13
Adrian
I swiped my card andthe gates opened to the long driveway leading to my parents’ home. I drove unseeing through the perfectly manicured grounds.
Perfection and order.
The only things my mother knows.
The only thing she wants the world to know.
I drove to the garage because no cars were allowed at the front or sides of the house. The ten-car garage held permanent spots for mine and Christina’s cars even though we had officially moved away from the estate. For special events, there’s a parking lot about a quarter-mile down from the main house.
Everything is well laid at the Watkins-Williams house.
The theme is perfection.
And I am about to ruffle my mother’s perfection for the second time today.
“Mother,” I called out, barging into her office without knocking.
She jumped in her chair; her eyes opened wide, her nostrils dilated.
Good, I’ve managed to shake you up, mother.
“Adrian, why are you barging in unannounced?” she asked, her tone brusque. Whatever charm she felt towards me had dissipated.
“Must I always announce the son’s presence to the loving mother?”
“Stop it. Pettiness does not become you,” she snapped, her manicured fingers drumming her desktop. Good, I want you nervous.
“Pettiness? Mother,” I retorted. “I want you to recant your decision to dismiss Nina.”
She looked at me, her blue eyes turning a darker blue with heated anger.
“You have some nerve, Adrian,” she uttered, her lips pressed together like stone.
“Yes, Mother. I do. Nina has done nothing to deserve this high-handed treatment from you. I’m sure she can find a good employment lawyer to take you up.”
“Where, Adrian? Do you think a Nassau lawyer is going to take up the case? You think a New York lawyer is going to take up the might of Watkins and Williams. Grow some sense.” Her words dripped with venom.
She pursed her botox lips together into a pout, while she leaned further onto her desk.
We were almost eyeball-to-eyeball. My hands rested on the desk trembled and sweated, like butter on hot bread.
“Mother, you relish your power and money in this situation. Nina has done nothing to be dismissed from her job. Think about your precious reputation if she goes to the press.”
“I have one word for you—non-disclosure.”
“A non-disclosure agreement is limited by what is provided ...”
She cut me off. “Think about what you are saying. Everything is covered. Including dismissal.”
I straightened up and looked at my mother with new eyes. “You don’t play fair. Do you mother?”
“Fair? The old cliché ‘Life is not fair’ will never go out of style. In the next million years, it will still be in vogue. Learn it. Tuck it away. Life is not fair, Adrian.” Her disparagement cut into me like fangs biting into my flesh.
A wave of helplessness crawled through my insides. A chill spread and gripped my body in a vise hold. I gathered strength from my reserves, steadied my breath, and pushed through for Nina.
“Since we are exchanging clichés with long-lasting power. Here’s another one, Mother: Where there’s a will there’s a way. Remember this. This attempt to sully Nina’s name and upturn Nina’s world; this attempt to put a wedge between us will not work, Mother.” I enunciated each word crisp and clear, so she’d get the point.
I’d never been so mad at my mother.
“What are you going to do, Adrian? Give up your one hundred million dollars. Give up your foundation dreams. Give up your prized collections. Give up your secured position at Watkins and Williams.” The provocative taunt made me sick. I turned my eyes to the ground. My face and neck prickled with heat and I ground my teeth.
“Mother.”
She lifted her eyes to mine at the sharp tone of my voice.
“You investigated a woman’s university life. To prove what? Is your university life beyond reproach, Mother? Would you like front-row seats at the debut to my college life? To see the range and scope of my indulgences and how free I was? Would you like to see how I indulged myself, my senses? Nothing escaped my greed, my lust.”
I watched my mother, her black hair, with highlights, parted down the middle. It was pulled back into a neat low bun. Sleek and sophisticated. Her favorite Harry Winston diamond studs reflecting the light from each ear. My beautiful mother. Looking not a day over thirty.
How dare she investigate Nina.
How dare she breach Nina’s privacy.
How dare she deny me the revelations from Nina’s own lips.
She’d stolen a future intimate moment from us.
Was this forgivable?
“Adrian, it’s . . .”
I stopped her.
“No, Mother, say no more. I am going to find Nina and I am going to tell her all the things I need to tell her to keep her in my life forever. Mother, if you and Father and Grandfather insist I carry on the precious legacy, you will have to allow me Nina.”
