re having sex every five minutes! And the French, too! Wasn’t Mitterrand’s mistress there at the funeral consoling his wife? It was all over the papers! This country is so puritanical and unrealistic about human nature that it’s downright scary.”

“So what are you saying? Just stay married to Valerie and have an affair with Betts?”

“I think if you are discreet, Valerie will reconcile herself to it. I’m pretty sure that Valerie doesn’t want a divorce. Women don’t want to get off the gravy train in middle age, J.D. Surely you realize that a divorce would bring about a serious fall from the Langley loft for Valerie. What would she do with herself?”

“Probably what she’s doing right now—sloshing down vodka with pain pills.”

“Well, that’s not good. Not good at all. How are you and Valerie in the, you know, the bedroom?”

“Not much to report. I mean, I’m not into necrophilia, if you get my drift.”

“Hmmph. Well, she should’ve known that withholding her favors would lead to something like this. Can I freshen up your drink?”

“No. And nothing led up to this except what’s real. Thanks, though. Do we have anything to eat? Suddenly I’m starving. Do you believe that? I’m sitting here up to my throat in trouble and all I can think about right now is my stomach.”

“We’re men, aren’t we? Rosie’s got the night off. Mickey’s got a football jamboree or some such thing. Why they play football in this heat is a mystery to me. Why don’t you and I go in the kitchen and see what we can rustle up? It’s amazing those kids don’t drop dead.”

“Yeah, seems crazy. Maybe just a sandwich.”

I pulled him up from his chair because I could see that he was struggling. Ever since he had his heart attack, Dad had begun to age. Not a lot, but there were signs here and there of weakening strength.

“Thanks, son. I’m falling apart at the seams.”

“No, you’re not. That chair is deep.”

“You’re a gentleman to say so.”

We inspected the insides of the refrigerator together.

“Well, it’s slim pickings tonight. I thought your mother was going to make us something, but when Valerie called, she ran off to her instead of going to the grocery store.”

“Mother’s compassion surprises me.”

“Hmmph. I’ll say. But she loves drama.”

“Some people do. We have eggs. There’s some cheese. Want me to make an omelet?”

“You know how to make an omelet?”

“No. But how hard can it be? Isn’t there a cookbook around here?”

“Yep. Right on that shelf.”

I flipped though the pages and found a recipe.

“Here we go.” I put the open book on the counter and ran my fingers down the list of ingredients. “So, Dad, if you could live your life over again, wouldn’t you make some changes?”

“Absolutely. I just hate the idea of divorce, that’s all.”

“Are you saying that if you could stick it out with Mother all these years, then I should stick it out with Valerie?”

“I think I’m admitting that I have fallen in love over the years with other women, but I stayed with your mother in spite of it.”

I knew he stepped out on Mother, but fell in love? And to tell me so nonchalantly? I went back through the refrigerator and found some mushrooms, half a red bell pepper, and some scallions. I found a cutting board and a butcher’s knife and began chopping it all up.

“So, there’s some honor in simply sticking it out? Even when all the love is gone?”

“Maybe. But then, it was different for me because we had you.”

“You know, I have never asked you why you didn’t have any more children.”

“Well, that was a bone of great contention between your mother and me. I wanted more and she didn’t.”

“So that was it? You just didn’t have any more?”

“I didn’t say that.”

The recipe said to sauté all the chopped-up vegetables separately
in two tablespoons of butter, but mine were mixed all together and I couldn’t see how it would really make any difference. So I threw a chunk of butter in the pan and turned the stove on to a medium heat, which seemed sensible.

Wait!
What
did he just say?

“Dad? What are you saying?”

“I guess I’m saying I don’t want to see you make the same mistakes I made.”

“No, I’m sure you don’t. But are you telling me I have some siblings hidden in the woodpile somewhere?”

“Do you want toast?”

“Sure, but are you going to tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

My confusion turned to anger. It was bad enough that Mother had been sleeping with Senator Hazelton for years and that Dad was his partner. Did Dad know? Of course he did! And here he was telling me I should stay with Valerie because of a piece of paper when he knew she had an alcohol problem and probably a drug problem, too. We had no children, never would, and now he was implying that there
was
another child somewhere? Whose child? What child?

“You know what?”

“What?”

“This family stinks.”

“Every family has its own peculiar smell.”

We were quiet then. Dad put some bread in the toaster and set the table. I cracked some eggs in a bowl, fishing out the little pieces of shell with my fingertips. Then I threw in some salt and pepper and some milk, stirred it up, and poured it over the vegetables. I chased the whole concoction around the pan with a spatula and was well aware it didn’t look like any omelet I had ever eaten.

