“What?” Bob turned in the direction of Josh’s gaze.
“What’s she doing here?”
“I think we’re going to find out.”
Josh left Bob by the beer bucket. He intercepted his blackmailer and daughter before they got too near the other partygoers.
“Daddy, this is Bell. It’s short for Belinda,” Abby said.
“I know, sweetie,” Josh said with a plastic smile.
“Hi, Josh. Happy birthday,” Bell said.
“Thanks, Bell.” Josh hugged his ex-mistress and
kissed her cheek. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
he whispered into her ear.
“Having fun,” she whispered back.
Josh broke the hug.
“It’s so good to see you,” Bell said.
“I think you’ve done enough meeting and greeting
for awhile. You deserve a reward. Why don’t you see Mommy?” Josh told his daughter.
Abby ran off toward her mother, weaving in and out of the crowd like a wide receiver making a run for the end zone.
“That’s a lovely girl you’ve got there, Josh, so pretty, so innocent, so trusting. I would hate to think what it would be like for her if her heart were broken. It would be hard to see that pretty face through those tears. I bet you’d do anything to prevent that.”
“I would kill if necessary,” Josh said.
“Would you now?” Bell smirked at Josh’s poor show of strength. “Let’s hope you’re never put to the test.”
“Yeah, let’s hope so.”
“Could I have a drink?”
Josh and Bell walked toward the drinks table and Bell slipped an arm into his. Josh shot her a look of rage.
“Now, now, Josh. Play it cool, we have an image to portray. You don’t want these good people to suspect anything.”
Josh poured her a white wine.
“It’s Belinda Wong, isn’t it?” Kate said, walking over to them from the barbecue.
“Yes it is, Kate. How are you?”
Josh stood stone still with the bottle of wine in his hands. Don’t say anything, please. He sent telepathic messages to Bell, hoping she wouldn’t blow the whistle on him. Fear prevented him from producing a smile.
“I thought you were in San Diego,” Kate said.
“I was, but I’ve come back.” Bell turned her head to Josh, smiled cruelly, then looked back at Kate. “I miss my old friends.”
“Have you got a job?”
“No, but I was hoping that Josh could help me.”
“Well, I’m sure he could put in a good word for you.”
“Yeah, but like I was telling Bell, there aren’t any open jobs at the moment, so she’ll have to keep looking.”
He managed to make his words sound strong and
convincing. Not a hint of his fear showed.
“Josh, I can’t believe you didn’t mention Bell was back. You always said she was your best secretary.”
Kate winked at Bell.
Bell grinned at the embarrassment Kate brought to her husband.
It was obscene, watching his wife playacting with his ex-mistress. Watching the macabre play was excruciating, but relief was soon to come. “I’ve only just found out myself.”
“Kate, have you got a minute? Sorry to interrupt.” A woman’s voice called from a group of people nearby.
Kate excused herself and left, attending to the woman’s needs.
“At least someone is happy to see me,” Bell said, watching Kate go.
“Are you going now that you’ve had your fun?” Josh asked.
“No, of course not. The night is young. I think I’ll mingle for awhile if you don’t mind.”
“I do mind.”
She snorted. “Well, I don’t care. Don’t worry, I’m not going to tell on you. Your money bought my silence for now.”
Bell refreshed her glass. Josh watched her turn on her heel and strike up a conversation with a group of his friends. What does she have in store for me? All he knew was that it wasn’t going to be good.
It was a small room, poorly furnished with an eclectic combination of bargain basement purchases and long held possessions now in a state of disrepair. The room smelled of musty neglect. The telephone rang on the small table next to the armchair in the living room.
The old woman shuffled in from the kitchen. Even
this small exertion resulted in wheezing. She mumbled “Hold your horses,” to the ringing phone before collapsing into the chair and picking up the receiver.
She hit the Mute button on the television remote.
“Hello?”
“Is this Margaret Macey?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Hi, I represent Mutual Life, Mrs. Macey. I was
wondering if I could speak to you about life insurance for senior citizens.”
Margaret got as far as, “I’m not really—”
“Good, I’ll only take a few minutes of your time,”
he said, ignoring her.
“Mrs. Macey, our records show you are a senior citizen.
You must think about having to make provisions
for others when your time comes.”
“No, not really.”
“Do you have children, Mrs. Macey?”
“Yes, I have a daughter in New York.”
“Do you know the average cost of a funeral nowadays?”
“No,
I don’t.”
“It’s over three thousand dollars.” The telemarketer’s voice rose two octaves to drive the point home. “Now, does that seem a fair price to burden your loved one with? Does it?” the terminally happy telemarketer asked.
“Well, no, but—”
“No buts, Mrs. Macey. Now this is where Mutual
Life Insurance comes in. We will provide for you a low cost life insurance that will serve as a lasting reminder to your family of your generosity.”
The pitch was made and Margaret imagined the telemarketer’s toothpaste advertisement smile shining into
the telephone.
“I’m not really interested.”
“Oh, come on, Margaret. Can I call you Margaret?
It’s only ten dollars a month. I’m sure it’s not a lot to ask for peace of mind, is it now, eh, Margaret?”
