Wealth Pt. 02

"God damn it, not now!" Stacy screamed.

Sadie relieved herself; thoroughly soaking her small pillow.

"Should have grabbed that letter opener," Stacy muttered to herself, picturing in her mind's eye the crystal letter opener that Barry had used to open that damned present.

In her mind's eye she could envision herself slamming the blade into that bony red head's skull, killing the little slut. She could picture driving it into the throat of that like little like tramp like daughter of like Barry's, could actually picture the girl's horrified look as her life slipped away.

Sadie continued to yelp and whine and paw incessantly at the door of the laundry room as Stacy fixed herself a drink. She poured herself a healthy amount of the Johnny Walker blue label. Normally she left this bottle untouched; this was Barry's bottle.

"Fuck him," she said bitterly and coughed as the amber liquid burned it's way down her throat.

She stripped out of her clothing and pulled on her old, familiar robe, then ground her teeth in frustration. Barry had given her a very nice, warm robe that even had a hood on it to keep her head warm when she had a wet head from the shower. Of course, she had left it at his house, to wear when she spent the night. She wished she'd had the foresight to grab it before she left his house.

"At least I have..." she thought and looked at her expensive watch.

At the Delacroix house, Sergeant Darren Richards and his partner, Officer Ray Gonzales took the statements of everyone. Darren wrote out the accident report for Caitlin, who was on her cell phone with Young Insurance.

"I'm sorry, hate to call you, I mean, I know it's Christmas," she sniffled into her phone.

"Don't be ridiculous," Julie Chamblee assured the girl. "I'm just glad you weren't hurt when it happened."

"I wasn't even in it when it happened," Caitlin said.

"Well, thank God," Julie said.

"And then she slammed into my daughter's friend's car and drove... You can see the tire marks right there," Barry pointed out to Officer Gonzales.

"Daughter's friend?" Caitlin asked Barry when the police officers left the house.

"Well, yeah, what was I supposed to..." he asked.

"Uh, your girlfriend? Your next wife?" Caitlin said.

"Caitlin, come on, you're being ridiculous," he protested.

"Why?" she asked, staring into his eyes.

"Because, you have any idea; Caitlin, I'm almost fifty. Fifty!" Barry exclaimed.

"And? I'm almost twenty. Twenty! What's that got to do with..." Caitlin asked, putting her hand on his forearm, still looking deeply into his eyes.

"Caitlin, I've got kids older than you!" Barry pointed out.

"So?" she asked. "I won't ask them to call me 'Mom.'"

He laughed at that. She stepped up and kissed him, then stepped back again, still looking intently into his eyes.

"Barry, all I'm asking, all I want is a chance," she said. "All I want is to prove to you I do love you."

"Caitlin," he argued weakly.

"A chance?" she begged. "Please, just give me a chance?"

He drew in a deep breath, then sighed. She squealed happily and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Love you," she enthused and kissed him clumsily.

"I must, no, no, I know I'm losing my mind," Barry laughed as he returned the bone thin girl's hug.

He grew serious and looked into her warm brown eyes.

"But no secrets, you hear? No running around behind anyone's back. I'm going to talk with your mother and your father, all right?" he said sternly.

"Okay," Caitlin said with more confidence than she actually felt.

Her mother, she knew, would not like it one bit but Grandmother would quickly put a stop to Theresa's objections by pointing out that the man that Theresa left Caitlin's father for, the man that fathered Briah, had been sixty three years old when Theresa became involved with him.

But Edmund, Caitlin's father, Caitlin was not sure of what Edmund's reaction would be. In his eyes, Caitlin was still the nine year old girl that had been run over by a drunk driver that swerved onto the sidewalk, putting her into a body cast, forcing her to miss nearly two years of school.

And in her eyes, her Daddy was the single most wonderful man in the world; the man that not only came to get her every other weekend, but also took her little sister with them, even though it was blatantly obvious that Briah was not his daughter. Briah did call Edmund Weinstein 'Daddy' because Briah's own father disavowed any knowledge of her, even though he still sent the five hundred and fifty dollar child support check each month.

If Edmund Weinstein had any resentment toward Briah, or had any prejudice because Briah was half African American, he never displayed it.

And even though she was now nineteen, almost twenty years old, and Briah was almost eighteen, they still spent every other weekend with him; he still rented a two bedroom apartment so that they could have their own bedroom, their own bed.

"Okay," Caitlin agreed again and kissed Barry again.

At the condominium, Sadie's pawing had ceased, now the dog was hurling herself at the door of the laundry room.

