Draw Me A Picture (50 page)

“Burn…” one of them hissed. Flushing red, Cassandra turned on her heel and stomped off, flinging her glass angrily at a nearby trash bin.

In the ladies room, Michelle leaned over the sink, putting cold water on her face.

“What a bitch!”
she thought, infuriated. She simply couldn’t believe Cassandra Matheson had made her cry. It wouldn’t have been too bad, just seeing her. Michelle thought she’d have liked to give the back-stabbing woman a piece of her mind, but when she heard William and Cassandra had dated….it was like being kicked in the gut. William didn’t deny that they'd slept together. Feeling her food rising in her throat, Michelle dashed into a stall and shut the door behind her. She hated throwing up, but the idea of that hideous woman touching her beloved man was just too much.
 

A few minutes later, Michelle felt a little better. Patting her face dry with clean paper, Michelle put on a little lip gloss and smoothed her hair. Opening the stall door she stepped out, only to come face to face with one angry Cassandra Matheson.

“Why you little slut!” the woman spat, her blue eyes snapping. “How dare you presume to even think of going after him? What did you think by getting knocked up gets you a place in society? You’re nothing! Absolutely nothing!”

Michelle’s first instinct was to flee; the woman in front of her looked almost ravenous. Something snapped in the young woman, however, and she stayed where she was. Not many things rattled Michelle Gregory, but this woman had to be stopped.

“I’m actually not pregnant, not that it’s any of your business,” Michelle countered; she used of William’s tricks and made her face and voice appear calm.

“Oh, haven’t used that card yet?” Cassandra sneered. “You’ll use it no doubt when he starts getting bored with you.” Michelle snorted.

“It’s a physical impossibility,” she said, coolly “I can’t be pregnant as I’ve never had sex.”

For a moment, the woman in front of her looked actually taken aback. Michelle took the opportunity to continue. “As for keeping William interested, you can have no useful advice on that subject.” Cassandra turned a mottled shade of red.

“You... you...” she sputtered, looking near the point of violence. Michelle rolled her eyes.

“I don’t know what your problem is,” she said, her voice rising. “But, you can’t get me fired this time. I’m marrying William Montgomery. Whatever fling you two had in the past must have been very trifling, seeing as I’m the one with the engagement ring...”

Michelle suddenly found herself on the tile floor, one side of her face stinging. Cassandra stood over her, her hands balled in fists; anger boiled up in Michelle.

“I should kick her in the knee...”
she thought, her eyes narrowing.
 

The bathroom door opened.

“Right there,” came William’s voice. “The blond one. She’s attacked my fiancée.” At these words, Cassandra’s face grew quite pale. Two security guards entered the woman’s restroom and each grabbed one of Cassandra’s arms.

“Get away from me!” she screeched, struggling. “I’m Judge Matheson’s daughter! I’ll have you arrested! Let go of me!” Her screams did not stop as they half-dragged, half-carried the woman out. Her designer clothes did not look so nice now, Michelle noted.

William appeared over her, pulling her up into his warm embrace.

“Are you alright, love?” he said, tenderly into her hair. Michelle could feel he was tense and angered; she relaxed against him.

“She slapped me,” Michelle told William. “She said...”

“I heard,” he said, interrupting. “The acoustics in this restroom are remarkable… I think the whole floor heard.” he drew back to look at Michelle. A bright red mark stood out upon her fair cheek; his jaw clenched in anger at the sight of it. If Cassandra was a man he’d have gladly decked her. Perhaps it was good the security guards were attracted by the woman’s loud yelling in the restroom. He was about to go in himself when the guards came up to him, asking what was going on.

“Maybe I should learn karate,” Michelle said, gently rubbing one side of her face with her hand. William smiled.

“Perhaps you should,” he said, affectionately. He led Michelle around a fallen trash bin and out the bathroom door. A floor manager was outside, talking with the guards. He saw Michelle and the red, hand-shaped mark on her face.

“Excuse me, but... do you wish to press assault charges on Miss Matheson?” the man asked; William thought he sounded nervous.

“Has she been detained?” William asked, looking at Michelle. His fiancée appeared to be calm and quiet once more.

