The Warmest Winter, Day 07

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"Samuel, I take it?"

"Sam. And you must be Michael." They shook hands, and Michael ushered his soon-to-be brother-in-law into a seat opposite his.

"What did you want to talk to me about?" Michael asked.

"I know my sister better than anyone else," Sam said, "Even you, no offense. Our parents don't even see it because they don't want to."

"If you're about to accuse my fiancée of something, I will at least need to see some I.D." Sam handed him his card, which Michael inspected. He'd done some work for the police, and discovered a couple of verification tricks the cops don't typically tell civilians about. The card was real, and the man before him was indeed Samuel Harrington IV.

"You love her – that's obvious. But you have to look at the details. She's an amazing actress, even considered it as a career at one point, but the practices of stage were a bother, and the grueling process of TV or film was not for a princess like her."

"I don't often get angry," Michael said, "but you're pushing it."

"Whatever retaliation you can think of, either I can prevent you from succeeding or it won't do you any good or me any harm. Be mad if you want, but I will sit here until I have spoken my piece. Believe it or not, I'm on your side here."

"Fine. Go on."

"My family, even the entire extended family, is a bunch of money-hoarding über-snobs. Kendra, I'm sorry to say, is among the worst. Have you ever gotten the feeling she wasn't telling you something?"

"Yes, but it was usually followed by a surprise of some sort. She was hiding to keep me from finding out too soon."

"And all of the surprises explained every evasive answer?"

"She always explained whenever I asked."

"And every explanation completely satisfied your doubts?"

"I never thought too hard about it. I trust Kendra."

"You never thought too hard about it. You mean you saw what you wanted to see. How did you meet? When did she show interest in you?"

Michael told him.

"The door was open, you said, and Kendra was sitting by it. She heard you tell Professor Napolitano you were already making money. An eighteen-year-old raking in the dough. And she made sure she got your attention immediately. What led up to the first time you had sex?"

"None of your business, to be frank," Michael scowled, "And what makes you think we have?"

"If she accepted your proposal, then she's done everything in her power to have sex with you. If she hadn't succeeded by now, you'd have to be an idiot not to suspect her, and you're not an idiot, so she has succeeded."

"How do you get a link from the proposal to sex?"

"I'll tell you in a second. Answer me this, first: Did you reveal your true wealth before or after you proposed?"

"Before. Just before, in fact. I wanted no secrets between us, for her to have no illusions of any kind about me before I asked her." Michael knew he sounded defensive, and was beginning to worry that he in fact was defensive.

"A noble sentiment. Naïve, but noble. Let me tell you what happened that night. She heard you say that you are incredibly wealthy, and that you were willing to give half or more of it to her. Then, to seal the deal, she beds you again."

"We never... I mean, it was the first..."

"Oh, god," Sam looked horrified. "She did that to you? She was your first? And it was on the night you proposed? Oh,god, Mike, I'm sorry. If I had known, I'd have come at you with this with a bit more tact."

"Withwhat?!" Michael suddenly shouted, "What the Hell are you talking about?! Just what are you saying? Quit beating around the bush and justtellme, goddammit! And nobody calls me Mike!"

"Michael. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I wish I didn't have to tell you, that it wasn't true, that Kendra isn't who I know she is. But you have to know."

The truth was, Michael already knew. He had shouted to drown out his brain telling him the same thing. You have to look at the details, Sam had said, and he had done just that, the whole conversation. It had finally all clicked into place and made sense. Mike looked with mounting fear at Sam, who he now realized had been more of a friend to him in the last five minutes than others had been for his whole life.

Sam saw the look, and still forced the words out. It needed to be spoken into the air.

"You've been had. Kendra's the gold digger."

*****

It was lunchtime by now. The women were aghast.

"All that time?" Jenny said, "She was faking for all that time? Everything?"

"Not everything," Mike said, "I'm sure she didn't need to fake quite a bit. She may even have thought it could still work from time to time. For sure I still saw the possibility that she had loved me despite her greed."

"So what did you do?" Cassie asked.

"Having said his piece, Samuel left me to mull it over..."

*****

Michael sat in his office, listening to the pouring rain and re-thinking everything his visitor has told him. Was it true? Was Kendra only after his money, or at least, would she still be with him if he wasn't rich?

