Chapter Twelve
No invitations were sent. Only family members and
a few close friends were present in a large suite at the Desert Inn
Hotel in Las Vegas. This wedding wasn’t sitting well with Joe. He
knew it was going to happen, but not when or where. Although we
were finally on speaking terms, and he wasn’t using the violent
approach anymore to get me back, I still had to be cautious about
his unpredictable personality. It was Thanksgiving Day, 1979. My
new life was beginning on the same day that Jimmy Massaro’s had
ended six years earlier.
“I now pronounce you man and wife.”
I expelled a big sigh. Time to sign the marriage
certificate.
Darlene, once married to Joe’s younger brother,
Jimmy, was my maid of honor. With pen in hand, she hesitated when
signing her name as a witness. Darlene was easy to read. She
worried that Jimmy or Joe would somehow find out that she was a
willing accomplice in the “crime” I was committing, daring to
remarry. When married to Joe, I wasn’t even allowed to be friends
with Darlene. Joe viewed her independent spirit as a bad influence
on me, and here she was my maid of honor. Darlene never did well in
handling the craziness of that world we had both come to know. I
knew what she was thinking. A little “oh, God” escaped under her
breath as she quickly signed her name in the appropriate
place.
The photographer, anxious to capture the moment,
tugged at Dar’s arm. “Where you running off to? Let me get a shot
of this.”
Dar looked at me, rolling her eyes as she
reluctantly moved into position for the best shot. “This is just
too bizarre,” she whispered as the photographer went on to create
more memories.
“Not as bizarre as our past, Dar,” I whispered
back, smiling.
With moist eyes, my mother and father took turns
congratulating me. “We’re very happy today, honey,” my mother said.
“Now maybe we can have some peace.”
If she only knew the half of it.
“I wish Sharon could have been here, Mom. That
would’ve made my day complete.”
“You know your sister wouldn’t get on a plane if
her life depended on it,” replied my dad.
“I know. She misses out on so much of life.”
“Georgia! Your sister’s on the phone!” my new
mother-in-law shouted crudely from across the room. Richard had a
decidedly odd relationship with his domineering mother, and I was
hoping I’d be able to handle this eccentric in-law without getting
steamrolled.
“Speak of the devil,” I said as I crossed the room,
shrinking with embarrassment.
“Congratulations, sister.”
“Thanks, Sharon. We miss you here.”
“I miss being there. I hope this one works, sis.
You deserve to be happy. Is Toni excited?”
Standing beside me, Toni looked like a little
princess. She was beaming. I bent down to kiss her as the
photographer snapped a picture of the candid affection.
“Do I call Richie ‘Daddy’ now, Mom?”
“If you want to, honey. I think he’d like
that.”
I could hear Richard’s mother from the other side
of the room. She was ordering the hired help around with her loud,
crass voice. If this was the worst of my problems, I’d learn to
tolerate it. The champagne started to flow and the piano began to
play. My new life was beginning.
I was standing at the bar and chatting with our
guests when the door of the suite opened. All eyes followed the two
men who entered. Everyone knew they were no ordinary men—one being
so huge he had to duck to get through the doorway. I followed the
stares to see Joey Tiraborelli and his bodyguard, Tommy Taylor,
walking toward me. Joey donned an arrogant grin as he swaggered
over. Tommy looked like “Mr. Clean” with his completely bald head
and 250-pound, buffed-out body.
Joey Tiraborelli was Sammy G’s sidekick, and also
the guy who had brutally beaten Joe while I watched in horror on
that long-ago night in an after-hours club in Rochester. Tommy
Taylor was one of the bodyguards who was with Sammy the night he
was murdered.
“Joey!” I gasped. I couldn’t imagine what he and
Tommy were doing here. I’d heard from friends in Rochester that
since Sammy’s death, Joey had lost power and was on the run. I’d
also heard that he’d gotten heavily into cocaine and owed money to
everyone in town.
With outstretched arms, he approached me; we
embraced, and he kissed me on each cheek. I caught sight of Darlene
as she watched from a corner of the room. She wasn’t fond of Joey,
and it showed.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, realizing the
music had stopped playing.
Curiosity filled the room. Richard stood at the
other end of the bar, his expression a cross between suspicion and
fear.
