Let's Not Split Hairs

As he came closer to the table, the general hubbub ceased and all eyes turned towards him. Miguel smiled at those relatives he knew, but it didn't seem appropriate to talk to any of them. The returning stares he received were either stern-looking, or poker-faced neutral. An uneasy knot began to form in Miguel's stomach as he sat at the only available seat at the table. It was furtherest from his dad at the other end of the table. It slowly dawned on Miguel that this meeting might be about him!

"Son, glad you could make it," stated his dad.

"As if I had a choice," Miguel thought wryly.

"You know most of the men around this table, but let me introduce those you may not know."

As each was introduced, they each nodded grimly while Miguel smiled nervously.

Giuseppe continued. "We are here to discuss some incidents which will likely cause our family grave embarrassment and loss of honour amongst our community. This family has always enjoyed a great amount of respect from those in government, those in power, and those successful businesses that we probably helped to set up. We cannot allow this to change, or indeed disappear because of the foolish actions of one of ours. Miguel, in case you have forgotten, during this meeting, each will get one chance to speak. After this, a vote is cast to determine the fate of the accused. The decision is final."

At this, each member nodded grimly.

"You are the accused, son. You get one chance to give your version of recent events and then you will remain silent while every other speaks. Do you understand?" Giuseppe said this with obvious venom.

"Si Papa. I understand."

Every eye was upon him as he stood shakily. "How much do I tell them?" Miguel wondered. He decided to be as brief as possible while giving the basic facts.

"It started when I was at university. Like all of you," and he looked pointedly at each of them, "I had my fair share, if not more, of girls. They loved my looks and I seemed to be able to win them over easily. One day, along came a Danish beauty. She had fair skin, blonde hair and the most piercing blue eyes. I bedded her and fell in love with her. I even brought her home to you Papa, so that I could have your blessing. You and Mama refused her. She was not good enough for our family. I was told to drop her and find someone more suitable. I tried, but I couldn't. I was addicted to her. She was devastated and so was I. We both went our separate ways. She fell in love with her now husband, Tom, and I continued to play the field, hoping to find someone suitable for the family. I couldn't, but Rachel and I continued to meet even while she was committed to Tom."

At this there were mutterings around the table. There were no loud outbursts, but Miguel could hear the unmistakable whispers of, "Puta, whore!"

Miguel continued, "We carried on after they were married until I found out that she became pregnant with our daughter, Megan. I wanted to ask her to leave Tom and marry me, but I knew that was impossible because everyone in my family hated her. I saw Megan once when she was a young teenager. She realised who I was and in no uncertain terms she rejected me outright.

I continued seeing Rachel, but also found a woman who was deemed to be suitable to everyone. Amanda was beautiful, had the right family background and was willing to marry me. we did and now I also have a beautiful daughter, Maria, by her.

It was all going well until one day, while I was with Rachel at her place, the dammed police mistakenly storm invaded Rachel's house, resulting in that news report. We are in the process of suing the authorities right now as we speak.

Soon after that, Rachel and I met at a hotel that we thought was safe, but by then Rachel's husband Tom knew about us and had her served at the hotel. The rest you know."

Miguel hung his head in a contrite gesture, hoping to win some pity points. He sat down and waited. There was an uncomfortable wait, until, one by one, the assembled men vented their disgust at Miguel for being so blatantly adulterous and uncaring about the consequences of his lust.

His own father was the last to speak.

"Miguel, you are my son, my only son. What you did showed complete disregard for two marriages, a husband, a wife and two daughters. That may be forgivable, but the dishonour and shame you have brought to the Rodrigues name is not. How can we all around this table hold our heads up high while it is so publicly known that one of us has done these things? You disobeyed a direct request from me and your Mama, may she rest in peace, to not have a relationship with that puta!" His voice began to rise. There were louder murmurings of agreeance around the table.

"For this, you cannot be forgiven! Wait outside while we decide your fate."

