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C'est La Vie

By: koochies



"I cannot wait for this day to end," she thought as she walked through the front door and into her Soho loft. 

It was finally the end of a long week -- her first week as an Associate, with an opportunity to make Junior Partner within three years, at Pierce and Partners LLP, one of the fastest growing International Law firms on the East coast. Although she was more than capable of handling the position, she was still a little surprised she had gotten the job. It was the first real job she'd had after law school, since she'd spent the last three years, after graduating from NYU, traveling the world and attempting to find herself, a choice her parents had never been too approving of -- but then again, besides graduating third in her class at the NYU law school, there wasn't much she'd done in her life that they had approved of. 

All week, she had worked hard to make a good impression on the Senior Partners. When she'd accepted the job, she'd set her mind on advancing in the firm as quickly as possible. She'd already wasted three years of her life, trying to escape her future. At first, she'd only decided upon law school to gain the approval of her parents, instead of pursuing a career as a foreign correspondent, like she'd always wanted. Now, it was her chance to prove that she could do all the things -- live the life -- her parents had always wanted her to. If nothing else, she had to prove to herself that she could do this. Unfortunately, the one person she needed to impress -- Jacob Pierce, the brain behind the firm, and the reason it was quickly becoming the new firm to beat, not only in New York City, but on the entire East coast. Unfortunately, upon being hired, she'd been informed that although Mr. Pierce was looking forward to meeting with her, he was in Senegal for two weeks, working on one of the firm's high-profile cases. 

As usual, the first thing she did when she walked into her apartment was place her keys and purse on the dark mahogany console table in the foyer, before removing her coat and hanging it up in the coat closet. Next, she walked into her bedroom, stopping briefly at her bedside table to press play on her answering machine, before proceeding to the bathroom in order to let her hair down and remove her makeup. 

"You have five new message," the automated voice resonated through her previously quiet apartment.

*Beep*

"Jess, it's Jase. I was wondering if you were up for dinner tonight. I know you've had a long week, but I think there's a lot we need to talk about. I asked Amanda to marry me last night....and she said yes! Look, I know you've never really liked her -- and you're my little sister -- you know I really care about what you think. But Jess, I really do love her -- I really want this to work so please come to dinner with us tonight. I need you to do this for me. I have a nine thirty reservation at L'amour -- that French place we ended up at for Mom's birthday, last year.  Anyways, I'm heading home early tonight -- around six or so, I think. I thought I'd surprise Amanda and we'd go out for a celebratory drink before dinner -- so give me a call there if you can't make it tonight. Otherwise, I'll see you tonight, kiddo."  *Beep*

"I cant' believe this!" she fumed as she gently rubbed some moisturizing cream into her skin. "Marriage? To her? What's he thinking? Why is he doing this to me? Oh god, I'm going to have to smile and pretend like nothing's wrong tonight. Why now? This week's been ba--." Her thoughts were cut of when she heard the click of somebody hanging up instead of leaving a message, something that irritated her to no end. "If you're going to wait long enough for the machine to pick up, then the least you could do is leave a message!" she thought, her irritation increasing exponentially when it happened two more times. Finally, after yet another high-pitched beep, the final message played. 

" Jessica? Are you there? Um...it's Amanda," said a voice quivering with emotion. "Look, you know I would never ask unless I was desperate, but I need your help. Oh God, Jessica...I really screwed up. I need to talk to Jason, so if you know where he is, I beg you...please, I need to know," the voice continued, breaking down with barely contained sobs. Finally, after a moment of deep breathing, the sobs quieted enough for the message to continue, "I really screwed up. God, I don't think he's going to forgive me for this. But I love him...I really do....I just...oh God, what if he doesn't even listen to me," the voice said trailing off into sobs again. "I know I've never been your favorite person, but I really to talk to him, okay. Please, I would never ask...I just...I need to explain...I freaked out and I didn't even fully realize what I was doing. I mean, it was me, but it wasn't really me...and now I can never take it back. Oh God, what have I done?" the alarm in Amanda's tone of voice rising as the consequences of her actions began to sink in. "I threw away the best thing that ever happened to me!" the voice trailed off once again, giving way to loud choking sobs. 

*Beep*

"Someone up there must hate me," she mumbled to herself as she walked out of the bathroom, and back into her tastefully decorated master bedroom, "as if this day hasn't been long enough and now I have to deal with the overemotional psycho." "Okay, maybe that was a little harsh," she thought as she continued towards the phone, and dialing Jason's cell phone number. After waiting for 6 rings, she finally heard the faint click as the line was forwarded to his voicemail. 

"Hey, you've reached Jason Brighton. I'm unable to reach the phone right now. Please leave a message after the tone and I'll get back to you as soon as I can."   *Beep*

"Have I ever told you how annoying proper your message is? By the way, you forgot the part where you ask us to leave a name and number", Jessica said with a smile in her voice as she momentarily forgot the reason for her call. "Listen, I just got this message from Amanda and she sounds really upset. Is everything okay? She said she was scared of losing you because of what she did. Jase, she didn't cheat on you did she? I told you she was bad news right from the start," she continued as her anger quickly rose. Realizing what she was saying, Jessica quickly took a deep breath, before continuing, "I'm sorry, I'm just a little worried about you. Are we still on for dinner tonight? I really do think we need to talk, and not just about Amanda. Give me a call when you get this, okay? You know how I get when I'm worried. Bye, Jase."

After hanging up the phone, she stood still for a moment, wondering whether she should give Amanda a call, against her better judgment. She really didn't like to get too involved in her brother's relationships, even though he confided in her often. Amanda, on the other hand, knew that she was not somebody Jessica approved off for her brother, and she tried to steer clear as often as she could, which was why her message had been such a surprise. She must have been really desperate. As she mused over her options, she thought about the message Jason had left her earlier and once again, her gut told her not to give Amanda a call -- whatever had happened between Amanda and her brother had upset Amanda enough, and she didn't know if she would be able to refrain from giving Amanda a piece of her mind after the day she'd had. Also, knowing that if something was really wrong between them, she might upset Jason by speaking to Amanda, she decided to stick to her gut instinct and ignore Amanda's phone call for the time being. 

It was only seven o'clock, and she had two hours before she had to leave to meet her brother, and maybe Amanda, for dinner. Although she thought nine thirty was a little late for dinner and drinks, she was glad her brother had thought to make a late reservation, knowing she was already spending long hours at the office. In fact, tonight was the earliest she had gotten home from work since she started, and that was only because it unnerved her to be alone in the office at the end of the day. There was just something about how quiet it was at night, compared to the hustle and bustle that went on during the day, that made her anxious. 

She debated her options, trying to figure out what to do. Though it was only the end of her first week at the firm, she was already wondering if she should take a look at the files she had put into her bag at the last minute, thinking she might have a chance to look through it over the weekend. "My life cannot be this depressing already!" she thought to herself, "it's only been a week and I already can't think of anything except whether I should try to get ahead on my next case. Talk about bringing your work home. Okay, screw that. I may be alone, but I am not lonely enough to throw myself into my work, out of desperation. It's Friday night, and it's the first time in a week I've had a moment to relax, and I'll be damned if I don't make use of it."

After making up her mind to relax, she moved back into the bathroom, and began to draw a bath, adding a large measure of bath oils, to create the heavenly, lavender scented bubbles that she loved to play with as she soaked the tension out of her body. As she stripped off her clothes, she wondered when the last time was that she had taken the time to just take a long bath. It had been so long, she doubted she'd had one since before her pursuing her undergraduate degree in journalism at NYU. By the time she was fully naked and had pinned her hair up, in order to keep it dry while she soaked, the tub was half full and she gasped as she stepped into it. The water was just short of scalding hot, just as she loved it. She slowly eased herself into a half sitting, half lying position and rested her neck against the back of the tub.

She was in heaven.

But after a few moments of doing nothing, she wished she had brought a book or magazine with her so she'd have something to do. Five minutes later, she was itching to do something -- anything. She was so used to having something to do at all hours of the day -- even as she waited to fall asleep, she made a mental to do list for the next day -- that she had no idea what to do with herself as she attempted to relax. With a frustrated growl, she relax her body some more and closed her eyes, trying to clear he mind of all thoughts. Within a few minutes, she had calmed her mind enough to fall into a light sleep, and soon she was dreaming. 

Unfortunately, like most of the times she fell asleep during the past year, she relived the worst day of her life in her dreams.

C'est La Vie



This story is dedicated to my very good Internet friend LadyCibelle with whom I've had no communication for a worryingly long period of time now. Would anyone who has direct knowledge of her present situation please contact me?

I sincerely thank those folks from around the world, who have assisted in the preparation this text for posting.

The following is a work of fiction. Any similarity between characters within the story and any actual persons either living or dead is completely unintentional and purely coincidental. 

*****

It was big place and, I had to admit impressive. For some inexplicable reason the modern exterior hid an interior decked-out in the style of an ancient baronial castle, kind-a like the lavish film sets you sometimes see in films. Basically a Victorian interpretation of an ideal medieval castle: they actually didn't have the technology to build large or extravagantly as that in the real old days.

One thing I knew for sure, was that the wedding wouldn't have been located in such an establishment, had I'd been footing the bill. But hey, my ex-wife Shona had made damned sure that would never happen many years before.

I really thought I'd found myself a safe secluded spot, (tucked away in a pseudo-Minstrels Gallery that doubled-up as spot-lighting tower and projection room) from where I could watch the ceremony but not be seen by anyone on the floor of the main hall below.

I had been well aware that my presence - should it become known - would prove to be somewhat controversial to say the least, and would probably lead to an unfortunate confrontation between my one times and myself. I also had been pretty convinced that my daughter would not have best pleased should that happen. I even had it figured that Tamsin would have been even less pleased to learn of my presence than The Witch and George (her side-kick husband) would be.

Anyway, there I was, quietly tucked away in the back of the - usually ignored - minstrels' gallery, from where I could observe my estranged daughter's wedding, when suddenly a voice whispered right in my ear.

"Hi handsome! I figured you wouldn't pass-up on this little shindig!"

To say the sound of that voice gave me a start, would be putting it mildly. I quite literally leapt off the fishing stool I was perched upon and crashed to the floor. Yeah well, if I was low-down sitting on that little stool and observing the service through/between the balustrade's bars, I'd figured there'd be less chance of anyone spotting me.

The clatter that little aluminium stool had made as it tumbled to, and then skidded across, the stone floor of the minstrels' gallery had to be have been witnessed to be believed. I figured that all chance of my presence remaining clandestine had instantly evaporated.

From my new position - flat on my back on the floor - I looked up and saw 'Trouble' towering over me. My daughter's very embarrassed looking Aunt, was making frantic apologetic gestures with her hands towards the body of the hall below. 

Megan - or "Trouble" as I'd humorously nicknamed her in our younger days - was, or rather had been, my ex-wife's mischievous younger sister. Megan had very often been the bane of our courting years.

A glance between the bars of the balustrade informed me that my hidey-hole had suddenly become the centre of attention for almost everybody in the building. Bride, groom, celebrant, photographer, choir, film-cameraman and most of the congregation were all staring up at Megan with annoyed and/or somewhat puzzled expressions on their faces.

So I flattened myself to the floor as best I could and prayed that no bugger had noticed me. Megan after, signalling that the service should proceed, picked-up my little stool and delicately plonked her own pert derriere upon it.

From my prone position I could no longer see the floor of the main hall, but I could just about hear what was going on below and I soon gathered that the wedding service had resumed. I kind-of hoped the incident had been put down as one of Megan's stunts. Megan's penchant for outlandish behaviour and the unexpected were legendary within the family, even when she had been a child.

"It's okay, you can watch now." Megan whispered. "Sorry, I didn't mean to make you jump, Billy."

"Make me jump woman. You damned near gave me a bleeding heart attack! Where did you learn to creep around like that, Megan?" I whispered, as I manoeuvred myself into a position from which I could observe what was happening below. Well, it was obvious to me that I'd lost the use of my little stool for the duration.

"Oh, I kind-a picked it up as a kid, sneaking up on a couple of lovers I used to know." She glanced down and winked at me.

"You cheeky little monkey!"

"I'm not so little now, Billy boy. You just watch your step or you might find yourself getting ravished later."

"Oh no I won't, Megan. I'm on the four-thirty train out of this bleeding hell hole!"

Megan glanced down at me again. Made a strange (but oddly familiar) gesture with her eyes - that I seemed to recall implied "That's what you think!" - and then gestured towards the service below with her hand. Effectively informing me that the conversation was suspended until after the ceremony had run its course.

I'd always liked Shona's little sister. Yeah, sometimes she'd been a real pain in the ars... backside while Shona and I had been courting. But Shona had ever been less tolerant of 'Trouble's' antics than I. Megan had always struck me as basically a good-hearted kid who wanted attention. There had been a good four years between the two sisters; a recipe for strife if ever I saw one. I'd always figured that Megan just hadn't understood that her elder sibling, and I of course, required a little privacy now and again.

The service over, I did my best to get a good look at the groom as he paraded Tamsin out of the hall. Not that the angle made that a simple task if I were going to remain out of sight. From what I could make of the lad, he looked a decent enough chap to me.

Luckily everyone appeared to be so focused on the bride and groom, that I don't think anyone even glanced up at the Minstrels Gallery again.

But, the moment the cortège had passed out of sight below us, Megan began attempting to drag me to my feet.

"Come-on Billy, we'd better get down to the dining room!"

I resisted Megan's frantic pulling at my arm, trying to stay safely out of sight until all of the guests had vacated the hall.

"Megan there's no way in hell I'm going to show my face at that reception. Jesus, I'd end up in the slammer!"

"Don't talk nonsense, Billy; it's your own daughter's wedding! Why would the police want to arrest you?"

"Well, there's that bleeding restraining order for starters!" I blustered.

"No Billy, Shona's dead now and she's the only person named on that restraining order. When he killed her, that order instantly became null and void."

"What do you mean, he killed her?" I demanded, almost leaping to my feet. "It was an accident... wasn't it?"

"Billy, that bleeding tosser always drove like a bloody idiot... still does come to that! That geezer was... is a disaster waiting to happen every time he gets behind a damned steering wheel. Have you any idea how fast he was going that day?"

"I know very little about it, Megan!"

"I saw the skid-marks on the road, Billy. He was driving like a bleeding idiot that night, just like he always does. I just can't understand how he wasn't prosecuted for killing my sister. Even Tamsin knows who is to blame for her mother's death. You'll have noticed that he wasn't down there today; he wasn't invited!"

"Neither was I, Megan!"

"Yes you were... in a round-about way. It was just that I couldn't find you to let you know. Look here, my invite says 'Ms Megan Stone and guest!' No provisos or anything. Guess who my guest is going to be?"

I laughed out loud.

"You've got to be joking Megan. Me, turn-up at a Stone wedding? Been there once remember my girl... and you recall how that turned out in the long term!"

"The fact that my sister was a silly cow, has nothing to do with it, Billy. You are Tamsin's father and... Jesus, you should have been down there today, giving her away - not her grandfather!

"Now you and I are going to attend the reception together and I don't want to hear any nonsense about restraining orders. My Uncle Albert assures me that there are no legal grounds for you not to attend as my guest. As a matter of fact, he thinks it's a damned good idea. He was always in your camp, you know; even when things got messy."

"I kind-a wondered why the old bugger didn't represent Shona." I commented.

"Look Billy, if my Uncle Albert had thought he could have got away with it, I'm damned sure he'd have represented you for free. He was singularly unimpressed with my sister's behaviour back then and really laid into her... and my mum and dad over it. He blatantly refused to represent Shona. To the best of my knowledge, he and mother haven't spoken two civil words to each other since."

