Chapter 4

"I've always wondered how a person with money can even think they have a bad life."

He was judging me. People believed they had the right to do so. She had this idea that money gave me the ability to have everything. However, when you have money there is one thing you cannot buy: love.

I did not reply to your comment. She would have her reason to think that I was a crybaby who had everything at my fingertips and she was not happy. Surely, she was thinking that if she had the amount of money that I had, she would do what she always dreamed of. It is the problem of people: they believe that money is the secret key to get what you want; that's why when they get it they feel hollow; because it is not enough to just have it.

-Sorry. I don't know you and I'm getting into something I have no idea. I'm just trying to understand, you know?

I went back to see her. Since she sat next to me I had only looked at her once. As weird as she seems, I paid attention to her clothes. She was wearing a red dress, hair tied up in a decent high bun. Her green eyes stared at me, finding something in them: perhaps resignation. I noticed that she didn't seem to be that much older than I remember from that party.

He was good at withholding information, which I appreciated when I asked, “Claire? TRUE? She nodded, narrowing her gaze in my direction. How old are you? I inquired, thinking that she looked younger.

“Twenty-four,” he whispered, looking away from me.

He concentrated on his fingers, fleeing from my scrutiny, possibly experiencing embarrassment; he wasn't quite sure what his attitude meant. He was barely getting to know her to draw an objective conclusion. However, I was relieved that she lowered her head before seeing my frown in horror. She was a girl. What could lead her to that life? He was not a curious man. As long as it wasn't about a case I just wasn't interested. But this girl maybe needed help and she had a foundation for it. She created a whirlpool in my mind of endless possibilities that led her to the point of being a prostitute.

With a sigh, I dropped the cigarette to the ground, placing my shoe on it. I reached into my secret suit pocket finding my wallet. I handed him a card with the foundation's information.

"In case you ever feel like you've had enough." I smiled at her.

I probably wouldn't go. Most of the girls would rather live in that life than seek help, but there was nothing wrong with trying.

I didn't wait for an answer; I went back to the event to pretend my life was as perfect as theirs.

• ────── ✾ ────── •

 

For the first time in many years I asked my sister not to talk to me about her. She needed to move on and she wouldn't with Dona telling me about Allyson every second. Knowing that she was happy put me in a bad mood; I was not a mean person, but it is difficult to rejoice in the happiness of another if you are suffering.

He had stopped smoking since Lucas was born. However, I started when he got sick. It wasn't many cigarettes a day; maximum two or three. But since Allie got married and moved to London the amount has increased to a pack a day. It didn't fill me with pride, however, I preferred to smoke and keep my fingers busy so I wouldn't call her to tell her I wasn't over her.

“ Mr. Dempsey, there's a call on line two. A certain Claire Davis. She says it's important. I frowned trying to understand why she would call me.

I picked up the phone, pressing option one, to ask the secretary—: Did he say anything else?

- No sir. I just needed to talk to you. Shall I tell him you're busy?

No, I wasn't usually curious, but if a complete stranger called me and asked to speak to me, adding that it was important, I would turn on the curiosity button.

"It's okay, Nancy. I'll talk to her. I hung up extension one and dialed the option for line two. Bradley Dempsey, what's on offer, Claire? —I asked, watching from the eighth floor how she maybe she was about to rain. Here in New Orleans it rains or it's cold. I had never seen snow in my State.

I didn't know who to call. I was looking for the card you gave me, but I couldn't find it.Jones… ” Her voice sounded very scared. I waited patiently for her to finish composing her thoughts, until she added, " Jones threatened to take my daughter from me if she stopped seeing him…I have nowhere else to turn, Mr. Dempsey." Please…

And the girl burst into tears. It wasn't the first time someone had cried on the phone. Nor a call asking for help. It was a cruel world and I had seen so many things that you can't imagine. However, his hands were tied. The best way to help her was to get a decent job, which was not her first choice. She though she couldn't tell him that without sounding like an insensitive jerk.

—Claire, he can't take your daughter from you because he suspects that you're an escort. As for helping you, I think you need a better job because eventually Child Protection is going to find out.

There was a moment of silence, nothing could be heard except his rapid breathing. Then she said, “ No one leaves Jones. Do you know, Mr. Dempsey? Jones walks away when you no longer serve him. Thanks for nothing. He hung up the call with a sarcastic tone. For a moment I thought she was overreacting, but Claire had a point. She doubted he would treat her own mother with respect, if she was still alive.

I didn't want to get into a fight between husband and wife, because it didn't look like an escort-client fight anymore, but the girl had the right to leave this shitty life if she wanted.

"Nancy, do you think you can trace the number that just called on line two?"

“ Right away, Mr. Dempsey.

-Thank you Nancy. Send me Claire's number on W******p. I'll go find Lucas. I closed the call, taking my jacket and phone, leaving for Lucas's swim practice.

After fifteen minutes Nancy sent the number, which turned out to be a cell. I decided to call her later because she was almost at my son's school.

... 

 

 

I should have thought better of going out in exercise clothes to the patio, although the cigarette that I carried to my lips helped me keep warm. 

 

The reason for being on the patio and not in the shower after using the treadmill was because he had called the same number for Claire three times and it always went to voice mail. I told myself that I would give him one last chance or I would have to let the matter go.

At the fourth ring, a soft voice was heard from the other end—: Hello?

“Claire, it's Bradley Dempsey. You called my office in the afternoon. I heard a lot of swearing and what sounded like breaking glass. All right over there?

She sighed to answer, " Yes. I was trying to get a plate to the sink." I'm not good at talking on the phone and using my hands at the same time. Listen, I know you have a lot of more important things. I do not want to waste your time.

I didn't know the girl. She might be crazy, but you don't just call a person, do you? I decided to follow my instincts.

“Yes, I'm a person with little time, but I don't think you're the type to call for help. Can you come to my office tomorrow? I may not be able to help you with your Jones situation, but I can advise you on child custody and legal matters.

- I have no way to pay the fees, Mr. Dempsey. I wrinkled the corner of my lip in frustration. We weren't getting anywhere with his attitude of saying "no" to everything he proposed.

“I'm not charging you anything, Claire. I know who Jones is. I just want to help. Shall I wait for you around eleven? I brought the cigarette to my lip and inhaled, feeling the minty taste in my mouth.

— Okay. At eleven. Thank you, Mr. Dempsey.

-See you tomorrow.

The smoke was not as well received once it reached my lungs. The guilt of not being able to control the vice was suffocating. That brought back the memory of when I started smoking. Interestingly, it started when Dad handed over the reins of the Dempsey empire to me. It was the only thing that relaxed me among so many responsibilities. A complicated divorce, ex-wife in prison, a young son, a love that went to another continent, managing not only the firm in Seattle, but also in other states. Too much pressure for a man barely in his thirties.

He didn't want to say that my addiction was his fault. I made my own decisions and most of them were not very good ones. However, perhaps the desperation to be the son he expected had an influence.

Seeing the well-kept grass, I thought that it should be different. It was supposed to be the dream life Allie and I said goodbye to, but it wasn't anywhere near what I envisioned. I smiled humorlessly, noticing that there I was again, thinking about how Allyson changed my life.