“Have some champagne!” I said gaily to ease the
tension in the suite. I looked at the piano player and said, “Play
on.” The music flowed, but the guests still looked uneasy,
especially Darlene.
“I heard you were gettin’ married and I happened to
be in town, so I thought I’d surprise you.”
“Well, you did. Who told you?”
“I ran into your sister last week,” Joey
answered.
“You make a beautiful bride, Georgia,” Tommy
said.
“Thanks, Tommy. I guess I must think so too, since
I’ve been the bride three times now.” We all laughed.
“So, who’s the lucky guy?” Joey asked as he
searched the room for a likely candidate.
I motioned to Richard. He walked over
apprehensively. Tommy Taylor had a powerful presence. His thick
bull neck and bald head continued to rivet the guests’ attention.
Taylor lit a cigarette as he watched Richard approach. His paunchy
eyes became slits as the smoke billowed around his face. He gave
Richard the once-over. He wasn’t impressed.
“Richard, this is Joey Tiraborelli and Tommy
Taylor. They’re old friends of mine from Rochester.”
“Nice to meet you,” Richard said, his eyes flicking
nervously around the room.
An uncomfortable silence hung in the air. Then,
without a hint of a smile, Joey seized Richard’s eyes with his own.
Holding him hostage with a steely gaze, he said gruffly, “You
better be good to this girl.”
The delivery of his words sent a chill up my spine.
Richard got the message. The tension thickened. Tommy broke the ice
by putting his arm around me and saying, “She’s a very special
lady, Richard. You’re a lucky guy.”
“Thank you, I know that,” Richard answered, still
not relaxed.
“Is there a place we can talk privately, Georgia?”
Joey asked, ignoring Richard.
Richard pulled me aside and whispered into my ear,
“Who are these guys?”
“Isn’t it, like, obvious?”
“Yeah, and it is to everyone else, too. Get rid of
them.”
I excused myself from Richard, leaving him to
entertain our guests. I led Joey up the winding staircase to the
elegant bedroom, Tommy in tow.
“So what’s up?”
“It’s getting bad in Rochester, Georgia. Since
Sammy G’s been gone, there’s been practically a murder a
week.”
“I know, I’ve been hearing.”
“It’s a freakin’ power struggle, and I’m afraid
we’re not winning.” Tommy nodded to every word.
“It’s not my world anymore, Joey.”
“It’ll always be your world, honey. You can take
the girl outta New York, but you can’t take New York outta the
girl.”
“You wanna bet? I’ve never seen you turn down a bet
before, Joey. You want to lay a little down on that one?”
“George, I gotta go on the lam for a while,” he
said, changing his voice to a lighter tone. “I need five
grand.”
“Jesus Christ, Joey, this is my wedding day.”
His upper lip curled, stretching tight across his
teeth. “You think because you’re married to a millionaire now y’can
forget your old friends? I’ll bet y’got more than that in that box
down there.”
“He’s a millionaire, Joey; I’m not.”
“I can think of a way to make you one real
fast.”
“Come on, Joey, don’t kid like that.”
“I’m not,” he answered with a cold, penetrating
smirk.
“What is this, a fucking shakedown, Joey?” I
snapped.
His face relaxed. “Of course not, honey. We’re
friends. Friends helping friends. I’m desperate, George, or I
wouldn’t be askin’. If you want to see your old buddy alive five
years from now, you’ll help me. If ya don’t, you’re givin’ me my
death sentence.”
“Don’t lay that shit on me, Joey. I’m not giving
you a death sentence. You did that yourself a long time ago.”
“How many times did I save your ass from that piece
of shit you were married to?” he pointed out.
Vivid pictures of Joey Tiraborelli making the sign
of the cross on Joe’s forehead with his own blood flashed through
my mind.
“You didn’t save my ass, Joey—Sammy did. And I
never asked for the favor. Besides, you guys had your own agenda.
Don’t try to tell me that was all on my behalf. Now who’s
forgetting the girl’s from New York?”
“If Sammy hadn’t become ‘the Man,’ Georgia, you
might not even be here to wear that pretty white dress right
now—and you goddamn well know it. Who’s kidding who here?”
Tommy stood silently by, watching our
confrontation. His facial expressions stayed consistent. He neither
smiled nor frowned.
“So what does that have to do with anything?”
“Everything! You owe me, honey.” He snorted
derisively.
