CHAPTER SEVEN
Glancing at my watch, I donned my tuxedo, pulled my tie in place, and combed my hair. It was 7 pm, and I didn't want to be late for the red-carpet reception at the Roseland Ballroom. Tonight was the annual Beach Colony Award and Gala Night. It was a gathering of the crème de la crème in New York, and Connor, the cynic, was getting an award for being the biggest donor to the Beach Colony Children Education charity.
Fastening my cuff links, I picked my car keys and left the apartment.
Charlotte was already waiting when I arrived at the party. She was my plus one as Thelma would be by Connor's side as he received his award. Charlotte walked up to me and planted a kiss on my lips then slid her arms through mine as we walked down the red carpet. As we sipped our drinks, waiting for the event proper, Charlotte took me around and introduced me to some acquaintances.
I listened to the speeches made by the awardees as they were presented with their awards, occasionally smiling at Charlotte and listening to her whispered remarks. I was stunned but happy when Thelma walked up the stage to receive her prize. She didn't tell me she volunteered as a therapist to children who had been traumatized by war. My heart swelled with pride, and I almost whistled when she smiled. I couldn't contain my excitement as my applause got me a questioning look from Charlotte.
As the evening wore on, the guests went on to the network and personally congratulated the awardees. I spotted Connor with a very striking blonde partner by his side. He had his hands placed on her waistline and kept whispering something into her ears. Just when I was wondering what new pranks Connor was up to and where Thelma was, I saw Claudette walk into the ballroom. Her face grew red in anger as she sighted Connor and his plus one.
"Ugh-uh, now that doesn't look good," Charlotte said.
"Come along, darling, I know a place you would like to see. We need a break."
She led me to the gallery downstairs, where we chatted with a few guests and exchanged cards. Charlotte took me around the gallery, explaining the pictures and showing off her in-depth knowledge of the artwork.
As we sat down, I noticed a painting of a naked young woman straddling the brain. That struck me as precisely what Thelma was doing to my mind. I smiled and continued listening to my beautiful companion, wondering where Thelma was.
"Let's go to the rooftop," Charlotte suggested.
"I must admit I'm afraid of heights," I said.
"The engineers took care to build it in a way you wouldn't know you were on a roof. It feels more like being on top of the world. You can see the whole city from there." She encouraged.
Charlotte was right. I forgot about my fears and went on to enjoy the view from the rooftop. The view was breathtaking, and we stood there for half an hour before we heard someone approaching. It was Claudette and Connor, and on first instinct, Charlotte and I quietly slid into the shadows.
"What the hell are you doing, Connor? Thelma's here, and you walk around with some gold-digging broad. You don't care what the paparazzi will say." Claudette said.
"If there's any gold digger here, it's me. I dig golden pleasure from your daughter's pussy and turn it into dollar bills that keep the roof over your head, your feet in Prada, and your skinny ass in Victoria's secrets. Your tastes are so expensive. I have to dig so hard and so deep." Connor replied in an icy and calm voice.
"You are a bastard, Connor!" Claudette yelled.
"But I know what I want and how to get it, so right now, I want those papers that will frame Mr. Lyon signed and handed over ASAP," Connor said.
"I will do no such thing, you scheming greedy pig," Claudette snapped.
"You will, and if you are as clever as you look, you should do as I have said. I presume you do not want the headlines reading Matriarch of Bunchild whoring to keep the dynasty above waters," Connor said.
"You promised to destroy the sex tape years ago, why do you still have it? We had a bargain, Connor. I made Jonathon lose his job so you could have your way."
"I rewarded you handsomely, Claudette, so stop being a cry baby. Our bargain was that I would destroy the tapes after Thelma becomes my bride. In that part too, you have failed woefully, my darling Claudette."
"We both know Thelma doesn't want to marry you. I have done everything I could."
"In that case, I don't mind taking an unwilling bride. She must stick to the agreement. I suppose she understands the consequences of refusing." Connor retorted. "And of course, I will keep to my promise, but that will be after giving the internet a slice of your fake orgasms."
"Go to hell, Connor. I will sue you to your last penny if you dare such nonsense." Claudette raged.
"You seem to forget snowflake; I have recorded conversation of your plot to usurp Madeline and kill her husband. It will save the state from wasting precious dollar bills searching for his killer while you will cool your ass in jail and save us these tantrums," Connor said.
"You made me do it. Whose idea was it to kill him so you could monopolize his business? Tell me. I only told you about their secret hideout. You pulled the trigger, you murderous, heartless schemer." Claudette cried.
"If I go down, we'll go down together. I will expose your drug cabals and make sure the government tears down everything so you won't have a dime to your name if you ever get out of jail."
I heard Connor laugh mirthlessly, then Claudette stomped off in anger. I waited as Connor finished smoking his cigarette and moved away before coming out of the shadows with Charlotte. I noticed the shock on Charlotte's face. I bet she thought her cousin was anything but a killer.
I drove Charlotte to a friend's place because she couldn't bear to stay alone in her apartment. As I returned to my apartment, I realized that Connor was not just a ruthless businessman but also a drug baron. He murdered his way to the top and would continue knocking people out of the road like a bull trying to get out of a china shop.
I was particularly worried about Thelma, and the consequences Connor boastfully spoke of.
******
After the gala night, I sought for ways that I could end Claudette's miseries. I had everything in my possession that could end her long years of being subjected to Connor's mischief. Eavesdropping on their brief conversation opened a door for me, a door that may affect Thelma negatively. The poor lady has been through enough. But Connor's persistence to crush down the Bunchilds had to come to an end.