He hated himself for doubting his future wife, and so resolved to settle the doubts as quickly as possible. Closing his books and files for the day, he dashed to his car and began to drive to the apartment he shared with Kendra.

He wanted to call, even dialed a few times, but he was struggling so hard just to keep his emotions in check, to keep his imagination from running away from him, to keep his eyes on the slick road, that he never managed to place the call.

When he arrived, he decided to just walk in and tell her about his encounter with Sam, in a very matter-of-fact way, judge her reaction, and go from there.

Michael opened his front door, and found one of Kendra's black lacy bras on the back of the couch. She was not the best housekeeper in the world. Michael hadn't minded, as he would be home most of the time anyway, with an office to work out of.

Then he spotted the pair of briefs on the floor... and the panties in the hallway. Michael hadn't owned briefs in years, since he began to wear boxers. The line the undergarments made pointed straight to the bedroom, where Kendra and Michael spent their nights.

Within his chest, Michael's heart turned to ice- hard, tight, and cold. Gold digging would have upset him immensely, yet she could potentially make up for that, but this...

He heard noises coming from the bedroom.Hisbedroom.Hisbed. So many emotions fought for release, it was all Michael could do not to clutch his head and scream. Lost and drowning, he sought refuge in his intellect, which had yet to fail him.

Stop. Think. Plan. Execute.

"Execute." Perhaps not the best choice of words, thought a clouded part of Mike's head, desperate for a glint of sunlight.

He moved towards the front closet, and quietly opened it. Inside, Mike found the Tasers he had stashed for home defense. Two of them, one for each occupant. Mike had a distaste for guns, but nonetheless believed in defending his home, thus Tasers were the weapons of choice. Readying them both, he turned and moved with deliberation to his bedroom door.

They had even left it ajar. Kendra was so overconfident she had gotten lazy. Or did she really even care? No matter.

Mike peered into the room, scoping out the situation. His soon-to-be ex-fiancée was facedown on the bed, clutching a pillow to muffle her screams. Her head was towards the headboard, away from the door, as was that of her lover. The cuckolder was driving himself deep into Kendra's ass, something Michael had never been interested in doing. That explained a bit, at least.

He couldn't see the man's face, but the face didn't matter. Mike slowly, quietly walked around until he was directly behind the adulterers. He lined up his shot with one Taser, and fired.

The man felt sudden and extreme pain, right between his balls and his asshole. It only lasted a moment, because it was swiftly replaced by fifty thousand volts pulsing at four hundredths of an ampere. It doesn't sound like much, but to a human body, especially the scrotum, it's the Special Hell, the one reserved for child molesters and people who talk at the theater.

With a scream, the man rolled off of Kendra, and Mike could finally see his face. It was Marcel DuPont, a friend of Kendra's from her high school graduating class, one of several who came to their college at the same time.

Marcel reached down to clutch his groin, but Mike sent another jolt to warn him away. Kendra sprang up, wide-eyed and terrified.

"Michael! Wait! This isn't-"

"I have another Taser," Mike replied, pointing it at her naked chest, still flushed from her sexual exploits. "Choose your words carefully."

Kendra blurted out, "I have cancer, Michael."

"Excuse me?"

Kendra named the type, and explained that it was moderately aggressive, and that though it had been rather subtle until recently, the next stage would only be survivable with the absolute best care available, combined with duct tape and luck.

"Please!" Kendra begged, "I'm sorry! I, I wanted to be strong when I told you, because I knew how upset you'd be. So, I called Marcel. After all, he's a friend, and I'd tell him soon enough anyway."

Mike was still upset, but began to see another explanation. What she had been hiding was that she was sick, and had just found out why. Her concerns about his money were only the same ones her parents had, which were not unjustified. And she had made a mistake in a dire moment of weakness. It would take time to get through it, but maybe they could manage it.

Kendra saw the hope in Mike's eyes, and crawled over to him on the bed. Marcel was temporarily forgotten. Kneeling in front of Mike, she put her arms around his neck, trying not to think too much about the Taser he still pointed at her sternum. He would drop it soon.

