The Horse Farm - Chapter 2-24

Francisco Mela paced through the stalls of his six-car garage as he conversed with someone via mobile phone. Francisco's resonant baritone was calm and controlled; the other person's voice was inaudible.

"I need to get some information on a Douglas Fenn-Creighley. He worked as a congressional aid at one time."

"No, there's a hyphen. F-E-N-N dash C-R-E-I-G-H-L-E-Y."

"No, it's L-E-Y."

"That's correct."

"He has served some time. I'm sure that it's a matter of public record."

"Twenty-two months - something like that."

"I don't know whether it was state or federal charges."

"Corruption, I think. Maybe some election tampering."

"No, this was recent, sometime in the last couple of years."

"It's possible. He may still have contacts Washington."

"Right. Or maybe he has leverage on someone, information that some powerful person wants to keep out of the newspapers."

"I'm not sure."

"My father? No, I haven't spoken with him."

"Park sent him an email to fill him in."

"You can keep him apprised, but I would prefer not to have him involved."

"Well, it's not good for his health, first of all, and he can be a little heavy handed when he feels that someone is invading his territory."

"I understand. But I would rather deal with this discreetly and keep it out of the press."

"Our clients wouldn't appreciate the negative publicity."

"You can just tell him that I'm handling it."

"Tell him that I'm handling it, and he can call if he has any concerns."

"¡Bueno!"

"Right."

"Okay, sure!"

"Fine. Call me when you have something."

"¡Bueno! - If I don't hear from you by Tuesday, I'll phone."

Francisco noticed that his son was coming up the driveway on his motorcycle.

"That's fine."

"Sure! My pleasure!"

"Thanks again! And please tell Jocelyn that I said hello."

"Ciao!"

The younger Francisco Mela powered off his bike and rolled it into the garage. "Hey, Dad!"

"You're home promptly!"

"Yeah, I want to check on Barney. Who were you talking to?"

"Just some business," his father replied vaguely. "How was school?"

"The usual."

"The usual good or the usual bad?"

"The usual USUAL," the younger man answered.

"Okay, well, please come in before you go out to the barn. I'd like you to talk to someone."

"Is this about college?"

"No."

"Because I..."

"Don't worry about that for now," the older Francisco interrupted. 

They walked to the front of the house and entered through a large white door with white trim. Francisco set his helmet on a marble-topped antique bureau. His father noted this with an expression of disapproval but said nothing.

"Is it okay if I get a drink?"

"Sure. Meet me in the study."

"Okay, just a minute." 

The young man walked toward the kitchen and returned eight minutes later with a glass of lemonade.

"Did you have to make a new pitcher?" his father asked noting the delay.

"No. I had to answer a text."

"Francisco, you remember Parker Worthe?"

"Yeah, you're lawyer."

Worthe rose from a leather chair and shook the young man's hand. "Hi, Francisco!"

"Hi, Mr. Worthe."

"Please, call me Parker."

Parker Worthe didn't seem old enough to be an attorney. Clean shaven with fair skin and a boyish face, he gave the impression of being about twenty-six. He was older than that, but Francisco wasn't able to judge by how much. 

"I didn't know that lawyers made house calls," remarked the younger Francisco Mela.

"Well, sometimes we do. Especially when it concerns the house."

Francisco turned to his father. "What's he talking about?"

"I'm having some issues with the government."

"What kind of issues?"

"It's an emerging situation," Worthe explained.

"Meaning that you don't want to tell me?"

"Meaning that we're not completely sure," explained his father.

Worthe added: "We don't know the exact parameters of this incident or how long it's going to last."

The younger Mela's body language had shifted from boredom to concern. "What do you mean by incident?" 

"As near as we can tell," his father explained, "it's some sort of investigation."

"But why would they investigate you? You're not doing anything illegal."

"They investigate lots of people, son. If they have a suspicion, they have to act on it."

"Well, that's just stupid!"

Parker Worthe opened a legal-sized folder. "Stupid or not, we have to take this seriously. We don't want the government to seize your property.

To that end, we're transferring most of the farm's assets to an offshore corporation. Don't worry; your father will retain full control, and we may be able to save on some taxes."