"Fine, fine, God damn it," Stacy yelled at the toy poodle, the flung the back door open. Sadie ran outside, did what little business she had and ran back inside.

" Bad! Bad dog!" Stacy shrilled, discovering the wet pillow.

Sadie cowered down and whimpered.

Stacy drank a third glass of Barry's scotch and dropped the soaked pillow into the washing machine, along with the towel she'd used to mob up the excess urine.

A hard knock sounded at her door, prompting Sadie to start her shrill barking.

"Yes?" Stacy snarled , flinging the door open.

"Afternoon, ma'am," Sergeant Darren Richards intoned, almost smiling at the little dog that hid behind her owner, yapping at the two strangers. "Understand you're not having yourself a very Merry Christmas?"

"Oh go fuck yourself," Stacy snarled and moved to slam the door in the police officers' faces.

"Wouldn't do that, ma'am," Officer Ray Gonzales said.

At her trailer, Anita finished scribbling out her homework and sighed. Since their little blow up on Thanksgiving, Anita knew better than calling Toni and telling Toni to come get her. It would just prompt a fight between mother and daughter.

Marco had gone out to show his buddies his new tennis shoes., Louisa was playing with a electronic gadget Luther had given her and Luther was snoring on the couch, having consumed nearly all of the fifth of scotch.

"Man, they give y'all a lot of homework at that school, huh?" Louisa asked, causing the floor of the trailer to sag when she lumbered into the kitchen.

"Yeah," Anita agreed.

"But you learning a lot, huh?" Louisa said, attempting conversation.

"Yes ma'am," Anita agreed.

Louisa grabbed a can of beer, squinted at the clock and decided to make herself a sandwich with some of the leftover turkey breast from their Christmas lunch.

"Want a sandwich? I've fixing me one, you want one?" Louisa asked.

"Sounds great," Anita said, trying to make herself sound cheerful. "I help?"

At the Delacroix house, Barry watched as BJ, then Michael left. Toni was already upstairs in her bedroom, downloading software onto her new laptop computer. Caitlin watched as Barry put on his coat then cleared her throat and looked at her own coat hanging on the coat rack. She smiled as he assisted her in putting her coat on, then leaned back into his big arms. She gave a little sigh of happiness when she felt him kiss the back of her head softly.

Barry got his cell phone out and tapped the screen. He opened Caitlin's car door, then closed it. He walked briskly around his car and got in.

"Hey, Henry, that BMW, the Two thousand four; you got any problem I let Caitlin borrow it for a bit?" Barry asked when Henry answered his telephone.

He smiled as Caitlin buckled herself into the passenger seat, then rested her head on his shoulder.

"Uh huh, Merry Christmas to you too; now, that car?" Barry asked and backed out of the driveway.

"Well, seems Miss Stacy decided to drive through my tulips, yes the ones right in front, yeah, drove right through them, will you stop talking so I can talk?" Barry said as he drove toward Superior Motors.

"Anyway, pulled out of them and slammed right into Caitlin's car; yes that little Saturn of her's; yeah, I agree, it's an improvement, but still the girl needs a, what? Tell Shirley call her on her own phone," Barry said as he pulled onto Highway 52.

"That Shirley? Give me the phone," Caitlin demanded.

"The BMW? Oh, okay, all right, here," Barry said and gave the phone to Caitlin.

Caitlin was still squealing and laughing into his phone when Barry pulled up to the shop. He left her in the car while he went to get the keys for the gate, and the BMW Z4.

At the St. Martin home, Gary St. Martin, the oldest of their four sons screwed up his face in confusion as his usually quite stoic mother squealed and chattered on the telephone like a teenager.

"Who's Mom talking to?" he asked.

Henry smiled as he glanced toward the kitchen where Shirley paced back and forth, talking animatedly.

"Caitlin; she's your Mom's best girlfriend," Henry said.

"Caitlin; that little red head that was at the cider press?" Mattie, Frank St. Martin's wife asked.

"Who's Caitlin?" Frank asked.

"This little red head, can't be more than twenty one, twenty two years old," Mattie sniffed dismissively.

"And showed your mother how to get 'Candy Crush' on her phone," Henry smiled as Shirley rejoined them.

Caitlin had pulled Henry aside at the showroom while Barry was showing a potential customer a Ferrari and whispered to him what she was looking for.

Henry pulled up the London Auction House web site and almost immediately, they found the service manual.

"Here; I got ninety eight bucks," Caitlin whispered, sliding the money over to Henry.

Henry had called Shirley laughing.