"The only time I've seen them in the same room together was at Shona's funeral. I think Uncle Albert was a little disappointed that you were a no-show that day."

"I wasn't even in the country Megan. I was backing-up a crew filming the fauna and flora down on South Georgia. Since those folks got trapped down there when the Argentineans invaded... well, they prefer us not to be too far away with the ship if we can help it. Anyway I knew nothing of Shona's accident until three months after her funeral, when we got back to the UK. I ran into Toby... er, whatever his name is, down in Falmouth, and he told me about the accident."

While listening to my explanation Megan had wrestled me to my feet and had been, busy brushing the dust off my whistle.



(No! That's my suit. Christ, some peoples minds; I ask you!)



"Come along, Billy," Megan continued, "Let's get down to the reception before the receiving line breaks-up."

From the firm hold Megan had taken upon my arm, I understood that... whether I appreciated the idea or not... Megan had decided that I was going to attend my daughter's wedding reception. Against my better judgement, I suppose I must have conceded defeat.

I have to admit that that was probably only due to the not inconsiderable sum of alcohol I'd consumed during the previous twenty-four hours. That served to cloud my judgment just enough to allow me to acquiesce to Megan's wishes.

Yeah well, look I'd better explain. When Shona and I first... split-up, I have to admit that I hadn't handled the situation as well as I could have done. In fact I'd ended-up spending more than a few days as the guest of the US authorities (or the local law enforcement anyway) when I'd taken it upon myself to administer a little... retribution. I gave the "new man" in Shona's life, a bit of a pasting.

A knee-jerk and somewhat satisfying exercise it might have been. But one that was to prove to have been very misguided in the long term. The confrontation had not ended as I'd expected and the fall-out had led to me getting my backside thoroughly kicked.

You see regretfully Shona had become entangled in the mêlée somehow and that had resulted in her visiting a nearby Emergency Room (as the Yanks like to term them). Hence my incarceration, and numerous Court Orders issued in both the US and the UK jurisdictions, forbidding me from going within a mile or so, of Shona's whereabouts, forever; or just about.

Whatever - I can assure the reader that I personally have never laid a finger upon my errant wife. Well, not to my knowledge anyway! (That statement will probably make a little more sense to you later, I'm sure.)

Where was I? Oh yeah! 

Anyway after the Courts had had their way, I found myself an ex-con (as the Yanks like to refer to us) and branded a hooligan and wife beater. And subsequent to the fight, my parental rights where our daughter Tamsin were concerned, were unceremoniously removed: almost all of which took place while I was still incarcerated in a US slammer by the way. Not a very enjoyable experience, I can assure you. Mind you, nothing in my life proved to be much fun around that time. 

The ex-con label didn't exactly do my working career much good either. You try getting a work Visa for the US with that kind of a record!

Albeit all of that hadn't stopped Shona (aided by the British legal system) demanding financial support from me for Tamsin, until the child reached the age of eighteen years.

I'm not very proud to have to admit, that after having my arse-kicked that efficiently by the system, I'd taken solace in drink for a while.

However I had managed not to become a complete wreck or a card-carrying alcoholic. But that's probably more down to my inherited biological make-up, rather than any mental will, if you get my drift. However I had still required a little 'something' to help me face that particular day. 

"You're still working in the film industry, Billy?" Megan asked, as she guided a somewhat diffident me (hence our slow progress) down the stairs and into the establishment's main foyer.

"No, not really, Megan." I replied, "I suppose you could say I'm in shipping now. Most of the time I'm a seaman on research ships and the like, although I still do quite a lot of filming. I suppose it's kind-a handy for them to have a spare or second, experienced cameraman on the crew to help document things. Sometimes I'm the only cameraman on board."

"You gave-up on Hollywood then?"

"Megan, I never did work for any of the big boys. The best I ever managed was cameraman on second units. On pretty mediocre third-rate films, at that! Unfortunately for me, my wife was a far bigger hit with the directors and producers than my work ever was."

"Shona always wanted to be a star, Billy! You knew that before you married her."

"Yeah, but I had no idea how far she'd go to fulfil her dream. Oh shit, will you look at that lot?"

We had arrived in the hotel's foyer that we had to pass through to get to the entrance of the function room, within which Tamsin's wedding reception was going to be... staged. The vast expanse was crowded with guests patiently queuing to join the formal receiving line. 

I figured that 'The Witch' - Megan and Shona's mother - had planned the show and she'd pulled-out all the stops on this one. The Witch has even greater delusions of grandeur than my ex-wife had enjoyed. The Witch had planned and organised our nuptials, although they hadn't been on the same scale as this shindig.

I might add, that The Witch and I had never been members of each other's respective fan clubs. So I had it figured that my appearance at this reception could go disastrously wrong.

Once anonymously buried in amongst the crowd, I didn't feel quite so... vulnerable. Although more than one of our fellow guests/relatives did a quick double-take as they recognised me - probably from Shona's and my own wedding many years before.

I also knew that somewhere out there I did have a few allies, but they would remain strictly clandestine. Generally the Stone's were a pretty close clan.

Eventually though the crowd began to thin and The Witch finally caught sight of me from her place a little way down the receiving line. Her face instantly turned a crimson colour, and for a moment there I thought I detected smoke emanating from her ears. 

Although I protested, Megan frogmarched me through the function room entrance and up to the beginning of the receiving line.

Tamsin's new husband was instantly struck-dumb when Megan introduced him to his bride's father. The poor lad really didn't know what to do or say.

I shook a very limp hand.

Tamsin was equally shocked, if not more so. As I looked into her eyes they just grew larger and larger until I feared that they were about to pop out of her skull.

You know, I really do believe that the child had no clue as to who I was, until she'd heard her Aunt Megan informing her new spouse that I was Tamsin's father.

For some inexplicable reason I chose to say. "Hi kiddo, long time since I bounced you on my knee!" Before I took the equally limp hand she was holding out and kissed the back of it.

Yeah well, I did think about giving Tamsin a hug; but I feared she might faint on me, if I did.

Tamsin's reply was limited to, "B,b,b,b,but, but!" Before Megan elbowed me on along the line.

The next face that came into my view was The Witch's sidekick George. He did recognise me and he handled the situation quite well. Well, I thought he did! 

"William, we weren't... er, well, this is an unexpected surprise. How did you...?"

"Billy's my guest daddy. If he goes, I go as well!" Megan commanded from beside me.

I kind-a wondered if Megan had even spoken to Tamsin. It seemed to me that there just wasn't the time.

"I wouldn't suggest that for a moment, Megan." The old sod replied, "Of course William is welcome here today. I was just surprised that he was in the country. Your mother assured me that he was working down in the antipodes somewhere at present."

"I've been working in the Antarctic, sir." I have no idea why I addressed the bugger as 'Sir'; habit I suppose. "My ship docked in New Zealand five weeks ago." I informed the old codger.

"See Megan, your mother did try to contact William. You got her message I assume, William. Your mother told you she would contact William, Megan! You're very welcome here today my boy."

George had switched his attention between, Megan and myself as he spoke. 

Whatever he said, I was sure that there had been no message. In the age of modern electronic communication, things are pretty good down there. Just sometimes interrupted by extreme bad weather on the shore basses.

So for all the old-boy's assurance otherwise, I was pretty positive that I had never been included on the guest-list, even tentatively. The fact that my ex-mother had vanished from the receiving line by the time we reached her place, assured me of that fact.

I kind-a wondered whether she'd dashed off to call the police or something.

Tamsin's news were polite... pleasant, and obviously very confused. They didn't exactly look like they had seen a ghost. Better described as shocked, to find themselves shaking hands with one, I would have described it.

All rather amusing from my perspective, but it did cause me to wonder exactly what they'd been told about Tamsin's father.

The majority of the other guests had not the slightest clue as to whom I was, so it was more with curiosity (probably as to why Megan had chosen to watch the wedding ceremony from the Minstrels Gallery) that we were gazed upon as we left the receiving line.

I, like everyone else grabbed myself a glass of bubbly from a handy passing waitress and downed it in a single gulp. Megan instructed me to slow-down - in no uncertain terms - after I grabbed hold of a second glass.

Then the impressive bulk of Sir Albert Stone appeared through the throng. I kind-a wondered why Uncle Albert hadn't been included in the receiving line, he was generally accepted as the patriarch of the whole damned clan. 

"William, my boy. How pleasant it is to see that you are here today. Hyacinth (The Witch) had me believing that you were abroad and would be unable to attend." Albert said, proffering his hand for me to shake.

I can't claim that I'd ever liked the old bugger. Megan's Uncle Albert is a barrister by calling and had always appeared far too formal for my liking. As a young man I'd felt a natural aversion to his type. An aversion that had since been reinforced somewhat, by my... encounters with the legal profession.

However Megan had implied that the old sod had taken my side during the train-wreck ending of my marriage. In consequence I was forced to undertake a rapid re-evaluation of my feelings towards the character.




C'est La Vie



"How do you do, sir?" I found myself responding as I shook his hand. "It's nice to meet you again."

"Capital, capital." Albert grinned back at me.

I'm really not sure what the "Capital, capital," phrase is supposed to mean or imply. But from memory I knew that it was Uncle Albert's habitual response to almost anything and everything that was ever said to him; provided things were going as the old codger wished, that is!

At that instant Tamsin - her duties on the receiving line apparently fulfilled - appeared before me. 

In fact (forgetting her manners completely) Tamsin elbowed her way rather rudely between her Uncle Albert and myself. The expression on Tamsin's face I can only describe as one of overt distaste.

"You've got some front, turning up here! What are you after, some kind of a hand-out or something; or did you just want to embarrass me?" Tamsin demanded, albeit surprisingly quietly.

I suppose I should point out here that Tamsin's words - and the manner in which she phrased them - were lifted directly from The Witch's repertoire. It hadn't been my daughter speaking to me. It was a Tamsin who'd been brainwashed since shortly after her birth, by The Witch! Understanding that fact left me disappointed, but I did not hold Tamsin's attitude towards me against her. It just assured me that things were as I'd always expected they would be.

I looked from my daughter to Albert, and then at Megan stood by my side.

"I told you this was not a good idea, Megan. I'd better leave now." I said and turned to walk away.

"No, just a minute young man?" Albert called out. Loud enough to draw the attention of almost everyone standing near. And with authority enough to bring me to an instant halt.

I turned back, wondering what the old boy was going to say.

"Tamsin, your father has travelled almost halfway around the world to be here with you on this, your special day. The very least you can do is behave civilly toward him!"

In fact Albert's statement was untrue, I nearly always spent the British summer months in the UK. Most of my ship/natural history work was in Antarctic waters, but very little goes on down there during that time of the year.

My daughter looked... well, I'm not sure... perplexed, I suppose you would call it. She glanced from me to her Uncle, at all the people watching and then back at me again. Then she said.

"I'm sorry... father! Your unexpected presence took me by surprise. You've never made a point of being interested in my life."

"And just where did you get hold of that idea, Tamsin?" Albert... roared. "I'll have you know young lady, that your father has followed your development extremely closely. He's risked arrest on numerous occasions, just so that he could witness significant events... occasions in your life! Haven't you young man?"

"I'm sorry sir," I began to reply, but Albert - on a roll - continued speaking.

"Prize giving at that damned silly expensive school your mother insisted on shipping you off to. I have it on very good authority that your father was there for every one of them. And, he was also at your graduation from university! 

"Damn-it girl, you walked right past your father to collect your diploma, without even noticing him. He knew who you were, but you failed to recognise him. Mind you, neither did your mother and that possibly saved your father from a visit to the local magistrates' court."

"I didn't know you were there Uncle Albert." Tasnim ventured.

"I wasn't, Tamsin! Not as regularly as I'd liked to have been, anyway. Your mother and I had our differences - you know that! But I have people who have kept a wary eye on your development all these years, and they could recognise your father. It wouldn't have done for one of them to have inadvertently broken your father's cover, would it? When your mother was around, your father's presence was technically illegal.

"I would suggest, Tamsin that you smile sweetly and forget your imagined differences with your father. I assure you, he... or rather your father's reputation in your eyes, has always fallen victim to circumstance, coupled your late mother's exceedingly poor judgement. Lets have a family truce for this special day, shall we?"

By this time my daughter was looking rather sheepish.

"If you insist Uncle," Tamsin conceded, then added. "But I have to wonder what his motivation is for coming here today."

Then Tamsin turned her back on me and strode away into the crowd. After watching her retreat Albert turned to me.

"William, I'm afraid your daughter has only ever heard a very one-sided account of... her parents divorce. It never did help that you and Hyacinth did not see eye to eye in the first place."

"I was never good enough for Shona in her mother's eyes, sir!" I replied.

"No one could ever have been good enough for Hyacinth, William. I don't think even my brother fulfils that description in my sister's eyes. However, it would appear that Hyacinth might have thrown-in the towel. She's up there on the dais, apparently rearranging the seating plan at the top table."

Sure enough when I looked, The Witch - assisted by her ever-bumbling sidekick of a husband George - did appear to be rearranging the place settings.

As we watched, I saw one of the photography crew approach them. The Witch had a short discussion with the guy, then - Hyacinth apparently happy with her rearrangements - the little entourage left the dais.

"They're setting up for the group photographs, Billy. We'd better go." Megan informed me quietly.

"No, you go Megan. Tamsin is not best pleased I'm here. Besides, I'd look completely out of place in the photographs not wearing a monkey outfit. It would spoil the set-up."

"Billy...!"

"Don't argue Megan. I'm on the verge of leaving anyway. I knew this wasn't a good idea."

After some more protest, not only from Megan but also from her Uncle Albert, they left me alone and went outside for the photo shoot. Much to my relief almost all the other guests also went out into the hotel's gardens to watch or take part.

I took the opportunity to slip up onto the dais and do a little rearranging of my own.

Sure enough The Witch had seated me alongside Tamsin's new husband. But considering my daughter's demeanour and the fact that I'd never met the young man before, I though that that might be asking for trouble.

And besides Megan, Uncle Albert and his wife - apparently my only overt allies - were way down the end of the table. So I put Tamsin's grandfather back in that place (where I suspected he had been seated on the original plan). Then I shoved my own - hastily scribbled card - alongside Megan down the end of the table. I sort-of figured that that was a far safer arrangement.

On her return from the photo shoot, Megan went into spoilt-child-sulk mode, for a short while. It was a long time since I'd seen her pull that act and I found it strangely humorous. I gathered the act had been inspired by my refusal to join-in the photo shoot.

"Oh well if that's going to be your attitude, I'm going to find the bar!" Was all I had to say, to bring Megan's sham protest to a swift end.

"You so much as dare and I'll..." Megan retorted.

"And you'll do what, Megan?" I asked.

"I'm not sure... Kiss you maybe! I always wanted to do that, but I never had the nerve."

I had always been aware that Shona's little sister had held a candle for me, but I was surprised to hear Megan imply that she was still carrying that torch.

"My god, Megan. I'd have thought you'd have grown out of silly teenage crushes years ago."

"Oh I did. I even found what I thought was 'the man of my dreams'. But I soon discovered that all that glitters is not gold... and what you see isn't always what you end-up with. It was only after I divorced the bugger that I realised exactly what my sister had so carelessly discarded."

"I'm not at all sure that I understand what you were trying to say there, Megan."

"Good, a confused man is a safe one!" She grinned, "Lets go, it looks like they're sitting down to eat!"