"So, this is a win-win." Francisco was seeking confirmation that his father's lawyer was not making a mistake.

"It's a win-win," Francisco, Sr. assured him. "But we want to handle the house separately."

"Okay."

"Francisco, your dad has asked me to draw up papers to put the house in your name."

"Whoa! What?"

"We need to make sure that the house stays in the family," the elder Francisco explained. "And I would prefer to keep your grandfather involved."

"Yeah, I can see why," the boy said cryptically.

"So I am transferring this very important asset to you."

"But Dad, this is your house!"

"It's your house, too, son. You have lived here for your entire life. I don't want that to change just because the government has some unfounded suspicions about me."

Worthe summarized the threat. "The government could seize your home."

"That's crazy!" Young Francisco exclaimed.

"Nope. It happens all the time."

Francisco thought for a moment. "I don't know if I can do this, Dad - with school and everything."

"We'll help you through everything," his father said as he beamed with palpable pride.

Attorney Worthe continued: "We're setting up a checking account in your name for the maintenance. You are going to be responsible for insurance payments, property taxes, utilities, general upkeep, things like that."

"And I'll make sure that the account remains well-funded," his father added.

"You can work with your accountant to automate most of the payments," Worthe added. "Just review things carefully each month. You'll need to handle unexpected expenses and make sure that your account balances don't make any sudden shifts toward the red."

"That sounds like a lot of responsibility," Francisco observed soberly.

"It is," his father confirmed. "But you're ready for it, and we'll do what we can to help."

"So, this is really going to be my house?" Francisco asked.

"Yes it is," his father confirmed. 

"Okay, but I have a question."

"Yes?"

"If this really is my house, we'll be living by my rules. Right?"

"Mr. Worthe did not come out here to witness a family argument, Francisco.

"Oh, sorry." All three of them were smiling.

"And, just remember who's paying the bills."

"Oh, you mean grandpa?"

"That's not funny!"

"Sorry!"

Worthe jumped back into the conversation. "I'll have some forms for you to sign over the next few days. Jerry will stop by, too. The transfer of the deed should go through within four to six weeks."

"Wow!" the young Francisco exclaimed.

"Are you excited?" his father asked.

"Heck yeah! I can't wait to throw my first party!" 

    

  

'The Horse Farm'

Copyright © 2015 Daniel R. South

All Rights Reserved

The Horse Farm - Chapter 2-23

Terri scrolled through the call history on her mobile phone for what seemed like the fiftieth time today. One number kept jumping out - the number from which Douglas had called on Sunday evening. 

She had been too petrified to delete it earlier. She was afraid that she might twitch or hold her finger down too long and trigger an outgoing call. Now, that call was inevitable. It just took a while to drum up the courage to place it.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Douglas."

"Terri! I wasn't sure that I was going to hear from you."

"Well, I guess you don't have to wonder about that anymore."

"Are you at work?"

"Where I am isn't important, Douglas..."

"Because, maybe we could meet up for a drink later. Whatever you want."

"I just want to ask you a question, Douglas."

"Okay?"

"I'm not quite sure that I know how to put it."

"Well, if you don't ask me, then I probably can't help you."

Terri couldn't hold back the impulse any longer. "Did you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Don't get cute, Douglas. You know what I'm talking about."

"No, I'm afraid that I don't have any idea."

Terri realized now that the call had been a mistake. Douglas was too crafty to admit any wrongdoing over the phone.

"Okay, Douglas. Thank you."

"How's Mr. Mela doing these days?" he pressed.

"I don't know," Terri responded warily. "What about him?"

"You're still seeing each other, right?"

"I'm not involved with anyone, Douglas."

"Oh, there you go!" he responded with false indignation. "You just had to insult my intelligence, didn't you?"

"That isn't funny, Douglas!"

"No! No, Peaches, it's not funny! Just like it wasn't funny a few seconds ago when you tried to get me to admit something that I didn't do."

"What didn't you do, Douglas?"

"Surely, you don't think I'm that stupid."

"No," Terri continued. "You're not stupid. You're arrogant. You're probably wishing that you could brag to me about how clever you are, except you'd have to admit what you did in the process."