“I could have another heart attack and die, you know…”

“Yes, and your dirty little secrets would go to the grave with you.”

“They aren’t dirty and they aren’t secret.” He sounded angry.

“Look, ever since I got here, you’ve been talking in circles. I come here, and tell you the honest truth. I
am
going to divorce Valerie and I
am
going to marry Betts…if she’ll have me, that is. I
am not
going to engage in some sordid affair with the woman I have always loved and stay married to a woman I feel less for than my
dogs
! Now, why can’t you level with me?”

“Mickey? Rosie’s boy?”

“What about him?”

“He’s mine.”

There was a long pause while the news traveled the airspace and settled into my conscious mind. I thought he said that Mickey was my half brother.

“Seriously? You and Rosie?” I almost fell over. “She’s like
my
age, Dad.”

“I know. Silly as it sounds, we fell in love. She used to be an exotic dancer in one of my clubs. She doesn’t come from much, you know, but I found her completely charming and I fell head over heels for her. I wanted to leave your mother and marry her when we found out she was pregnant, but your mother wouldn’t hear of it.”

“Is that when Mother…”

I suddenly realized that the eggs were burning. I picked up the frying pan and put it in the sink and dinner sizzled its way to its dismal demise.

“Yes, that’s when she began fooling around with Brant, trying to make me jealous.”

“And somehow you wound up with Rosie living here on our property and raising Mickey under Mother’s nose?”

“It was the easiest thing to do. What Rosie and I did wasn’t Mickey’s fault. I wanted to make sure he had everything he needed and that she was all right. By the time Rosie’s condition was apparent, your mother was so heavily involved with Brant Hazelton, I
could have fathered ten different children with ten different women and built a compound for them right here! She wouldn’t have cared.”

“Dad, this is some very heavy stuff you’re telling me.”

“Well, I’ve wanted to tell you for some time, but the opportunity never presented itself. All I’m saying is that life can be damn complicated and you will figure this out. Would I prefer living in that little cottage with Rosie to living in all this grandeur with your mother’s viperous tongue? Yes, some days I would. But it wouldn’t be fair to Rosie to be stuck with an old goat like me. As soon as Mickey goes off to college, I think Rosie will be moving to Charleston. I’d like to see her find a nice young man.”

“So, Mickey is my half brother, then.”

“Yes. Yes, he is.”

“Great God.”

“I need to be sure he is always taken care of, J.D. He’s a wonderful boy.”

My head was absolutely reeling with the news, which, actually, I was strangely happy to know. I loved that kid.

“I give you my word on that…but, Dad? How did Mother allow Rosie to cook for us and clean the house all these years?”

“Your mother? She thought it was divine justice to have Rosie clean her house.”

“Good Lord. Figures. And poor Rosie! How did she accept all this? I mean, it had to be a bitter pill, right?”

“Not really. She didn’t have many options. We were really in love and both of us desperately wanted the baby. Somehow, it seemed reasonable at the time. And it’s worked out.”

“Well, this is amazing news, but it still doesn’t solve the problem I have with Valerie.”

“Which one?”

“Yes, there is quite a menu, isn’t there?”

“Well, speaking of menus, it seems tonight’s dinner has been canceled.”

“Yeah, sorry about the eggs. Dad, if I go home, she’s going to go crazy when she sees me. She might shoot me!”

“She might, although I doubt it. I think you have to get her in a sober moment and just ask her for a divorce, J.D. I mean, if that’s what you really want.”

“And you’ll support me?”

“Of course I will. I know you’ve always been in love with Betts.”

“It’s true. Mother won’t like this, you know.”

“Don’t worry about her. She’ll come around. She just likes playing the champion.”

“Since when?”

“You know what? You’re right. She just likes the soapbox, that’s all. Come on, let’s see if there’s a pizza in the freezer.”

“Nah, thanks. I think I’m just gonna go home and face the music. Maybe Mother has already run interference for me.”

Dad slapped me on the back and said, “A man can dream, can’t he? Be careful, son. You want some advice from an old pro?”

“Why not?”

“Don’t bring it up. Be very quiet and listen to what she says.”

“If I don’t come in the house all apologetic and all that, she’ll go ballistic.”

“Then you can tell her that her irrational behavior is a big part of the problem.”

“That’s usually what happens anyway. Okay, Dad. Thanks for listening. And thanks for telling me about Mickey. Hey! Does he know the truth?”