Deeper Illusions Read online

  “I believe that,” I said. “I am a firm believer in alternative medicine and the healing power of the mind. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

  “Listen, I know about your troubles. I feel responsible for them. My abusive ways towards my son was like a tumbling rock that caused an avalanche. Everything that happened to him happened because of me. Including his sordid and cheap affair with that floozy socialite Rochelle.”

  “It wasn’t a sordid and cheap affair. It was child molestation on her part,” I corrected him.

  “Well, that’s what I meant. I just didn’t come out and say it that way, but you’re correct. At any rate, Ryan was mixed up with her because of me, which means that she wouldn’t have been coming after you if it were not for me. So, I owe you a debt, as well.”

  “In a weird way, though, Mr. Whitney, the mere fact that I know Ryan is probably due to you. So you have indirectly caused a good thing, too.”

  “I don’t follow you.”

  “It stands to reason that Ryan’s life would’ve been completely different if it weren’t for the abuse and the sex parties. It would’ve been better for him, but I doubt that he would’ve known me. He probably would’ve been married to a better woman than Alexis when he was young, and would be married to her today,” I said, plucking a lavender stalk and smelling its fragrance. “It may sound selfish on my part, but I owe you a debt in a weird way, because if it weren’t for you, I probably would’ve never known Ryan in the first place.”

  He stood looking at me thoughtfully, then shook his head. “I suppose you’re correct about that, but I have to consider the bad consequences with the good. And the bad consequences for my actions, for you, are pretty bad. Now, I know people who have been trained governmental assassins, who are now working as private bodyguards. And I-“

  “Ryan and I talked about that. I don’t want a bodyguard.”

  “With all due respect, my dear girl, you do not know who you are dealing with. That woman has been unhinged since the day I met her. They say that she murdered her first husband, and I do not doubt that for a split second. Not even for a hair of a second.”

  “What happened to her first husband?” I asked, remembering her telling me in jail that her husband had left her and taken her son away from her.

  “She married him when she was 19, and had the kind of rare captivating beauty that drew men in like polar magnets. He was a prominent oil and gas billionaire, inherited from his father. He was only 33-years-old. Four years after they married, he dropped dead. Of a heart attack. At the age of 37, and he was fitter than a fiddle. He ran marathons, stayed away from junk, never smoked, and had no family history of heart disease. His parents died young, but they were in a car accident.” We had arrived at a marble bench that was surrounded by flowers, and we sat down. “The rumors were fast and furious that she obtained some poison that was untraceable and put it in his food. They could never prove it, of course. Either that, or money changed hands, so that the medical examiner magically couldn’t find anything.”

  “If his death was suspicious, weren’t there family members who would’ve demanded a second opinion from another medical examiner?”

  “There weren’t family members who were alive at that time. Calvin was an only child, as were both his parents. I still think that’s why Rochelle picked him, because there wouldn’t be family members coming out like vultures after his death. Very clever girl, that one.”

  “With all due respect, Mr. Whitney, I do know what she is capable of. I’m sure that Ryan told you that she almost killed me.”

  “Of course. I feel like I am almost completely caught up on my son’s and daughter’s lives, and I couldn’t be more delighted. Delighted that we have bonded so much, not delighted about their trials and tribulations, mind you. But delighted all the same.”

  Talking with this gentleman was awkward and surreal. It was not a month ago that Benjamin’s dark shadow lingered over Ryan’s life, and the mere thought that he would be friendly with Benjamin would be beyond unthinkable. Yet, here I was, talking to Benjamin like he was my own long-lost father. But I still couldn’t forget that he was a rapist and a child molester, and I felt self-conscious being so far from the house and away from everybody else. He didn’t seem to be leering or inappropriate, and I supposed that he really had changed.

  I couldn’t really trust him, though.

  Benjamin was talking again. “So, my dear girl, as precious as you are to my son, you have to make sure that you are protected at all times from that psychotic woman. Never think that she isn’t capable of finishing the job that she started at her house, that ended up with you in a coma for months. And, trust me, I know the best of the best when it comes to protection.”