"I haven't done anything clever, Terri." He was careful and calculating. He was once one of the hungriest sharks in the biggest shark tank in the world. He wasn't about to tip his hand in casual conversation. But Terri wouldn't let that keep her from trying.

"No, Douglas, you DID this. It has YOU written all over it. You're trying to show me that you still have the power to manipulate people. Just like you used to manipulate me."

"Ah, that's a nice conspiracy theory you have there!" he remarked. "But here's a little news flash. I'm an ex-convict now. I'm at the bottom of the totem pole. I don't have power over anyone anymore."

"Bullshit! I know you, Doug. I know what you're capable of. You break people down, slowly and mercilessly. You force them to deal with one problem after another until it's not worth fighting anymore. They capitulate, and you take the prize, not matter what it is, no matter what you had to do to get it. That's your specialty. I used to admire you for how good you were at getting what you wanted."

"That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me, Peaches. But I still don't know what you're talking about."

"Listen to me, Douglas. I know that you've been through a terrible experience. I don't want to make things any worse for you. But I am NOT the same person that I was when we were together. I'm not your girl, and I'm not going to be. I had to move on."

"Peaches, I..."

"Douglas, I don't doubt that you still have the ability to cause trouble for people. You're good at it. It's your talent, and that talent made you very successful. But it also just about ruined you. Can't you see that? Can't you see that you can't go back to the way that things were?"

"You didn't seem to mind when I was taking you to parties with the Washington elite."

"No, Douglas. You're right. I didn't mind at all, not at first. I was smitten by you and your connections and how much people respected you. It was exhilarating. But when I figured out what was really going on, when I added up the personal cost of what you were really doing to people - that's not something that I can handle. And I had to get out."

"I understand," he said. "You did what you had to do."

"And I have to keep doing that, Douglas. I can't come back. It just won't work anymore. And no amount of hurting people is going to change that. There is never going to be a day where I'll call you up and say, 'Okay, Douglas, you win. Just stop hurting people, and we'll go back to the way that things were.' If that's what you're hoping for, you have to let it go. It isn't going to happen."

"You could come back if you wanted to," he argued.

"Wanting or not wanting wouldn't make any difference," she explained. "We are who we are. I had to learn that the hard way."

"What if I change?"

"People don't change, Douglas. They're only more or less concentrated versions of their true selves. I know who you are. You can pretend to change, but you won't. Even if your life takes some altruistic turn, the old you will still be there."

"Terri..."

"Look, maybe you can win an election by doing terrible things - and maybe that's okay, because it's just politics. But you can't ever win someone's heart that way. You can't convince someone to love you, no matter how much leverage you apply. 

"Maybe you can win them over in some fashion by wearing them down. Maybe they'll just resign themselves to never being rid of you. But what kind of life would that be for either of you? You'll never win their heart, you'll never win their trust, and they'll never really be close to you."

The line was silent for a moment until Douglas asked coldly: "Are you finished?"

"Yes," Terri answered in a soft voice. She felt drained, emotionally and physically. She imagined crawling into a bed and sleeping for the rest of the day - or going out for an evening with Louise, dancing and drinking herself sick.

"Okay, well, you might want to stay away from Mr. Mela," Douglas warned, "because things are about to get very bad for him."

    

  

'The Horse Farm'

Copyright © 2015 Daniel R. South

All Rights Reserved

The Horse Farm - Chapter 2-22

"Hey, Francisco! You made it!"

Francisco entered through the front door of the upscale suburban home dressed from neck to boots in red and white leather. He carried his motorcycle helmet under his left arm.

"Hey, Brady!" Francisco said warmly as he shook hands with his friend and host.

At six-feet-two, Francisco was taller than his father and every bit as dashing. His chiseled features, piercing blue eyes, and full head of neatly cut dark hair attracted attention wherever he went, attention that he had learned to disregard.

"Whoa! Cool! You came on your bike!"

"Yeah."

"How was the ride?"

"Utterly superior!"

Brady grinned. "I hope you didn't break any speed limits!"

"Well, when it's dark," Francisco said, "I try to keep it under a hundred forty-five."

"Whoa, yes!" Brady let out a howling laugh. "That is my MAN!"

"Hey, Brady, is Isabella around?"