"I'm so sorry," Kendra said, looking into Mike's eyes, which showed imminent tears, "We didn't mean for it to go this way. We were talking, I started crying, I needed someone so badly, and one thing led to another. It should have been you here. I am so, so sorry, Michael."

Mike looked straight into her sea-green eyes, still made-up from her internship shift earlier.

"You said you were crying." Mike's tone was flat. Matter-of-fact.

"Of course. I could die, Michael."

In a flash, Kendra saw the fire engulf Mike's gaze, and by the time she registered what Mike said next, it was too late.

"Your mascara isn't running."

Kendra opened her mouth to speak, and Mike squeezed both triggers.

*****

The ladies cringed. "Ooooohh."

"So it was the mascara that did it?" Jenny asked.

"It tipped the balance, broke the illusion, whatever you call it. The point is, in that moment, she wasn't hiding something from me. It wasn't omission or forgetfulness or the heat of the moment or anything else. She looked me square in the face and lied through her teeth about why she was with him."

"Did she even have cancer?" asked Veronica, clearing the lunch dishes.

"Yes. I talked with Sam afterwards, to thank him and fill him in on the details. A few weeks later, he called back and told me what else I didn't know."

Mike had decided to break off the engagement, and his relationship with Kendra entirely. Marcel fled the situation completely, and not even Kendra heard from him again. A Taser to the perineum can have that effect on people. Kendra's health would not be affected- her parents and her trust fund could treat a hundred people with the exact same type of cancer. Not that they would, except for their precious daughter.

So Mike felt no remorse for breaking up with her, despite her worsening cancer. They hadn't really put much of their personal belongings into the apartment, being just a summer rental, so he terminated the lease and moved his things out before term started.

"Then Sam told me the worst news: Kendra's lies weren't over. Sam had visited the family, not revealing his role in what had happened. Kendra told him what she had already told their parents."

According to her, she had told Mike about her cancer, and he flipped. He called her all sorts of names, and became very irrational. Her disease "did not fit into his plan," and he was angry at her. When she frantically tried to calm him down, he accused her of hysterics and Tased her to subdue her. Sam at this point asked why she did not press charges, this being assault. Kendra said that she had too much to handle, and would rather just be done with it.

Sam had wondered if things had really gone exactly as Mike had told him. After all, he'd just met the man that one night.

But then Kendra had continued her tale. As she told it, Mike had concocted the story of her cheating on him to cover his behavior. Samuel and Martha believed every word from their angel's lips, but Sam knew better. Mike hadn't told anyone about that night- he had no one to tell. He hadn't concocted any story at all, let alone a lie. So why would she assume he had fabricated such a story, if it couldn't have reached her ears? It had to be true.

Wordlessly, Sam left the house and called Mike. When the phone call was over, Mike never spoke to anyone in the Harrington family again.

Six months later, he received a newspaper clipping in his mailbox, in a plain, un-postmarked envelope. It was an obituary for Kendra Marian Harrington. The cancer's aggression outpaced all treatment options, and she had died. Mike never visited the grave, and found himself without a desire to.

"Didn't you love her?" Cassie asked, "She must have meant something to you, despite everything."

"I loved who I thought she was," Mike answered her. He was showing them the specifics and settings of his washer and dryer in the basement. "Who she pretended to be. But I was not in love with the real Kendra. I never would have been. In fact, the more I thought about her, even from a neutral point of view, the more I disliked what I saw. No. The loss was hard to take, but not as hard as if she were real."

"So this house..."

"Was just beginning construction, and if I changed the plans, the whole thing would have been rejected. It was a close-run thing getting it at all. I kept the plans, determined to live my life as I had envisioned it before I even met Kendra. So now, everything was back to normal, except that now I have my winters alone in a house built for two-plus. It isn't my 'summer getaway,' but it ismine. Everything she took from me, she will not take this, even from the grave."

"So when you said it was built for guests..."

"It was built for family. The Master bedroom is sound-dampened so the kiddies don't hear the parents having sex. The office was to be a playroom. It's not shielded to keep outside noise from inside the office, but to keep noise from the playroom out of the rest of the house, especially the bedroom directly above it. Soundproofing works both ways, but still. We didn't need many bathrooms because you couldn't use them for long periods at the same time anyway – not enough water."