I used the service of a pizza delivery guy. The idea has worked in my favor, and it was appropriate that I remained anonymous until it was safe for Thelma. However, I tailed the delivery guy to ensure the package got to the right hands.
Thelma's family house was at Newark. I paid the delivery guy enough to drive several miles in his van.
When he finally pulled up in front of the house, I did the same, but I maintained a few yards close enough to know who would answer the door.
A man in his early 60's, whom I suspected to be Mr. Bunchild, answered the door. I couldn't hear their conversation from a distance, but the delivery guy went against my order to deliver only to Claudette. He even collected another money from him. Things were going to get worse if I didn't stop Thelma's dad from opening the package.
After the pizza guy drove off, I took it upon myself to make an awkward introduction. Besides, it was about time I met the father of the lady I'd fallen in love with in the past few months. Perhaps, I could get him on my side. Connor has had Claudette as a teammate, getting Mr. Bunchild as a fullback wasn't a bad idea.
So, I turned on the ignition after the idea had sounded convincing enough. I pulled my car close to the house and headed for their door. Mr. Bunchild still answered the door for me. The smile on his face
when I introduced myself as Thelma's boyfriend, it was all I needed to know if my rescue plan to save an impending marital crisis will pull through.
Mr. Warren Bunchild had been a state prosecutor for years. A framed black and white picture of a teenage boy wearing an old soccer jersey showed that he had other ambitions besides his noble legal profession. There were plaques, medals of various sorts on display. The family had indeed achieved a lot in their life, and he was proud.
He noticed how my eyes traveled from one item to another, and he smiled. Pointing at a significant plaque in a wooden frame, he said, "That's the Frank Carrington Crime Victim Attorney Award; it's from seventeen years ago. Those over there are Charles R. English awards. They became a regular piece of the collection after I became a member of the ABA. That's John h. Pickering Achievement award, I was about your age when I won two of those for my pro bono and excellent legal standard…"
He went on about the medals from his days as a soccer player, even taking me to his study where he had pictures with great names in the legal sphere.
"What's your area of specialty? Sorry, are you a lawyer?"
"No, no, sir, I'm not. I'm a broker."
"Oh," he said.
I had brought down his hopes down a bit, and it showed in his facial expression.
"I am the Managing Director of the Western Express," I added.
My last inclusion didn't change a thing, so I stopped trying to impress him about the non-legal related profile of my life.
So, in changing the subject, I asked him, "How did you meet your beautiful wife?"
We've been circling his study, and he paused, raised his brows, and stuck his hands in his trouser pockets.
"We met through her older brother. We played soccer then. His favorite position was at the goal, while I loved to control the midfield. Claudette was very little then. The death of their father hit them so badly. They almost handed Claudette to child services. I related their situation with my pop. He was very willing to help, so that solved their education problem and other welfare issues they had. I moved out of Cleveland to Pennsylvania for my law program. Claudette heeded his late brother's advice to join me in Pennsylvania for her law degree 5 years later. That's how we reunited, and I became the closest buddies until the relationship flourished into marriage."
We walked back to his sitting-room as he talked. I sighted the pizza package on the fridge. The first thing that occurred to me was to distract him and find a way to conceal the box, but it was too big to be hidden inside my leather suit.
"Care for a drink?"
"Yes, please."
He dashed to his study to fetch a drink from wherever he had them. I quickly picked up the pizza box and hit it under the couch. I was seated on the sofa, looking at the artwork above the fireplace when he walked with a wine bottle and two glasses.
"So, how did you and Thelma meet?"
"She's our client. It wasn't in the spectacular fashion, though. Our meeting was a bit awkward. She came to complain about something, which was later reviewed. We exchanged contact, and we've been friends since then."
The door opened, and Claudette walked in.
"Mr. Jareau, what a pleasure," she said, smiling as we shook hands. Then she turned to face her husband, "Honey, you didn't tell me you had stocks in the Western Express."
I tried to interject, but Mr. Bunchild responded with, "No, I don't. This young man here is Thelma's boyfriend, did you know that?"
Claudette turned to me, looking surprised. "Really, how long has that been?"
"Not very long ma'am, eight or nine months, I guess. We haven't made it official yet." I said.
"Is that so? Thelma has never mentioned it," Claudette added.
"Maybe it's because you've been choking her life with the thin-looking French guy."
Mr. Bunchild’s response may have struck a chord, but it looked like it was heading in my favor.
Not wanting to leak private matters in my audience, Claudette politely excused herself as she asked for a minute with her husband in another room.
I quickly thought of how to solve the problem that brought me in the first place – handling the pizza package to Claudette. I took out a small note I always carried along in my jacket. I always carried a pen in my suit pockets too. I wrote a few words that will help Claudette locate the position of the package without alerting her husband.
When they got back, I made up an excuse to leave. I smartly folded the piece of paper into Claudette's hand like a handshake and shook hands with her husband before heading to the door. I was turning on the ignition when Claudette tapped on my car door. I brought down the window of the car door to hear her out.
"What's in the pizza package, and what do you mean by 'solve my Connor' problem?"
"I was going to do this anonymously until the delivery man I sent messed up the arrangement. Your husband would have had access to the sex tape but thank God I tailed the delivery guy down here to witness the exchange. I wanted to make sure it got into the right hands."
Her blue eyes depicted fear and desperation. I reached out for her hands to calm her, "Don't worry, your secrets are safe with me, now go burn the damn tapes and end Connor's hold on your freedom once and for all."
She nodded in acknowledgment as I let go of her hand, driving away into the distance as I watch her walk back to her house with a renewed air of freedom.