The top table was inordinately long and Megan and "her guest" had originally been positioned someway down the pecking order. Although The Witch had rearranged things, I'd reversed her changes, much to the old bitch's confusion. Great fun as far as I was concerned. The Witch appeared to accept my rearrangement without protest, but she threw me a withering glance.

Albert was seated beside Megan. "I thought Hyacinth..." He began to comment, as we arrived at our respective places.

"I thought that her original plan would prove a little more diplomatic, sir." I interrupted him.

"Capital capital, I always knew Hyacinth had misjudged you, my lad. Anyway you will drop the formality please; I'm Bertie to family!"

Through most of the meal Albert monopolised me as far as conversation was concerned. All-but ignoring everyone else sitting nearby - including his wife, but with the exception of Megan who was seated between us - he spent almost the whole meal asking me probing questions about my travels. I almost felt like I was in a witness box. Well, he was a highfalutin barrister who was accustomed to cross-examining people.

"Well, let's see how they're going to handle this?" Albert commented, leaning back in his chair, when the master of ceremonies called for silence for the formal toasts.

Tamsin's grandfather, having given her away (and I assumed paid for the shindig) stood and gave a brief welcoming speech.

Then the old bugger took me completely by surprise by calling on the "Bride's father" to say a few words and propose a toast to the happy couple.

I might add that - from the expression on The Witch and Tamsin's faces - his suggestion had not been part of the master plan, nor had it been approved. And it was definitely not universally welcomed!

Mind, as I said, the old duffer caught me completely on the hop and totally unprepared. So I was forced to rapidly get my act together, and wing it.

I really cannot recall much - if anything - of what I said that day. I think I started by mumbling-on about unfortunate circumstances or something along those lines. But then I got into my stride when I started talking about Tamsin, throwing in just about every humorous incident in her life I was aware of. Whatever, it must have been a pretty good speech, - and I assume sounded pre-prepared - for I was shocked to find that I had the whole damned room in fits of laughter. (Hey it could have been that I was making such a fool of myself that they were laughing at me.) But even The Witch's face cracked at one point in my discourse.

Then remembering that I was breaking the magic seven-minute rule, (yes I did have one eye on the clock, never has a minute-hand moved so slowly,) I proposed a toast to my new son and his beautiful bride and then I threw the ball into the groom's court.

"That was brilliant, Billie; how long have you been preparing that speech?" Megan asked, as I collapsed into my seat.

"Did it sound okay?" I asked, failing to believe that I'd successfully pulled it off.

"Capital, capital, my boy!" Albert echoed. "With a turn like that, you could make a fortune on the after dinner speaking circuit."

Looking at the portly Albert, I figured he knew what he was talking about when it came to after diner speaking and breathed a sigh of relief.

I'm not sure what happened then, I know that there appeared to be a never-ending round of people leaping to their feet, reciting remarkably long and often un-witty dissertations. Also toasts were made to every Tom, Dick and Harry you could think of, including the Queen.

I'm really not sure where she fitted into the equation; maybe someone was trying to bring the seemingly unending cycle of mundane speeches to a conclusion.

I did note that none of the people who did speak managed to match the apparent hilarity of my own rendition.

"Come, my boy, I have a little corner all picked-out and reserved." Albert said as folks finally started to vacate the dining room.

It was at this point that I really began to suspect that Megan and her Uncle Albert had somehow planned-out my day in advance.

Maybe it had only been a rough outline, but the two of them obviously knew what they were doing and appeared to work in unison. Uncle Albert's wife never did say much of consequence to me, but she smiled pleasantly whenever our eyes met.

Megan - taking a firm grasp of my right arm again - guided me into the next room and over to a table quite near to the bar. Strangely - for a wedding reception - that table was within it's own little roped-off area: something like the executive areas you sometimes find in up-market nightclubs. I've always thought that sort of thing pretentious and I felt out of place sitting there.

A young woman - who it became apparent had been assigned as Albert's personal waitress - promptly appeared and took our drink orders. I noted that almost everyone else had to queue at the bar in order to obtain... refreshment. Few if any of them ever seemed to be able to catch the young woman's eye when they attempted to order from her.

I also noted that there was a similar enclosure on the far side of the room, but for the time being that remained empty. Later though, I spotted that The Witch, her husband and the Groom's parents retreated there, occasionally.

Shortly after we'd been served with a first round of drinks, Sir Albert Stone began holding Court.

Numerous lesser members of the Stone clan (some of which I'd met at my own wedding many years before) would arrive, introduce their (mostly charming, but sometimes hideous) offspring to Uncle Albert. Then having thoroughly doffed their caps to the family patriarch, they'd retreat into the anonymity of the crowd again.

The pointless pantomime bored me silly and must have gone on for nearly an hour. During the whole of which, Albert said little else than keep repeating his pet phrase of "Capital, capital!

Sometimes he even added a third "Capital!" for good measure. To be quite honest with you, if the whole palaver it hadn't been so ludicrous, it might have been funny.

I'd been trying to ignore the pantomime and I probably would have retreated had Megan not been hanging onto my arm for all she was worth. And unfortunately Albert had decided to ensure that all of our visitors were reminded (and informed in some cases) that I was Tamsin's biological father. I do believe that Albert's intention was inform those who believed otherwise that he had decided to revoke my previous status as 'family pariah'.

Whenever I tried to ignore what was happening beside me by chatting with Megan, Albert would introduce yet another family member, no matter whether they already knew me or not. 

There was one short interlude in the sycophantic display while her new husband whisked Tamsin around the dance floor. No, I wasn't called upon to dance with anyone at that time. Which was rather handy in a way, because I'm not all that hot at the old formal stuff, especially when my partner and I are the centre of attention.

"I do believe that's the last of them." Albert said - with a relieved tone to his voice - as the final little family group retreated from our enclave. "Now my boy, I really do think we'd better get down to the serious business of the day. We can't have that daughter of yours addressing her father in the manner she did earlier."

"Damned impertinent of the child. It might have been handy if you'd been around to put her over your knee and give her a good spanking years ago. She certainly needed it! Damn-it that's what her mother needed as well, George was always too soft with Shona, and young Megan here."

"Oh, cheers Uncle Albert!" Megan grumbled.

"Oh you weren't all that bad, Megan. But you have to admit you could be a cheeky little tyke sometimes. Led your parents' a right song and dance on occasion."

"I was never as bad as Shona, Uncle."

"No, I'll concede you that, Megan. But I'm sure that if William here had put Shona over his knee and tanned her backside for her the first time she stepped out of line on him, everyone's life would have been a lot simpler. Including his own!"

"Knowing Shona, I'd have spent most of it behind bars, Albert!" I interjected.

"Yes, you're right; possibly you would have, William. Shona was a law unto herself and displayed distinct lack of good judgement... and conscience on occasion."

"On occasion?" Megan queried.

"Alright, rather too frequently." Albert agreed. "Anyway, young man, it's about time we repaired your relationship with that daughter of yours!"

Albert gave a cursory wave of his hand and our waitress appeared. He whispered something to her that I couldn't catch and then she was gone again.

A few minutes later Albert suddenly took to his feet and ordered.

"Come along you two, we can't do this in front of the world and his wife. Things are liable to turn unseemly!"

Then the big man strode away towards the main foyer. The crowd on the dance floor appeared to magically clear a path before him. Megan, still clasping my right arm in that iron grip, guided me along in his wake.

I think I mentioned that I thought the day had been pre-planned. That feeling was reinforced by the fact that Albert led the way into another - much smaller and almost completely deserted - function room. 

What struck me as odd, was the fact that the young lad (obviously) guarding that room - he removed a rope that barred the entrance as we approached - just happened to be the same member of the hotel's staff that I'd dropped a few bob to, to gain access to the Minstrel's Gallery.

It was set-up, furnished more like a lounge bar than a function room, but sans the bar itself. There were however many large sofa's and on one tucked away in corner, three people were seated, two men and a woman.

For some reason they looked out of place to me and I knew that they weren't part of the wedding party. They wore no white carnations for a start, and even I had managed to purloin one of those before the service had begun.

The woman... well at first sight, I took her to be one of the hotel's office staff. She looked like a very efficient (and damned attractive) young secretary. The two guy's were a different kettle of fish. They were smartly dressed but not excessively so. And one of them looked unsettlingly familiar to me... I felt I'd seen the bugger before and might even have spoken to him, but I could not recall where or when. The second guy was a complete stranger to me, much as the young woman was.

Ignoring the three interlopers, Albert headed for a circular grouping of sofas. He'd no sooner seated himself and indicated where he expected Megan and me to sit, when our waitress appeared carrying a tray loaded with even more alcoholic beverages.

"Uncle Albert," (Don't ask me why I decided to address him as Uncle Albert, he was no Uncle of mine, but it felt right on that particular occasion.) "If you don't ease-off on this booze a little, I'm going to be as pi... drunk as a skunk before the evening's out!"

"William, drunks, fall into several basic categories: The obnoxious argumentative or fighting drunk. The tedious, talkative drunk. The dozy sleeping drunk and the... more amiable, happy drunk! I happen to be aware that you are usually classified as a member of the latter variety." Albert replied, in his authoritative tone of voice and a disconcerting smile on his face.

I had to concede that Albert was correct in his description of my demeanour when I am... was under the influence of an excess of alcohol. (I no longer drink to excess, ever! My wife would not appreciate it if I did.) But I was acutely interested in how he could have possibly known that fact. It wasn't like we moved in similar circles or anything. Crikey I'd come into contact with the man no more than four or five times during my whole life.




C'est La Vie



"You appear to know a lot about me, sir."

"Of course I do young man! After what happened I felt obligated to keep an eye on you. If I could do nothing else, I could ensure that you did not get into anymore trouble."

"I don't understand, sir!" 

"Cut the formality, William! I'm on your side. I always have been, hasn't Megan assured you of that?"

I suppose I must have nodded or something, for he went on.

"Capital, now be patient for a little longer young man and all will become clear to you. I hope!

"I also hope that you'll understand my position and be able to find it in your heart to forgive me for not acting sooner."

"Now, you've really lost me... Bertie."

My reply brought a smile to the old mans face, but it didn't remain there for very long. His gaze moved to the far side of the room. When I followed his eye line, I saw that The Witch and George, had entered the lounge. They were swiftly followed by Tamsin and her husband. All four of them trooped over and were directed to sit on adjacent sofas opposite us.

Albert's gaze then returned to the lounge's entrance; it was obvious he was expecting someone else to join us.

"What's this all about, Bertie? Why have you summoned us in here like this? We have guests to attend to!" The Witch demanded

"Please be quiet Hyacinth, without your interference I'm sure none of this would have been necessary. Shona was a feckless young woman who made an honest mistake, which she had been prepared to admit to until you talked her out of doing so!"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" The Witch began to rant, but her husband shocked her into silence.

"Be quiet Hyacinth, Bertie's quite right!" George snapped back at her.

"Jesus, the worms turned!" I thought to myself. That was something I'd never dreamed would ever happen.

At this point a man wearing a black suit and a dog collar entered the lounge. I recognised him instantly as another prominent member of the Stone clan.

A Priest of the Roman Catholic persuasion who went by the name of Father Conner, and of obvious Irish decent. However I never had been able to figure-out exactly where he fitted into the Stone family tree. As far as I was aware, everyone else in the Stone clan were strictly C. of E.

Whatever - the man had always been pleasant to me on the few occasions we had met.

I should add that - being of a different faith or not - Father Conner held similar and equal patriarchal standing within the family clan to Sir Albert Stone.

However whereas the throng had come to Albert in the main hall, I'd caught sight of Father Conner a couple of times, diligently doing the rounds of the family.

Albert rose to his feet to greet Father Conner and then the priest turned to me and shook my hand. (I'd leapt to my feet the instant Albert had.) 

"I'm pleased you chose to attend today, William. You did a fine job with that speech young man. It certainly surprised your daughter to learn that you are so... conversant with her life history."

Father Conner stole a quick glance at Tamsin as he spoke. My daughter looked somewhat embarrassed.

"Thank you, Father, you're keeping well I hope!"

"As well as the good Lord intended, William. Now Megan, have you been avoiding me today?"

The good Father moved his attention on. I waited patiently until he'd finished with Megan and then we all sat down again.

Uncle Albert cleared his throat noisily. Effectively saying, "Right now, let's get down to business!"

But it was Father Conner who spoke first.

"Bertie, you do understand the confidentiality of the confessional?"

"Completely, Joe!" Albert replied, "My actions were similarly constrained until recently. However, I believe I might have thought of a way out of our mutual predicament."

"Very well, as long as everyone understands that I can't reveal anything that was said to me in confidence." Father Conner reiterated.

Albert fixed Tamsin with a friendly stare.

"Tamsin, humour me if you will? I'd like you to imagine that we're in a courtroom here and that you are giving evidence... You've taken the oath, if you understand me!"

"Yes Uncle Bertie, but I don't..." Tamsin began to reply.

"I don't expect you to understand, Tamsin - not yet. Hopefully everything will become clear to you shortly. If it doesn't then this whole pantomime will have been a total waste of time. I just want you to answer my questions as fully and honestly as you can under the circumstances. What I'm going to ask you to tell me will all be hearsay anyway, so it would have no legal standing in a proper court of law.

"Now, will you humour me?"

"Of course Uncle Bertie."

"Right now I'd like you to relate to us, everything you know about the break-up of your parents marriage!"

"Now, hold up there Bertie..." I tried to intercede.

"Silence Billy, this is my playpen!" Albert admonished me.

To be honest with you, I was quite taken aback by the rebuke. Not so much by Albert's curt admonishment. More by the fact that he'd addressed me as, "Billy".

"Now Tamsin, if you would please?" Albert continued.

"Albert she was only a baby at the time. You're asking too much of Tamsin!" The Witch exclaimed.

"You know, you're probably right Hyacinth." Albert agreed, "Why don't you tell us the story? You went over there as I recall and you were old enough to understand what was happening. I'm sure you've repeated the story often enough over the years to know it off by heart."

"I, I don't think I can..." The Witch replied.

For the first time that I'd ever witnessed, sounding unsure of herself and even looking embarrassed.

"Oh but I'm sure you can Hyacinth. Your diatribe against William here has been your party piece for years now."

Albert's obvious... attack on her grandmother, stirred something in Tamsin. She suddenly sat up straight.

"I'll do it..." Tamsin began to say, but Albert stopped her speaking.

Albert it seemed, was adamant that the The Witch tell the story. I don't understand why, but I have to assume that Albert's original request for Tamsin to relate the story had been some kind of legal feint; designed to achieve, I know not what! The way legal minds work, is often a mystery to us mere mortals. 

Eventually The Witch conceded, although she averted her eyes from my gaze all the time she was speaking.

I do not intend trying to repeat Hyacinth's actual words here. Some of what she related was completely out of chronological order anyway and even more of it was inconsequential (mother daughter stuff) that had little if any bearing on, or relation to, the actual events at the time. However I will try to relate the pertinent points of the story in the manner The Witch told it that day.

The Witch's diatribe:-

Shona and William had been in America for a couple of months, working on a film. It was Shona's first feature film, William was employed as an assistant cameraman or something. Larry Parker the film's director, had been very impressed with Shona's acting abilities though, and he told me that she would soon be a big star.

We thought everything was going so well. When she called home Shona was very excited about getting her big break in the cinema. Although having eighteen-month-old Tamsin along did prove to complicate things a little. Shona told us that a couple of the girls on film crew were very helpful and looked after Tamsin when she was on the set.

