It was the next morning.
Albert and Ginger flew back to Los Angeles International Airport on another United Airlines flight. Their vacation in paradise was over, and it was back to their dull lives.
Albert and Ginger walked out of the United Airlines gate with all the other passengers. Everybody looked rested, and many sported beautiful bronzed bodies from the Hawaiian beaches.
“I wish we could have a live-in paradise like Hawaii. I’m really not looking forward to getting back to the office,” Albert told Ginger while they walked down the terminal.
“Maybe I should get into another line of work. Being an accountant is getting extremely boring,” she replied and held his hand.
“Maybe racing cars. I mean, you have experience with all these speeding tickets. I’m just happy you haven’t had one in six months,” he replied with a smile.
“Don’t rub it in,” Ginger replied and playfully stuck out her tongue.
They walked arm in arm down the terminal with Ginger in deep thought about something that had weighed on her mind for the past couple of days.
They walked toward a TV on the upper part of a wall, which showed the news.
“The San Fernando police just released their report that Bob Grove of United Alliance Security committed suicide after being caught with child pornography on his work and home computers,” a female reporter said outside in the UAS parking lot in front of the camera with the UAS building in the background.
Ginger ignored the TV while they walked past it.
Albert’s eyes widened and stopped, rushed back, and stared at the TV.
“Then, in a bizarre twist, Bob’s sister, Wendy Harper, was found dead from an apparent drug overdose in her apartment in San Francisco. Police are trying to determine if her death was also suicide due to the suicide of her brother in San Fernando,” the reporter added.
Ginger walked back to Albert. “What’s the matter?”
“I knew that guy in college. He was a freshman and a huge computer geek. I never would have suspected he was into child porn. Then his sister died. How bizarre is that?” Albert told Ginger.
“Life is full of bizarre events. Let’s go home,” she said, not interested in that news story, then grabbed his hand and walked him away.
Ten minutes passed.
While they waited at the carousel for their luggage, Ginger’s cell phone buzzed. She looked at the viewfinder and saw it was a text message. She walked away from Albert while she read the text message.
She typed a response and then sent it.
“Who was that?” Albert asked curiously while Ginger walked back over to him.
“The office again with a question about some tax issue,” she said, then slipped her cell phone into her purse. “I’m going to hate returning to work,” she added.
“Why don’t you look for a new line of work?” Albert said, then his eyes widened when he saw their luggage coming down the carousel.
Ginger thought about that for a few seconds. “I think I will,” she replied, and thinking of a new career made her smile.
Meanwhile, up on the top floor of UAS, Chuck Moore, a sixty-two-year-old UAS executive with a head of thinning white hair, a butt ugly comb-over, and a huge pot belly, stood at his office windows and watched the TV truck down in their parking lot.
Grant Adams, a fifty-five-year-old executive, and Kirby sat on the couch. Grant turned off the forty-eight-inch HDTV that hung on the wall.
“Perfect. Now that the media folks and police are buying that story, our two problems have been eliminated. Is the project for the President still on track?” Chuck asked while he walked away from the window and sat down behind his desk.
“His trip is still scheduled for Vegas, according to my source,” Grant replied.
“How is hotel security looking, Kirby?” Chuck asked.
“It’s looking great. Viper accepted the assignment,” Kirby responded.
“Is Viper qualified to handle this type of job?” Chuck asked, a little concerned with this change so late in the game.
“More than qualified, in my opinion,” Kirby replied with a reassuring tone.
“Okay. Is our San Francisco friend ready?”
“He helped with the previous problem, and he’s prepared to handle any future ones,” Grant replied.
“Super, now, how are you going to prevent another breach in computer security?” Chuck said while glaring at Kirby to remind him he’s still pissed with Bob Grove being able to copy that database.
“I transferred everything to my laptop, and it’s locked up in my safe,” Kirby replied, feeling the pressure of Chuck’s eyes.
“It better work, or you might go flying yourself off the building yourself,” Chuck threatened while glaring at Kirby.