"Yeah, I think she and Tommy are out on the patio. There's beer in the coolers out back and more in the fridge."

"The good stuff?"

"Try the fridge. I've got some micro brews in there."

"Awesome! I'm just gonna run out back and say hi!"

"You got it, man!"

Guests filled the oversized living room. Some of them recognized Francisco and exchanged pleasantries as he passed through. He didn't stay in one place for long; his thoughts were on Isabella. "Why is she here with Tommy?" he wondered. "I thought that was supposed to be over."

A circle of young men stood around the kitchen table debating topics with boisterous enthusiasm. Karen, Brady's younger sister, and Amanda, whom Francisco knew from school, were sitting on the kitchen counters like bored children. "Hi, Francisco!" they cooed in unison.

"How are you guys doin'?"

"Okay!" The two girls looked at each other and giggled. 

Francisco opened the exterior kitchen door and walked out onto the patio. He spotted Isabella immediately. She sat watching Tommy and five or six other guys playing a disorganized match of night volleyball.

"Hey, you made it!" Isabella exclaimed as she rose from her seat.

"¡Y tu tambien!" Francisco replied.

"Ooh, I love it when you speak Spanish! Hey Tommy, say hello to Francisco!"

The field of volleyball players shouted together: "Hello, Francisco!"

"Hey, guys!"

"Hey, Tommy," Isabella said, "I'm gonna show Francisco where the beer is."

"There's beer out here," Tommy argued.

"He wants the good stuff," she explained.

"All right."

Isabella led Francisco back into the house. The debating group at the kitchen table was now doing shots and laughing loudly. Isabella and Francisco walked over to a relatively quiet hallway where they could chat.

"So, you're here with Tommy?" he asked.

"It's complicated."

"It looks pretty simple to me."

"Francisco, please, let's not fight. Can we just talk?"

"Sure," he muttered dispassionately.

"I'm glad you're here."

"Why are you glad?"

"Because I wanted to see you. Because I wanted to be sure that you're doing okay."

"I'm okay."

"You don't seem okay."

"I'm as okay as I can be while you're here with him," Francisco explained.

"I know, I'm sorry. I'm working on that."

"Are you guys still going to be together when you go off to school?"

"It's complicated, Francisco. His family and my family - we've known each other since we were kids. They kind of have this picture of us being together."

"I have this picture of US being together."

"That's sweet," she said in a voice that projected tenderness. She was moved by his words. "Maybe one day..."

"That's why I'm not going to college."

"What?" Isabella was shocked and obviously displeased. Her expression became tense.

"I already told my dad."

"What did HE say?"

"He called my mom."

"Francisco, this isn't a good idea!" Isabella said firmly.

"But I want to be with YOU."

"Francisco, listen..."

"No, you listen. That time, that night, it meant the world to me."

"It was meaningful to me, too, Francisco!" Isabella's voice almost sang the words. She was deeply moved. "But you can't go and quit school over this! That's just going to make me regret it!"

"I want us to be together," he insisted.

"Doing what?" she argued. "Doing what?"

"Doing whatever we want," he argued. "We can go wherever we like."

Isabella took Francisco's hand and led him to the edge of the living room. "Look at these people, Francisco. Look at them! Most of them will either end up coasting on their family's money, or they'll get stuck in some dreadful situation trying to live up to their parents' expectations."

"I'm not THEM."

"No, you're DIFFERENT, Francisco. You have dreams."

"And my dream is to be with you."

"No! You told me that you wanted to be a veterinarian. You told me that you wanted to develop new ways to train horses so they could run faster with fewer injuries. Did you mean those things?"

"Of course!"

"You told me that you wanted to start a program for underprivileged children so they could connect with animals instead of getting mixed up with gangs. You wanted to expand it into Latin America one day. Did you really mean that, or was it a bunch of B.S?"

"It wasn't bullshit!"

"Really?"

"Really."

"Are you sure that you weren't just saying those things so you could get into my pants?"

"Isabella, that's ridiculous!"

"Is it?"

"Yes! Look, I meant everything that I told you."

"That's nice, Francisco. But if you don't go to college, none of those dreams will ever come true. You'll never become a veterinarian, you'll never start that program for kids. Your dreams will die, right here, right now, all because of one selfish decision."