But then one evening everything changed. We received a telephone call informing us that William had gone out and got stone drunk. That he returned to the lodge that he and Shona were sharing, where she was rehearsing her lines for the following days shooting, aided by Larry. For some inexplicable reason William went mad and attacked Shona and poor Larry with the leg from a broken chair. 

Luckily Larry had managed to overpower William... by knocking him out, before he managed to kill them both. As I understand it, William was completely off his head. However Larry had not managed to prevent William breaking Shona's cheekbone. Poor Larry didn't fare too well either, because William had given him a really nasty black-eye.

The police of course prosecuted William over the attack, but I'd brought Tamsin back to the UK with me before the case went to court. I know he was sent to prison, but I have no idea how long for. And of course he was deported back to the UK after he'd served his sentence.

After the way William had beaten her, Shona divorced William. What else could the poor child do? No woman should have to experience treatment like that from her husband.

Shona was supposed to have had another, much bigger, part in a film to be made in Hollywood - Larry had arranged that. But her face still hadn't properly healed before they started filming, so she lost-out on that opportunity.

William's rampage that evening cost Shona her chance of becoming the great success as an actress she should have been! The poor girl was so frightened of what William would do when he did get back to the country, that we were forced to get a court order keeping him away from her.

There has been some legal wrangling over the years as everyone knows, but we haven't laid eyes on William... outside a courtroom from that day to this.

The Witch - looking pretty pleased with herself - leaned back on the sofa, effectively announcing the story was complete.

But I noted that she still hadn't looked me in the eye. I was convinced that she could not do so because she was well aware that the story she'd just related was neither the full story nor an accurate summary of events in the States that weekend. 

I had not sat quietly and listened to The Witch's diatribe as Albert had wished me to. Several times I'd been moved to challenge, add or correct details that The Witch had either ignored or was unaware of.

However Megan - still tightly holding onto my right arm - appeared to sense every-time I began to... lose my patience. She'd squeezed my arm and at almost the same instant - they must have been communicating somehow - her Uncle Albert would signal me to remain silent.

"Seems that you're a very violent drunk, William!" Albert observed. "I find that very hard to believe. It's also rather strange, that you've managed to remain out of prison for... what must be... twenty-two years now?"

I nodded to affirm Albert's estimate.

"It's also rather odd as well that I've had no reports of you loosing control of your emotions while under the influence. For the information of those of you who are unaware, I've had certain... associates keeping a wary eye on William for many years now. And William for a while there you were... well lets face it, you were a bit of a lush!

"Whatever, I get the feeling that William's interpretation of events will put a slightly different slant on things. Why don't you enlighten us as to how you perceived that unfortunate weekend, William?"

I disentangled Megan from my arm and moved myself forward on the seat a little. I didn't wish for her to inadvertently interrupt me, nor disturb my train of thought. Actually I suddenly felt quite naked without the comforting feel of Megan close beside me.

Then I looked directly at Tamsin, for it was she whom I needed to make understand.

"What your grandmother said was incorrect, right from the beginning. I was asked by a friend to act as cameraman for the second unit on that film. It was supposed to be an action film, set in mountainous terrain. The second unit was charged with filming all the long shots, very often with stand-ins in place of the principle actors. That has always been my forte, long shots and telephoto-work.

"They'd paid for Shona to fly over to the States only because I'd refused to go without her. I was thinking along lines that it would be a nice free holiday over there for Shona. The film crew had taken over a sort-of winter holiday complex. Possibly they got it cheap as we were filming outside of their usual season.

"Not for one minute did I think they'd ask Shona to fill-in for an actor who broke his leg the first day we were filming. They did have to do a little creative rewriting to turn the small part into a female character. Shona having acted in a couple of TV adverts... well, she was in the right place at the right time so to speak. Using her was going to be cheaper than finding and then flying-in another actor. Oh they cut her skiing scene: once bitten twice shy on that score, if you get my drift.

"I was completely unaware of what was going on behind my back, even though I knew that Larry Parker had to be banging some naive young female on the crew. That is Larry's way. Inside the industry he was infamous for his philandering ways. Besides I thought Parker was my friend, and I made the mistake of thinking that friends don't sh... seduce other friend's wives.

"We'd completed location filming that Friday. Everything else was supposedly going to be filmed back at the studio. Shona's character wasn't required for any of those shots. It was really only a very small part.

Anyway on the Friday afternoon, I and the rest of my crew, had to pack up all of our gear so it was ready to return to the hire company. All the technical gear is hired on an as-required basis. Anyway the packing went better than planned and we had things all wrapped up much earlier than I'd expected we would. I got back to the cabin Shona and I were sharing about half-five. I hadn't thought I'd get back there until much before ten that night.

But when I got there the place was empty. No loving wife or sleeping child! All I did find was a note... This note. 

I took out my wallet and held out a tatty piece paper towards Tamsin. However it was Albert who took it from my hand. He slowly and very carefully unfolded the remains of the document. Then he read the words scribbled upon it out loud.



Billy,

I'm leaving with Larry. He loves me and he's going to make me a big star in Hollywood. Please do not come after us, or make a fuss.

Shona. 



"Short and to the point." Albert commented, "Carry-on William, but I believe we can all see where this is going. Filming on location was over, you say?"

"Yes sir, it was!" I replied.

"Puts a lie to the Shona rehearsing lines for the next day story then, doesn't it? Still carry-on lad, lets get to the messy bit."

"You only have his word for that!" The Witch barked. "How do you know that he's not lying?"

"Very true, Hyacinth." Albert conceded, "Let's see if we can verify a few facts." Albert looked towards the three strangers. "Reginald, if you please?"

The man who hadn't looked familiar to me, stood and approached us carrying a briefcase.

"Sir?" he said to Albert, once he reached a comfortable distance.

"You have the copies of the shooting script for that film?"

Reginald didn't reply in words. He withdrew a folder from the briefcase and handed it to Albert.

Albert didn't even bother to open the folder; he casually threw it onto the coffee table the sofas were positioned around.

"If anyone would care to challenge Willaim's account so far, they'll find that it is supported by the contents of that file. Now, proceed William please."

For a few seconds I was at a loss, the interruption had disrupted my chain of thought. Literally I had to still my emotions before I continued.

"When I found that note, I got pretty pis... apoplectic. Yeah, and I took a drink or two to calm my nerves.

"But then I realised that I hadn't been due back at the camp until much later that evening. What's more I could recall seeing Larry's hire car parked up in front of his lodge, as we had arrived back in the camp. Then it struck me that Shona and Larry might have miscalculated, they'd thought they'd be long gone before I found that note."

"I have no idea what the smart thing to do, was under those circumstances. I do know that I wanted at least an explanation from Shona as what sort of game she thought she was playing. Parker, I was sure would drop Shona as soon as the next silly little tart caught his eye. I really could not believe Shona had forgotten all that I'd told her about the way the man operated. I hadn't been daft enough to introduce my wife to Parker without pre-preparing her. Jesus when the slimy git turned on the charm, the even bleeding birds in the trees flew to him."

"Anyway I found them in the kitchen of Larry's cabin. I really wasn't interested in Parker, I could deal with him anytime. It weren't like he could hide from me for long and stay in the industry, if you know what I mean. I wanted Shona to explain why she hadn't taken my warnings seriously."

"However Larry Parker, misjudged my intentions, perhaps he'd had other spouses come after him in the past. Anyway, honestly he came at me like the proverbial bull in a bloody china shop."

"I simply sidestepped and Parker shot past me and crashed into the backdoor, smashing the glass in the process. For a moment there, I thought Parker was trying to do a runner!

"In court later, it was claimed that I broke that glass forcing my way into the cabin! The fact that the broken shards were on the floor outside and I had no cuts on my arm, but Larry did, was apparently ignored."

"Of course it didn't help that I could recall very little of that day when I first regained consciousness, and I didn't do for a couple of years. I can recall it all now though, in intimate detail."

"I'm not sure how one would describe Larry Parker's fighting technique because it fits into no category I'm aware of. Whatever, once he'd recovered from crashing into that door, he proceeded to charge at me again. I sidestepped once again, but I managed to pop-him-one as he passed me. I thought it might cool his ardour a little or something."

"Big mistake, my punch changed the direction of his rampage; Parker ploughed into Shona and then the pair of them crashed to the floor. Shona had still been - somewhat surprisingly from my perspective - sitting on a chair beside the breakfast bar. I believe that must have been the seat that failed to survive the encounter."

"Actually I thought Parker was out for the count and Shona didn't look too clever either. So I dragged Parker off-of her and helped Shona to her feet." 

"I can recall Shona looking into my eyes, apparently she was very dazed... and then the bloody lights went out!

"I awoke four days later to find myself chained to a hospital bed. I had no memory of the day in question, nor several days preceding it. Memories that were to return, I might add; very slowly, over the following months and years.

"Anyway, Tamsin! Those are my recollections of that fateful day. Everything that has happened since, has been completely beyond of my control. I have no idea who hit me, nor what with. And I've come to the conclusion that it was Larry Parker's head that broke your mother's cheekbone when he crashed into her. I assume that it was he who cracked me on the head, breaking my skull, with a leg from that busted chair Shona had been sitting on.

"Why the two of them chose to blame me for the brawl, I have no idea. And ever since your mother... with the aid of the legal profession, made damned sure that I didn't get close enough to ask her."

"I'd heard that Larry Parker had been found dead - from bullet wounds - in a Los Angeles motel room while I was still enjoying the hospitality of the US legal system, so I couldn't very well ask him. I very much suspect that Parker had chosen to bed the wrong mans spouse. It would seem that Larry Parker discovered that some Yanks can prove to be extremely possessive and rather vindictive. And they can be pretty gung-ho about the use of firearms, as well!"

I sat back on the sofa, there was nothing further I could add, without sounding too vindictive towards my daughter's mother myself.





C'est La Vie



Megan clamped onto my right arm again, and surprised me by kissing me on the cheek.

Tamsin, sat in silence and stared at me. It felt like she was attempting to see right into my brain.

Then suddenly she shifted her stare to Albert.

"You know what really happened, don't you Uncle Albert? Mother told you didn't she?"

Then instantly Tamsin switched that penetrating stare to Father Conner.

"She told you, as well!"

"That she did my child, but like your Uncle Albert... our hands were tied!" Father Conner replied. "We cannot disclose, anything that has been told to us in the strictest confidence. In my case it's the confessional, in Albert's..."

"Attorney privilege!" Tasmain's new husband added. That was the first time I realised that the lad sounded American. His mother and father quite definitely had not.

"We use a different term for it in the British legal system, young man. But essentially it boils down to the same restriction of action." Albert assured him.

"Tamsin, I'm sure that your mother wouldn't have lied to you." The Witch ventured.

Tamsin, jumped to her feet and then subjected her grandmother to a hostile stare. She'd moved so that she could look her grandmother directly in the eyes.

"So am I grandmother. But in fact my mother never did explain to me what happened back then. What knowledge I do have; I picked-up elsewhere! Whenever I asked my mother about it, she'd always change the subject or prevaricate in some other way."

Suddenly Tamsin spun on her heel and strode across the room to where the three strangers were sitting and addressed the man I'd found familiar.

"I recognise you, don't I?" she demanded.

"Yes young lady, you possibly do." The man replied.

"Uncle Albert implied that he'd had someone keeping an eye on me, I can recall seeing you more than once at my school. I'm also sure that I saw you in Bristol a few times, when I was at university."

"That is possible, Miss!" The man conceded.

"So, taking into account the fact that my Uncle implied that he's had someone watching over my father as well - and I know that Reginald and Shirley here both work in my Uncle Albert's London office - I suspect that it was you who has been watching my father as well as me. Am I right?"

"As required, yes Miss, you are correct!" The man replied.

"So, what are you, a private detective?"

"I'm a retired police officer, Miss. Whom your Uncle calls upon when he requires my specialised services."

Tamsin turned, looked me right in the eye and grinned. Then she turned back to the man.

"I would imagine that you've looked very closely into the events of that evening, at sometime in the past?"

The man concurred that he had with a nod of his head.

"Then would you mind telling me, do you believe that my father is an honest man? Has he lied to us today?"

"Not to my knowledge, no Miss!" The man replied.

"Thank you officer. I'm sorry you didn't tell me your name."

"Sergeant White retired, Miss. Chalky to my friends."

"Thank you, Chalky. Why, Uncle Bertie didn't just send you to tell me the truth, I don't understand.

"I only do as I'm requested, Miss."

"And could you throw any light on why it was necessary for my Uncle Albert to remain silent for so long, Chalky?"

"I can only hazard a guess, Miss. But I would imagine that your Uncle has been protecting some unnamed personage from being charged with perjury."

"But why would she feel the need to commit perjury in the first place?"

"That, I really cannot tell you miss.

"However I could point out, that a film producer could not possibly promote a young actress, if he himself was locked-up in a prison cell with a Grievous Bodily Harm conviction... or whatever the American equivalent is."

"Suddenly it all makes sense!" Tamsin exclaimed. "How long have you known father?" She called out, turning to look at me.

"I didn't, Tamsin, but I suspected as much." I replied. "I don't know how badly your mother was injured that evening, but right from the start I had never been convinced she recalled events as clearly as she had claimed in court. Possibly Shona repeated to the police, a story that Parker had fed her."

Tamsin turned back to Chalky.

May I invite you and your associates, to be my husband and my honoured guests for the rest of the evening?" she asked.

All three of them thanked Tamsin and then she quite literally shooed them out into the main function room. Then she slowly walked back across the room toward us, all the time staring right into my eyes. 

"Tamsin I..." The Witch began again as she got close.

"Please don't speak to me now, Grandmother. I'm much too angry and I might say something I'll later regret! Grandfather, would you mind taking your wife out and attend to the guests; Paul and I will be out shortly."

Without a word George hauled The Witch to her feet and steered her on their way.

Tamsin then went over and hugged Father Conner followed by her Uncle Albert. She didn't speak to them, she just hugged them.

Then she turned to Megan and myself.

"Can I shoehorn you off of my father for a little while, Aunt Megan? I'd like to have a word with him in private." Then she turned to her husband. "Paul, Aunt Megan loves dancing."

The lad got the message and so did Megan. As they went out into the main function room, Tamsin and I - Tamsin steering me much as Megan had doing all day - headed out into the hotel's gardens.

For a very long time Tamsin didn't actually speak, she just hung on to my left arm very tightly. But eventually she asked.

"How can I ever start to apologise to you, father?"

Slightly confused, I asked "What for, Kiddo?"

She stopped walking and I turned to look her in the face.

"Well the way I spoke to you earlier I suppose. But I feel I have so much to apologise to you for. If I could only figure-out exactly what, I'd feel a lot happier."

"The truth is, Kiddo; that it's you who's owed the apologies. You and I are the victims. All we've got to do now, is make up for lost time." I replied.

"You don't seem very angry father."

"I've had many years to realise that getting angry doesn't do anything to improve the situation, Tamsin. And what it can do is lead you into some really deep doo-doo. Trust me, been there, done that!"

"But grandmother..."

Your grandmother never did like me Tamsin, right from when your mother and I first started courting.

"But why, what did you ever do to upset her?" 

"I was born on what you grandmother considers the wrong side of the tracks, Tamsin. And I was courting her daughter. Snobbery, plain and simple." 

"Am I going to like having a father looking over my shoulder?"

"I hope so Kiddo. But I wont be about all of the time, remember most of my work is down around Antarctica. I'm down there for a large proportion of the year."

"Somehow I don't think my Aunt Megan is going to like that. She appears to have a bit of a crush on you."

"What happened to her husband, I seem to recall that she got married?" I asked.

Okay an untruth. Megan had implied that she'd been married. I just wanted to get a little background without actually asking her.

