Mark Edward Hall

Chapter 7

The jet taxied to a stop. When the attendant opened the door, a dreadful blast of heated air rushed into the aircraft cabin, reminding Doug of a sauna. He hated saunas almost as much as he hated Florida. They both gave him claustrophobia. He took Annie by the hand and led her down the steps to the tarmac. A black limo sat at idle patiently waiting.

The driver was a solid muscular man who looked like he’d been sculpted from stone. His hair was black as wet tar, his skin, olive and he was appallingly handsome.

“Hi,” he said casting a small polite smile at Doug and a bright, toothy grin at Annie. He held the door. “I’m Theo. Mr. De Roché sent me. You must be Annie?”

“Yes,” Annie said, falling into the car. “This’s Doug,” she said slurring her speech.

Doug shook the man’s hand.

“Terribly sorry about Mrs. De Roché,” Theo said frowning. “She was a lovely lady.”

“Yeah,” Annie said listlessly, “I suppose she was.”

Theo maneuvered the limo along Airport Road before pulling out into heavy late-morning traffic. Before they knew it they were cruising across Tampa Bay en rout to the Suncoast. In the distance the great silver arch of the Sunshine Skyway Bridge glimmered brightly. White triangles speckled the bay’s choppy blue surface.

At Clearwater they turned north on U.S. Alternate 19 toward Palm Harbor. Inside the limousine cold air blasted, reminding Doug of the world they’d just stepped out of. He and Annie sat mostly in silence, she leaning limply against him.

Palm-thronged mansions zipped by, white and spatial, with tall gates of wrought-iron suspended between whitewashed Corinthian columns. Red bougainvillea blossoms, stripped from their vines by the winds of early morning thunderstorms, blew across the road ahead of them, and for a moment they seemed to be caught in a crimson snowstorm. Annie didn’t seem to notice, just sat staring dazedly out the window.

“Bad thunderstorms this morning,” Theo said over his shoulder, as if reading Doug’s thoughts. “Weather report’s calling for more later on. Supposed to be some real killers. How’re things up in . . . Maine?” He made it sound like he wasn’t entirely sure they were from Maine, or perhaps he didn’t quite believe Maine was actually a place.

“Wet and cold,” Doug said, hoping his shortness was indication enough that he wished to be left alone with his thoughts. He didn’t like the way Theo kept glancing at Annie in the rear view mirror, like prey sizing up meat. But Doug supposed if he was in Theo’s position he’d be looking too.

Doug sat back in the limo’s plush leather seat and sighed, remembering Annie waking him up on that morning three months ago when he’d first learned of the pregnancy. She’d been playing with him under the sheets, one hand cupping his balls, the other stroking his cock. Once satisfied that he was sufficiently hard, she’d put her hands on his haunches and lifted her lithe body atop his, her undulations effortlessly guiding him inside her. Annie was elegantly and shamelessly female, and Doug was always amazed at her prowess as a love maker. Afterward they lay together silently basking in the afterglow.

“Doug?” she whispered.

“Yeah?” Jerked back from a contented doze, Doug opened his eyes, a little bemused, a little annoyed.

She was stroking the soft hair of his sternum. “Everything’s okay, isn’t it?”

“Sure. Why wouldn’t it be?”

She was giving him that, I-want-to-be-serious-because-I’m-feeling-a-little-insecure kind of look. Doug could never imagine how someone like Annie could ever feel insecure.

“Well, I was just thinking . . . when we have a baby we don’t really have to worry about anything, do we?”

Doug’s heart-rate picked up. He pulled back slightly, gazing quizzically at her. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, you know, things. Money and education and all that stuff?”

“No, no, I mean, why are you talking about this?”

“I’m talking about having a baby.”

“I know. I thought we’d decided against children, at least for now.”

“We did, but . . .”

“But what?”

“Doug, that was eight years ago . . .”

Doug felt panic rise in him. “No, Annie. It’s out of the question.”

Annie pulled away pouting. “Why does it always have to be out of the question? And why do you get the only vote?”

“Because we’re not ready. Because . . .”

“I’m pregnant, Doug.”

Doug felt like he’d been sucker punched. Jumping out of bed and landing flat-footed on the floor, he cried, “Jesus Christ! You’re what?”

Annie began to cry. “It wasn’t my fault, Doug. I’m sorry. I take my pill faithfully every day. The doctor said that sometimes these things happen. That nothing is infallible.”

“Annie? Annie, please don’t cry. I’m really not mad, just shocked is all.”

“You’re not mad? Honest?”

In that moment Doug thought his heart would surely burst with joy. “Honest.”

“I’ve been trying so hard to find a way to tell you. I’m so glad. I’m so happy, Doug.”

“Me too.” He dropped to his knees and took her in his arms embracing her fiercely. Tears began rising in his eyes and before he could get himself under control they were spilling over onto his cheeks. Actually he’d been relieved. Up till then he’d felt terrible because he knew Annie wanted kids. Hell, he wanted kids, but that underlying dread at the thought of what might happen if they did have a baby would never quite go away, and although time had a way of making light of issues that once seemed important, deep down Doug knew that De Roché was not the kind of man who would ever forget; he was a man of his convictions, perverted as they might be, and his convictions were most likely the very secret of his tremendous success. He’d been waiting all these years, a patient man, a man who always got what he wanted.

But on that morning, a whole three months before the shit hit the fan, Annie and Doug were alive and happy and there was a child, their child, growing inside her. They were free and in love, and life was good and brimming with hope and possibilities. Dark clouds were for another day.

He and Annie had gone back to bed that morning and made love for a second time. This one had been Doug’s, and he’d made sure it had been a long and deep and ecstatic kind of love.

“Annie, I love you,” he’d said afterwards as he held her. And it was true. In his life he had never loved anyone like he loved Annie. Perhaps he had once loved his mom and dad as much, but now he could not remember, because the pain of their loss had been so great that he had willingly allowed the years to wipe the memory of his love for them clean. Aunt Tessa, the kind and gentle woman who had raised him to adulthood, had tried to get him to love her, but he had never quite dared to. The fear of losing someone else he loved was more than he could bear. He had treated her with the kindness and respect that she had expected and deserved, but he was not sure he had ever actually allowed himself to love her.

But as he’d grown into adulthood, as the years and the terrible memories had faded behind him, he began to open up a little more with each passing year. Thus, when the time had come, he had given himself wholly to Annie.

The morning he’d found out about the pregnancy was the happiest morning of his life; there was no doubt about that. But there had been a bad thing in amongst all the happiness. A distant storm filled with ominous clouds. It was the terrible secret that he’d kept from Annie all these years, the knowledge that what was theirs might not really be theirs at all, that in some terrible and twisted place there were men who made deals for the souls of the innocent.

This entry was posted on Saturday, May 22nd, 2010 at 3:28 pm and is filed under Novels. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.