  “I’ll think about it,” I said, trying to appease him without actually committing.

  “Good. I’ll be in touch with Andrew right now,” he said, whipping out his smart phone.

  I stood up. “Uh, where is everybody else?”

  “Sarah and Ryan are playing tennis.”

  “Let me go find Ryan and talk to him before you start calling anybody. Please?”

  “Ok, but hiring you one of my bodyguards was his idea, my dear.”

  I nodded. “Would you excuse me? I need to find Ryan.” At that, I practically sprinted towards the tennis courts, leaving Benjamin on the bench.

  I got there to watch the two go at it. They were both amazing tennis players, evenly matched, although Ryan had the advantage, because he was obviously more powerful. I watched them for awhile. Ryan’s forehand and backhand were tremendous, and he covered most of the court. Sarah, for her part, gave as good as she got, and used clever strategy to make up for her relative lack of power. Ryan was never quite sure where the ball was going to land, so she kept him on his toes in that way. At one point, Ryan stripped off his t-shirt, as he was drenched with sweat, and I admired, anew, his lean and taut frame. Wap! One powerful serve that was not returned by Sarah, and Ryan did a little victory dance – shaking his hips, and waving his racquet all around.

  “I beat the Olympian. How do you like me now?” he sang. “How do you like me now?”

  At that, Sarah came up to him and hit him lightly on the butt with her racquet, then pointed to me with it.

  “Hey beautiful,” Ryan said, coming up to the fence to give me a kiss.

  “Hey sweety,” I said. I didn’t feel like bringing up the bodyguard conversation just yet, because he was way too elated over beating his apparent tennis-pro sister. I never knew that she was in the Olympics for tennis until now.

  He put on his shirt, and gave Sarah a bear hug, then came out of the tennis court and grabbed my hand. “Sorry for the sweat,” he said. “I’ve never played a game like that. None of my guy buddies can play like that.”

  “Not a problem,” I said as we walked along, hand in hand, Sarah a few feet behind us. “She was in the Olympics?”

  “Yeah, in the 1992 Summer Olympics in Barcelona. She was 16. She didn’t medal, or anything, though.”

  “Impressive,” I said. Good, god, these Gallaghers are overachievers.

  We walked along in silence for a little while. Ryan could tell that something was on my mind.

  “What are you thinking, beautiful?”

  “Now that you mention it, uh, I hate to bring this up, but…”

  “Let me guess. My father has talked to you about Andrew.”

  “Yeah. I told you I didn’t want a bodyguard, yet you talked to him behind my back.”

  He dropped my hand, and crossed his arms as he walked. But said nothing. Then he halted. “And did he tell you about how she murdered her first husband. Huh? Did he? Believe me, you’re just a speck in that sociopath’s way. She would crush you with no more feelings than if she stepped on an ant. Now, you need to stop being so goddamned stubborn about this. My foot is coming down.” His jaw was clenched, his eyes steely, his arms still crossed. “And don’t give me that bullshit about how you don’t care if she kills you. Because
if she kills you, she might as well kill me too. If that’s what you want, then have at it.”

  I could only manage a feeble “But Benjamin said it was only suspected that she killed her first husband. Nothing was ever proven.”

  “Goddamn it. This is the woman who shot you up with so much black tar heroin it would’ve killed a 300 lb. man. You were goddamned lucky. Trust me, she wanted to kill you that first time. Don’t think that because you managed to somehow get out of it that it wasn’t her intent to murder you. She has no feelings. You were lucky to come out of that coma. I honestly thought that you wouldn’t. I honestly thought that you wouldn’t. I honestly thought that you wouldn’t.”