Kirby didn’t look the least bit worried about Chuck’s treat.
“Okay. I’m leaving for Paris, so keep me updated. This is a huge payoff, so we can’t afford to screw it up,” Chuck added.
Kirby and Grant nodded in agreement, then got up and walked out of his office.
Back at their Burbank home, Albert and Ginger spent a quiet day relaxing.
Albert watched TV, and Ginger seemed to be preoccupied.
Albert believed she was thinking about her job, which was stressful, or possibly a new career. He hoped she would find a new job that didn’t require her to travel all the time.
The next day at work, Ginger reviewed financial records at her desk at the Hooper and Coffman Accounting office in Los Angeles.
Her desk phone rang.
Inside the Sanderson and Whitfield Architectural firm in Pasadena, Albert sat at his desk, where it was neatly organized with Architectural renderings on the wall. He was impeccably dressed and worked on some blueprints at a drafting table. It was the Wilcox building that was under construction and about seventy-five percent complete.
“Hey beautiful, how’s my sexy wife?” he asked and smiled while he thought about her while he talked into his phone.
“I’m fine. What are you doing?”
“I’m working on changes to the Wilcox building. What are you doing?” he replied.
“I’m reviewing some boring financial records,” she said.
“Well, I’ll make sure tonight won’t be boring,” he replied while he had thoughts of an evening of passionate lovemaking.
“I can’t wait. Well, I better get back to work before my boss chews me out for slacking,” she responded.
“I love you,” Albert said and waited for her to respond in kind. He waited a few seconds but received no similar response and then became bothered. “Are you okay, honey? You haven’t told me you loved me in a while.”
“I’m sorry, Albee. This new contract has been occupying my mind. I love you,” she said, then quickly disconnected their call.
Albert looked troubled while he hung up his phone.
It was a beautiful, starry night, and one star became extremely bright and then dimmed.
In their home, Ginger was already in bed, reading a murder mystery book called Confession, as that was the only type of book she had read.
Their TV in the bedroom showed President Billy Barrow, sixty-five years old, and he was ready to give a speech from the Oval Office.
Ginger had the sound turned down so the President wouldn’t distract her from her thrilling story.
Albert walked out of their bathroom in a red Speedo, and he appeared to be well-hung when, in fact, he was just of average size. He strutted over to Ginger.
“Tonight, I’ll address the nation concerning my plans to get America off their dependency on Middle Eastern oil. We’ll develop hydrogen-powered vehicles and other alternative energies. And we will be completely independent of foreign oil in fifteen years,” President Barrow told the TV audience.
Albert grabbed the remote by the bedside table and turned off the TV. “President Barrow is a moron!” Albert said, then set the remote down on the TV stand.
Albert strutted up to the bed and pounded his chest. He gave out a weak Tarzan yell.
Ginger chuckled, and the second Albert got to her side of the bed, she reached out at his Speedo and pulled out a sock that was stuffed inside to give him that well-hung appearance. She laughed as she dropped the sock to the floor.
Albert pouted.
“A pacifist Tarzan. How funny!” she said and chuckled.
Albert jumped in bed next to Ginger.
“I know what you mean, I couldn’t harm a fly.”
Albert kissed Ginger’s neck. “Do you know Tarzan loves you so much and could never live without his Jane? Speaking of which, why don’t we have a baby? That little boy with the cap gun got me thinking of being a father.”
Ginger frowned. “You know my thoughts on having children.”
Albert looked disappointed and accepted her usual answer.
Ginger became preoccupied as she returned to her book.
Albert lay in bed and knew that their night of hot sex was out of the question. He closed his eyes in disappointment.
It was the next day, and Ginger read a magazine on expensive European homes at her desk at work.
She picked up her desk phone and punched in a number.
Albert was busy in his office on the blueprints for the Anderson building. His phone on his desk rang. “Albert Taylor,” he answered.
“It’s me,” Ginger said from her phone.