Tamsin giggled.

"Oh yes she did, handsome bloke he was too. But a little too handy with his fists!"

"What do you mean by that?"

"They had an argument about something and he hit Megan!"

"Christ, what did she do?"

"Father, do you recall Aunt Megan telling you when she was being bullied at school?"

"Yes distinctly, I took her to the gym and taught her how to defend herself."

"Well, Megan's ex-husband felt the consequence of your instruction. They carted him off in an ambulance." 

"Bugger, did Megan suffer any fallout?"

"With Uncle Bertie on the case. Her ex got two years probation!"

"Well that's a relief. I would hate to have been the cause of any strife in Megan's life. She was a good kid."

"Are you attracted to my Aunt Megan, father? It is plain to see that she's got a soft spot for you."

"I've always liked Megan, Tamsin. But she was your mother's, who was my fiancée and then wife remember, little sister. One has to control ones emotions in such circumstances."

"Said all very Uncle Bertie-ish father... bugger, dad! There I've said it, and it wasn't as hard as I thought it was going to be. From now on you're my dad, okay?"

"Fine with me, kiddo!"

Tamsin threw her arms around my neck, pulled me close and kissed me on the cheek.

"I'm going to enjoy hearing my nickname Kiddo, every time you say it, dad! But as I was saying... or rather trying to say. My mother is dead dad and Aunt Megan. Well, I've always liked my Aunt Megan."

"Do I assume that that's some kind of a seal of approval, Tamsin?" I asked.

"You bet dad, you go get her man!"

"Don't go jumping the gun, Tamsin. Megan is recalling a big brother character, not a lover. The two species aren't necessarily interchangeable."

"Uncle Bertie speaks again! Come on lets go back inside! I want to show my dad off to all my friends."

"What about your new husband?"

"Paul's got me all to himself on a cruise ship for two weeks, he's got nothing to complain about."

We went back inside and I found myself being introduced to seemingly hundreds of young people. I didn't catch sight of Megan whom I was hoping would rescue me, but eventually Bertie appeared at my side.

Tamsin seemed a little reluctant, but eventually agreed that I could go outside with Bertie for a walk.

In truth, I gathered Bertie required a cover-story while he slipped outside to smoke a cigar. Bertie's apparently very quiet wife, does not approve of his smoking.

We stepped out on the patio and Bertie fired-up his cigar.

"You do realise that I would have never made Shona sit through that, don't you William?" He said.

"Bertie, daft I might be; stupid I'm not! She was really something, wasn't she?"

"Yes she was, and she was terrified of going to prison, especially an American one."

"I wonder... would she have been sent to prison for perjury. She had to have taken a really nasty bump on the head to break her cheekbone like that."

"In an English court, I doubt it. But in an American one, I really do have no idea. Hyacinth had Shona terrified that she would be sent to prison anyway. And Shona had witnessed your railroad of a trial. I've read the transcripts William. It was small town justice that left a lot to be desired. A decent appeal wouldn't have done you any harm!"

"Bertie, by the time I had everything straight in my own head, I was due out anyway. An appeal then might have seen Shona going in the opposite direction. Especially considering that Larry Parker was dead. You know better than anyone how... some legal wallies look at things when they discover that they've been taken for a ride; "Some bugger's got to pay!"

"You're a sentimental fool, William!"

"Hark, who's talking?" I replied.

Albert took a last draw on his cigar and crushed it out against a balustrade.

"Don't mention that to the memsahib William, or you'll get me castrated. Now we'd better get back inside before Megan starts getting fractious again. That girl's got designs on you, young man."

I have noticed Bertie, I have noticed."

"Capital, capital." He replied as we walked back in the function room.

-

It was only when Tamsin and Paul slipped away for their first night together in the hotel's honeymoon suite, that I realised that I had no accommodation booked for myself that evening. My original plan had been to return to the rented cottage on the south coast, that I called home.

"Have no fear, I have a bed going spare in my room you can use."

"Megan, aren't you rushing things a little? You know jumping the gun!"

"Hey look stud. I've seen you in action and I want some of the same this time?"

"What do you mean, you've seen me in action?"

"You said it yourself, Billy. I'm particularly good at sneaking around and I snuck up on some folks and watched more than once. Your little hideaway in the woods wasn't as big a secret as you and Shona thought it was."

"Blimey, you're perverted, Megan!"

"You wanna see perverted, I'll show you perverted! Lets go up to my room now!

-

I awoke to feel an unfamiliar weight upon my chest. Opening my eyes and looking down at my chest, I saw Megan's face smiling back at me.

"Recuperated yet?" She asked.

"Bloody-'ell girl, you don't do things by halves do you?"

"I only had one night I could be sure of, Billy. I had to make sure you understood what was on offer... on a permanent basis."

"Is that some kind of a proposition, Megan?" I asked.

"Sure is lover, and I can get Father Conner up here in two ticks to make it official, if you'd let me."

"Father Conner is Roman Catholic, Megan and we're both Church of England, aren't we?

"Details, details, I thought you were a sailor, Billy?"

"I am, but what has that got to do with the price of apples?"

"Any port in a storm, lover. I'd be married by a bleeding rabbi if you're asking. Besides I've got these!"

Megan held up and envelope so that I could see it.

"And, pray tell me, what is inside that envelope, Megan?"

"Two tickets for a cruise. A luxury suite no less, paid for by a grand old Uncle of mine. And it just happens to be the same cruise that a certain someone's daughter and her new husband are going to be enjoying their honeymoon on. Good-aye, you'll be able to get to know your daughter during the days and we can bonk every night away."

"Megan, just when did you and good old Bertie start planning this... shanghai exercise or whatever you like to call it?"

"To be completely honest with you, Billy. Bertie came up with the basic plan after Shona's funeral. Of course my Uncle Bertie hadn't vectored-in my seducing you: that was my idea completely and fell under the heading, preferable fallout. So, what do you reckon about this cruise, then?"

I looked down again and saw the wistful expression on Megan's face.

"I think I'm going to enjoy my busman's holiday, sweetheart. However, we wont be able to get a marriage licence before we the ship sails."

"No worries on that one, Billy - I've checked, she's Bermudan registered!"

"The significance of that, fact?"

"You'll find out soon enough, hubby; you'll find out! Now, how do you fancy another turn around the... deck, before breakfast?" she grinned

I grinned back at Megan.

We only just made the last sitting for breakfast, that morning.

Life goes on.

C'est la vie Epilogue.

Megan and I did not get married on board ship. Although she and I were keen on the idea, Bertie's wife would have none of it.

For such an apparently demure old lady, Beatrice can prove to be extremely... forceful when she chooses. Not surprising really, when you take into consideration exactly whom she's been married to, since time immemorial.

Beatrice arranged our nuptials. I'm sure that Bertie himself paid for everything. Okay it wasn't on the scale of Tamsin's blow-out wedding, but neither Megan nor I had wanted that.

Quite honestly we both would have preferred a private shipboard affair with just Tamsin and Paul as witnesses.

The Witch did not attend our wedding, but Megan's father gave her away. The bugger even quipped, "This is becoming a bit of habit, William!" as he passed me his daughter's hand.

Bertie capital'd his way through the day with an enormous grin on his face; even claiming during his speech, that he was responsible for bringing the bride and groom together. Which I suppose he was, in a round about way.

Although I do believe that Megan's determination would have brought us together some other way eventually, had I not sneaked into Tamsin's wedding!

My wife, when she knows what she wants, appears to be able to move mountains to get it. She can certainly bend her Uncle Bertie to her will, and that is no mean feat.

Her only problem appears to be that Megan takes up so much time thinking about things. Like "are we going to get up yet... or shall we take another little turn around the deck, first?"

Plays havoc with my work schedules, I can assure you!

Don't do much for my back either; I ain't as young as I used to be! No matter how much my wife chooses to believe otherwise!

Yeah well, I don't work in the South Seas anymore. Bertie knew someone, who was an acquaintance of somebody, who's brother is a commissioning producer (or something like that) in the BBC's wildlife department.

I suddenly found Megan's telephone, growing hot of offers of wildlife filming work. Mostly locations within the UK as well and all somewhat lucrative, in a moderate way. Right up my street, anyway!

Megan and I have decided that children are off the agenda. We feel that we're going to have our plate full with Tamsin's twins. That's assuming she and Paul don't go for a football team.

We've settled down in a quaint little bungalow just around the corner from Paul and Tamsin's place. Nice comfortable pram pushing distance anyway. And Bertie has elbowed both Paul and me into the local Golf club. Our Sunday morning foursome has become a regular thing.

The fourth member? Well George of course! Now that he and The Witch are no longer husband and wife, he's been elevated (or reinstated) to second grandfather position in my daughter's eyes. Bertie holding the superior perch of course. Well, being the family patriarch, what would you expect?

Life goes on



C'est La Vie Ch. 01



They were lined up outside the non-descript warehouse, packed close together beneath a black awning that hung over the sidewalk. Cold rain fell in a steady drizzle and all of them were pressed close together, trying to stay dry. It was understandable considering what little clothing they were all wearing. There was enough skin showing on some of them that it would have been indecent, if not outright illegal, for them to be in certain parts of the city. Every club color, from the gothic black to the neon rainbow, was being represented by the throng and all the nipples pressed against tight fitting clothes made it clear just how cold it was.

No one complained, though. Complaining was against the rules. The bouncers at the door were keeping watch and were under strict orders not to let anyone enter until the appropriate time. Anyone who uttered one word about having to wait in line would be told to leave and not return for the rest of the night. There was no negotiating.

Fortunately for Michael, he had no need for negotiations, complaining or even lines.

As he walked past the front door and past the line of people, he got a few strange looks which he thought was funny. Considering the variety of outrageous outfits that were on display, a man in a trench coat, white shirt and a tie really shouldn't have stood out. But he might have been the only one who would step into this bunch dressed the way he was and still feel comfortable.

"You'll never get in looking like that." Someone said to him as he passed.

He glanced back and shrugged with a smile, then kept walking around the corner of the building. The line continued here, although the awning didn't extend that far out and there was a jumble of umbrellas as people stayed close together to share what shelter they had. Michael kept going past them as well, moving away from the end of the line and towards the alleyway that ran between the warehouse and an adjacent building.

The sun had set hours ago and rain clouds had brought the thick blanket of night over the city. The nearby street lamp spilled yellow light into the mouth of the alley, breaking the darkness but not completely. A long stretch of shadows separated the lamp light from a red bulb, glowing eerily at the end of the alleyway. It illuminated the only door that led into the warehouse, the only other way out of the alley once he went in.

Michael looked down the alley and paused a moment. Despite the fact he knew it was safe, he always felt nervous stepping into that space. There was a dumpster, garbage cans, and a stack of wooden crates that made plenty of blind spots for someone to hide behind. It was designed to be intimidating so that people who got curious might think twice about venturing further. If you didn't know what was down there, you didn't need to be there. The owner of this particular establishment didn't want the club kids in the line outside to know there was another way inside the warehouse.

He went down the alley, taking his time and staying alert for anyone who might be hiding. He glanced back a few times to see if anyone had followed him. Once he was sure that he was alone, he stepped up to the door and knocked three times. Paused. Knocked twice, paused again then knocked thrice more. A small window in the door slid open and a shadow on the other side stared out at him.

"What's your dirty little secret?" The shadow asked.

Michael responded with the password phrase. "My favorite flavor is vanilla."

The window shut and there was a sound of a heavy bar being moved before the door swung open. Michael glanced back once more and stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

The long hallway was dark except for a small lamp sitting on a desk at the other end. The shadow, a bouncer dressed in black, locked the door and leaned against it as Michael moved towards the desk and the man sitting behind it.

"Just because you know the password doesn't mean I have to let you in." Enrique the desk man said.

"Yeah, I know." Michael said, grinning. "But you let me in because I'm so pretty."

Enrique smirked back at him. "You got the stuff?"

Michael pulled a padded envelope from the pocket of his trench coat and tossed it on the desk in front of Enrique. The desk man opened the envelope, glanced inside for a moment and whistled low.

"You always come through, man."

"Ten times out of ten." Michael said, "Hope that's what you wanted."

"Shit, this is better than I wanted, man. My baby's gonna love this."

Enrique closed the envelope and put it away inside his desk. Then he pulled out a white, plastic bracelet and handed it to Michael.

"You're early tonight." He said as Michael took the bracelet and put it on, "I don't think they've opened the doors yet. Normally I couldn't let you in but the boss said you were coming to make a delivery."

"I won't be staying long, unfortunately." Michael said, "Just came by to conduct some business before I go on vacation."

"Vacation? You?" Enrique asked, "You work more than anyone I know. Must be something special."

"Hard to call what I do work, but even I need time off once in awhile." Michael said with a grin. "And yeah, it's one of those once in a lifetime things."

"Don't let me keep you then. If you're looking for the boss, she should be in the lounge. She's entertaining some guests tonight, so don't mind the extra security if they frisk you."

"Hey, as long as it comes with a full service hand job, it's all good."

Enrique punched him in the shoulder and shoved him towards the end of the hall.

There was a door that said "Staff Only" to Michael's right and a stairway to his left. He took the stairs up and went through the door at the top. It led to a wide corridor that followed the wall around the inside of the club, making a private walkway for the people who were allowed to use it. The corridor had large, tinted glass windows along one side that offered a view of the club's expansive dance floor.

He followed the corridor around, listening to the techno music playing and stopping as the DJ ran through his usual sound check routine. The walls and windows vibrated with the steady thump of bass, muffling a good portion of the volume. It only took him a minute to reach the other side of the club and step out into the lounge.

The lounge was what most people thought of as the VIP room. It was quieter than downstairs, had dark corners and booths that people could slip away to, as well as large windows to watch the best action on the dance floor. In the farthest corner in the back there was a table on a raised dais, a place reserved for the club's owner, when the queen decided to hold court.

He could see her sitting there now, the center of attention as always. She had several people with her, some of her friends and admirers. All of them, including the owner, were wearing masks with feathers and glitter to hide their faces. All of them were dressed to the nines in sexy, stylish clothes. She was the only one he could actually recognize and only because she stood out from everyone else. He could always pick her out of any crowd, no matter what she wore or how she disguised herself.

By day, Melissa Farthing was a shrewd business woman who ran her club with clockwork efficiency. Everything that happened there always went off without a hitch. People loved to work with her because she could get things done and her venue was one of the most wanted after-hours spots in the city.

But like some sensual superhero, at night she transformed into the Queen Bee and everyone danced to her tune. She was the bright center around which all of her club revolved. She was the perfect hostess with all the social graces of a southern belle and enough sexual energy to keep all her boys and girls bouncing.

Michael had known her a long time, perhaps longer than most of the people she associated with. He understood that she hadn't really changed much from when they were in college together. She had simply become more of what she was back then and to his mind that wasn't a bad thing.

He moved towards her corner but stopped when one of the bodyguards stepped in his way.

"Sorry, private party." He said

"I'm here on business." Michael replied, "Making a delivery."

The guard held out his hand. "I can hand it over for you."

"I have special instructions to hand it directly to her." He pointed at Melissa.

The guard didn't move, nor did his expression change. "Like I said, this is a private party."

Michael saw movement from the sides as the other guards turned to face him. It reminded him of a line he heard once about not fighting with bouncers at a bar. He didn't know how many it would take to kick his ass but he knew how many they would use.

He sighed in annoyance, tilted his head to look past the bouncer at Melissa and let out a whistle sharp enough to make the man in front of him flinch. The Queen and her court stopped talking immediately and looked in his direction. Michael held out his hands in a "What gives?" kind of motion.