“Yes, though we haven’t called the police yet,” the man paused. “I admit we don’t want to. Judge Matheson is a heavy patron.” About to object, William was surprises to hear Michelle speak up.

“I won’t press charges,” Michelle said, quietly. “… As long as she’s banned from the building.” The manager considered this option for a moment.

“Done,” he said. “We've actually had a problem with her before, so it won’t be hard to get approval for that. Thank you.” He gave a little bow and walked away, speaking to the guards.

William glanced down at Michelle. She looked thoughtful, and a little too calm, considering the circumstances.

“You could have had her arrested, you know,” he said, searching Michelle’s face. Michelle smiled, just a little; her face still hurt.

“It’s a better punishment to get banned from the center,” she said. “The convention hall then sends a letter to the media about the whole incident, if I’m not mistaken.” At this William laughed.

“You little minx,” he said, smiling. “I’m very proud of you, you know.” Michelle looked over at him.

“For what... getting bitch-slapped?” she asked, a little merriment returning to her eyes. Chuckling,
William shook his head. It was just like her to make light of all this.
 

“No… for sticking up for yourself in there,” he said; William put his arms around her waist. “You have a wonderfully genial personality, Michelle. You’re really very docile, in the most attractive way possible, but sometimes... well, you’ll run in women like that. I’ve seen you be frosty and clever when men try to flirt with you, but I was a little worried about you getting trampled on by the rather nasty women that seem to dominate my social circles.” Michelle smiled.

“How about now?” she asked, smiling. William returned it.

“I’m encouraged,” he admitted. “Some of my relatives are that way and they’ll most likely be at the wedding. If you’re able to hold your own, however, they’ll back off.”

“Or start slapping...” Michelle said, rubbing her face again. William kissed her affected cheek a few times. “Oh... I could get used to that,” she said, sighing. “Feel free to assuage your guilt for even dating that femme fatal.”

William snorted.

“She is the epitome of a heinous ex-girlfriend,” he said, looking into Michelle’s eyes. “One of the worst mistakes I’ve ever made. I didn’t date for years, just because of her.” Smiling back up at him, Michelle felt lighter; even William was prone to a bad decision every once in awhile. It wasn’t like she’d never made a mistake.

“I’m OK with it,” she said, meaning every word. “I’m the one who gets to keep you.” William didn’t bother kissing her cheek this time; she deserved a proper one. One of the guards nearby noisily cleared his throat after a minute; William reluctantly pulled away from his fiancée.

“Shall we go see the rest of the exhibits, love?” he inquired. “Or would you like to get some dessert somewhere? I know of an excellent ice-cream parlor nearby.”

“Yes to both,” Michelle said, smiling. “I’m not going to let that wolverine wreck our evening.” William smiled at her.

“That’s a fairly accurate description,” he said, abounding amused. “She really got you fired?” Sighing, Michelle nodded.

“Her company is the favor-er of illegal loopholes that I told you about,” she said, frowning. “Johnson & Black has let them get away with it for years. By now they must owe tens of millions in back taxes. The IRS investigators are so overwhelmed; it’s easy to imagine how they managed to slip under the radar all these years.”

William looked thoughtful for several moments.

“Someone could tip them off,” he suggested, looking at her sideways. “Someone who knows every detail of their illegal dealings.” Michelle shrugged.

“I thought about it,” she admitted. Looking up at William she searched his profile for some kind of emotional indication; sometimes her man was difficult to read. “I also thought,” she continued, “… that if they were turned in, a lot of people would suddenly be without employment. I wouldn’t want to put anyone in that position, especially when the hardest-working people would be the ones to get the pink slip.”

“You have made a stand already and been terminated for it,” William said, glancing down at Michelle. “Nobody can ask more of you than that. However, to know what is right and not do it is...”

“... I know; the worst cowardice,” Michelle finished, sighing. “I don’t usually agree with things Confucius said, but that particular idiom I remember.” William chuckled.

“I’m impressed you even know who said it,” he said, smiling at Michelle. “Still, they should not be allowed to get away with it, Michelle.” His expression grew serious. “You’ve paid for your moral stand; why not make them pay for their lack of it?”

