Double Dippin': Misty Part 14

"Go ahead," she said.

"You favor my beautiful sister-Sergio's mother. I'm not surprised my nephew fell so hard for you. You seem like exactly the kind of woman he needs. Feminine, loyal, and ride or die. I could live out my prison sentence with peace of mind if I knew he was with someone who had his back."

Anya squirmed visibly, wondering why Sergio's uncle was pushing so hard for her and Sergio to marry. She was relieved when Sergio cut in, "Hey, stop pressuring my girl. You're starting to embarra.s.s me, Uncle Fabian."

His uncle backed off, and the conversation took another direction. As she listened to the two men laughing and joking, it occurred to her that the uncle saw the venomous side of her nature that Sergio didn't know about. Somehow he knew that beneath her pretty face and sweet faade, she was a killer, as was Uncle Fabian and most likely, Sergio, too. Though Sergio hadn't openly admitted it, he had certainly alluded to being involved in serious crimes. Common sense told her he couldn't be in the position he was in without getting his hands dirty. Eventually, she would have to tell him about her past. He deserved to know the ugly truth about her, and if the truth didn't scare him away, if it actually appealed to him, perhaps there was a future for them.

The hour zoomed by and while they were saying their goodbyes, Uncle Fabian said to Anya, "Take care of my boy, and I look forward to seeing you the next time my nephew comes to visit."

During the drive back home, Sergio seemed pensive. "Are you okay, Sergio?" Anya inquired.

"Yeah, I'm all right. Visiting my uncle always leaves me depressed. He and I both try to stay in good spirits during my visits, but it's really hard for me to see him caged up like that."

"I know, but on the bright side, you still have him. You can talk to him regularly and see him whenever you have time to make the long trip. I have distant relatives in Trinidad, but we hardly know each other. I also have a play aunt in Indiana. She raised me, but she's not blood, you know. She has her own kids to worry about, and after I turned eighteen, I was pretty much on my own."

"You're not on your own anymore. I'm going to look out for you, Anya. Make sure you're always all right. As far as money goes-"

"I'm okay financially," she interrupted. "I told you I received a large inheritance when I turned twenty-one."

"That money will disappear over time if you don't have other finances coming in. I want to take care of you and share my wealth with you," he said sincerely.

"That's not necessary, Sergio."

"I want to." He lit a thin cigar and blew out a stream of smoke. "Make a list of your monthly bills and I'll handle them from now on."

"But-"

"No buts. Look in the glove box," he instructed her.

She opened it and saw an envelope. "Open it," Sergio said.

She didn't know what to expect, and was completely surprised to find the exclusive, American Express Black Card with her name engraved on the front.

"There's no limit on that card; that's for your shopping sprees. I'll cover the bill."

"I can't let you do that."

He held up a hand, silencing her. "I plan to do a lot more for you in the future."

"Why?"

He shrugged. "I love you," he said, matter-of-fact. "It's a man's job to take care of the woman he loves."

For the duration of the trip back home, Sergio was cheerful, opening up about his future dreams as well as sharing personal secrets. He told her where his money was hidden and even divulged the location and combination to his safe. Anya felt both privileged and a little nervous about being privy to such personal information.

"There's a special room in my house you haven't seen. I'll show you when we get home."

"Okay." Though his house wasn't exactly home to her yet; she had been spending a lot of time there, staying over at least three or four times a week. It was clearly only a matter of time before Anya took the plunge and moved in. She was tempted to tell him everything about herself, right there on the spot, but decided the time wasn't quite right for her shocking confession. Only a few moments ago, he'd told her that he loved her, and she wanted to bask a little longer in the glow of his adoration. She wasn't ready to risk seeing a dark cloud come over his face when he discovered that the girl of his dreams was capable of killing without so much as blinking an eye.

CHAPTER 21.

Misty summoned Gavin, pretending she was eager to show off her beautiful face and equally excited to give him a second reading when she actually wanted to discuss the business venture she wanted him to invest in. He had no idea of her miraculous healing, no clue that she was now able to walk.

Pledged to secrecy, Audrey opened the door for Gavin and led him to the living room where Misty sat in her wheelchair. For shock value, Misty planned to suddenly stand up and strut across the room; she couldn't wait to see the look of astonishment on Gavin's face.

Looking magnificent in blue, python print lounge pants and matching camisole, Misty greeted her benefactor with a dazzling smile.

"Look at you! You have the face of a cla.s.sic beauty...someone like Grace Kelly or Greta Garbo."

"I think she looks like Halle Berry," Audrey chimed in, smoothing down an errant strand of Misty's hair. Seeming unsure of what to do with herself if she wasn't doting on Misty, Audrey began fussing with the straps of Misty's camisole, adjusting them obsessively.