“I don’t owe you shit,” I insisted, getting more
agitated by the minute. How dared he speak to me like this, and on
my wedding day! It was bad enough that these wiseguys had made an
uninvited public display of themselves at my wedding, but to demand
that I owe them? And to make thinly veiled threats toward my new
husband—that was too much. Here was my old life literally and
violently intruding on the new.
Joey sat next to me on the bed. “George, come on,
honey,” he pleaded, snaking his arm around my waist. “For old
times’ sake—give me the money. I’ll pay you back.”
Unmoved by his show of affection, I answered
without empathy. “First of all, Joey, I heard you’re into coke
pretty heavy now. This money isn’t going to take you to some
far-off place for a while until things cool off. If you can manage
to get past the tables on your way out, you know damn well it’s
going up your nose.”
“Since you brought it up . . .” He pulled a vial
from his pocket, spooned out some of the white powder, and gestured
in my direction.
“No, Joey, I don’t touch that crap. If you keep
that up, you won’t have to worry about the Mob. If Sammy were still
alive, he’d kill you himself,” I said, as I watched him snort the
cocaine. “I have to get back to my guests, Joey,” I added
disgustedly as I stood up. “After all, this is a
wedding.”
“What about the money?” he pressed.
The only way to get rid of him without ruining the
entire wedding was to give him some money.
“Joey,” I said, “gangsters walk around with $5,000
in their pockets. This is the real world. I’ll get you a thousand,
but that’s as far as I go. For your information, this is coming out
of my pocket. I’ll have to pay Richard back. I expect you to
pay me back someday . . . one way or another.”
They followed as I descended the winding staircase.
I found Richard and pulled him aside, telling him I needed a
thousand dollars. He wasn’t thrilled, but he didn’t question it. I
discreetly gave Joey the money.
“By the way,” Joey said, “we heard Jimmy
Lamendola’s name being paged in the casino. Does Joe know you got
married today?”
Darlene was within earshot. Sucking in air, she
froze. Almost instantly, her face turned the color of her
dress—pale green.
“No, he doesn’t. I’m sure it’s just a coincidence,”
I answered, more for Darlene’s benefit than mine. “Needless to say,
you haven’t seen me.”
They finished their champagne and left.
Fine beginning to my new life.
Shit! Jimmy was somewhere in the hotel. If
it was that easy for Joey Tiraborelli to know where I was, then
maybe Jimmy’s being around was not such a coincidence. I tried to
enjoy what was left of the day, but every time the door opened my
heart rate increased.
Finally the last guest left. Richard’s father,
Andy, still lingered at the bar. Not wanting to be impolite, I
walked behind the bar, poured myself a drink, and joined him.
The open staircase curled up to a wide, railed
landing that overlooked the entire lower floor of the suite.
Occasionally Richard looked down, clearing his throat, a signal to
his father that he had overstayed his welcome. Andy didn’t take the
hint. He continued to pour more vodka into his frequently empty
glass.
Andy peered up at me with clouded, dark eyes. He
resembled a Mafia kind of guy himself, with his angry-looking face,
big nose, and dark complexion, but he was too short to intimidate
anyone. Even I had three inches on him.
“Well, young lady,” he said, slurring his words.
“You do realize you just married a mama’s boy, don’t you?” he
asked.
In his drunken state, he didn’t realize how loudly
he was speaking. Richard could hear every word. I listened without
comment.
He had a wicked glint in his eyes as he continued.
“You haven’t just married my son; you married his mother too. That
ain’t gonna be easy. But if you give me a grandchild, I’ll make it
worth your while. You’ll be set for life—whether you stay married
to Richard or not.”
What? Was this the way the rich lived out their
lives? Everything done as a business—sign on the dotted line? I had
already signed a prenuptial agreement, giving up my rights to
everything I otherwise would have been entitled to. I really didn’t
care about signing those papers. What bothered me was that I felt
as if I were entering a business arrangement, not a marriage.
I didn’t marry Richard for his money. I married him
for the promise of the storybook kind of life I never had. I
married him to give my daughter the kind of childhood that I
did have. I married him because I thought it was the sanest
thing I had ever done—at least up to that point in my life. He was
the light in the dark world to which I had become accustomed. This
man couldn’t play with people’s lives as if he were playing
Monopoly!
