Chelsea jostled awake. The book she had been reading dangled in her hand. It was called, The Mystifying Nine Months. Constance had given it to her. Some noise had woken her up. Chelsea thought it was her imagination. She leaned back on the pillow, wondering if she should try to go back to sleep or keep reading. Then she thought she heard grunting outside. “It might be the dogs.” Tippy, the fuzzy white house cat, was quietly snoozing at the foot of the bed. It didn’t seem like she had heard a thing. Chelsea shrugged and picked up her book. She had nearly jumped out of her skin when the glass door to the balcony rattled. Her head snapped over to see it slowly opening. She shrieked. “Shh!” Derek hushed as he darted inside. “What . . . what the hell,” she chopped out breathlessly. He had nearly scared her to death. “I just needed –” There was a knock at the door.
One week later . . . Derek got his mother to call Chelsea to invite her over for Thanksgiving dinner. His mother had expressed that she was worried about her, which she really was, and wanted to see her. To everyone’s surprise, Chelsea agreed to come over for appetizers and cocktails. But she had to get back to the Van Dyke estate for dinner or her mother would be upset. “Oh, you look divine, darling,” Ms. Violet said when she greeted her in the foyer. “Just divine.” The butler took the red fox fur Chelsea worn on the way over. It revealed a lacy black cocktail dress that came to her knees. She wore flats. A long thin gold chain hung from her neck. She wore her hair up in a loose bun. “Thank you. I love your dress.” Ms. Violet wore a long sweater like dress. And her shoes were red bottom Louis Vuitton. Very stylish for a woman of her age. “Thank you, dear. Come. Everyone is so anxious to s
Four weeks later . . . It was Christmas Eve and the Dawsons were having a Christmas party. It had been a few years since Derek’s mother had hosted a Christmas party. She was making the rounds along with Deidre, both of them playing hostess cheery. His father was talking and laughing with a few VPs from Dawson Inc. Christmas music played as everyone drank and ate.Derek looked out the living room window with drink in hand. He had a good view of the street. During the past few weeks, Derek had a chance to think about his life currently and the future he wanted to have. He had finally decided what was important him and what wasn’t.The living room furniture had been moved around to make room for the nine-foot tree. Gold bulbs and white lights hung from it. It matched the gold them in the room. Garland hung from the fireplace mantle. His father approached him. “Hey, son. You okay?” Derek turned to him. “Yeah.” “Are you sure? You
New Year’s Eve . . . It was two hours before opening. Customers were already lining up on the sidewalk to get in. Two hours before Derek hosted a New Year’s Eve bash at The Oasis one last time. He looked around at the dark interior of his beloved club. The security lights were on. Derek exhaled as he remembered all the good, the bad, and the extraordinary. He walked over to the bar. He had fucked a hell of a lot of ladies on top of that bar. He turned around and looked at the dance floor. He had done the electric slide, the wobble, and the cupid shuffle with his customers on it countless times. Then he looked up in the rafters. There was a great view up there. “You’ve been a good girl,” he said with a croaked smile. “But it’s time we both move on.” The sale would be final three days after the new year. Derek walked to the back of the bar and raised his hand to the switch. “All right, beautiful. Let’s do it one las
Derek had opened the bottle and was pouring the sparkling liquid into the flutes. Once he was finished, he offered one to Chelsea. He wore a cotton red buttoned down shirt and black slacks. The diamond in his ear shimmered. “Thank you,” she said softly with a shy smile. “The last time I texted you had said Constance had invited you over to her penthouse for New Year’s Eve.” “She did. And I went. It was a small get together. But while I was there I found myself thinking that I would like . . . spending this holiday with my husband,” she answered with a bashful smile. It was true. She had been missing him and couldn’t stay away. So, Chelsea had sucked up her pride, made her apologies to her sister and the rest of her family, and left. She caught a cab to The Oasis. She knew he would be there since it was his last time being owner of The Oasis on New Year’s Eve. “Well, I am honored and privileged,” Derek took her elbow. He began
A day later . . .Whitney Bartholomew and her fiancé had come to the states to spend New Year’s in New York. The wedding was scheduled for late April in London. She couldn’t wait until she married him. Once again, she would be at the top of society. Being a countess opened the door to invitations to top of the line parties in the U.K. There was even a chance she could get invited to Buckingham Palace for a state dinner.When she had been married to her former husband, Lester Bartholomew, she had been invited to the most prominent homes and parties of New York Society. After the divorce, she was considered a second rate socialite. If someone had room at a party, then she would get invited. She wasn’t a must have at a party anymore. Then things got worse when her affair with Derek Dawson got exposed in the society section of The New York Times. Granted, the article wasn’t as bad as getting caught red handed by her daughter. She was dating Derek at the time. To this day, Ava
Derek arrived to the Heart and Vascular ICU at Jersey City Hospital in Jersey City. When he had arrived, a LPN had directed him to the lounge area for patients’ families. “Derek,” Deidre whimpered as she ran to him. The siblings embraced. Their mother rose from the couch with the dignity of a queen. There were six other people in the waiting room. They didn’t seem to pay much attention to them. “Mother,” Derek began. “What happened?” “We’re not entirely sure,” his mother answered. “I just got a call two hours ago that an ambulance had brought your father here. They had found him . . . in bed at a condo building, having severe chest pains. According to the EMTs, he could barely speak through the pain, but he was able to tell them to call his regular cardiologist in New York. They had all his information including his emergency contact, meaning me.” “So, they called you and you came?” Derek g
Almost two hours later . . . After Derek made some phone calls and grabbed a quick snack at a cafe, he headed to his father’s secret love nest. He still couldn’t believe he was doing this but someone had to do the dirty work, he guessed. Derek stuck the key into the hole and opened the door. On estimation, the entire place looked to be about a thousand square feet at least. Not too big or small. The majority of the living room scape was gray. The sofa, love seat, and two chairs were steel colored. The coffee table and end tables were black with thick legs. The lamps were large with a thick vase like base with light gray shades. The walls were painted an abalone shade. The carpet was a gray smoke color. There were black and white paintings on the walls. Derek didn’t recognize the artists names. He assumed his father had hired an interior designer to decorate the place. He couldn’t imagine him trusting a mistress to do it. A woman could ge