Melissa said something to the woman she had her arm around, excused herself from the entourage, and walked towards him. The red dress she wore shimmered in the light, pulling tight against her curves with every step. Her hips swayed and her body moved in a way that made it clear she was in no hurry to reach him. Her mouth was set in a thin line and her eyes were narrowed. It was obvious to all of them he had pissed her off. She didn't like to be whistled at.

The guard started to say something as she stepped up beside him but was quickly silenced when she raised her hand. Her eyes never left Michael and he wisely remained silent as he waited to see what she would do. While he loved her as the dear friend she was and they had a long history together, it had always had its ups and downs because of one thing: Melissa's moods always kept people on their toes. One of her more poetic lovers had once described her as being "more fickle than a fae under a full moon in fall". Michael always thought it was the best description he had ever heard about her.

Melissa stared at him for another long moment before reaching out and grabbing his wrist, the one with the white club bracelet on it.

"What did I tell you about these?" She asked.

Michael was about to answer when she turned her gaze to the guard. It took the man a second too long to realize the question was being directed at him.

"White bracelets have lounge access-"

"No!" Melissa said, her eyes flashing. "Blue bracelets have lounge access, white bracelets have all access."

The guard seemed about to argue but thought better of it. "My apologies, ma'am. He seemed suspicious and wasn't dressed like your other guests."

Her eyes snapped to Michael, still angry as she dropped his arm. "He has a point. You look like a fucking noir detective dressed like that."

Then she turned back to her table without saying another word. Fickle as a fae.

Michael just shrugged as the guard looked at him. "Dames."

The guard managed to tighten his face enough to not smile and motioned for him to go. He followed Melissa back to her table, looking around at her assorted crew with a smile. It was impossible to guess their identities but he was sure that he would know a few of them without the masks.

"If you're going to insist on dressing like that, I may have to change the club's dress code." Melissa said as she sat down, putting her arm around the young lovely she was seducing earlier. "I'll allow almost anything as long as it isn't lazy or sloppy. You, however, are unimaginative."

"You've never complained about my imagination before." He said, reaching into one of his long coat's large pockets. "Besides, a dress just makes my ass look fat."

He pulled a box wrapped in brown paper from his pocket and held it up. Melissa's eyes lit up then narrowed. She held her hand out for the box and Michael moved to give it to her, pulling back at the last moment when she tried to get it.

"These weren't easy to get. I expect full compensation this time."

The look she gave him made him think she might actually bite his hand if he got too close. "Compensation wouldn't be a problem if you were willing to take what I'm willing to offer you."

When he didn't move to give her the package, she sighed and raised her hand to someone standing behind the bar. A blonde waif with cute hair and a nice body beneath her blue tank top and short, black skirt walked over to Melissa and leaned down so Melissa could whisper something in her ear. The waif looked at him for a moment before nodding. Melissa reached up and grabbed her chin, pulling her down for a brief kiss before sending her off.

Michael watched her walk away then turned his attention back to Melissa.

"Where do you get those wonderful toys?" He asked, referring to the cute blonde.

She smirked, stroking one hand up and down the arm of the girl curled up against her. "The bargain bin, the same place I found you."

The court around her laughed and Michael clutched at his chest dramatically, taking the dig with good natured humor. It only took a minute for the waif to return and hand him an envelope. He opened the envelope, thumbed through the bills inside, and smiled at the blonde, who didn't return the smile. Then he turned back to Melissa and handed her the package, pulling his hand back before she could snatch it off.

Melissa carefully opened one end of the package and smiled when she looked inside. The masked girl who was sitting next to her leaned over to get a peek.

"Girl Scout cookies?" She asked, incredulous.

"Thin mints, to be exact." Melissa said, opening up the box and taking one of the cookies out. She smelled it as if it were a fine wine before sliding it into her mouth. Her eyes closed and she moaned with pleasure at the taste.

"If you wanted cookies that bad, I could have sent one of the guys out to go get you some."

"No, you couldn't." Michael said, "At least, not the ones she wanted."

The girl looked at him and then at Melissa, who said nothing as she enjoyed her cookie.

"Girl scout cookies are only sold at certain times of the year." He continued. "Once they finish selling them, they won't sell them again until the next year. This creates demand for the cookies, so that when the next sale comes along, people are lining up to get them."

The girl opened her mouth to say something then closed it again, giving him a considering look before turning back to Melissa.

"Michael has a rare and mysterious skill." Melissa said, licking chocolate off her fingers. "How did you describe it to me before?"

"I know a guy who knows a guy." Michael said.

"Yes, that was it. But I think it's more like he's the guy everyone else knows. When someone else says they 'know a guy', they're talking about Michael."

The girl looked a little interested now. "So what kinds of things can you get? Like, you run drugs or guns?"

"Sorry," Michael said, "But I don't like to discuss business too much with people who don't have names."

The girl seemed to sink down into her seat then and grew quiet, which surprised him. He looked at Melissa, giving her a questioning look as she was about to eat another cookie. Melissa gave the girl a considering look, whispered something into the girl's ear then turned back to Michael.

"I'm sure you can appreciate that some people here prefer to remain anonymous." She said, "So, for the sake of polite introductions, this is Ms. Silver. Ms. Silver, this is Michael Morningkill."

Michael nodded to Ms. Silver. "I don't do drugs or guns. Those are easy if you know the right people, and also highly illegal and controlled. I get the things people have trouble finding. Hard to locate items. Rarities." 

"Like girl scout cookies?"

"Do you know how to get them at this time of the year?"

Ms. Silver didn't say anything for a moment. Then she turned to Melissa, who was about to devour her third thin mint.

"Can I have one?"

Melissa stopped mid-bite and turned to look at Ms. Silver.

""You want one of my cookies?"

"Please?"

She put the cookie she was holding back in the box then set it on the table in front of her.

"You'll have to earn it."

The entourage, who had been quiet and seemingly bored through the entire exchange, suddenly turned their attention on Ms. Silver. All of them had predatory grins on their faces and began whispering to each other. Ms. Silver didn't miss it and Michael knew what 'earning it' would involve.

"I can do that." She said.

"Here? Now?"

Melissa leaned back in her seat and tugged the hem of her dress up past her hips. Michael knew from experience that she wasn't wearing any panties and she always kept herself shaved bare. All of her entourage was leaning forward now to watch.

"If you want cookies, you'll have to start with this one."

Ms. Silver looked over her shoulder at Michael, seeming nervous about her choices. Michael guessed that Melissa was pushing Ms. Silver for a public performance for a reason and it had nothing to do with cookies. It was a test and with Melissa, there was no letter grade; it was pass or fail.

Without saying anything, Ms. Silver kneeled down in front of Melissa. She pushed Melissa's thighs apart and leaned forward, but her mask was getting in the way. Melissa reached down to take it off of her but Ms. Silver put her hands up to stop her. It seemed she was really concerned about him seeing who was behind that mask.

Michael couldn't hear what was being said between them but after a few moments, Melissa leaned down and kissed Ms. Silver before whispering something into her ear. Ms. Silver nodded reluctantly and Melissa removed her mask before pointing at Michael.

"If you move from that spot, even one step, not only will I take my money back but I'll have security kick your ass and throw you into the street."

He arched an eyebrow at her and shifted his weight to a more comfortable position. He didn't move though. He knew by the tone of her voice that she meant every word. It did make him curious, however, why she was willing to go to such lengths to protect Ms. Silver's identity. It wasn't as if he didn't know what she got up to in her own club and she had always valued him for his discretion. Interesting.

After a moment, Melissa turned her attention back to Ms. Silver. She put her hands through Ms. Silver's long, dark brown hair and pulled her face beneath the table and between her legs. She continued to watch him as Ms. Silver began eating her pussy. Although he couldn't see anything, he knew by the look on Melissa's face that she was enjoying it. She shifted her hips lower in her seat and a long moan escaped her lips before she closed her eyes, tilting her head back.

"That's it, sweetie" Melissa sighed, "lick me just like that. Show me how much you want it."

That sound acted like some kind of signal to the rest of Melissa's court. The men and women that had been just watching now began touching and kissing each other, and none of them were shy about who their partners were. The dirty dozen broke into couples or threesomes, each kissing and fondling each other, with clothes being peeled away. Michael was treated to the enjoyable sight of soft, female curves and hard, male muscle.

As Melissa continued rocking her hips, two men stepped up near her head as she leaned back. They leaned down one at a time, kissing her long and slow, before standing up and pulling their cocks out. She didn't hesitate to take one in each hand and pull them both to her mouth, licking and sucking them as her hands began stroking their shafts. As she did that, the two men leaned close to each other and locked lips, running their hands through the other's hair and across their bodies.

Michael watched in silence, his cock hard in his pants as the group moaned, touched and kissed. Through it all, Melissa was still the center of attention. She sucked each of her cocks as best she could while her hips rose up and down against Ms. Silver's face, her thighs squeezing the girl's head tight. Ms. Silver's hands were busy as well, pushing apart the front of Melissa's dress and tugging it down to expose her best feature, those incredible tits. Her hands covered Melissa's breasts, squeezing them and pinching her nipples. Melissa arched her back, pressing her tits into Ms. Silver's hands.




C'est La Vie Ch. 01



Suddenly the music outside of the lounge picked up, a heavy, thumping bass that signaled the club was opening. Michael couldn't hear anything over the music but he knew that people would be filling the dance floor soon. He glanced over his shoulder at the door, watching as a few people came into the lounge, all of them wearing blue bracelets. The scene at the other end of the lounge immediately caught their attention and they made their way over to watch. Only the security guards kept them from getting close enough to see everything.

Melissa didn't care. She sucked her cocks and bucked her hips with reckless abandon. Even with the new noise he could hear her moans, a sound he was intimately familiar with. It didn't' take long before she pulled the cocks from her mouth and crushed Ms. Silver's head with her thighs as she rode the girl's face in orgasm.

"That's it, you bitch, eat my fucking cunt!" She screamed.

She tensed up, her chest heaving with each moaning breath, her body shuddering and when she finally relaxed, her body collapsed on the seat. Her muscles slowly unwound, her legs releasing Ms. Silver who was in no hurry to abandon her space. Her head moved back and forth slowly as she cleaned up and Melissa finally had to pull her up to kiss her.

As the two women made out and Melissa used her tongue to clean the juices from Ms. Silver's face, the DJ came over the loudspeaker. He shouted out to the crowd, who responded with an energetic roar, and rambled off the drink specials for the night.

Then as he turned the music up to eleven, his last words came clearest of all.

"Ladies and gentlemen you have entered a world of pleasure and excess to likes of which you will never see again. Welcome, my children, to C'est La Vie!"



C'est La Vie Ch. 02



C'est La Vie. That's life.

For as long as Michael had known Melissa, this had been her dream. Not just a night club but a palace, one dedicated to debauchery and sexual excess; a place where people were free to indulge their desires. It was her grand experiment in the realm of the sexual, a fantasy that she had worked hard to make into reality.

Melissa was built for sex, mind and body. It was what she excelled at. It was her craft and her calling and she had spent her life perfecting it. In school she had studied psychology with a focus on human sexuality. She had been a top student and could have gone into researching any aspect of the field she wanted. Instead, she told him that the real truth about humans and sex would only be found by experiencing it first hand.

Since then it had become her religion. She was a priestess of lust and sexuality. This was her temple and the people who came here were her congregation. She was looking for the truth of the universe and the Divine through the pleasures of the flesh.

At least that's how Michael had always thought of it. Melissa might have laughed and said she just enjoyed being able to fuck as many people as she wanted. But it was hard to deny the idea when the evidence was in front of him: a collection of beautiful men and women, stripping and caressing each other, all at her whim.

Even as Melissa and Ms. Silver started to pull apart, his eyes were drawn to the sight of the other people sitting behind them. He had to resist the urge to stroke his cock through his pants as a woman came to kneel next to the two men who continued to kiss each other. She took their cocks in each of her hands and started sucking them while the men touched each other, turning only enough to offer her easier access to their dicks.

He wasn't supposed to be seeing this. He had come to make his last delivery to Melissa and to say goodbye. Melissa knew that and he figured she was taking the opportunity to torment him. It was just like her to play the teasing bitch one last time.

The crowd gathering in the lounge was growing larger, all of them wanting to get a better look at the action. When Melissa realized their audience was getting out of hand she snapped her fingers and pointed towards the "Staff Only" door off to the side of the bar. The gathering made a token effort of breaking up their party only long enough to get to the door. It was a disorderly shuffle of half-naked bodies and stumbling laughter as they disappeared one by one into the club's back room.

Melissa kissed Ms. Silver one last time and whispered something to her. Then she made sure that the other woman's mask was back in place and gently pushed her towards the door. The young woman gave Michael a jealous look as she walked away but went with the others without complaint. The four guards who had been blocking the crowd moved with her, two of them following Ms. Silver inside while the other two took up positions outside the door.

The guards didn't belong to Melissa. They were here with Ms. Silver. That was interesting.

"I appreciate the cookies, even if it wasn't what I ordered." Melissa said.

He turned to Melissa with a smile and offered her his arm. She slid her hand around his elbow and walked with him towards the bar, the crowd giving way and moving to find their own seats now that the show was over.

"The prize is at the bottom of the box, so don't throw it away when you're done."

She laughed and ordered drinks for them, pulling off her mask and setting it down on the bar. While the bartender worked, Melissa set the box of cookies down and pulled out the holding tray. In the last row, stuck between two of the cookies, was a plastic case with a memory card inside.

The bartender, who Michael realized was the blonde waif who had given him his payment, set their drinks down on the bar. When she did, Melissa handed her the memory card.

"Start checking over that, please."

The girl nodded without a word, took the card and slipped through the "Staff Only" door. Melissa took a sip of her drink then looked at Michael, staring into his eyes and saying nothing while the noise of the club and the crowd flowed around them.

After a minute of staring at each other, Michael broke the silence. "So are you going to lecture me about the horrible mistake I'm making?"

She sighed and shook her head. "If I thought it would make a difference I would. But I know you've made up your mind. I just wish getting married didn't mean losing you."

Michael swirled the ice in his glass as he thought of what to say. Melissa has been furious when he had told her that his girlfriend, Amy, didn't want him coming to the club anymore. It didn't matter that he and Melissa hadn't been together romantically or sexually for years. Amy was jealous and she didn't trust Melissa.

He couldn't blame her for that. Melissa was always open about who she was and made no apologies or tried to hide it. That didn't sit well with Amy, who was a more traditional sort of girl. She had tolerated their friendship and the time he spent at the club because it put him in contact with a lot of people who helped him with his work. But more and more lately she had been arguing with him about it.

When he had made the decision to ask her to marry him, he knew it would mean walking away from one of his closest friends. Amy would never agree to be his wife if she was always going to have to wonder if he was sleeping with Melissa every time he went out.

So here he was, saying his last goodbyes before leaving for a week of vacation with Amy to propose to her.

"You're not losing me." He said. "I'll still be in touch."

"It won't be the same. Besides, it will only be a matter of time before she puts a stop to phone calls, e-mails, and carrier pigeons."

"It won't come to that. I promise."

"You know she's hated me forever" she said, "ever since that party last year. How can you be sure that she won't make you stay away for good?"

He reached out and put his hand over hers, squeezing it gently. "Have a little faith in me?"

She smiled and squeezed his hand back. "I always have. It's not you that I'm worried about. I hope that everything works out and that you'll be happy. But..."

Melissa stepped closer to him and kissed him, slow and deep. He returned the kiss but made no move to do anything else. After a moment she pulled away and looked into his eyes.