“Andy, Richard and I will have children if and when
we decide to. I’m not an instrument to bear you a grandchild. The
problem with people like you is that money is your god. You think
you can buy anything with it, including people. Well, I’ve got a
surprise for you: I can’t be bought!”
The silence was broken by the sound of drawers
slamming from the upstairs bedroom. Richard charged down the
staircase, shooting us both a hateful look—an expression I had
never seen before.
“I don’t have to listen to any more of this
bullshit,” he barked. He stomped out the door, slamming it behind
him.
I glared at my new father-in-law. The awkward
moment stretched on. Finally, he rose from the bar stool.
“Well, I guess I stayed too long,” he mumbled as he
staggered toward the exit. The door was closing behind him when he
popped his head back in and said, “Think about it.”
The door closed at the same time my glass smashed
against it, shattering into a hundred little pieces.
Time to switch to Scotch. I poured a glass, leaving
out the water, and sat for another two hours waiting for Richard to
return. He never did. I carefully took off my wedding dress,
thinking I might have yet another opportunity to wear it someday. I
threw on jeans and a heavy wool sweater and headed for the coffee
shop. As I passed the guard stationed at the front door, I
recognized a hint of sympathy in his face and looked away. I tried
paging Richard again—still no answer.
After a while I headed back to the honeymoon suite,
avoiding eye contact with the guard. When I got to the door, I
realized I had forgotten to take the key. The guard must have one.
He did. We walked down the hall toward the room in silence. As he
inserted the key and opened the door, he openly expressed his
concern. Trying to be friendly, he commented, “Not working out,
huh?”
“Obviously,” I answered as I closed the door.
After staring at the ceiling for a while, I finally
fell asleep. The sound of a door slamming awakened me. Getting up,
I looked down from the landing into the living room below. Richard
noticed me watching him and began to curse me for losing his
$40,000. I guess that was his way of venting.
“I didn’t tell you to gamble. What are you blaming
me for?”
“You better not side with my father against my
mother!”
“Richard, what are you talking about? I didn’t say
anything against your mother!”
After fifteen minutes of senseless arguing, he went
to sleep—on the couch.
I slept alone on my wedding night.
Miraculously, I became pregnant on my honeymoon.
After the wedding-day confrontation with Richard’s father, I wasn’t
as ecstatic as Richard was when I learned of the miracle inside me,
but as my stomach grew, so did my feelings for Richard. Other than
the problem of my mother-in-law, I couldn’t remember ever being
happier. I didn’t quite trust the feeling, however, as though if I
got too comfortable with it, it would be snatched away. There was
hope, however, that such a promise of light could be permanent. I
was actually living the family life I’d always dreamed about, and
Richard’s wealth only made it that much better. I slowly began to
trust. Because I saw Richard as a deserving man, I opened my heart
and began to give freely of myself.
I loved Richard when we first got married, but I
wasn’t in love with him. He wasn’t all the things I had
hoped for in a man; he was neither good-looking nor educated. But I
didn’t think anyone existed who could possess all these qualities
and still give me that one treasured entity—an Ozzie and
Harriet family. I settled, trading a portion of my personal
desires for a real family existence, something I didn’t want my
daughter to grow up never having known. To my surprise, however,
Richard wheedled his way into my heavily guarded heart.
Toni had an endless stream of friends coming to the
house. She no longer had to worry about playing quietly or
cautiously so as not to upset her stepfather. Even my family was
welcomed without malice. Richard was altruistic to a fault with all
who touched my life.
Richard had Toni tutored and bought her all the
latest designer clothes. He was very good to her. She was receiving
the love of which she’d been deprived, and giving it back in
return. Toni now had all the advantages of going through life never
having to feel inferior, as I had felt while growing up.
Richard sold his business two weeks before we got
married. It was a very successful wholesale appliance store called
Adray’s. That store grossed in the millions of dollars—monthly. The
enterprise was the first of its kind; Good Guys and Best Buy have
now taken over that market, but Richard was the pioneer. Volume was
the key to the store’s success. The profit on the merchandise sold
was only six percent, but six percent of that kind of volume made
him a very wealthy man. At thirty-six, he had all the money he
could ever want or need, and, more important, the time to enjoy it.
But time would turn out to be a curse.