  Then he was sitting down on the grass, his knees up, with his arms propped on them. Sarah had long since passed us to go into the house. He looked up at me, the sun illuminating his piercing green eyes. “When you were in that hospital, a part of me died every day that you were unconscious. Every day.” He shook his head. “All I could think of was that I didn’t think that I would survive if I lost you. Everybody kept telling me that the odds were against you, but I never stopped believing. If I gave up hope on you, then I would have given up hope on myself as well.” He looked off in the distance, then back at me. “So, you see, your fate is tied in with mine.”

  I sat down next to him. I felt so defeated. “Ok, then. But a retired government assassin? Really?”

  “Andrew is the best of the best.”

  “When do I get to meet him?”

  “Say the word, and my father will give him a call.”

  Andrew appeared later on that day. I eyed him suspiciously, hanging back a little, still not crazy about the whole idea, and feeling intimidated by him. He was around 5'7”, probably around 65 years old, but very compact and muscular. He was also completely bald. He approached me and shook my hand, his dark eyes flashing.

  “Hi, I'm Andrew. Benjamin hired me to protect you from your would-be assailant.”

  “Iris,” I said, looking at Ryan with an expression that said “I really don't want to do this!”

  Andrew looked from myself to Ryan, and immediately surmised the situation. “I know you don't want me to protect you, but, from what I understand, it's for your own good. I have intelligence on Rochelle Anderson, and, from what I understand, it's not just Ms. Anderson who is threatening your life, but she has hired other people as well.”

  I suddenly felt horrified. I looked at Ryan, and his expression was the same as mine – mystified, panicked, terrified. He grabbed my hand tightly.

  “Do not worry, though. I have the information on at least two people who have been in touch with her.”

  I suddenly realized that this may never be over. Even after Rochelle was imprisoned, if Rochelle was imprisoned, I would always have to be looking over my shoulder. I would have to have Andrew, or somebody like Andrew, at all times with me.

  Well, not at all times. Ryan explained that he only wanted the bodyguard to be around when he, himself, couldn't be around to protect me – he was going back to work as soon as we arrived back home, so Andrew would be around when he wasn't around, and when he would have to go on his business trips. He had explained to me yesterday that he had one lined up to go to Tokyo in less than a month, and he would be gone for two weeks. He made sure that I was mentally strong enough to lose him for that long, and I assured him that I was.

  Now I wasn't so sure.

  There was also the issue with the pap, if they would be stalking the house when we got home. However, it appeared, for now, that the pap would no longer be an issue. Everything appeared to calm down after the People interview, as we gave all the dirt that there was possible to get, and the 24-hour news cycles had long since moved on. Of course, as it got closer to trial, that would all change, but, for now, everything seemed to be calmed down on that front.

  In other words, things would be returning to normal once we got back. Aside from the fact that the world now knew about us, our faces were on the cover of a People magazine, and our lives were fodder for public consumption, everything would be normal.

  Oh, and there was the little matter of my being marked for death.

  Other than that, everything would be normal.

  Other than that, how'd you like the play, Mrs. Lincoln?

  Chapter Thirteen

  We got back, and I started to brace myself for Ryan finally returning to work. He had been off work for about nine months now, because he was taking care of me, then we were on our honeymoon, then at Sarah's house, then Benjamin's house. We were together constantly during this time, during a period that I would say was among the most stressful of my entire life, yet were still very much in love. After the grief about our private lives going public had passed, and we had returned home, we got back into our usual routine of love-making, eating out, watching television, going on bike rides and long walks, seeing movies, hanging out with friends, etc.

  I even got back into doing some more pit bull rescues.

  But D-Day was soon to come. I felt like whining when I saw Ryan getting dressed in his mega-dollar suit, silk shirt and Italian shoes, his leather briefcase in hand. He had a new haircut, as his hair was getting ever so slightly shaggy and unruly while we were on vacation, and he was wearing aftershave that gave him a slightly musky smell.

  He approached me as I was sitting on the couch. I was trying not to be a wimp. I knew that his job was important to him. He was not the type to be a trust fund baby, and I knew this as well. As much as I secretly wanted him to just quit his job and stay with me 24/7, that wasn't reasonable.