Feigning modesty, Misty lowered her eyes and murmured, "Thank you both for the compliments." She turned appreciative eyes on Gavin. "And thanks to your generosity, Gavin, I have a new life. I can actually start earning income now that I'm presentable enough to be seen in public." She looked him in the eye. "I want you to know that I intend to pay back every dollar you've spent on me."

"That's kind of you, but I doubt you'll ever earn enough to repay the exorbitant amount I spent to make you beautiful again," Gavin said with friendly laughter followed by a dismissive wave of his hand, informing Misty that he was unwilling to discuss any kind of compensation.

He leaned forward, fingers interlaced. "Let's pick up where we left off; I've been anxiously antic.i.p.ating my second reading." He cut a suspicious eye at Audrey, who hovered near Misty. "If you don't mind, I'd like some privacy during my reading."

"That's not a problem," Misty said. "Would you excuse yourself, Audrey? You've done more than enough for me today. Go home; I'll see you in the morning."

A look of surprise came over Audrey's face. "All right." Reluctantly, she gathered her bag of yarn and needles. She fluttered her fingers in a sad, parting wave before exiting the living room.

After Audrey left, Gavin looked at Misty and frowned. "I didn't think you'd dismiss her for the rest of the day; I only wanted privacy for thirty minutes or so. A walk around the block or a quick errand would have sufficed. Who's going to help you out until Brick gets home?" Gavin seemed horrified by the possibility that he might have to a.s.sist Misty in any capacity.

"Don't worry; I'll be fine," Misty said with a smile of amus.e.m.e.nt sparkling in her eyes. She held out her hand, her arm fully extended. In his excitement at getting another reading, Gavin failed to notice the full range of motion in Misty's arm.

Their hands made contact and an electrical charge rippled through their hands. A kaleidoscope of color burst behind Misty's eyes moments before the slide show of Gavin's life began.

With her eyes closed, she began to describe what she was seeing. "The decor of your childhood bedroom is a sports theme. There's a large, green area rug that's a replica of a football field. Team banners adorn your walls. One wall has a life-size mural of basketball players in motion, running down the court. A ball being pa.s.sed from one player to another is hovering, mid-air. Your pillowcases and bedspread continue the theme, decorated with images of various jersey numbers and team logos. Football helmets, signed baseb.a.l.l.s, basketb.a.l.l.s, and footb.a.l.l.s are displayed on shelving throughout the room."

This is more of the same boring bulls.h.i.t. I'm sick of seeing scenes from his past. Gavin feels persecuted because his dad expected him to enjoy being a boy. What an ungrateful, spoiled brat!

"I hated my room," Gavin said bitterly. "Being in my room was like being imprisoned inside a sports stadium. To this day, I get physically nauseous merely hearing the cheer of a crowd during any kind of sporting event."

Misty held up a finger, silencing Gavin. "Now I see a woman entering your room. She has curly dark hair and she's carrying a plastic storage container-a big one. She places it on the floor and bends over to unfasten it." Misty leans forward, as if getting a closer look. "Oh, I see what's in there. The container is filled with Barbie dolls and the dolls have an extensive wardrobe," she said with an amused smile.

Gavin's involuntary intake of breath informed Misty that he was experiencing a fond recollection of what she described. "You're talking about Elsa, my nanny. She was the only person who understood me. She was such a sweet soul," he said softly. "But my dad fired her; he kicked her out of the house when he discovered her allowing me to play dress-up. I had on a yellow princess costume with a gorgeous tiara and sparkly heels."

Gavin pressed a monogrammed handkerchief to his tear-filled eyes. "Elsa was sent packing and I was banished to football camp for an entire summer in the hopes that the coach and counselors would change my mindset and rough me up enough to get the girlishness out of my system."

"We're moving forward now."

"Yes, let's fast forward. I hate reliving my painful childhood." Gavin sniffled and wiped his nose with the hanky.

Yeah, well, it's painful for me to listen to this silver-spoon d.i.c.khead talking like he had it so hard.

Misty continued the reading, informing Gavin of her observations. The bedroom of his first apartment was a stark contrast to the theme of his childhood room. The s.p.a.ce was painted a soft peach color, frilly curtains hung at the windows, and fluffy pastel pillows decorated the bed. His personal art, splashes of vibrant color that seemed to have been splattered on canvases without rhyme or reason, adorned the walls.

"You were happy in your first apartment," Misty said.

"I was deliriously happy. My father had disowned me by then; he wanted to cut me off financially. Luckily, the family fortune is from my mother's side of the family, and whether my dad liked it or not, it was stipulated in the will of my deceased great-grandfather, that all his direct descendants be provided for." Gavin pursed his lips in satisfaction, and then began to pout. "I want to know about Randolph. What do you see in our future together?"

Misty groaned involuntarily and scowled in revulsion as she once again witnessed Gavin's future. Nothing had changed. Gavin was going to p.i.s.s someone off and end up with his head bashed in.

"What are you seeing? What's wrong?" he asked in a shaky whisper.

