The Trust

Carleton lifted the tray off his lap and set it on the floor beside the bed, wiping his mouth with the napkin and tossing it down on top of it. A few crumbs from the crispy garlic toast nestled in the creases of the sheet, and he swept them away with his hand. The TV played softly across from the foot of the bed; a woman anchor with severely sprayed hair, intoned with a rubber mouth and an elastic smile, the latest, discouraging news stories.

He clasped his hands behind his head and leaned back against the double pillow, letting his eyes stray to Julie's bare shoulder. It's almost funny, he thought. Here I am on one hand, plotting with Ellington to squash his daughter's trust, and on the other, hoping the daughter gets it, while at the same time screwing the wife of the guy who has already bled the thing nearly dry. It's so Byzantine—I love it!

"So uh, you don't think this call your husband had was anything to do with us?" Hiding his smile as she turned to him.

Julie wiped her mouth and set her own tray aside, resting her head on his chest. "I'm sure. I'm beginning to recognize his behaviour after he gets those calls. It was something to do with his gambling debts, trust me. My name was mentioned, but Reg said it was nothing." She twisted a finger in the wiry hairs around his nipple.

"I have to trust you darling, you're the one making these arrangements." He didn't like the sound of her last remark. "I certainly wouldn't want somebody like the person you described knocking on my door." He stuck a finger in her ear and tickled her. Just keep her primed, he thought.

"Don't be silly." She slid her hand down beneath the sheet and smiled as he squirmed under her touch. "Nobody's as strong as you, Carly."

He grinned with satisfaction, closing his eyes and settling back with the sheet pulled up to his chin. When the telephone rang, Julie couldn't move to reach it. Carleton was sound asleep and snoring, his lips bouncing lightly against her navel. She scrabbled at the sheet, stretching her arm, finally managing to tip the receiver out of the cradle and onto the bed.

"Hello?"

"Mrs. Devers?"

"Who is this?"

"Is this Mrs. Devers?"

Julie gnawed at her lip, wondering whether to answer. The last thing she and Carleton wanted was for Reg to catch them together like this. "What is it you want, please?"

"It is you, isn't it? How's Reggie doing? Does he know about the Dunbar?" Julie sat up with a start. Carlton's head slipped down between her thighs and he began sounding like a rutting pig snorting for air. Automatically her legs clamped together as she listened to the soft voice on the other end of the line.

Interpreting the move as passion, Carleton applied himself with due diligence to the matter at hand, accelerating as Julie bounced and wiggled above him.

"I don't have any of my husband's money. Why are you bothering me?" She put a hand on Carleton's head and pushed, dismayed when he redoubled his efforts. "How did you find me here?" She asked, suddenly realizing the severity of their predicament.

"I can find anybody, anytime. You were a snap, Mrs. Devers." Jorge waited a beat for a possible compliment, receiving none. "I don't like to get tough with ladies, but if I don't get the money your husband owes, I'll probably have to bury my emotions and take it out on the whole family. I think I should come up and talk that over."

"NO!" Her reaction was so violent, Carleton shot back, sliding off the end of the bed onto the floor. "No, you can't come up here!" She stared horrified at Carleton's sleepy-eyed face resting on the edge of the bed

"Then maybe you should have a chat with hubby." The line went dead.

"What was that about, sweetheart," Carleton asked, grasping her ankles and pulling himself back onto the bed.