Miguel almost crawled out of the great hall and closed the doors. They were heavy oak doors, but he could still hear the outbursts of anger through them. Miguel did not like his chances. He knew that the punishments handed down by this group were harsh and swift and they would be directed straight at him and perhaps Rachel.

He had to run and hope for the best!

Just as his car left the estate, the clan had made its decision. They called for him, only to be answered by silence. He was to be banished to a third world country to fend for himself until some mercy was felt by the clan and he could return.

His escape before accepting his fate like a man, however further fuelled the anger and disbelief of the assembled group. Now they openly called for blood! Giuseppe could not quieten this new call for his death. The death of his only son! The weight of the world landed squarely on his shoulders. Not only would he lose his only son, but there would be no passing of the leadership of this group on to his own family. It would now go to one of his other relatives. He would soon be delegated to another seat around the table while someone else led the clan. He would be alone, completely alone, no wife, no son and no prestige!

The group had their fixed processes in place for handing down such a sentence. It was out of Giuseppe's hands. Miguel was a dead man walking.

Tom received a strange phone call later that night. It was obviously anonymous and from a number he did not recognise. The caller, with a thick accent said, "Mr Wildthorpe, Mr Tom Wildthorpe? We are aware of what has happened recently to your marriage. We have decided to give you justice for these grave misfortunes that have befallen you and your daughter. Our advice for you is to leave the country immediately for at least two weeks. Make sure that you are seen publicly at all times. This is very important. Do you understand? A certain amount of money has been placed into your apartment letter box. This should be enough to cover your overseas trip and relevant expenses. There is also a flight ticket in your name included. The flight leaves at six in the morning. Please heed this advice."

The phone went dead. Tom knew from the caller's tone that this was serious. The package was indeed in his letter box. It looked like he was flying to Brisbane, Australia, and that he had two weeks booked at a classy Gold Coast resort! Packing was completed and he was boarding the QANTAS flight the next morning. He told Megan of his trip. She was very curious, but put it down to her father needing time out after the emotionally trying time he was going through.

Tom wondered what prompted this warning and didn't sleep too well all during the long trans pacific flight. Occasionally, he glanced around to break his boredom and musings when he spotted a woman and her daughter(?) some seats away from him. The cursory glance played on his mind for long hours until it clicked. It was the daughter which set the puzzle in place. She looked surprisingly like Megan. A younger version of Megan! He knew who they were. It was Amanda, Amanda Rodrigues and her daughter. He remembered her from his stake out of the bastard's house at a time which seemed so long ago.

She didn't know him, so he puzzled about whether to introduce himself. In the end, he decided to let it hang, at least until they disembarked at Brisbane airport.

That's just what he did. The baggage carousel was suitably crowded, so that if there was a scene, he could easily blend into the waiting passengers.

"Mrs Rodrigues, you don't know me, but I know you," were the first words he said to her. To say she was dumbfounded would be an understatement! She went pale and furiously looked around, looking for security, or an escape route. In the end, realising that all that was possible, because of her young daughter and lack of baggage, was to face this threat, she looked defiantly at this man and demanded, "Who are you and how do you know my name?"

"My name is Tom Wildthorpe, Amanda. Your husband, Miguel, and my wife, soon to be ex-wife, Rachel were having a long term affair since before either you or me married them."

Tom's decision to be honest, brutally honest with Amanda, had a worrying effect on her. She nearly fainted! If Tom hadn't been close enough to hold her up, she would undoubtedly have ended up out cold on the cold terminal floor.

"Perhaps we'd better go and sit down over there," suggested Tom, pointing to a nearby cafe in the terminal. "We can get the baggage in a minute."

After settling Amanda and her daughter who clung to Amanda for dear life, they compared notes about the last twenty-four hours. It seemed that Amanda had also received a call similar to Tom's and like him, she decided to take it seriously.

Baggage safely retrieved, and coffee placed in front of them, Tom explained blow by blow what had transpired. Amanda was stunned and suitably silent throughout, except for the occasional outbursts of, "Bastard" and "That lying, cheating scum!" The tears flowed freely and Amanda's daughter, whose name was Maria, sat there aghast at her mum's use of bad language coupled with the surreal situation she had been plucked into.