"I'm a little jealous of the great love you and Randolph share," Misty improvised.

"Are you saying that we'll be reunited soon?"

"Yes. I see you two together on the beach in Saint-Tropez. You're both tanned and smiling with umbrella drinks in your hands."

"Really? Randolph hates the sun, and he's so envious of my love affair with Philippe, I'm surprised he agreed to vacation in France."

"From what I can see, he becomes more self-a.s.sured and trusting in the future."

"Oh! That's wonderful news, but I need to know exactly when he's coming back to me," Gavin said anxiously.

Misty's eyes snapped open, indicating the reading was over. "Time is tricky, you know. I don't see dates or anything like that. You have to have faith that the future events I see are your destiny."

"I have faith, but I've been waiting for months for Randolph's return, and I'm growing impatient," Gavin whined. "Look at you, your face is perfection. I made that possible with the expectation that you would lead me to Randolph."

"Reconciliation with your beloved is inevitable, but you need to take your mind off him and focus on something else for a while. The more you worry, the farther away you're pushing your reunion."

"I don't understand."

"The energy around you is fearful and negative. You'll draw him to you sooner if you relax a little and allow yourself to be happy. I know what I'm talking about, but you have to have faith in my visions." Wow, I sound really convincing; like I've been dabbling in mysticism for years.

"You're right," Gavin conceded. "I've been obsessing over Randolph and that isn't healthy."

"It's not healthy at all," Misty agreed.

The look on Gavin's face was unmistakably sad. "I miss him so much," he said, covering his face with his hands as he broke down and sobbed.

CHAPTER 22.

"Girl, these are the best hand-me-downs I've ever had," Natalie said, patting the two shopping bags of designer wear that Anya had generously pa.s.sed on to her. "But what about some shoes? We wear the same size and I know you have plenty pairs of hot-looking shoes," Natalie said, with a look of greed glinting in her eyes.

"I'm a shoe freak. I can't give up any of my precious shoes."

"I only want one pair," Natalie whined, trying to persuade Anya by putting on a sad face.

"Nope. I'm serious. I can't part with my shoes."

Anya had no idea what Natalie was doing with the big bucks she claimed to be making from Majid's after-hour parties, but being that she always looked a hot mess, it was apparent that buying clothes, shoes, and getting her hair done at a salon weren't top priorities.

As obnoxious as Natalie could be, Anya had a soft spot in her heart for her and hoped that she could help elevate her friend's self-worth by giving her a more fashionable wardrobe. Hopefully, having more confidence would open her eyes and allow her to see that Majid was not looking out for her best interests at all. He was using and abusing her, treating her like sc.u.m, yet Natalie's loftiest goal was to be his number one chick. It was becoming unbearable to even listen to Natalie talk about the s.e.x parties and the sordid activities Majid had her involved in.

The s.e.x games Natalie described were becoming increasingly dangerous, and in Anya's opinion, it was only a matter of time before Natalie got injured or even killed.

The two women sat in Anya's living room, drinking mimosas, when Anya said, "I want your opinion on something. Be right back." She set her drink down and trotted to her bedroom, returning with a very expensive-looking, oblong box.

"Check it out; this is the birthday present I bought for Sergio."

Natalie opened the box and scowled with confusion. She lifted the elegant Mont Blanc pen from its packaging and inspected the geometric pattern of the sleek pen. "It looks expensive. How much does something like this cost?"

"It wasn't cheap, I can tell you that," Anya replied vaguely.

"Is it real gold?"

"Yep. Fourteen carat with a platinum-plated cap."

"That's nice," Natalie said unenthusiastically.

"I know Sergio's taste and he's gonna love it," Anya said defensively. Finding a suitable birthday present for the man who has everything had been challenging.

Rotating the pen between her thumb and index finger, Natalie continued to examine it. "It's pretty and everything, but you should have bought him a big glitzy chain or a ring with diamonds and other jewels. It's not like you can't afford it."

"Sergio already has a lot of jewelry. Besides, he wouldn't want me spending a large portion of my inheritance on something he already has in abundance."

"I don't get it. What is he gonna do with a pen? That man is busy moving bricks; I know he's not sitting around writing love letters."

Anya laughed. "Look, this is not any ordinary pen. The salesperson wouldn't even call it a pen; she referred to it as a writing instrument."

"Umph," Natalie grunted, unimpressed.

"This pen is gonna come in handy when Sergio starts writing lots of checks-when he goes legit."

Natalie stared at Anya inquiringly, and Anya immediately regretted having repeated what Sergio had told her in confidence. Sergio's secret wouldn't have slipped out if Natalie hadn't had her on the defensive about the gift she'd bought him.

"Is Sergio planning on getting out of the game?" Natalie asked with a raised brow.

"Well, um...," she stammered. "They all have to get out of the game, at some point, right? Everyone knows that the end result is either death or jail."