Her eyes grew large. Her mouth opened to speak. Her mouth closed. Her hand touched her ear. I smiled at her discomfort. Good. Discomfort is good, Judge Courtney.
She was speechless.
A rare occurrence, as rare as a solar eclipse.
I turned and made for the door.
I needed to get out of my mother’s home office. I was sure my father must have heard our raised voices. But he would never barge in and instill order. He always allowed my mother to wield an iron hand against her children. We’d had to fall in line. We’d had to bend to her will; to perform for her love.
I jumped into my car and shot out of the garage like a bullet. I was in a race to nowhere. Trying to outrace my thoughts.
Would I have to give up life as I’d known it in order to have love and belonging?
Tears of frustration seeped out of my eyes as I drove. I rolled down the windows to feel the brutal sting of the wind against my face.
I’d tried not to be vulnerable, to be a strong alpha male. I’d tried to forget the little boy trapped inside who hated being sent away to boarding school; to be a Watkins-Williams—the next heir apparent to the throne.
Fat tears of frustration stained my cheeks on the drive back to my apartment. I made a decision. One that would allow me to take positive action. I couldn’t sit around and have a poor Adrian pity party. I wiped the tears of frustration and anger from my face. I set my face like a flint. I promised to discipline my body and bring it under subjection like Paul described in the first book of Corinthians, chapter nine. This was one of my favorite passages by Paul of Tarsus and I drew comfort from it.
****
At six o’clock thenext morning, I looked down from the window of our jet at the receding New York skyline, the twilight moment when the earth is not yet bright with the promise of a new day. A few lights twinkled from the windows of the high rises and towers.
My spirits felt lighter in spite of my irate encounter with my mother last night. I’d made up my mind to return to Nassau, to return to Nina. I’d planned to convince her we stood a chance against the might of my parents.
I had to win this round or watch another chance of claiming true love slip like sand from my fingers at the beach. I didn’t want to thwart this chance with Nina.
What was I willing to give up?
Less than three hours later I arrived at Skyford Cay. I was out of the car and headed down on the path to Nina’s apartment before Roger turned off the car’s engine.
I met two of the staff cleaning out the apartment.
“Where is Nina?” I shouted at them.
“She’s already left.” Chef Dominique’s voice, flat and dry, came from behind me. I whipped around to face him,
“What have you done? Why? Where? I asked her to stay.”
“Her grandparents and cousins came to fetch her last night. They were upset. There were shouts about discrimination. The grandfather vowed to go to the media. He vowed to call the prime minister about the racist people living behind Skyford Cay.” He came within close proximity of me, and I could see the veins along his neck working. I didn’t miss the concern in his eyes either.
He continued, “If you must know, Bishop Rolle does not back down without a fight. He will salivate on this topic from his pulpit and his talk show,” Chef Dominique said, invading my personal space.
“Who do you think will win this round? The powerful bishop? Your powerful parents? God versus money. Guess who wins all the time in this world.” He shook his head and looked at me with pity. I ignored the look in his eyes. My only concern was to see Nina.
“Take me to see Nina, now,” I hissed.
“She’s gone.”
“You know where she went to. Take me there,” I demanded, undeterred by his reluctance, which was baffling to me, given his earlier empathy.
“You want to face the wrath of the bishop.”
“Yes. Take me to her or I will bulldoze my way to the gatekeeper.”
“You think you are in love,” he said and gave a loud chupes, the sound of the loud kissing of tongue and lips, much like a local. “If you think you are in love. I will take you to meet the gatekeeper.”
I didn’t care what Chef Dominique thought of me. Seeing Nina was my main aim. Although I was not clear what I would say to her. Was it going to come down to my dreams versus Nina? Could I have my dreams and Nina? Would I get my grandfather and parents to relent from their position? Why can’t they see the Nina I see?
Chef Dominique’s mocking words haunted me on the drive to Nina.
You think you are in love.
After a week, I knew what I felt for Nina was true and pure and real. Love at first sight was an age-old concept.
It was nothing new.
The only question left to consider, did I have the strength to fight for our forever?