9
Elizabeth sat at a table that allowed her a clear view of the doorway. From the window it was almost impossible to see her, but from the front door one could almost make a beeline straight for her. Of course, the vantage point also allowed her to see everyone in the room distinctly. She watched as the man she suspected was her contact entered the restaurant.
He was very close to what she’d expect to view: an older gentlemen with a few days of shadow on his cheek. He wasn’t young by any means, but he certainly had an air of youth about him despite the salt and pepper his hair had become. He wore a leather jacket over a cheap button-up and slacks. She wondered if there was a reason to dress so cheaply; if he often discarded his clothes it might have been for that purpose.
“I expect you are Mister Townsend, yes?”
“I expect you’re probably Elizabeth McMillin, and yes.”
“You’d be correct.”
Elizabeth gestured for him to sit down and with a small nod of his head he did so. He put a napkin on his lap and perused the menu, ordering a lobster meal as the server passed by. Elizabeth frowned, knowing it would be on her bill.
“So, Mister Townsend, how can we reach a mutual agreement?”
“Well, it’s not as difficult as you seem to expect, ma’am. I can do it in a number of ways, but the most popular tends to be the long, drawn out kind of thing. Otherwise…I can make it a spur of the moment type thing. I can make it last a long time, leave a mark on the community. I can let everyone know what he’s done, if there’s something you want him to be accused of. I can make that happen too. It depends on what you want.”
“Well, let me put it this way: I want to make him suffer. I want him to hurt, and be concerned the whole time. I want him paranoid, sleepless. I want him to suffer.”
“All in three days? Time’s a real killer, Miss McMillin.”
“What can you do in three days, then?”
“We can frame someone else, if you want that sort of thing. Or just plan an accident.”
“...frame someone else? Anyone else?”
“With reasonable cause, sure.”
“I have the perfect person in mind.”
“Good. I’ll have you meet another contact, and you can tell him all about it. I just need to know your husband’s schedule.”
Elizabeth slid the file towards him with as much pertinent information as she could get. She had his social security number all the way down to what shoe size he wore. She had his work schedule, the make and model of his car, and a copy of his driver’s license. She slid the file over, tucking the photos of him, the schematic of their home, the security codes and delivery schedules as well as pictures of his immediate family and friends. Of course, she’d managed to put one of Sarah in too.
The man glanced through the portfolio, examining every piece of paper with in-depth detail. He hummed over a few things, made nodes in a yellow highlighter on others. He got to the picture of Sarah and whistled, pointing it out and eyeing the woman across the table.
“This is who you wanna frame, huh? Like that evil queen in Snow White? The one that hates the girl ‘cause she’s prettier? Sucks getting older, don’t it, sweetheart?” he sneered.
Elizabeth McMillin froze, her eyes as cold and furious as they’d ever been. She leaned across the table with a positively feline smile. Her hand found the man’s, and she bit into it with the sharp point of her nails.
“Do you remember what happened to the huntsman who failed to bring her the heart of Snow White?”
*****
Garrett returned home the next morning, having opted to sleep in the guest room at Matthew’s estate. Sarah had gone to the other end of the property to her childhood ‘clubhouse.’ She’d converted it into a working studio office, and had decided it would make a wonderful place to stay for the night. He’d had his car returned home, and he had even been thoughtful enough to text Elizabeth this when the police cleared her of any wrongdoing.
Both Garrett’s maid and Elizabeth’s personal driver, as well as the garage cameras confirmed that Elizabeth had gone straight home after Garrett had forced her to leave the holiday party. Last night he hadn’t been surprised when the cameras showed nothing. It meant that whoever had done it had been a professional, so clearly not Elizabeth.
Yet Garrett couldn’t help himself; he still suspected her. She’d been even worse since he’d filed for divorce, and as he considered her actions now, he found her aggressive and dismissive all at once. She gave him whiplash, and as he stepped through the crunchy snow of the mid-December day, he neared his front door and wondered just how she might be today.
He found her in the main living room, supervising the professional tree decorators. He’d ordered the fifteen and twenty-foot Douglas fir trees just that week, and reflected on the majesty that they brought with them. He stood aside, watching Elizabeth dictate what should go where on their newest tree.
As Elizabeth gave commands, the men followed them without question. Had Garrett always been like that, too? She did have amazing ideas, but her direct and emotionless tone gave little room to offer other ideas. There was no ‘working with’ Elizabeth, there was only ‘working for’ her. Garrett cleared his throat, drawing her flat black eyes to him.
“We need to talk, Elizabeth.”
“Do we, husband dearest?”
“You need to stop calling me that.”
“The divorce isn’t complete. The separation is, other than the bank accounts. I’ve been allowed to dip into them as much as I like.”
“That isn’t quite right. I just didn’t want you to have a whole lot of shock when you go out into the real world. I’m trying to be nice here.”
“Nice? You’re divorcing me.”
“Because you have never once been nice in our entire decade of marriage!”
Elizabeth did not bristle at the remark, her eyes instead narrowing to dangerous slits. Her rage was contained as it always was by her delicate glare, her fury a cold one. She stepped closer to him and hissed out a quiet response, though for its volume it didn’t lack venom.