"You're welcome back anytime. Always."

Then she took her drink and cookies and turned away from him, heading towards the "Staff Only" door to join her other guests. Michael watched her go and laughed, shaking his head and licking his lips to taste the liquor that she had been drinking.

After putting a few dollars in the tip jar, he decided his business here was done. He wouldn't be coming back anytime soon, if ever again. It was sad to be leaving one of his oldest haunts. He thought that once he had time to win her over, Amy would let him come back. Maybe he could even convince her to come with him and give Melissa another chance. Maybe.

He left the way he came, saying his goodbyes to Enrique before he headed out the club's back door. Minutes later he was back to his car and headed for his apartment in the middle of the city.

He drove, listening to the music playing quietly on his radio. His mind was running a mile a minute, with thoughts of the coming weekend when he would ask Amy to marry him. They were going to a resort upstate, a place that was popular for Spring Break but the rest of the time served as a nice, quiet get away. It was going to be a week of surf and sand; seeing the local tourist attractions during the day and making love on the beach at night.

Thinking about proposing to Amy, asking her to spend the rest of her life with him, made him more and more nervous the closer he got to home. What if she said no? After all, it wasn't like they were living in domestic bliss. They had been seeing each other for more than a year but they weren't living together. Michael had asked her to move in with him a few months before, but Amy had said she wanted to have her own space and to maintain her independence.

He had respected that decision and had let it go but now he wondered if it hadn't been a mistake not to argue a little harder for the idea. What if she saw marriage as another thing that might limit her independence? He wasn't the kind of man who would expect her to give up her career and stay at home cleaning house and cooking dinner. She should know that.

It wouldn't be like last time, he decided. He wouldn't let her brush off his proposal as something that would make her life more difficult. He wanted her to be his wife because he loved her.

Despite some of the arguments that they had, especially concerning his relationship with Melissa, when they were together it was always amazing. She was always making him laugh with her jokes and her sarcastic wit. She encouraged him when he was having problems with work or if his week wasn't going as well as he had hoped. Being with her just made him feel better about life in general.

And sex? While he would never admit it, the sex between them wasn't as exciting as it had been when he was with Melissa but it was still damn good. When they had gotten around to talking about their former partners, Amy was upfront about being with several different guys in high school and college. She was no stranger to games in the bedroom and had a few stories that had gotten both of them worked up and ready for a long night of fucking, which was why he had been willing to share his own stories.

At first he was hesitant when Amy had asked him about his experiences. She had promised him that she wouldn't be angry or jealous, so he opened up to her. She had been shocked, to say the least. Her eyebrows were raised when he started telling her about the things he and Melissa had done in their first few weeks of dating. She was more surprised when he told her about the threesomes they had been involved in. Swapping partners with another couple had made her scoff in disbelief then listen with rapt attention.

Then he told her about his experiences with men. He had thought about not telling her about it but she had asked him to be open and honest, so he was. He didn't think that him being bisexual would shock her anymore than some of the other things he had shared, but it did. Not that she wasn't turned on. That night was one of the best nights they had ever had in bed and one of the longest. Amy didn't have any complaints about his skills in the bedroom but after that she didn't ask for anymore of his sex stories. It was probably just as well, since the things he hadn't shared with her would have shocked her even more.

She had known he still saw Melissa and visited her club. He had even invited her out to go see it but she had never been interested in clubs. Then after that last night of story sharing she had started to try and pry him away from Melissa. It was small things at first, asking him to go out with her instead of going to the club to visit. In the last few months, though, she had started telling him outright that he shouldn't be visiting his ex-girlfriend while he was in a serious relationship with her.

It had put a strain on both of them but she hadn't given him an ultimatum. Yet. He felt it would only be a matter of time before she forced him to choose, and he knew that if she pressed the issue rather than letting him make his own decision it would break their relationship. If she had demanded it, he wouldn't have walked away from his friendship with Melissa. But he took into account Amy's feelings afterwards, that perhaps she felt Melissa was going to pull him away from her, that he was just waiting until Melissa wanted him back so he could dump her.

Melissa didn't tie herself down to anyone. He had always known that if he wanted to be back in her life and her bed, she would take him back in an instant and she would do it on her terms. As she always had. His conversation with her tonight proved that. He couldn't exactly tell that to Amy, though. Not only would she get the wrong idea about why he was telling her, she would think he was flaunting the fact that he could have his hot, promiscuous, kinky ex-girlfriend anytime he wanted.

His only problem with Melissa is that she didn't want to be exclusive. She didn't want one man or one woman in her life. Everything else between them could have been great but she always saw monogamy and marriage as chains to hold her down. She wasn't unlike Amy in that way; the two of them would probably have gotten along better than they thought.

He finally decided that if he wanted the woman he loved who made him happy, he was going to have to give up another woman he loved who couldn't make him happy. So he told Melissa a few weeks before of his plans and that he wouldn't be visiting the club anymore. She had been furious, yelling at him about how ridiculous he was being, demanding to talk to Amy because she felt that his girlfriend was pushing him to make this decision. In a way it was true but he assured her that he had come to the decision on his own.

It was one thing for Melissa to lose a lover from her bed to another woman. It had happened before and she had never felt more than a moment's disappointment about things like that. Losing a friend, however, was entirely different. Her friends were important to her. She kept them close, treated them well, and loved them like they were family, even if she did fuck them at every opportunity she got.

For two weeks she didn't talk to him, which is why he hadn't proposed to Amy sooner. He didn't want things between him and Melissa to end like this. When she did finally call him again, she had done some soul searching of her own and said she understood why he was making the decision that he was. She didn't want to give up his friendship but was willing to accept that his girlfriend had a point about his visits to her club.

After a conversation that had lasted nearly two hours, they had agreed that he couldn't visit her at the club but that he would still stay in touch with her and do work for her when she needed his skills. In return, Melissa offered to talk with Amy about the arrangement if it still wasn't to her liking. The two of them had only met once, at a party the year before and it had ended badly. Amy wanted nothing to do with Melissa after that and Melissa wrote Amy off as well. So agreeing to meet with her was no small concession on Melissa's part.

Now the only thing left was for him to whisk Amy away, propose to her, and have a long week filled with love and sex without any interruptions. At least he hoped that would be the case, because if she said yes, he knew the next several months would be some of the most insane of his life.

Michael had been so lost in his own thoughts that he didn't realize he was already home. He quickly found his parking spot outside his apartment building and made his way inside to the elevator. The trip to the club had taken longer than he expected and he cursed himself for not having his bags packed already. It was a four hour drive to the resort, so he and Amy were leaving early in the morning and he had to pick her up from her place by 6 AM. He checked his watch and groaned when he saw that it was nearly midnight.

Oh well, maybe he could talk Amy into driving halfway while he took a nap in the car. That would be romantic, wouldn't it? Her driving before the sun came up while he snored next to her.

He stepped out of the elevator onto his floor and took the short walk to his apartment. When he went to unlock his door, he found that it was already unlocked. He paused for a moment, trying to remember if he locked his door as he left this morning. Of course he had, he always did. The door was still closed, though, and if anyone had broken in why would they bother closing up behind them. He opened the door slowly and peeked inside.

He could see his living room, which was dark except for a small nightlight which let him see the entry hall when he came home late at night. His keys were clenched tightly in his hand to keep them from jingling as he pushed the door open all the way and stepped inside. A flick of the switch in the hallway turned on the lights in his living room.

Everything was normal. Nothing had been ransacked or overturned. His couch and recliner were right where he had left them this morning. The television wasn't missing. The sight of his flat screen put his mind at ease. Anyone robbing him would have taken that first and looked for anything else afterwards.

Feeling stupid for having left his apartment unlocked all day, he shut the door and made sure to turn the deadbolts in it. His coat came off and he hung it on one of the pegs on the back of the door before tossing his keys and wallet onto the table he kept in the entry hall.

He walked down the hallway that led to his bedroom, stepped into the smaller room that served as his office and checked his answering machine before heading back out to the kitchen. He would be packing for the next hour and he hadn't eaten since lunch earlier in the day. Hunger was demanding more attention than his bed at the moment..

Just as he got to the kitchen, he heard a sound coming from the direction of his bedroom. He paused, straining to hear anything else in the silence of his apartment. For a moment there was nothing and he almost dismissed it as coming from somewhere else in the building. Then he heard it again, a thump, louder than before and definitely coming from his bedroom.

Michael's mind returned to the unlocked door and he felt his heart kicking up a notch. Someone had broken in after all and they were still here.

He looked around his kitchen and spotted the wood block that held a set of carving knives. He reached for the butcher knife, always a classic go to weapon in any horror movie, but then he noticed the large, ceramic jar that held the spatula, wooden spoons, whisk...and the meat tenderizer.

He grabbed the mallet out of the jar, an impressive piece of all metal kitchenware. While it wasn't going to carve anyone up, the head was covered with small points and it had enough weight that a good swing would bring the pain to any thief.

The intermittent thumping noise continued. He turned off the lights in the living room and it was only then that he noticed there was a dim light coming from beneath the edge of his bedroom door. How had he missed that when he went to his office? He was moving through the hallway, past his office door, the weapon raised in case the intruder suddenly came out to face him.

The next sound he heard stopped him in his tracks. It was the high pitched sound of a woman moaning and a moment later he heard the grunting of a male voice, followed by another thump. Disbelief and anger kicked his heart rate up even higher. What kind of thieves would fuck in his bed before they made off with everything? Were they just showing off? Were they even here to actually rob the place?

Then the terrible conclusion about what was really happening here dawned on him. It took a loud moan from the woman behind the closed door to jar him out of his brain lock and push his feet forward.

The door swung open silently as he pushed it in and the thick scent of sex hit his nose, musky and hot. The muffled sounds spilled out now in all their glory. Groaning, grunting, moaning, mewling sounds of fucking pleasure. His bed faced away from the door, offering him a spectacular side view of everything that the bedside lamp could show him.

Both of them were too busy to notice him. The man was on his knees behind the woman, his hands wrapped around her slender waist and jerking her back and forth on the length of his dick like she was a fuck doll. His head was thrown back, sweat running down his neck and chest, plastering his shaggy hair to his face.




C'est La Vie Ch. 02



The woman was on her hands and knees, legs spread wide, her ass angled up to meet every hard thrust of her fuck buddy. Her tits bounced forward and back, her upper body pressed low on the bed so that her nipples rubbed against the sheets with each bounce. Her head was turned towards Michael but her eyes were closed tight, so she couldn't see him standing here. Her mouth was wide and moaning like she wanted to take everything she was getting and more.

Michael watched in stunned silence as Amy, the love of his life, was wildly fucked. It was more than clear that this guy wasn't raping her. He could see the muscles in her legs working as she pushed back on the thick dick inside of her. The look on her face was one he had seen many times and from every possible angle, including in a mirror when he had been behind her.

It was a nightmare. A living nightmare that he had to wake up from. He would wake up and when he did, he would be laying next to Amy at their house at the resort and everything would be fine.

The man reared up, pulled Amy back onto his cock until he was balls deep inside of her, and let out a loud groan. Amy took it all, eagerly, panting and moaning loudly and it was only a few seconds later that she was over the edge, coming on the cock that was coming inside of her. Her partner pulled back, his cock sliding out of her with a wet, sticky slurp, and sat back on his heels as he tried to catch his breath. His cock glistened with their juices and Amy reached back between her legs, thrusting two fingers into her well-used pussy to feel the come inside of her.

The man opened his eyes and finally seemed to notice that Michael was just standing there. It took him a moment to realize he wasn't seeing things and his eyes went wide.

"Who the fuck are you?" He yelled.

Michael's only answer was to swing the meat hammer at the man's face. 



C'est La Vie Ch. 03



If Michael was completely honest with himself, he would have to admit he wasn't a fighter. The last brawl he was in was a vague memory from his time in middle school. He couldn't really remember if he won or not, or if there had even been a winner. They didn't exactly have regulations for that sort of thing. But for the third night in a row he was cursing himself for being an idiot. The ache along his rib cage and the bruises across his body agreed with him. The pain was waking him up again after he had been asleep for only a few hours.

He sat up carefully from the couch, swinging his legs over the side and trying to ignore the pain as his body protested his movements. With a grunt he pushed himself to his feet and made his way down the hall towards the bathroom. He grabbed the bottle of not-Vicodin painkillers and swallowed one then chased it with a sleeping pill. It probably wasn't the wisest combination but it would let him sleep soundly. He stepped out into his bedroom and paused a moment to look at the empty bed.

The sheets and comforter had been stripped off, leaving only the bare mattress and the box spring. The lamp and alarm clock that had been on the nightstand were gone. A mirror that had been hanging on his closet door was missing too. There was a hole in the wall also, with a piece of paper covering it until the repair man came later in the week to patch it up.

It looked better than it had after he and the other guy had literally gone wall to wall from one end of his apartment to the other. What was his name? Lawrence Something or Other. Lawrence the Cockfag. Lawrence the Stupid God Damned Asshole.

Michael's head started hurting just thinking about that night. What had seemed like a good idea at the time had gone to hell pretty quick. Michael had tried to aim for Lawrence Fuckface's nose. Instead he had smacked him in the chin, busting his lip up but not disorienting him as he had intended.

The bastard recovered quickly and launched himself at Michael. They had wrestled back and forth in the bedroom before tumbling into the hall, trading punches and kicks like a couple of junior high kids thinking they were kung fu masters. On YouTube it would have been hilarious. In reality, they both were full of piss and anger and completely intent on beating the shit out of each other. Amy was yelling at them the entire time to stop.

His living room had suffered the worst of the fight. The coffee table, the shelves with his movies and books, and his big screen TV were gone. Somehow even his coffee machine became a casualty.

In a single moment of clarity, Michael had gone Jason Bourne on Lawrence Numbnuts and smashed his face in with a large book that had fallen from his destroyed bookcase. The guy was done after that, collapsing in a heap on the ground while he clutched his broken nose. Michael had managed to smash his face after all.

The victory was short lived, however, because Amy had grabbed her tazer out of her purse and hit him in the back with it. He went down hard and had been completely unaware of anything but the pain until Lawrence started kicking him over and over while he rolled on the ground. Amy ended up tazing him too when he wouldn't let up.

The only smart ones in the entire mess had been the neighbors. They had called the police to report the noise and it didn't take long for the cops to show up and begin sorting it out. Amy and Lawrence Asshat were charged with trespassing and assault while Michael was checked out by the paramedics. They told him he should go to the hospital and he agreed. The cops took Amy to jail and Lawrence Scrotumsucker to the hospital to get checked out as well before being thrown behind bars.

Michael tried to push the memories away in the hopes of getting a little more sleep. Even now he was still trying to sort it all out. He had kept busy the last few days talking to the police, trying to calm down his apartment manager and cleaning up the mess. He had also called his boss and left a message telling him that he was canceling his vacation and that he would be back to work on Monday. He offered no explanation why.

And there was no explanation. None he could think of. There had been no chance to talk to Amy and, considering the state he had been in, it wouldn't have been a civil discussion. But as he laid back down on the couch and let the drugs carry him back to sleep, he was still asking the question: Why? He didn't have any answers and he knew that he wouldn't like them when he got them.

A sense of dread made him realize he was dreaming. He was walking down a long hallway towards a glowing door that melted away as he tried to open it. Inside the next room were walls covered with mirrors of every shape and size. Light seemed to come from everywhere and in the middle of the room was a large bed, covered with white sheets.