  I really had zero plans for my own life. The mere thought of going back to law nauseated me, not to mention the fact that everybody would be poking each other and laughing behind my back because of what was now public knowledge about me.

  So, now I was a Country Club wife. Only I didn't have children to take care of, I really didn't fit in with the other Country Club wives, and I had a bodyguard to babysit me during the day.

  I was going to have to find a new path in the world, and I really didn't know where to start.

  Ryan came next to me, where I was sitting on the couch. He tousled my hair a little. “Beautiful, you're going to be okay, aren't you?”

  I nodded and smiled, feeling tears threatening.

  He kissed me on the forehead. “You're safe here with Andrew. That's most important to me.” He looked at me for several seconds. “I'm going to miss you. We haven't been apart for any period of time for around nine months. But know that I will be thinking of you throughout the day, and I will check on you several times a day, when I get a second.”

  I nodded my head, trying not to cry.

  At that, he stood up and walked out the door, with one last glance at me before leaving. He blew me a kiss, and he was off.

  Then Andrew walked in the door.

  “Don't mind me,” he said. “Just go about your business like usual.”

  Which I tried to do except...I didn't really know what my business as usual was anymore. I was the only person I knew now who wasn't working during the day. These past few months, there was nothing at all on my mind, except getting well, being with Ryan, then thinking non-stop about the horrible invasion of privacy we were facing.

  I found myself wanting the pap back, just so it would give me something to do.

  Because now all I could do was to sit and stew about my own thoughts and my own life. I haven't had a minute to really think about all that has happened, because it all happened so fast. I was attacked, I was in a coma, I went through PTSD, I got engaged, then married, to Ryan, we went on our honeymoon, the pap attacked, we saw Benjamin, we hired me a bodyguard. Boom, boom, boom. Never a dull moment.

  Now I had to consider what it was that I wanted from my life. I had Ryan, and that was great. But that couldn't possibly be all there was. I would soon become boring to myself and to him. Going back to law was...I felt nauseated just thinking about it. Maybe it was because I was attacked at my law office, and
maybe it was because I was completely unhappy there. I really didn't know.

  I knew where my passions lie. With animals. I always got great satisfaction out of my pit bull rescues. I was also passionate about gay marriage and gay rights. I had friends who were gay and couldn't be married, and that was such an injustice to me. Also, getting money out of politics. All those things were pie in the sky, I knew. Missouri was a red state, and would never allow gay marriage unless they were forced. And there would always be big money influencing our politicians every step of the way. But animals...I could put my legal brain to work for them.

  The beautiful thing is that I could practice law without getting paid now. So I contacted the Animal Legal Defense Fund, and inquired about what I could do to help.

  But a part of me didn't feel exactly ready for that, either. I loved animals, but didn't feel strong enough to deal with full-time activism. Knowing, affirmatively, what happens to animals on a daily basis would be enough to spin me back into full-on depression.

  Ryan got home that evening somewhat early, around 6, and I couldn't be more relieved. He arrived bearing a bouquet of roses and orange chicken from Bo Lings, our favorite Chinese restaurant. He kissed me passionately.

  “How was work?” I asked, taking his jacket from him and walking back to the bedroom to hang it up.

  “A nightmare. Charlie, the interim president, was not nearly as competent as I thought. He screwed a lot of stuff up, and I spent the better part of the day trying to fix his mistakes. I didn't have a lot of spare time, which is why I didn't call. I'm so sorry about that. I was thinking of you, though.”

  “Not a problem,” I said.

  “How was Andrew?” he asked.

  “Fine. A little boring. Which is okay, I guess. I'm guessing that he really shouldn't be getting too chummy with his charges.”

  Ryan brought out the dinner, which was orange chicken and eggrolls, bringing out chopsticks for us to use. He seemed a little different, distracted, which was really to be expected. He was once again in his role of bank president, and somewhat out of his role as full-time protector.