"It's not a selfish decision."

"It's totally selfish, Francisco!" Isabella was visibly upset now. "You just can't see it!"

"Why is it selfish to want to be with you?"

Isabella took a deep breath and spoke slowly. "Look, Francisco, I would LOVE to be with you, but not if it means you giving up on your dreams. Not if it means being just another rich kid living off of his father."

"I am NOT going to live off of my father, Isabella!"

"Okay! Then what are you going to do? How are you going to accomplish any of that if you're willing to sacrifice your education...for a girl who doesn't want you to? How does that even make sense?"

Francisco stood silently. He wanted to counter Isabella's argument, but he couldn't find the words. He was beginning to fear that she was right.

"Look, I'm sorry, Francisco. I shouldn't have snapped at you. I just want you to think about the big picture."

"I am."

"No, you're not! Your dreams are too important. They're important to me. They're important to the world. And I'll never be happy if I have to watch you give up on them."

"But you'll be so far away," he argued.

"I'll always be with you, Francisco. I told you that, and I meant it."

"What about you and Tommy?"

"Like I said, I'm working that out."

"What if it doesn't work out?"

"Well, what if it doesn't?" she wondered aloud. "You'll be living your life, a good life, doing important things. Helping people. Helping the horses. You'll fly around the world giving talks, and you'll meet lots of people. You'll meet someone."

"Don't say that!"

"It's the truth."

"There's no one else! There's only you!" Francisco seemed so earnest and passionate about his feelings for her. It nearly moved her to tears.

"I'm very touched, Francisco. But it's like I said. Some of us get stuck trying to live up to our parents' expectations."

Tommy walked into the room. "There you are, Pumpkin!"

"Hi Tommy," Isabella said cheerfully.

"What are you guys talkin' about?"

"I was just telling Francisco that he should go to college and pursue his dream of becoming a veterinarian."

"Whoa, cool!" Tommy said in a disinterested tone. "Hey, are there any burgers left?"

"I think you'll have to grill one," Isabella replied.

"Hey, it was nice catching up with you guys," Francisco interjected. "I'm gonna go see what Brady's up to."

"Be cool, bud!" Tommy said.

Isabella looked Francisco in the eyes. "Bye!"

After Francisco walked away, Tommy let out a taunting chuckle. "Veterinarian! Ha! What kind of a douche job is that?"

"Tommy!" Isabella protested.

"I'll make in a week what that asshole will make in a year."

"Well, you haven't made anything yet."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"How much money have you made in your life?" she asked. "Not counting interest on money that somebody gave you?"

"I don't know, I'm still in school," Tommy said.

"Bill Gates was still in school when he started Microsoft. Zuckerberg was still in school when he started Facebook."

"What's your point, Izzy?"

"Francisco has spent the past ten years training the world's finest race horses. What have you been doing? Playing video games?"

Tommy flashed an expression that seemed to wonder whether Isabella had gone completely mad. "Go get me a burger!"

Isabella rolled her eyes. "Coming right up, your majesty!" 

Tommy stood by himself at the edge of the crowded living room with a can of cheap beer in his hand, bobbing his head to the music.  

"Stupid motorcycle asshole!"

    

  

'The Horse Farm'

Copyright © 2015 Daniel R. South

All Rights Reserved

The Horse Farm - Chapter 2-21

"Hi!"

Terri smiled warmly as Francisco let her in through the front door. Her expression beamed joyful enthusiasm. 

Francisco hadn't seen her like this before. Even in moments of intimacy, Terri's emotions seemed guarded and distant. In public, she carried the weary expression of someone accustomed to fending off unwanted attention.

But tonight, she seemed warmer and more open, like a young girl seeing her prom date in a tuxedo for the first time. This softer version of Terri was a stark contrast to the woman who had grilled Francisco at lunch a few hours earlier, or the one who two nights passed, had walked out through this very door in a fit of anger.

"Come in!" Francisco offered in his well-mannered way.

Terri wore a light coat over a beige pantsuit with a peach blouse and high suede boots. "Thanks for letting me come over!"

"Sure! Can I get you something?"

