Forty-Seven
New Haven, CT
Caroline had received a text from him, that he was back after attending to some out-of-town business, so she found herself once again at the Omni Hotel — as always, in one of the nicer suites on an upper floor that afforded a view of Yale and much of the city — standing by the window, wearing the lingerie he’d laid out for her, silk blindfold in place, waiting for Broderick to arrive.
Sometimes she thought that this part, the anticipation, was what she enjoyed most. It was better than the actual sex itself, which was nothing to complain about. Waiting for the sound of the door opening, his barely perceptible steps across the carpet, his soft breathing, directly behind her. She was not allowed to turn around until after he had touched her. There were times when he would stand there for several minutes, so close she could feel the heat coming off his body, saying nothing.
Building the suspense.
Other times, things would move much more quickly. He’d walk right over and grab her. Yeehaw! That was fun, too, but she much preferred it when things moved slowly.
When she arrived, as always, the tub had been run. The champagne was open and chilling. She had filled one flute and sipped on it while she luxuriated in the tub.
She wondered what he did during this time. He would have had to come to the room first, prepare things, then leave. Caroline guessed he went down to the bar and had a drink. Was the anticipation as much fun for him as for her?
This time, it wasn’t just the sex that filled her with anticipation. She wanted to hear how things were going. She wanted an update.
When she’d first told him about her situation, about the terrible thing her brother-in-law had done, essentially cutting Gilbert — and by extension, her — out of his will, Broderick had seemed skeptical that there was anything to be done about it.
But it was so unfair, Caroline pleaded. Leaving his estate to a bunch of total strangers. Okay, sure, maybe they were the product of his seed, but that was a very clinical connection. Gilbert was his brother. Was there a stronger bond than that? The two had grown up together, shared a room when they were younger. How do you cut out someone like that and give the money to people you’ve never spent one moment with in their entire lives?
It was a gross injustice.
I’m no lawyer, Broderick had told her. Maybe she should talk to one. But it really should be Gilbert who initiated any legal action. Or maybe, he said, Caroline should talk to Miles and explain how devastating his decision had been to her husband.
He’d see right through that, Caroline thought. “And we have a bit of a history,” she admitted, without getting into details.
But she did have an idea for a new scheme. Certainly more ambitious than her attempt to get Google to invest in her idea, which actually had been pretty clever. All she lacked was the technical expertise to make it work. Was lying about Miles being a backer really that big a deal? If Google had gone for it, she would then have gone to Miles, shared her idea with him, told him Google was a backer — which would have been true — and he’d probably have invested in it.
Or so she liked to tell herself.
But this new idea, it was different. And she thought someone with Broderick’s background might be able to not only advise her, but roll up his sleeves and help her out.
“Wow,” Broderick had said when she’d shared the plan with him. “That seems pretty... out there.”
He’d given her a look, like he thought she was crazy. Yeah, right. What did they say? Crazy like a fox? That was her.
“And what would my role be?” he’d asked her.
She’d told him. In the beginning, he’d be more of an adviser, a go-between. And then, later, if the first part of the plan went okay... maybe he could play a more direct role? Doing what he did best?
He had reservations. “This sounds like something that could go off the rails very easily,” he said. “A lot of variables, a hard situation to control. Emotional unknowns. An extra personality playing a major role. Are you really sure you want to go that route?”
“Are you saying it couldn’t be done?”
“No, I’m not saying that.”
“If the first part went okay, then—”
“I get it.” In the end, he’d said, “Let me think about it.”
“I’d make sure you were properly compensated,” she’d said.
And he had shot her a look suggesting that was a given. In fact—
Hang on. She could hear the hotel room door opening.
He was here.
He never let it slam. He closed the door gently.
Her breathing became shallow and rapid.
I don’t want to wait. Not this time. Let’s get to it.
She sensed his approach. He couldn’t be any more than a foot or two behind her. She couldn’t take it anymore. She was going to break the rules. She was going to speak.
“Do me,” she whispered.
And he said, “What the fuck is going on here, Caroline?”
Her heart stopped.
She whirled around, whipping off the blindfold at the same time. There he was, standing right there before her.
Gilbert.
Broderick was, in fact, killing time in the bar. He’d taken a seat that afforded him a view of the hotel lobby.
He usually enjoyed this time. The anticipation. Going up to the room, getting things ready, then slipping away before she arrived. He even took the stairs back to the lobby level so he wouldn’t accidentally run into her coming off the elevator.
He would order his drink and think of the pleasures to come, no pun intended.
Also, if need be, he’d get a few things done. Check his phone, answer emails, respond to texts.
One had come in while he was on his second drink. Short and sweet:
ITS ALL GONE TO SHIT. CANT DO THIS.
Hmm, he thought. There was trouble in Fort Wayne.
He looked up from his phone, glanced in the direction of the lobby, and that was when he saw Gilbert Cookson.
Broderick knew what the man looked like. When he’d gotten mixed up with this woman, he’d made a point of finding out what he could about her husband. Learned his routine, his cell phone number, places he hung out.
But Broderick had not seen this turn of events coming. Caroline’s husband was crossing the lobby tentatively, as though unsure about whether he should be there or not. He was turning his head from side to side. Was he looking for her? Had he followed her in? When his eyes landed on the entrance to the bar, he came that way, took two steps in, glanced about, then retreated.
Yeah, he’s followed her here, Broderick thought. He suspected his wife was up to something and he’d tailed her. She must have screwed up somewhere. Maybe he’d found a hotel napkin in her purse. Maybe he had that phone-tracking app.
Could have been any number of things. One thing was for sure. The message he’d received from Fort Wayne could just as easily apply to his situation here. It was all going to shit. Once the husband was involved, well, nothing good could come from that.
He’d been thinking of bailing for a while now, anyway. Cutting things off with Caroline, walking away from the mess she’d started. He didn’t want to be a part of it anymore. A great fuck was not worth this much hassle. The woman was nuts, didn’t think rationally.
I’m out.
He downed the last of his scotch and left enough cash on the table to cover it. He took the key card from his wallet and held it firmly in his hand as he exited the bar.
Headed straight for Gilbert, who stood in the middle of the lobby looking bewildered and apprehensive.