"Ninety eight bucks! That won't even cover the shipping!" he'd hooted.

"Get it," Shirley had ordered. "Get it and tell that girl her ninety eight bucks covered it exactly."

"Honey, last bid was six hundred and twelve pounds," Henry had protested. "In American dollars that's..."

"I don't care, you get that girl that book," Shirley had said.

Henry would not call his wife a cheapskate but she certainly did not throw away money frivolously or on whims. Their four boys, when growing up, were denied nothing that they

needed, but had to present a convincing argument to get anything that they wanted.

"Uh, duh," Jack Landry had laughed when Henry made mention of Shirley's demand. "Caitlin's the daughter she never had."

Fortunately, for Henry, he did get the book, at a cost of seven hundred pounds. Shirley had just smiled and shrugged when Henry told her how much it cost them.

At the showroom, Caitlin scrambled out of the Astin Martin and yanked on the heavy glass door of the showroom.

"Shirley says 'Merry Christmas' and she's so glad you like your Christmas present," Caitlin called out as she entered the darkened interior of the showroom.

"She knows about..." Barry asked as he came out of the small office next to Bob Robichaux's garage.

"Yeah, Mister Henry helped me, remember?" Caitlin said. "Now, I'm getting that Maserati, right?"

"No ma'am," Barry laughed and pointed through the side door toward the 2004 lipstick red Z4.

"That? That's a used car!" Caitlin protested.

"Uh, excuse me? And so is your Saturn," Barry said.

"I will get that car," Caitlin promised, thumping him on his chest.

"And pigs will fly out of my ass too," Barry promised.

"Then we'll have free pork chops but I will get that car," Caitlin said, kissing him on his lips.

"Thought you wanted the boat," Barry reminded her.

"Now? Ooh, it's too cold for that!" Caitlin exclaimed.

"Caitlin Weinstein, you are a mess," Barry laughed as he locked the front door of the showroom and ushered her through the side door.

"Let me get the gate open and you can just drive it on out of here," Barry said, unlocking the gate of the pre-owned car lot attached to the showroom.

She pulled out and sat, waiting for him while he closed and locked the gate, then went to his own car.

"My, damn it; you got my phone!" he called out as she drove away.

By the time he got into his car, started it, and drove away, she was already out of sight.

"Oh, thank goodness," Barry said when he saw the red Z4 in his driveway.

"Forgot your phone, you know that?" Caitlin asked as she got out of the car.

"How you supposed to text me if you don't have your phone?" she asked, kissing him.

"Told you, I do not text, I will not text, I will never ever in a million years text you," he smiled as she wormed her arms around him, hugging him tightly, right in his driveway, right out in the open, for everyone to see.

At the Bender jail, Stacy Falgout glared in raw bitterness as Sergeant Elise Richards pulled on the vinyl gloves.

"Oh for God's sake is this really necessary?" she screamed.

"Yes ma'am, it is," Elise said calmly.

"And I suppose you get off on this, fucking dyke," she hissed at the uniformed officer.

"Ma'am, my son and daughter are at home, playing with their new pogo sticks, two of my nieces are having their very first Christmas ever," Elise said. "My baby sister is playing with the very first puppy she's ever had in her whole life and I'm missing it because you decided you'd take a swing at my husband."

She leaned close to Stacy.

"So, we can do this the easy way; you cooperate and it'll be over in a minute," Elise said. "Or you can continue to piss me off and make this really hard on yourself; which will it be?"

Stacy gritted her teeth and the body cavity search was over in a matter of seconds.

"Thank you; you can put that uniform on; unless you'd like to put your robe back on," Elise said, throwing the gloves into the wastebasket.

"Thank you," Stacy said grudgingly, slipping into the orange jumpsuit.

"You're welcome, ma'am," Elise said, the picture of professionalism.

At her trailer, Anita took the bread out of her mother's hands and quickly slathered on mayonnaise, brown mustard and then sprinkled a small amount of red pepper flakes onto the bread.

Miss Alvarez made her own mayonnaise with egg whites and olive oil, squeezed in a little lemon juice and then took the pepper mill and put some fresh cracked black pepper in the emollient.

Now, eating the store brand cheap spread, Anita tried to 'dress it up' a little, make it more palatable.

"And," Anita said, layering the turkey onto the bread, spooning a little of the gravy on and sliding it into the oven open faced.

"They teach you that at that school?" Louisa asked, watching with real interest as Anita dug out a can of fruit cocktail and quickly divided the can into two bowls.

"No ma'am," Anita said and pulled the now warm sandwiches from the oven.