"Uh, maybe just some water."

Francisco led Terri into the study where he poured two glasses of ice water from a crystal pitcher. They sat on a colonial style black leather couch with a dark wood frame.

Terri looked down at a thin slice of lemon in her glass. "I wanted to apologize," she said. 

"You don't have to..."

"No, I should have been more supportive. I know that you love your son and you want the best for him. And, I'm sure that his mother does, too. It just ... It just surprised me when she was here."

"I understand."

"Well, I still feel that I should apologize because I acted like a teenager."

"It's okay."

"Thanks." She took a sip from the glass. "I really am sorry. I've been under some pressure lately, and it's had me kind of on edge."

Francisco smiled and leaned toward her. "Terri, it is I who should apologize. I should have told you that she was going to be in town. It wasn't fair to surprise you like that."

"It's your family."

"I appreciate the understanding, but I need to think of your feelings, too."

"Your son's education is important. I understand completely why you had to get her involved," Terri said. "She's quite the looker, by the way."

"She can make an impression," Francisco confessed. "For her work with the embassy, she attends a lot of grand functions. Sometimes, I think that she forgets to turn off that side of her personality."

"Seriously! And those diamonds! I don't even want to ask whether they're real."

"Don't ask."

"Isn't she afraid of getting carjacked?"

"I've tried to tell her things like this!" Francisco said, shaking his head. "But I think that she probably would just charm the robber - or convince him to go into politics where he could use his skills to better benefit."

Terri let out a loud laugh. "Oh my! - So, how is young Francisco? How's HE doing?"

"I didn't have a chance to speak with him today," the elder Mela answered. "He was here working earlier, and then he went off somewhere on his motorcycle."

"Are you concerned about him?"

"He's seventeen years old, and he's riding a motorcycle. Yes, that concerns me."

"I meant about the university. But yeah! I'm not quite sure why you let him ride that thing."

"Well, he doesn't really like to be told what he can and cannot do. I'm afraid that he has a bit of his mother in him."

"Oh really?" Terri asked playfully. "Because it sounds like he has a bit of his father in him, too."

"Point taken!" Francisco acknowledged. "Anyway, I'll have to catch up with him over the weekend. Today, I've been dealing with a bit of an emergency."

"What happened?" Terri asked.

"I'm not completely certain, but I believe that my business interests are being investigated by federal authorities."

"What? That's terrible!"

"It's not confirmed yet," Francisco explained. "They haven't contacted me directly, but the indications point in that direction."

"What did they do? Contact your lawyer?"

"My banker, actually. My accounts in the bank that I use here in the US are frozen."

"Holy crap!"

Francisco nodded.

"Can they really do that?" Terri asked.

"They can do whatever they please."

"But why? I don't understand why they would come after YOU."

"I don't either," Francisco conceded. "My business dealings are all above board. We don't import or export goods, so there's no concern of smuggling or contraband. I do have interests abroad, but these days I'm mostly a silent partner in those ventures."

"Are you sure that it's the government?"

"It has to be some federal agency. They're the only ones with the power to freeze bank accounts."

"Why would they do something like that?"

"It's mostly for racketeering. Maybe they think that my horse racing activities are connected to some sort of gambling activity. Or money laundering. My family has business interests in Venezuela, Argentina, Nigeria, and the Middle East. Maybe they just picked one of those places and investigate people with extensive holdings. Hopefully, it's all just a big misunderstanding."

Terri thought for a moment. "So, what does that mean that your accounts are frozen? You can't access any money?"

"Effectively. I can't take money out of that bank."

"Wow! What are you going to do?"

"Fortunately, I have accounts in banks around the world. I've learned not to rely on any one jurisdiction."

"I see why!" she observed.

"And, as we speak, some very bright and capable gentlemen are setting up ways for me to access those funds. Obviously, I need cash flow in order to keep this operation running, among other things."

"Wait..."

"What is it?" Francisco asked.

"Shit!"

"What is it, Terri?"

"I can't believe it."

"What?"

"Oh, my God, I'm so stupid."

"Terri?"

"I think I know what's going on."

"How could you possibly...?"

"My ex - his name is Douglas - he used to work for a congressman."

"He's politically connected."