They eventually taxied the long drive from Brisbane to the Gold Coast, and yes, they were booked into the same resort. It was to be a long restless night for all.

Rachel eventually ventured home to face the music with Tom. How would she explain this to the man she called 'husband' for so many years? Her mind was still preparing a spiel for him when she arrived home. Surprisingly, her keys didn't work, but the garage opener did. The sight which greeted her as the door rose to its peak was one which devastated Rachel beyond belief. There was all of the furniture, packed neatly into all of its component bits. And the boxes, all with her name felt-penned on the sides, were also stacked into piles. On the one closest to the garage door was pinned a note. With trembling hands, Rachel gingerly picked up the note.

'Rachel

By now you would have been served, you cheating, lying slut. Don't try to contact me, as by the time you read this, I will be overseas. If there is something you feel you need to say to me, contact my lawyer. Her name is Marion Smithson. Her number is 54578790. I have booked and paid for a one bedroom apartment for the next six months. It is at 432 Second Street, unit five. The keys are on top of the first box. How you get there with all of your stuff is up to you. If you decide or not to stay at that apartment is up to you, but after the six months, you are on your own.

Hopefully, if you have signed the divorce papers, we will almost be divorced by then and the sham which was our marriage would be history.

Megan already knows what you and that low-life, Miguel have been up to. I filled her in on your recent adulterous actions. She didn't know that you and he continued after he sired Megan. There may be some serious bridge-building that needs to happen between you and her. I want no part of it. You made the bed, now sleep in it.

I hope to never see or speak to you again.

Tom

If only Tom realised the prophetic nature of that last statement. It was one dripping with anger and venom as he wrote it, but even with the hatred that Tom felt towards Rachel at that time, he would have been horrified if he knew what was to befall Rachel in the future!

Rachel collapsed onto the cold garage floor, surrounded by what was left of her marriage and life with Tom. All that was left were boxes of meaningless possessions and feelings of loss and despair. She gradually realised what she had done. There would be no going back from the mess she had created.

The move to her new apartment went smoothly, as everything was already packed and prepared for re-location. The act of unpacking and positioning her stuff only added to her feelings of despair and hopelessness. It was a cold, cold life she now had to look forward to.

Somehow, she managed to have the apartment looking something like home, but she was constantly aware that it was a hollow, cold home. What was she to do? The apartment was paid up for six months, but she had no job. That would have to be her priority. She didn't know where to begin. The feelings of hopelessness, loneliness and despair threatened to overtake her. From somewhere deep inside, she dredged up her determination. She would not give up. This she knew and the knowledge of her natural strength buoyed her through many of the dark days ahead.

Application after application were completed, but no one she applied to were willing to employ someone of her age with no experience in building design. Rachel started to regret not dipping her feet into the employment field earlier, while she was younger. When she had just about given up hope, she received a phone call from a Ms SanDiago from a building company called Mexico Designs and Construction.

"Mrs Whitethorpe, we see that you are looking for employment in the building design business."

"Yes, I sure am," replied Rachel.

"Well we may have a position for you. It would only be for six months and will require travel abroad. Would you be interested in such a job, Mrs Whitethorpe?"

"Absolutely!" Replied Rachel, trying not to sound over-eager. "There could be small problem though. While I am not committed to any family responsibilities at present, my apartment has a lease which would expire sometime during that job period."

"That would not be a problem, Mrs Whitethorpe. May I call you Rachel?"

"Yes, certainly."

"You see, one of the perks of undertaking such a job is that we would assume responsibility of your apartment during your travel abroad. When you return, you could simply resume payments, etc of your lease. We even notify your landlord of the reason for your absence in case there are any unforeseen circumstances. Your utilities, insurances and other expenses would also be covered. How does that sound Rachel?"

"That sounds fantastic! When would you expect me to begin?"

"Well, as soon as possible, really. We do have an interview process and we would need to check your qualifications more thoroughly. How does tomorrow sound for the interview and if we are all satisfied with what we see, the start would be next Monday with a fly-out on Sunday. If that is ok, I will see you at our office at nine tomorrow morning."