I wasn’t accustomed to Richard’s culture. I had
spent my life around fervent Italians, and the absence of physical
affection within Richard’s family bothered me. Richard’s background
was Lebanese and Romanian. Although he was born in this country, he
had been brought up in the traditions of the Middle East, all
foreign to me. I didn’t understand the Muslim religion and didn’t
have any desire to learn. Toni and I turned up our noses at the
dishes his mother prepared.
His mother practically lived with us in the
beginning, and eventually did move in. He and his mother had joint
checking accounts. I had my own separate account, into which
Richard made monthly deposits. She accompanied us on every single
vacation with our friends. She made everyone uncomfortable with her
loud, dominant behavior, but Richard refused to see that. Because
he was so good about including my parents in our activities, I
tried to refrain from complaining.After a while, though, my nerves
became frayed. He acted as if he were married to his mother. I
voiced my criticism of the unnatural relationship, but he cut me
short by saying that he didn’t deprive me of anything and refused
to discuss it.
Richard decided one day that a Rolls-Royce was in
order. He had an inexhaustible appetite for toys. He already had
eleven cars, but his playthings filled the gap in his self-esteem.
He bought the Rolls as he did everything: with cash. Only the best
money could buy for Richard Adray and his family.
Richard, who would purchase anything on a whim,
would quickly become bored with his material toys. He looked
forward to the birth of our baby, but in the meantime he began to
fill the hours of boredom with the recreational use of cocaine. I’d
always thought having too much money brought out the evil in
people, but I was about to see firsthand what the combination of
money and drugs could do.
At times I was bored as well. I wasn’t used to not
working. Although I did do a few ads for expectant mothers when my
pregnancy became obvious, for the most part my daily routine was
slowed to a snail’s pace. We had a live-in maid who did all the
cleaning, washing, and cooking. With nothing for me to do, I filled
my days lunching with friends, getting manicures and facials, and
shopping for clothes that I knew would look great when my figure
returned to normal.
Antsy for something to do with my time, I embarked
on a major remodel of our already beautiful home in Beverly Hills.
The house was six thousand square feet and sat perched on top of a
mountain overlooking the lights of the city below.
My creative juices were flowing. I had always
wondered what I could do if I had the money to match my
imagination. I had a beveled mirror installed at the end of the
ninety-foot-long hallway. It appeared to go on forever. Trying to
add warmth to the expanded, empty space, I turned the hallway into
a photo gallery and lined the walls with family photos and some of
the thousands of modeling pictures I had stored in boxes. It
worked.
When the remodel was finally completed, it was
beautiful, but being such a large home it still lacked warmth. I
settled for cool and elegant. I spent more on that remodel than
Richard had originally paid for the house, but it now had my
personal touch.
Four months into my marriage, Joe moved to Los
Angeles, having no idea that I was pregnant and still convinced it
wasn’t over between us. The phone rang.
“I need you to invest some money for me. I can’t
have it in my name, and I don’t want the cash lying around,” Joe
said from his new apartment in West Hollywood, only three miles
from my home.
“I don’t want any complications with Richard,
Joe.”
“What complications? Why does he have to
know?”
“What about tax returns? It’ll show up.”
“Georgia, I’m sitting here with $150,000—in
cash. Just come over and get it out of here. I don’t care
what you do with it; just invest it for me. Tell him it’s your
settlement from some property that we just sold. The government
will never question you with all your millions,” he said with a
hint of sarcasm.
“Richard’s millions, Joe, not mine.”
“You’re his wife now. This is California, honey;
it’s yours, too.”
I never told Joe about waiving my rights to all
those millions. He needed to believe money was the reason to allow
the marriage to take place. If that meant no interference from him,
I’d let him believe it.
“All right, Joe, I’ll pick it up tomorrow,” I
consented to get him off the phone.
“Why not now?”
“Because Richard will be home soon for
dinner.”
“Let the asshole wait. How many times was dinner
late for me?”
“Not many, as I recall. I’ll see you
tomorrow.”
I hung up feeling unsettled. Too close for
comfort. My life was too good—something had to ruin it. I had
thought time would cure the problem with Joe, but his moving onto
my doorstep would make time crawl, along with making me a
wreck.
When I entered his apartment, he looked like a
lost soul. He searched my face for a glimpse of what we had
together, and what he hoped we might have again.
“Ya know what I miss most about you, honey?”
“What?”