"Sort of. It's kind of a long story. But whenever there was an election, one of the things that he was responsible for was finding dirt on the opposing candidates. Then, they'd put it in the paper and make the person look bad."

"Do you think that he could somehow be involved?"

"It just sounds like him. He's sneaky and vindictive. He never confronts people directly. But he finds some backhanded way to make them look bad."

"Are you still in touch with him?"

"No! I mean, we haven't been in touch for a while. He went to prison. He and his bosses made some shady deals, and he ended up taking the fall for it."

"Why do you think that he's involved in this?"

"He CALLED me, just a few days ago, last Sunday, after I'd left here. He said some creepy things. I hung up, but now that I think of it, I think that he might be following me. If he knows that I've been here, then he might come after you."

"You said that he went to prison. He can't be working in that capacity anymore."

"No," said Terri. "But he's resourceful and he can manipulate people. He went to prison alone because he refused to turn on his boss. Maybe he has information that people are afraid that he might expose."

"Leverage," said Francisco. "Enough leverage to convince someone to launch a bogus investigation."

"I'm so sorry, Frank!"

"Well, we don't even know if this is what's really happening. Maybe it's just a coincidence and Douglas isn't involved. We shouldn't jump to conclusions."

"Okay, but if he is involved, you need to take it seriously. He's not an amateur, and he's gone after some very powerful people."

"Understood."

"Don't think of him as your garden variety creepy ex-boyfriend."

"I won't," Francisco said with a smile. "But one day you're going to have to tell me what you saw in this guy. Clearly you don't hold any admiration for him now."

Terri took a deep breath and sat motionless for a moment. "Believe me. I still ask MYSELF that question."

"It's okay," Francisco assured her. "You said that he manipulates people."

"Yeah, that's an understatement."

Francisco's attention drifted away. He was staring into space now, his expression blank. Despite enduring an unprecedented attack, he showed only concern, never anger. Terri let him sit quietly for a moment. He was probably thinking up a strategy to deal with the threat; she didn't want to interrupt him.

On the whole, he seemed different now. Frank, the handsome mystery man with old money, a flashy car, and an answer for everything - that person didn't seem to exist anymore. It was as though he had evaporated over the course of a single day. 

This man sitting here was Francisco, a man who loved his family, a man who loved his horses and his business, a man who lived life well but never at the expense of others, the man who had counseled her best friend, Louise, through her darkest hour with Walter, without ever entertaining the thought of taking advantage of her weakened heart. 

Terri felt something at that moment, something powerful and beautiful. Sitting here in this quiet study, she realized that she was seeing Francisco as he truly was, beyond the façade the soul. This was the real Francisco, open, caring, principled, and vulnerable. She was falling in love. It was clear now. She was falling, and falling fast.

    

  

'The Horse Farm'

Copyright © 2015 Daniel R. South

All Rights Reserved

The Horse Farm - Chapter 2-20

"How was your day?" Louise asked as Walter walked in through the kitchen door. She didn't look up from the vegetables that she was slicing.

"It was fine," he replied. "Busy."

Louise created an opportunity to catch Walter in a lie. "Oh, no! I hope you didn't have to skip lunch."

"No, I managed to squeeze it in."

"Go anyplace nice?"

"A Vietnamese place downtown. Les Fleurs d'Indochine."

"Is that the one in the fancy hotel?"

Walter wondered how Louise knew about the restaurant given that it had opened only recently. He instinctively became more guarded in his answers. "Yeah, that's the one."
"What made you pick that place?" 

"It got a good review in the paper. One of my colleagues mentioned it."

"Anyone I know?"

"Susan from the design team."

"Susan from the design team," Louise repeated with faux interest in her voice. "Is that the Susan who likes to wear hot pants?"

"I have no idea."

"Oh, come on! You've seen her in hot pants...at the picnic, remember?"

"I don't remember that."

"That's bullshit."

"I don't remember," Walter insisted. "Apparently, it made a bigger impression on you."
"She followed you around like a puppy, Walter!"

"I think you're imagining things."

"I'm not imagining anything," Louise argued. "Susan from the design team has designs on YOU!"