“Hey, beautiful,” Albert replied with a huge grin.
“Listen, I have to work late. I should be home around eight-thirty,” she said in a serious tone.
“That’ll work, as I have a softball game after work, then I’ll come home and make you a superb dinner,” he replied.
“You and that dumb softball.”
“I don’t know why you hate it so much. Try it; you might like it,” he said.
“Maybe, anyway, I gotta get back to work. I’ll see you tonight,” she said.
“I love,” Albert said but couldn’t finish what he wanted to say because she quickly hung up.
Albert looked upset when he went back to his work. Later that night, Albert came home from his softball game and quickly took a shower.
After Albert changed clothes, he hit the kitchen to make Ginger a superb dinner. He whistled while he prepared dinner.
Ten minutes passed, and his cell phone rang on the kitchen counter. He rushed over to it and smiled when he saw the caller.
In the parking lot of the accounting firm, Ginger walked out into the starry-filled night where a star got bright and then got dim.
Ginger walked to her car while she talked into her cell. “Albee, I’m on my way home, and I’m starved!”
“You’ll love what I made,” he replied from her cell phone.
“I can’t wait,” she replied, then dropped her cell phone into her purse.
Ginger looked serious while she walked through the parking lot to her silver 2009 Acura ZDX.
A homeless bum stumbled up to her. “Spare change?” he asked while he held out a ratty box.
“This is private property. Get out, or I’ll have you arrested,” she snapped, then glared at the bum.
The bum-rushed off, as something about Ginger really spooked him.
“Take a bath, you scum bag,” she yelled at the bum while he rushed away.
Ginger got inside her car and felt a little unsure of herself, then pondered life for a few seconds before looking determined.
She started up her car and drove out of the parking lot.
At the far end of the parking lot, a black 2010 CL-class Mercedes Benz followed Ginger’s car. This Mercedes was the standard company car for UAS.
That Mercedes, with two occupants, soon passed Ginger’s car while she drove down another street.
A little while later, Ginger drove her Acura down Mulholland Drive. As usual, she drove a little too fast for the winding road.
That 2010 CL-Class Mercedes Benz drove down the road and went around a bend on Mulholland, where there was a twenty-foot drop from the edge of the road.
A few minutes later, she raced her Acura around that same bend.
A few seconds passed, and a loud crash was heard.
Then, an explosion was visible from the bottom of the cliff. It was Ginger’s car.
Two hours passed, and Albert sat at the dining room table with dinner, ready for Ginger. Albert looked at his watch, and it was nine that night. He looked worried to death while he looked at his cell phone, then punched in Ginger’s cell number.
The doorbell rang from the living room.
Albert disconnected the call.
Albert got up and walked into the living room and to the front door, where the doorbell rang again.
Albert opened the front door and wondered who could be visiting, then immediately became concerned when he saw two LAPD police officers standing outside his door. Both cops looked grim.
“Are you Albert Taylor?” the one officer asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“There’s been a bad car accident with your wife, Ginger,” the other officer said.
Albert dropped to his knees in shock, as he knew exactly what this meant.
The officers entered, and both of them picked Albert up to his feet and walked him inside the living room.
The officers sat down on his couch.
“Your wife’s body was severely burned from the fiery crash. We were lucky to find identification from her purse that apparently survived. I’m so sorry,” the one officer stated in a comforting tone.
Albert sat on the couch in shock over the news, and part of him believed that this was all a colossal misunderstanding. He expected Ginger to walk through the front door any second.
Two hours after the officer left, Ginger never walked through the front door.
It took a few days to confirm with her dental records that Ginger did, in fact, die in that car crash. Albert now lived in a daze.
Ginger’s funeral was held the following week.
Albert was visibly shaken, and some of his coworkers comforted him. At the same time, he stared at her coffin, which was ready to be dropped into the ground. His eyes were red and watery, and he looked like part of his soul died.
Albert thought that it was strange that nobody from Ginger’s accounting firm attended her funeral.