The four of them were quiet for some time, and then began to exchange short sentences related to the continued cleaning of the house. They were up to the second floor, now that the laundry had been started. Mike would do his separately, once the ladies' was done.

"Whatsa matter, Mike? Afraid you'll get embarrassed?" Thank god for Veronica. The somber mood needed breaking.

"I haven't seen anything yet, so unless you're suggesting a runway show, maybe it's y'all that should be afraid of what I'll see."

Not for the first time, Mike smiled inwardly, as he had said something none of them could object to without giving away too much.

"So whose else's have you seen?" she continued to prod. "Who else has tried to win over Mike Evans?"

"You mean have I dated since then? Of course. Like I said, in some ways she was easy to get over, being a falsification. I've had dates, a few short-term girlfriends, nothing serious. Some even got physical. I'm not trying not to date, I just don't often. I suppose I've just been in a bit of a holding pattern, waiting for the next thing to come along."

"What's the wildest sex you've ever had with a real person?"

"Hey, hey, hey," Mike said. His mission had been amply accomplished, and now he wished the subject matter to return to normal. "You want more out of me, it'll have to be a tad less one-sided. Arrange a good game of Truth or Dare, and youmightget an answer to that question." He smiled, and the group went to the library to dust.

*****

Up to and including dinner, Mike was fairly quiet. He got a short sidelong hug from Cassie at one point, and Veronica surreptitiously gave him a comforting pat on the back at another. He wordlessly volunteered to do the dinner dishes, and the ladies left him to it.

As he turned off the water and began to dry the dishes that wouldn't fit in the dish rack, Mike turned and saw Jenny standing in the doorway to the kitchen.

"I wanted to tell you again how sorry I am about what I did to you the first night."

"No need. I said we're square, and I meant it. Still do."

"Nevertheless," Jenny continued, folding her arms and leaning against the wall, "I get why feeling manipulated was such a big deal to you."

"I appreciate your understanding."

"That's an arm's-length phrase if ever I heard one, but that's okay. I just wanted you to know, I'll never do anything like that to you again."

"I believe you."

"But if there's anything I can help with, I'd like to try. Not for you, but with you."

"Thanks," said Mike, putting down the drying towel and beginning to put the dishes away, "But I'm fine."

"They say home is where the heart is."

"Yeah, what of it?"

"They also say you can't go home again."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you're holding yourself to something, a future that no longer exists. Okay, your future with Kendra is gone, but so is the one before it. You're different. You need a new future, not to just try this one over and over in defiance of the memory of her."

"In other words, 'They say insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result,' right?"

Jenny allowed herself to turn up the corners of her mouth. "Something like that."

"I see your point, and you may be right."

"So, will you let me help you?"

"I will consider it."

"Stop. Think. Plan. Execute?"

"Something like that."

"Well, that's something. Whatever our futures hold, I'm just glad for the chance for us to work together."

Mike froze in the middle of putting a cup on the high shelf. He had to remind himself to not drop it, as the rest of his mind was suddenly buzzing. Ideas, thoughts, images, words, connections, all started flashing through his brain as the coalescence of something big worked its way into his consciousness, pushing them ahead of it.

"Excuse me," Mike said, rushing by a suddenly-confused Jenny. He hurried into his office and shut the door behind him.

Jenny walked over to the office door, and stared at it. Cassie and Veronica, who had been hanging out at the second floor landing, came down and joined her.

"What happened?" Veronica asked.

"I have no idea. I was telling him I could help him through any residual issues he might have, and he was polite but resistant. Then he froze, and bolted into his office."

"Dude needs to get laid," Veronica said. She had sex with him only the day before, but it's what she would have said if she hadn't.

"You know," said Cassie, "Instead of our 'don't ask, don't tell' policy, we could all just jump him at once. I'm sure he'd like that."

"I bet he would!" Jenny said. They started laughing. It was a release. They were nervous.

The trio of women settled into apprehensive silence in the den, across the hall from the office. They could hear Mike sliding open drawers and slamming them shut, rustling papers, typing furiously on his computer keyboard. At times, they heard nothing. Presumably, he was reading.