She knew her mother would be hurt to find out that a complete stranger was teaching her how to cook, how to eat healthier foods. She knew her mother would be hurt to find out that a complete stranger was washing her clothes, making those small repairs.

"Saw it on that cooking show, one comes on after that Rodney Prejean show," Anita lied.

"What, oh oh yeah, that," Louisa agreed. "That Rodney's a real piece of work, huh?"

"Oh, I can't stand watch him!" Anita said. "I mean, last week, when he had on that what was it, Gay Uncles That Turn Their Nephews? I wanted to vomit!"

"Yeah, the last one was the worst," Louisa agreed and took a giant bite of the sandwich. "The nephew said his parents left him with his uncle while they went on some trip they won to Cancun; left him there for two weeks! And KNEW the uncle was gay!"

She swallowed the bite.

"Oh, man! That red pepper there kind of sneaks up on you, don't it," Louisa said and gulped her beer.

At her Brand mother's house, Caitlin talked with Grandmother, telling her about Barry.

"Leave your momma to me," Grandmother wheezed.

"Thanks, Grandmother," Caitlin said.

"Uh huh," Grandmother said. "You sure, though? Forty eight? Ain't he kind of young?"

"Kind of... What?" Caitlin asked, mouth open.

"Oh. Oh, you meant he's YOUR boyfriend; thought you'd picked him out for me," Grandmother smiled.

Caitlin giggled and squeezed the old woman's hand.

"You giving me a ride in that bad ass beamer, feel me girl?" Briah demanded from the doorway.

"Oh, whatever, girl, and quit being all ghetto; you double Caucasian and you know it," Caitlin said, but did grab her coat. "Now, come on; we still got to go see Daddy."

""Let me grab his..." Briah said and dashed to grab Edmund's gift from under the tree.

"Tell that man I said 'Merry Christmas,'" Grandmother said.

At an apartment building that had seen better days, Edmund Weinstein, a thirty seven year old man with bright red hair and a pale face with a plethora of freckles smiled as he looked at the four presents underneath his tiny Christmas tree. Caitlin and her sister had just called, said they were on their way over.

He remembered Theresa's haughty announcement that she and her boss had fallen in love and her demand for a divorce.

At first he'd thought to fight it, until his father took him out for a beer and asked him, "You really want to hold onto a girl drop her drawers for the first rich man says 'let's screw?' No, no, let him be the one find out what kind of girl he's dealing with, eh?"

Theresa's boss had not wanted a nineteen year old girl with a baby; he had just wanted to fuck a nineteen year old white girl with big tits. Her announcement that she was pregnant nearly caused his forty two year marriage to come to an end; his wife agreed to stay married if Zackary Fielder agreed to fire the 'white slut' and he did so. Caitlin had not understood why, when all of her friends had a mommy and daddy that lived together, why didn't she? And she had not understood why people stared at her and her mommy as they pushed her baby sister around in the stroller. She did understand, though, she was a very lucky little girl; most of her friends only had one birthday party; she had two. Most little girls only had one Christmas tree; she had two.

"Daddy," Caitlin very sadly told her father one day. "Briah doesn't have a birthday party like me."

"What do you mean?" Ed had asked his now six year old girl.

"My birthday, I went to Chucky Cheese and got to play all the games and everything," Caitlin said. "And Briah's now four years old and she didn't get nothing."

"She didn't even have cake? And ice cream?" Ed asked.

"Well yeah, and Momma and Grandmother and me sang but that's it," Caitlin said sadly.

That night, as Caitlin played in her bath, Ed called Theresa.

"You want to what?" Teresa asked.

"Tell Briah I am so sorry I forgot it's her birthday and take her and Caitlin to Chucky Cheese," Ed repeated.

"And you threw that away," Grandmother said, lighting yet another cigarette.

But now Briah knew she was a lucky little girl; most little girls only had one birthday party, she had two. And she and Caitlin even had another bed they could sleep in, and they played Indians when Daddy put the blanket on the floor and put a broom, a mop, and a rake in there and made them a teepee.

"And you threw that away?" Grandmother asked Theresa when Briah and Caitlin told her all about Briah's birthday party at Chucky Cheese and playing Indians and now Briah had a Daddy too and there's a swimming pool and Daddy said he'd teach Briah how to swim and...

Chapter 15

Barry sat with his back to the small stage at the Dead End bar, much to the consternation of the dancer who could tell that the man's suit was an expensive one. She could tell that the trench coat he had laid over the other chair to his left was an expensive coat. But how was he supposed to tip her if his back was to her?