Ms SanDiago, 'call me Juanita' then proceeded to inform Rachel of the address and what was expected in terms of dress etiquette for the interview.

Rachel could not believe her luck! Her enthusiasm clouded some of the weird requests regarding the interview however. The request that she wear tight fitting attire simply skipped her spidy senses. Maybe it was that she had been out of the job scene for so long that she was completely out of touch with what was normal these days.

She took ages deciding what to wear for this interview. her bedroom was a mess of discarded then possible outfits. Finally she settled on a tight fitting suit ensemble. One which accentuated her bodily assets. It made the size of her boobs obvious without revealing too much. The neat white shirt she wore under her jacket was opaque enough to not need a bra. She also decided to wear a g-string thong so that no panty line would be obvious. Finished with some medium high heel professional shoes, she was a sight to see. Her hair and make up also added to the look of a professional business woman.

Rachel waited nervously in the small office waiting area. A secretary typed incessantly while Rachel waited and the constant sharp sounds only added to her angst.

Finally, a young lady emerged from an office door and introduced herself as Ms Constantine SanDiago.

"Come on through Rachel. My, you are a sight to see. I will be conducting the interview along with Marcel Venzuala and Diego Consorta. They are the building company's directors." She then directed Rachel towards the middle of the office. The two men sat behind a large mahogany desk. Something about them seemed odd, but Rachel dismissed this feeling as due to her nervousness.

"Let me take your jacket before you sit down Rachel," Constantine kindly requested.

Rachel obliged, but was extremely aware that now she was only wearing a shirt without a bra under. And the air-conditioning was starting to play havoc with her sensitive nipples!

"So, Rachel, you wish to work for us on a six month contract? I can tell you that the money will be more than you will earn here, especially with your lack of experience. However, your experience in other areas will likely stand you in good stead."

At this last comment, Rachel glanced suspiciously at the speaker, but Constantine quickly deflected the looks and silent question with, "What he means, Rachel, is that as a mother, your organisation skills would be well developed."

Rachel looked directly at Constantine and replied, "Yes, certainly. Being a mum does prepare you for many logistical challenges."

Rachel was not aware at first, that the two men seemed to be more interested in her nipples than anything else, although they at times glanced over the rest of her toned body. It was the sideways glances to each other accompanied by sleazy smirks that alerted Rachel to the true nature of these men. Constantine seemed to be keeping her attention with demanding questions.

At the end of the interview, the two men nodded at Constantine and abruptly left the office.

"Well," said Constantine, "That went well. Both directors are pleased with what they saw. And heard. I can safely say that you have the position. You will fly to Mexico City this Sunday. A limousine will meet you at the airport and take you to the building site office. It is a fair drive unfortunately, but I hear that the limousine has all sorts of refreshments on board. Lucky you! A company representative will take care of the apartment details tomorrow. Welcome aboard Rachel. We hope that you will enjoy the positions that you will find yourself in. I mean 'position', of course. Thank you for coming today. I probably won't see you again, as I am only employed to fulfil this side of the employment contracts. Goodbye and good luck."

With that, she led Rachel to the door. Rachel was in a whirl. It all seemed to go so fast. Her concerns about the true motivation of the two directors were quickly lost behind a feeling of elation. She had done it! She now had a future, one which didn't rely on Tom, or Miguel. Rachel was walking on air as she left to go back to her apartment.

What Rachel didn't see is that as soon as she left the office, high on elation at actually getting her first job, one that promised great rewards, Constantine and the secretary rapidly started dismantling everything which made the room look like a legitimate office. By the time Rachel arrived back at her flat, the rooms that she was interviewed in were completely empty and sanitised of all dna samples.

The flights went smoothly and, as promised, the limousine picked her up at Mexico City airport. The driver took her two suitcases and, Rachel noted, roughly threw them into the back. He did, however, show Rachel how to help herself to the drinks fridge inside the vehicle.