“Garrett Skjaervo, I have been nice to you since you were an upstart. I was nice when I let you hold my hand at the charity event. I was kind when I granted you the opportunity to date me. I was even sweet when I married you, you swine! You have nothing but money to offer a woman. Believe you me, Garrett, you have nothing. No sex appeal; you’ve grown old and still never learned to properly please a woman. No intelligence, because if you had it, you’d stay with me. No concern for others; just how close are you getting to your best friend’s daughter? Nothing but money. You couldn’t hold a conversation with a bucket, you couldn’t satisfy a pile of garbage, and you belong with that sort. You will regret this, and if you don’t believe it’ll be by my hand, you are completely and totally wrong.”
Garrett stared at her, his throat dry. Her verbal abuse was not new, but her accusations touched on nerves he wasn’t sure he could handle. He stared at her for a long moment, and shook his head. He did not love her anymore. He didn’t need to let her hurt him so badly. Yet as she turned away, dismissing him as if he were an errant child sent to his room, Garrett wished he’d loved her enough. Perhaps if he had, none of this would have happened.
“I’m sorry I hurt you.”
Garrett did not stay to see if she cared, too familiar with the lack of response. He did not so much as glance back before he turned the corner into their dining room to escape her view. He moved up to the study, unlocking the door and flicking on the light. He’d planned to go to bed, but Elizabeth’s angry tirade had been enough to anger him. For a long moment, he thought of calling Sarah. He missed her, and despite his own stupidity, he wished he’d said something less cruel to her. She had every right to be angry with him.
Instead, he checked the news, scrolling through the news feed he’d set up on his computer. It was no surprise, whatever he saw made him blanch. The top news stories where both about him and his divorce. Clearly Elizabeth was willing to drag him through the mud, especially if what the news reported was true. He’d hit her? That was hilarious, considering how many times she’d hurt him.
Garrett watched with morbid fascination while he rolled across the screen in stills and clips of himself with his wife a year earlier. He could remember her cruelty from that year, too. When she’d been found in a restroom with a member of the board. None of it had gone well. He thought back to each celebration he’d attended, and wondered if his wife simply planned her temper tantrums on the way there, or had let them happen spontaneously.
As he took note of the damage the stock was taking, he wondered if perhaps he’d be better off resigning. He’d still be able to negotiate a stipend from the company, but if he was not called into a meeting of the board soon he’d be extremely surprised.
Garrett finally decided to shut down his computer, figuring it would be better if he simply went to bed. There was no reason to make himself feel worse about the whole thing, and instead he would be better off going to bed.
Garrett thought for a long moment about what he’d have to do in the morning. There were courts to deal with and papers to sign, and he’d need to reach out to Sarah again. He missed her already, and as he prepared for bed he kept thinking of the feeling of her body against his. He tried to banish the thoughts, knowing full well that they would not do anything for him that he would be in favor of.
Finally, he climbed into the satin sheets of his enormous king-size bed and dimmed the lights, allowing the blackout curtains to slide into place on their automatic tracts. Then he turned on the stereo above his bed, and allowed the soft instrumental music to distract him. As he considered the song, and its instruments, his mind wandered to darker places.
How would Sarah’s body look, swinging and bouncing to the tempo of the song? How might she dance, if she thought no one else was watching? He’d seen her dance as a teenager; she’d been very deeply into the whole ‘hip hop dancing’ craze, and he still remembered it. To be completely honest, he still thought about it quite often. He’d never expected to see Sarah in such impossibly tight clothing, swinging her body to and fro. Her hips swaying and her spine doing a popping motion that showcased just how mature her body had developed in recent years.
Unbidden, memories of just hours ago how her body had looked without the tight confining clothes filled his mind. How lovely her breasts had been, and how perky her rear was. Her legs were long and lean, strong. She’d been able to pull him flush with her, desperately trying to rock her hips and grind roughly against him. He’d pumped himself into her with abandon, begging for release with each rough thrust. He’d needed to fill her, and he had.
His mind toyed with the idea of putting a baby in her, and he felt all the worse for it. He wanted it. Garrett groaned, his hand working his manhood at the thought. He’d become almost painfully hard at the idea of filling her so thoroughly, but even before then, when he’d thought of her dancing, his cock had twitched to life. Guiltily, Garrett stroked himself, kindling his need for her all the same as he played his fingers around his cock and thought of Sarah, her body clenching around him as she whimpered.
Garrett bucked his hips, sucking in a breath as he remembered how tight she’d been, how perfect her pussy had fit him, as if a glove made just for him. He thought of the way her face had looked as she’d come undone on his dick, her body trembling with desire and need for him. He’d felt the same, and when he’d come deep inside her? He couldn’t remember feeling so satisfied.
Garrett came hard as he thought of her, his body bucking into his hand as he groaned, orgasm taking him and wiping his mind clean of any thought of problems he’d had before bed. He lay there panting for a time, eyes squeezed shut and irritation evident on his features as the afterglow died away.
How could he have done that? Just one time with Sarah, and here he was, acting like a high schooler again. He’d hardly pleasured himself in years, and on the rare occasions that he had, it'd been to thoughts of Sarah. Garrett had found it less and less satisfying. Yet his memory of the young woman squeezing his erection was enough to have him as desperate to salve the fiery need in his loins by means of his own hand? He got up and stumbled to the bathroom of the suite to clean himself up.
Once back in bad, Garrett fell asleep in record time, the thoughts of Elizabeth’s cruelty washed away by the memories of Sarah’s warmth.