Duplicity Ch. 01

Duplicity

This is my first foray into the other, creative aspect of literature. Comments and criticism, constructive or otherwise, will be appreciated. Hey - I hate being ignored. Yes Anonymous poster, I'm looking a t you.

I believe in writing what I either know well or can imagine vividly, so there isn't any sex in here, sorry.

Chapter 1

It had been an enormously stressful day at the office and I walked into our home - built by my grandfather - wanting nothing more than ice cold lager and a restful hour or two in my favorite lounger.

The owner of the company of which I have been CEO for 4 years, Mrs. Agnes Mitchell, had died aged 65 the night before. Too young by far, the cancer she had been fighting for more than 10 years had finally gotten the best of this admired and liked - no loved - 'old' lady.

Due to a birth defect she had been childless and, knowing that she would never bear an heir, had never married; rather pitting her considerable strengths into building the small engineering company her father had started into an international behemoth.

Until 15 years ago her much younger brother had been an equal, energetic and enthusiastic partner in this venture; when one morning he had stepped out of the window of his seventeenth floor office and fallen to the pavement below without uttering a sound.

Full ownership had fallen to her, her brother having named her his main beneficiary; merely leaving his wife and young child their house, car, smallish checking account and a few insurance policies that did not pay much, as expected following a suicide. Attached to the will was a request for Agnes to act with these relatives 'as she saw fit'.

Through the vicissitudes of fortune suffered by her widowed sister-in-law, Marla, following the suicide and; if the overly ardent gossips in the little town were to be believed, Marla's subsequent misspending, the house was sold within a year and the two ended up living with Agnes in the big old house on Main Street. The son, Bradley, a handsome, quick witted and a well-liked little hellion all-round, grew up as the apple of Agnes' eye and being spoilt by both women.

As I walked into the house, I was rather surprise to see said hellion - whom I detest for various reasons although have always thought I hid this well - sitting snugly in the lounge with my wife of 5 years, Carol.

Snugly being very nearly intimate.

"Peter, we need to talk." twittered Carol excitedly while Brad smiled broadly, neither offering up a greeting of any kind.

Yes, this was really happening. Not even good fiction, but bad reality.

I decided to forgo the lager and plopped down into my lounger, facing them. Hey, one out of two isn't too bad?

"So talk." I deadpanned.

Clasping both Brad's hands into hers, Carol said "Please give me a minute to explain, don't say anything - you can't change my mind and you will just have to accept what is going to happen" and then waited expectantly.

Sighing deeply I sat mute.

"Well?" she said.

"You told me not to say anything, so I am not."

Clearing a little frown with a shake of her head, she continued, "I am leaving you to be with Bradley. I love him, I have always loved him and if that old witch hadn't interfered with our plans I would never have married you, but him!

I am not asking for anything but my clothes and jewelry, you can keep your fathers money and this pile of bricks, Bradley will look after me from now on because now that the old witch is dead he will inherit everything and he will be able to look after me much better than you ever could... Oh, and of course my car"

Silence.

Unsure whether the pause after the long convoluted sentence indicated that she needed to take a breath or that I should at this stage take part in the conversation, I countered with "What?"

Yep, verbose. That's me.

Her turn to sigh. Brad decided that he needed to weigh in to explain the current situation to me.

"Listen limp dick. Concentrate, it isn't that difficult. Carol and I are in love. We've been in love since forever. I couldn't marry her because Aunt Aggie hated her guts and threatened to disinherit me if I had anything to do with her. So we 'broke up'. Since we knew the old hag would still be suspicious as hell we decided we needed to get Carol a beard and lo and behold, enter stage left, we find you. Did you really think a beautiful woman this much younger than you would seriously be interested in you?"

He continued, "I couldn't be the one getting married as there is no way I am going to give up half my inheritance in a divorce. You were such an obvious mark, with your family's money and Carol being basically penniless a divorce is no problem, so she had to be the one getting married."

I was amazed at the pure vitriol in his voice until he started up again.

"All those times the last three years at the club, that you've been bragging to me about your sexual exploits with Carol, I've been waiting for this day. This sweet, sweet person is the woman I love, and you've been subjecting her to bondage for God's sake. As if performing degrading anal acts on her weekly hadn't been enough, you felt you had to tie her down and totally dominate her. You pig."

For a moment I could swear I saw a tear in his eye.

He spat, "You know I'm going to fire you the moment I take over, don't you?"

Carol interjected hurriedly - obviously not overly keen on our deviant sexual exploits being discussed any further by the love of her life.

"Peter, I have signed the divorce papers already, they've been ready for months waiting for the witch to finally croak. Please don't be difficult about this, let this chapter of our lives be over with as soon as possible. I want to start a family with Brad."

The charming couple rose, hands still clasped together and exited through the back where I could see her car in front of the garage, loaded with what seemed to be suitcases and boxes.

"Carol!" I called out, getting up.

They spun around, Brad scampering behind her, her eyes growing wide.

Slowly, languidly I walked up to them; both taking a step back.

"I want my grandma's engagement ring back... NOW!"

Swallowing, she took both rings off dropping them into my hand and when I didn't say or do anything else; they scuttled off to the car and, getting in and maneuvering the car around the house, left.

Detouring via the fridge for an ice bucket with three lagers I plopped back into my lounger and for the first time today allowed myself to shed a tear at the loss of a great friend and mentor, and - looking at the two rings in the palm of my hand - a tear for the loss of the girl I thought I had asked to marry me so few years ago.

To be continued