“The problem here is upon being hired, I had to sign a confidentiality agreement, regarding clients,” Michelle explained, heavily. “Believe me, when I was sitting out there on my street corner day after day, knowing those thieves were still employed and enjoying their good life, I became the #1 proponent of whistle-blowers everywhere.”

Laughing under his breath, William smiled at his fiancée’s drawn brow. Her face was so gently formed that it was difficult for her to look angry and be taken seriously.

“So, my little speech of cowardice was a trifle unnecessary?” William said, his voice teasing. Michelle gave him a small smile.

“No,” she stated. “I like knowing that you care as much for my character as you do in seeing that I am properly clothed.”

“Yes, I do, Minx,” William said. “I am convinced that my worries were unfounded.”

Michelle leaned her head against his shoulder as they strolled. For what seemed the millionth time since she met William, Michelle gave a small, silent prayer of thanks; somehow the hard times she’d gone through did not seem quite so unfair. Her character was tempered by want and her experiences made her grateful for small blessings. This blessing, however, left them all behind; she found her companion.

As a small child Michelle had loved to drive with her father to the store or to get the mail; he loved to listen to a type of country music that he described as “bluegrass”. One particular song stuck in Michelle’s mind and she never forgot the words to the chorus, though she did not know who the artist was or even the name of the song. Its words and lovely melody echoed in her ears many times since then, especially on lonely nights:

“Send me a companion to share life’s troubles and joys;

Someone to hold through the night.

A companion to picture in the frame of my mind.

I wouldn’t mind if I met you tonight.”

Walking by William in the scattered crowd of convention visitors, Michelle felt complete; the longing in that song had somehow been fulfilled and she no longer felt abandoned. This man truly cared for her, mind, body and soul. Only one thing marred her joy; above all things, Michelle hoped she filled the missing pieces of William’s life in the same, complete manner as he did for her.

Cassandra Matheson’s words--though spoken by an unworthy vessel--did manage to plant a little seed of doubt in Michelle’s mind. She glanced up at William, thinking of how much he’d improved her life and could not think of anything equal she’d done for him. She wondered that if, by marrying her, the man she loved would be harmed socially and eventually resent her for it. Michelle knew she’d not be able to endure resentment; not from William.

“I’d rather die a thousand deaths,”
she thought, soberly.
 

“You’re very quiet, love,” William said, after a minute. “Even for you.” Realizing that her thoughts were reflecting upon her face, Michelle looked up at William; his cerulean eyes held a look of mild concern.

“My apologies,” Michelle said. “I was pondering something weighty, which I don’t want to share right now.”

William laughed, and grinned very wide.

“I love your honesty,” he said, admiringly. “Most women would have tried to convince me it was ‘nothing’ or that you were thinking of 'wedding arrangements', or some such rot.” Michelle allowed herself a real smile.

“What’s point in that?” she asked him. “I think you'd be able to tell... I’m a horrible actress.” She felt a soft kiss placed on her cheek and turned to William. He looked at her with such affection Michelle felt it silly to hold on to her fears.

“How could he look at me like that if he didn’t want me for his companion?” she thought. William was a very intelligent man; surely he’d thought of the consequences of them marrying, and of her lack of any social status whatsoever. Maybe he didn’t care; certainly, William had shown that he lived his life as he saw fit. However, he was raised in high society, and wealth. Some things do not change, and this Michelle feared would be their detriment.

“Well… please let me know when you want to discuss it, love. Whatever it is.” William’s voice drew Michelle from her quiet musings. “You can tell me anything, you know that, right?” His fiancée met his gaze.

“Yes, I do,” she replied, earnestly. “And I will… after I consider it a bit.” William seemed satisfied with this answer and pointed out a display of armoires to her; he knew she was fond of them.

As they looked at one piece after the other, William glanced at Michelle several times. He had a feeling that Cassandra had said something to her before he’d arrived in time to listen; he’d seen his sweetheart bounce insults off her like water from a duck’s back. Yet, now he could tell something was really bothering her. Michelle was not an obstinate person, however; William hoped she’d let him help her through whatever the problem was. If not, he may have to extract the information from her.