"Wow! That's funny!" he snapped. "Can I use that one the next time I have to entertain some fourth-graders?"
"You just don't want to admit that she's into you."

"She's not into me," Walter argued. "But tomorrow I'm having lunch with Roger and Tariq. I thought we might go upstairs afterward and cap off the afternoon with a gay orgy."

"Don't be an ass!"

"Well, I'm taking my ass into the bedroom. I have work to do."

--

Jo was beaming as she and Steve walked into the mall through one of the smaller side entrances. She was wearing a pink floral print blouse, low, open-heeled shoes, and black Capri pants with little zippers at the bottom of each leg.

"Thanks for coming shopping with me!"

"I like to go shopping with you!" he said. "I'm just sorry that it's so late. The place going to close down in about half an hour."

Steve had a round, boyish face with a few light freckles on his nose and upper cheeks. His brown hair was cropped in a modern version of the crew cut, short in the back but a longer in front where it stood up on end. He wore a brown suit and a blue dress shirt with a red and blue rep tie.

"It's okay," Jo assured him. "I like to shop when it's quiet."

They made their way past a dozen small shops. Some of the sales staff were pulling display items back into their stores for the night. 

Jo and Steve entered the department store at the end of the wing and navigated up an escalator to one of the ladies' casual sections. The saleswoman for the section was folding clothes and placing them on racks. There were no customers in the immediate area.

"This is the sweater that I like," Jo said holding up a sample. "It comes in blue, pink, forest green, and white with red trim. I want you to tell me which one you like the best."

Jo took samples into the dressing room and emerged a few seconds later wearing the blue one.

"I like it!" Steve said enthusiastically.

"Great!" Jo exclaimed. "Here, come in and I'll show you the rest."

"I can't..."

"There's nobody here," Jo insisted. "Come on, it'll be faster."

Jo took Steve by the hand and led him into one of the changing stalls. She slipped out of the blue sweater exposing a purple demi bra with white trim. Her torso was lean and toned from her fanatical devotion to Pilates and yoga classes.

"Yeah! I like that, too!" Steve announced with enthusiasm.

"Oh, do you?" Jo asked playfully. She kissed him and he took her in his arms.

"I don't think I should be in here," he said as their lips remained connected.

"Probably not." She reached down and undid the zipper of his trousers.

"Jo, what are you doing?" He let out a panicked chuckle.

"I'm doing YOU." 

"We're gonna get caught!" he protested.

"Maybe!"

Jo dropped to her knees, exposed his body, and began to fellate him aggressively. Holding him in one hand, she used the palm of the other to stroke the inside of his thighs and up onto his bottom.

"Jo!" He gasped. He glanced downward and felt the urge to run his fingers through her soft curls. The demi bra accentuated her cleavage. He gasped and looked up toward the ceiling.

"Shoppers, the store will be closing in fifteen minutes," came the announcement over the public address speakers. "Please bring all final purchases to the register at this time."

"Jo, we've gotta go," begged Steve, now straining just to be able to stand.

She increased the intensity of her attack and teased him with rapid tongue movements. He couldn't take it anymore and let out a series of gasps while trying to muffle their sound. She stayed with him, connected and still working through a long series of convulsions. She savored the taste of every drop.

When he had finished, she stood and looked him in the eyes with a playful grin. 

"That was amazing!" he gasped as he pulled an handkerchief from his pocket and dried himself off. "What can I do for you?"

"You can kiss me."

They embraced again. He held her tenderly and reached his tongue deeply and passionately into her mouth. She gasped and nearly collapsed into his embrace. It had been a long time since she had felt that kind of intimacy and total acceptance with someone. She hadn't felt like this since she and her high school boyfriend, Tim experienced their first innocent lovemaking adventures. Her luck with men had been downhill ever since. Until now.

Jo slipped back into the floral blouse. She tossed her hair quickly as she glanced into the mirror. "Are you ready?"

"Yeah," he whispered.

They emerged from the changing area and walked toward the register with the sweaters.

"Did you find everything that you were looking for?" asked the sales lady. She flashed a pleasant smile.

"Yes," said Jo. "He likes the blue one."

    

  

'The Horse Farm'

Copyright © 2015 Daniel R. South

All Rights Reserved