He took hold of my hand. “Sitting like this, having
our morning coffee together. I really miss that,” he said.
I looked down at our touching fingers and gently
pulled away. “I miss the view from the cliffs when I have my
morning coffee. I don’t see how you could leave that to live in Los
Angeles.”
“I’ve gotta start makin’ some moves. I’m gonna need
your help with a few things, and besides, I’ll be closer to you and
Toni this way.”
“Joe, I’m married.”
“What’s that have to do with seeing Toni more
often?” he said as he pulled out duffel bag filled with $100 bills.
“There’s a hundred and fifty grand here. If anything happens to me,
I want it to go to Toni. Y’can keep the interest.”
“I don’t need it. I’ll deduct the taxes and send
you the interest.”
“I never did a damn thing for you when we were
married, y’know that? I never even bought you a new dress. I was
such a selfish prick.”
“That’s okay; I don’t wear dresses anyway. My legs
are too skinny.”
“You don’t have skinny legs, Georgia. I only told
you that because I didn’t want other men admiring what was mine.
There’s nothing wrong with your legs,” he admitted.
“Really? I have nice legs?”
“You have beautiful legs, dear.”
He answered with such sincerity that I almost
believed him. A familiar look crossed his face. His thirsty eyes
caressed my body, slowly drinking me in. It was time to
leave.
“I’d better be going, Joe. I have to pick up Toni
from school,” I said, checking my watch.
“Oh, you mean you don’t have a servant who does
that for you?” he said sarcastically.
I shot him a disgusted look and he immediately
tried to apologize. “I’m sorry, honey,” he said, grabbing me by my
waist and pulling me to him. “What’s this? What’s happened to your
waistline? All that good living is going to the wrong places. See
what happens when you haven’t got me around to watch your
diet?”
This is the time to break it to him.
“I’m pregnant, Joe.”
“Pregnant! How the fuck did that happen?”
“It happened. . . .”
“Why didn’t you ever get pregnant with me? God
knows we did it enough!”
“You gave me gonorrhea, remember?”
“I thought you needed an operation to get pregnant.
Or was that another lie? You were taking the pill, weren’t you?” he
accused.
“No, I wasn’t. The doctor said my tubes might open
on their own in time. I guess that’s what happened. Besides, Joe,
you were too selfish to have children. Don’t pretend now that you
wanted any. Maybe this is God’s way of saying the time is
right.”
“You’re not thinking of having it, are
you?”
“Of course I’m having it, Joe.”
“You can’t do this to me, Georgia.”
“Joe, I have a new life, now. This is part of that
life. Please let me be happy. I have to go; I’m gonna be
late.”
I left him sitting in a chair, his face distorted
by the pain of the certainty that we could never be again. My heart
broke to see him so devastated, but I was also relieved that the
truth was out. We both needed to let go of the past—and a future
that could never be.
About a week later, Marina, my housekeeper,
knocked on my bathroom door. “There’s a man outside at the gate who
wants to speak to you, missus.”
I looked at the clock and wondered why the man I
was expecting was so early. “Let him in, Marina. Take him to the
billiard room; I’ll be right out,” I instructed.
“Yes, missus,” she replied as she scurried down the
hall.
I quickly dried off, threw on my raggedy old white
robe, and ventured down the long hallway. I continued to the
billiard room to greet the man with the samples of material for the
new drapes.
When I entered the room, I stopped with a jolt. Joe
had poured himself a Scotch and water and was playing pool.
“Do you always greet your guests like that?”
“What are you doing here, Joe?” I said in a
panicked voice.
“Nice place you got here. Yeah, you’ve come a long
way from Lyell Avenue, haven’t you, honey?”
“Please don’t start anything, Joe.”
“I’m not gonna start anything, Georgia. I’m
leaving. I’m going back to Solana Beach. Everything’s packed in the
car. I just wanted to say good-bye and see how my other half lives.
Why don’t you show me the place?”
He wasn’t about to leave, so I quickly showed him
through the house, excluding the master bedroom.
“Where’s your bedroom?”
“It’s at the other end of the house.”
“I want to see it.”
“Why?”
“Just show it to me.”
I reluctantly turned and led him down the hall. I
opened the bedroom door and stood at the entry. He studied the room
for a long time. Finally, he sat on the bed and patted the space
beside him. “I want to make love to you in his bed,” he said
flatly.