Amy was there, up on her knees near the foot of the bed, completely naked. She smiled when she saw him, crooking her finger in his direction. He knew that smile and her hips swayed back and forth, like she couldn't hold still. She wanted it bad. Whenever she was in that kind of mood, the ideas of foreplay and romance were tossed aside for hot, wet, animal fucking. Seeing her like that, part of him couldn't resist walking towards her but his instincts screamed danger with every step.

When he reached the edge of the bed he realized he was naked too and Amy dropped down to his hard cock. She lay on her stomach, sucking him all the way into her throat, looking up at him as her fingers stroked his balls. She had never been able to do that before but she took him without difficulty.

She went down on him for what seemed like an eternity but it was over far too soon. Her mouth came off of him and she licked her way up his stomach, across his chest and along the side of his neck until their lips met and her tongue was down his throat. He could feel it forcing its way into his mouth and swabbing every inch it could reach. When she pulled back, he thought he saw a fork in her tongue before it was back behind her teeth.

"Fuck me."

She turned around and dropped to all fours, letting her ass wave back and forth at him seductively. Her cunt was wet and swollen and he could see the juices flowing out and running down her legs. He grabbed her hips and pulled her back onto his cock, feeling her squeeze down on him as he entered her in a single, buttery stroke. She moaned wantonly and started fucking back on him, throwing herself onto his cock as he thrust into her.

It was incredible, the best fuck he had ever had. Every time he pulled out of her he tried to thrust back inside harder and deeper than before. Yet that fear, that sense of wrongness, was still there growing with every thrust.

Michael wasn't sure when the mirror was put in front of them. It was only inches away from Amy, close enough that he could see the hungry, animalistic expression on her face, the way she bit her lower lip and stared at him like he was some kind of prey animal. He watched, entranced, as her tongue ran over her lips and that it was forked like a snake.

Then he looked at his own reflection and found he was unable to scream with shock when he saw Lawrence the Bastard standing in his place. The mirror shattered and he wasn't fucking Amy anymore but was standing there at the foot of the bed watching helplessly as Lawrence fucked her instead. Amy started fucking harder, grunting and screaming with every thrust like it was the worst agony and the greatest pleasure she had ever had.

Michael couldn't move but he knew he had to get away. Aside from having to see this again, aside from watching the woman he loved betray him and love every moment of it, that wrongness, that dread, was reaching a crescendo. He had to run, now!

Amy's eyes snapped onto him and she reached out to grab him. Her nails turned to talons and they dug into his sides. He was frozen in place and she gripped the wounds her fingers had made to give her leverage to fuck Lawrence harder. The pain was unbearable, the fear making it even worse. Somehow he knew she was about to come and that if he didn't get away before she did, she would kill him.

But there was no escape. The torment went on forever and yet his body refused to move until at last Amy was screaming at the top of her lungs. She jerked her hands back, tearing huge gouges into his body before both hands slammed down into the middle of his chest and began savagely tearing him open. Michael screamed in agony and black tears poured down his face.

Amy seemed to calm down now that her orgasm was passed. The hole in his chest was an empty, black void and she put her hand in, reaching all the way through him until she was almost buried to her shoulder. There was no pain but Michael had never felt so violated in his life.

There was a sound like the most delicate chimes as she began slowly pulling her arm back. When her hand emerged, she was holding his heart. It wasn't a bloody, beating lump of meat but a delicately carved Valentine heart of crystal. There was soft music coming from it, like harp strings.

Amy stared at his heart in wonder as she held it carefully cradled in her hands. Then she looked up into his eyes and gave him a smile full of evil.

"I can see into your heart, lover." She said. "I knew that you would never betray me. I always knew. That's what makes this all the sweeter."

Her clawed hands crushed his crystal heart, breaking it into a dozen pieces and then grinding those pieces into her palms to break them even more.

Michael woke up screaming, sitting up too quickly and bringing a fresh wave of pain to his bruised body. He clenched his teeth against the pain and started crying uncontrollably.

Why? Why? Why? The question echoed in his head over and over again.

For days he had been able to bury the emotional pain behind the physical injures and the distractions of everything else. Now it was all coming up like a festering wound: Humiliation that he was crying like a child over a nightmare; frustration at how powerless he felt; and anger, so much anger, at the world and everyone in it. Enough anger to fill that hole in his chest that Amy had torn open.

He laid there a long time just breathing until he could get a handle on himself and the nightmare was fading into a bad memory. A very bad memory. After sitting up very slowly, he picked up his watch off the floor and saw that it was barely after six. Too early for him to be up but he knew he wasn't going back to sleep.

The next hour was spent mechanically going through the morning routine of breakfast, getting dressed and making sure he had enough non-narcotic pain killers to get him through the day. Despite his work as a "courier", he still had to hold down a regular job to make ends meet.

It was a poorly kept secret that Michael wrote for a local arts and entertainment magazine called Blitz. He had gone to college with aspirations of being a hard hitting investigative reporter, discovering all the dirty little secrets that were hidden under the grime of the city. Then he realized how boring and underpaid the job was.

Writing about entertainment came with perks. As a member of the press, he was invited to lots of events that people wanted to promote, he was constantly being given free music from bands who were pimping themselves out, and the more he got around the more people he was able to meet and connect with. That was how he had built his network of contacts to begin with and eventually spun it off into a side job that paid as much as his regular job.

The irony was that his side job had let him learn more of the city's dirty secrets than being a journalist ever would. But in the age of the internet, where nothing was ever forgotten, finding someone who could keep a secret rather than sell it was a priceless commodity. The currency of trust was highly valued on the open market.

Being out the door so early in the morning had allowed him to avoid the normal morning rush. He made it to work so early that the main door to their offices was still locked when he got there. He checked his watch and saw that it wasn't quite eight yet, which was when one of the editors usually got there to open up shop.

The nightmare from that morning had left him in a foul mood. He wasn't a morning person by any stretch of the imagination and today was going to be even worse. He hoped that he could pick up whatever assignments were available and get out of the office quickly. Being on the move and out in the open would help keep his head clear.

Footsteps caught his attention and he looked up to see a group of people moving down the hall together. The floor that the magazine's offices were on had another set of offices across the hall that was used by a medical equipment company. Since the two businesses had no reason to interact with each other, he didn't know much about any of their people except for Brooke the Office Manager. Everyone knew who she was.

As if on cue, Brooke appeared at the back of the group, moving around them to unlock the office's double doors and let everyone inside. While they filed inside one by one, she looked over at Michael and he braced himself. He wasn't in a mood to put up with her today.

"You're not supposed to be loitering out in the hallway." She said.

He had to force himself not to clench his teeth. "I'm not loitering. I'm waiting for the office to open."

"Solicitors aren't allowed either. You have to make an appointment if you need to see someone."

He pushed himself off the wall and closed the distance between them so fast that Brooke stumbled back and bumped into the wall. With a few feet still left between them, Michael glared at Brooke for a moment before offering her a smile that was way too forced.

"I work here. I don't work for you. So leave me alone and go do whatever it is you do in your own office."

Before Brooke could respond, he turned away and nearly ran into a young man who had his arms full of folders and a cardboard drink carrier filled with Styrofoam cups. There was a moment of panic as Billy the Kid stumbled back and the stuff in his arms started to tip over. Michael grabbed the coffee tray before it fell all over Billy and the kid was able to shift the folders he was carrying in time.

"Damn it Billy, are you trying to douse me with boiling coffee?" The words came out a little harsher than he had intended as he was still riding his annoyance at Brooke. The near collision with Billy didn't help his attitude.

"Sorry about that, Mike. I'm kind of in a hurry. Hold on to that a sec."

Billy shifted the folders to one arm and pulled a set of keys from his pocket. It took him a few failed attempts to find the right one, much to Michael's growing annoyance. While Billy took his time with the door, Michael opened the lid of one of the coffees he was carrying and took a sip. It was heavy with flavor, bitter and sweet with a touch of cream. Although it didn't eliminate his annoyance completely, the Lifeblood of the Universe helped keep him calm until Billy finally managed to get the door open.

The kid rushed inside and Michael followed. Billy moved to the nearest desk and laid the stack of folders down, sighing at he did and rubbing the one arm he had been carrying them in. Then he turned to Michael and took the tray of coffees from him, minus the one he was drinking from, and Billy's eyes went wide with terror.

"Michael, you can't drink that!"

"You should have brought enough to share with the class." He took another pull from the cup then walked towards his own desk.

"I did bring enough." Billy protested "Well, just enough. That coffee is supposed to be for the editing staff. They've got an important meeting this morning. That's why I'm here, Shep asked me to come in early and open up so that everything would be ready."

"Shep let you open up for him?" Michael asked, genuinely surprised "That's great! You're moving up in the world."

"Yeah but I was supposed to make sure there was enough coffee for everyone."

Michael shrugged as he set his half-empty coffee down to turn his computer on. "Well, the whole reason you came to be an intern here was to learn things about the business, right?"

"Right." Billy said, uncertainly.

Michael walked to him and clapped him on the shoulder, smiling like an asshole. "Then let this be a lesson, young Skywalker. Always have more coffee than you need. Because you'll need it."

The younger man slumped with a sigh and Michael walked back to his desk.

"If anyone complains about it just tell them I'll pay them back for it alright?"

Billy shook his head but didn't say anything. Instead, he went back to the files he had left on the desk and carried them towards the conference room. Michael sat down at his desk, feeling a little bad about the coffee since Billy would take flak for it. That, of course, was the price of being an intern. Being ignored, abused and run ragged for little or no pay. He remembered those days. Good times. Well, not really.

He forgot about Billy as he began looking through his e-mail. He had three windows open with three different e-mail accounts that he maintained. One was for his work on the magazine, one was for his courier work and one was personal. All of them were rather full, not counting the spam. There were newsletters from mailing lists he had joined, links and information from his contacts about things going on in the city, and even a few messages from friends.

He pulled out a notepad and started making a list to sort through all the information so he could decide on what he wanted to cover and what he would pass on to someone else. As he went through each mail, he saw the editing staff trickling in. He recognized a few of them and even gave them a little wave as they went by, but he soon realized that it wasn't just the Blitz staff that was coming in but the editors for all the magazines that the office housed.

There were several different magazines that worked out of the large office, all owned by the same company. James Shepard was the editor-in-chief for all of them. The modern age had seen the death of so many traditional forms of print media that publishers who hadn't been devoured were doing everything they could do stay afloat. That was why they all shared an office and contracted to a printing company to produce their magazines.

Something big was going down; otherwise all of them wouldn't have come in so early in the morning. He got up to find Billy and find out what the meeting was about when his cell went off, the tinny voice of a pop diva breaking the relative peace and quiet of the office.

Despite wanting to avoid the reality of the situation, Michael had known he would eventually have to talk to Amy. There would never be a good time to do it as far as he was concerned but he definitely didn't want to talk to her this early in the morning, especially in the mood he was in. The calming effect of the coffee had been destroyed by that one ring tone.

He pulled out his cell phone and stepped away from his desk, walking to the far side of the office where no one else was at the moment. He let it ring almost long enough for his voice mail to come on before he pushed the "TALK" button.

"This is Morningkill."

"Michael, it's Amy."

She sounded tired. He wondered if she had spent the entire weekend in jail. There was a vicious part of him that hoped that she had.

"What do you want?"

"I need to talk to you. About what happened the other night."

"I'm pretty sure I know what happened" he said, "since I was there for the grand finale."

"Look, you weren't supposed to find out about it this way."

That made his bad mood spike into full blown anger. "I wasn't supposed to find out that you were fucking some guy on my bed, in my apartment, as I was coming home? What the fuck is wrong with you?"




C'est La Vie Ch. 03



Amy scoffed. "With me? You're the one who's been fucking that whore, Melissa, behind my back!"

"That's fucking bullshit and you know it!" he yelled into the phone. "I haven't slept with Melissa or anyone else the entire time we've been dating!"

"Oh, is that right?" Amy asked, her voice laced with sugar and venom "Then how is it that I saw you kissing her in that club of hers that night?"

Her word stopped him cold and he didn't say anything for a moment.

"You were following me?

Amy started yelling. "Yes and I saw everything. I was standing in the crowd while that girl went down on your whore-"

"Stop calling her that!"

"-while she sucked off those two other guys! Then I watched you kiss her before you went into the back room and fucked her!"

"I didn't go to the club to fuck Melissa!" Michael exploded. "I went to do one last job and say goodbye, because you didn't want me to see her anymore! I gave up one of my closest friends because I was going to ask you to marry me and I knew it was always be an issue for you! I gave her up because of you, you fucking cunt!"

"Morningkill!"

The sound of Shep's voice was like a shotgun blast that brought him back to reality. He turned and saw the entire editing staff standing there, all of them staring at him in shock. All of them except for a man in an expensive looking suit who was just watching him and Shep, his boss, who looked furious.

"My office! Now!"

Shep turned and said something to the man in the suit and then waved his hands at his editors, who all turned and filed into the conference room. Then he glared at Michael before walking to his office.

Amy was saying something, trying to get his attention but he wasn't listening.

"I have to go, I'm at work." He said quietly "I'll get all your things you left at the apartment and send them to you in a few days."

"Michael, wait, I'm sorry let's just talk abo-"

He pushed the "END" button on the phone then turned it off completely before putting it in his pocket. Closing his eyes and rubbing his hand over his face, he contemplated just how much shit he was in. When he opened his eyes again, the man in the suit was still watching him. It was disconcerting because there was something about his stare that made Michael think that the man was making a decision about him. That's when he realized that whatever this meeting today was about, it was something serious and the suit was in the middle of it.

Knowing that Shep was going to have his balls if he kept standing there, Michael moved quickly across the office to Shep's door and went inside. He started to say something but Shep cut him off before he could get the first word out.

"Whatever your problem is, I don't have time to deal with it right now. I've already gotten a call from Brooke about you and you know I hate talking to that bitch. She left a message saying she was going to talk to the building manager about your behavior. Normally I wouldn't care but strike two was you taking my coffee."

The blood drained out of Michael's face as he remembered Billy trying to take the coffee back from him. Now he understood why the coffee was so good. Shep always took his a very specific way and when he didn't get his coffee, there was always hell to pay.

He started to apologize but Shep cut him off again. "Unfortunately for you, that isn't the worst thing you've done today, which should let you know just how bad you've screwed up. Do you know who that is out there?"

Shep pointed out the door and Michael turned to see the suited man watching them from the far side of the office. He was leaned back against a desk and was talking to Billy, who was offering him a cup of coffee. But his eyes were looking over Kid's shoulder and staring at the two of them.

"I'm guessing he's not our lawyer."

"No, he's not our God damned lawyer. That's Dan Clarkson. He owns all the magazines we print."

This could only be Hell. Maybe he was still having a nightmare. He could feel a monster crawling around in his stomach and its name was Dread. He could imagine the feeling was much like waiting for the executioner's axe to drop on his neck.

"Shit."

"Eloquently put" Shep said, "and absolutely right. This meeting is my priority right now and you are going to stay right here, in my office, until I get done. I'll deal with you afterwards."

Shep moved past him to walk out the door and Michael turned after him. "Shep, I'm sorry about what happened, but I've got a lot I need to do today."

Shep turned on him, causing him to step back before he could get out of the office door. "You've done enough for one day. If you leave, then you can keep walking and not come back."

Michael didn't get a chance to reply as Shep turned, went over to Dan and said something. Then the two of them went into the conference room together and Michael was stuck standing there, feeling as if his entire world was on the verge of falling apart. Feeling exhausted from his world exploding in a matter of moments, he lay down on the floor in front of Shep's desk and stared up at the ceiling.

"Maybe I should have gone on vacation after all..."