“Are you nuts?”
He stood and approached me. “Y’know . . . I love
the way you smell after you get out of the shower,” he said
softly.
He pulled open my robe, exposing my nude body. I
quickly covered myself and backed away.
“It’s time for you to go, Joe.”
Marina appeared in the doorway. “Missus, there’s a
man here to see you.”
“Thank you, Marina. Tell him I’ll be right out,” I
said, grateful for the interruption.
“Please, Joe, you have to go now. Richard could
walk through that door any minute. Don’t complicate my life.”
“I love you, Georgia.”
“If you love me, Joe, you’ll leave right
now.”
Pressured, he reluctantly backed off. “I want to
see Toni one weekend this month.”
“Okay, I’ll send her down on the train.”
“Promise?”
“I said I would; now, please . . . go!”
“Put something on before you go out there,” he
said, looking away, afraid he would betray the ache in his chest.
Then he left.
Richard came home only ten minutes after Joe had
walked out the door.
“What’s the matter with you today?” he asked,
sensing my uneasiness.
“Nothing.”
“Who was here today?”
“No one. Why do you think someone was here?”
“Who was drinking Scotch in the bar?”
“Oh, I was.”
“I thought you said you were only going to drink
wine while you’re pregnant? And why are you drinking in the middle
of the day anyway?”
“Why do you do drugs in the middle of the
day?” I snapped. “I found some more cocaine in your bathroom. I
thought you said you stopped.” Now I had him on the
defensive—something I learned from Joe.
I began to relax, knowing that Joe was back in
Solana Beach. His only connection to me now was the money he had so
proudly salvaged from the FBI, thanks to the prior warning from me
that they were watching him. He hid it in the cushions of two of
his bar stools before they raided his condo. He laughed about how
they tore the place apart and found nothing. The entire time they
questioned him they were sitting right on top of the money.
I invested Joe’s money and made him thirty percent
the first year. After all those years of being told how stupid I
was, making a profit on my choice of investments validated my
intelligence, giving me great satisfaction. I was beginning to get
a sense of who I was.
Positive people now filled my life. No more
negativity clouded my head. With Richard I could feel, act, and
think freely, without being afraid. He applauded my accomplishments
instead of ridiculing them. I discovered my strengths because I
wasn’t fearful of showing them. Free now to expand on the riches
life had to offer, I opened my mind to the hidden treasures I’d
always possessed. I had made the right choice. Life could only get
better as time went on.
I loved watching my stomach grow. I loved every
minute of being pregnant. Everything was so perfect. I was happier
than I ever remembered being. But lurking in the shadows, Richard’s
increasing use of drugs was promising to be a problem.
The birth of my son, Dustin, was one of the
happiest days of my life. The hospital room was filled with flowers
and balloons. Even Joe called to wish me happiness.
“What did you name him?” Joe asked.
“Dustin.”
“Dustin! What kind of a name is that? Why didn’t
you name him Rocky?”
“Just be grateful it’s not Mohammed,” I kidded, and
we both had a chuckle.
“Are you happy, Georgia?”
I smiled down at my newborn son and felt as if I
were going to burst with joy. “Yes, I’m very happy, Joe. I have a
healthy, beautiful baby boy, and my daughter. One of each. How
lucky can I get?”
Marina’s title graduated from housekeeper to nanny.
She traveled with us everywhere. I could leave the house with peace
of mind, knowing that Dustin was loved and cared for.
Richard’s father was not happy when I had Dustin
baptized, but that was where I drew the line. My son would be
baptized a Catholic. When he grew older he could decide for
himself, but for now he was going to be Catholic.
Toni loved having a new little brother, but the
attention had now shifted to him. She had some trouble adjusting to
the sudden switch in focus. She became quiet and withdrawn again. I
tried my best to include her in the daily routine of caring for a
baby, making her feel a part of it all, but I couldn’t control the
behavior of Richard and his family. For them, Dustin was the
king.
I couldn’t remember being this happy when Toni came
into the world. Every little thing Dustin did was an event. His
first step, his first tooth, his first word. Thirty was a good age
to be a mother. Toni had been cheated by having a child for a
mother, and I could see now how cheated I had been as well. But I
was finally making up for some of the lost moments in my daughter’s
life. Life was good. I was happy—at last.