The Old Friend
There was always that one friend that enters someone's life that could have the potential to destroy everything that they have ever worked for. The key to life is in returning that very threat. Frederick Chilton had met that friend in his sophomore year of college in a political science class. They'd been almost inseparable throughout their school days until life eventually took them on separate paths. His path lead to high school while her path lead towards a five bedroom three bath house with a well-liked New York politician by her side and a secret path that involved the criminal underbelly of her city.
Frederick knew she would eventually come to greet him. He had seen her holding hands with her husband on the local news station. The local radio station had talked about the politician and what events he would be attending while they had applauded his wife's charity work with the underprivileged youth.
He knew she'd come to call on him, like she always did when she was in town. Her image and her voice had run through his mind all morning as he began his mid-morning routine.
The halls of the hospital felt like they were closing in on them. She always made him feel this particular way when she was in town for the simple fact that she could ruin him if she pleased. She knew too much and she made him uneasy, but she had been a loyal friend to him for most of his adult life.
"Wake up! Wake up! Wake up Baltimore," the familiar voice announced of the overhead speakers that had been set up in case of an emergency.
Frederick closed his eyes in slight annoyance as he realized that she had effectively found another way to irritate him and he hadn't even laid eyes on her yet.
He made his way back to his office and forced a smile on his face as he looked over to the awestruck office girl that sat at her desk.
"I told her not to," she began to explain quickly and honestly, "but she gave me $200."
Frederick stopped at her desk and gave her a stern smile. He really wasn't angry with the young office assistant; he knew how the politician's wife worked. She was like a charming little weasel so he couldn't blame the poor girl for accepting.
"Is she in my office," he asked as he looked over to his closed office door and contained the slight annoyance that bubbled inside of his stomach.
He was her friend, but sometimes she could do the most annoying things. She was a classic case of narcissistic personality disorder. It was rare to find in a woman, but she exhibited every single characteristic even when she let her guard down around him all those years ago.
"Yes, Dr. Chilton," she answered, "She said she would wait for you to finish your work."
"Anna," Frederick said.
"It's Anne, sir," she corrected carefully.
"Anne," Frederick said absently as he kept his gaze on the lettering of his name on his office door, "could you move the rest of my appointments back half an hour, please?"
"Yes sir."
Frederick nodded and walked away from his young office girl. He straightened his tie pin and took a deep breath before he opened the door to see the stunning creature that had smiled at him all those years ago sitting with her feet propped up on his desk.
"Hello Frederick," she said with a little chuckle as she reclined back in his chair, "I hope you didn't mind the announcement. I've always wanted to do that. Could you ever forgive me?"
Sophia-Anne Rockwell, previously known by Frederick as Sophia-Anne Carlotta, sat with dark hair that had been styled for her that morning and in a very expensive, pink Chanel dress that resembled the very dress that Mrs. Kennedy had made famous. Her black heels fit loose on her feet as his eyes roamed up her legs to her waist and chest before settling on those cold amber eyes. He'd seen those cold eyes melt on a few occasions, but for the most part they remained cold to others, even when she looked upon her husband.
He had often wondered if her husband had ever seen the warmth that she kept hidden deep, very deep, within side of her. She could be a different person behind closed doors, the same way she was with him.
"Oh dear," he heard her announce, "where are my manners? Here's your chair."
He watched as she pulled herself from his chair and walked towards the window in the corner of his room. She was dressed as a politician's perfect wife, but the leather jacket that hung around her body loosely showed a darker, more sinister side to her, a side that she kept hidden from the public.
"I have set aside half an hour to visit with you, Sophia," Frederick informed her, "I have some rather important meetings to-"
"I won't keep you too long then," she answered sternly.
He watched as she stood with lowered shoulders. He knew something was wrong. He'd always been able to read her like a book.
"What's going on, Sophia," he asked, "Is it about your family?"
He'd always known when something was going on. He'd seen on the news where her step father and her half-brother were burned inside of their car after being shot by inner city youth down in her hometown. He knew there was more to the story, there always was with her.
She'd been destined to tread the line between politics and crime. Her mother was a Cuban maid who had worked for her biological father, a state senator, for years before conceiving the woman that now stood in his office.
She, like him, had shed her Cuban identity to fit in to society. It had been kept a carefully guarded secret of who her biological father was, but he had made sure that she wanted for nothing and had been schooled in the world of politics. She had been given whatever it was that she wanted.
Her step father was a drug pusher, specializing in heroin and cocaine, along with controlling the sex work within the growing empire. He had set up a large empire and ruled over it with his children's help. Her half-brother had been set up to take over once their father was out of the picture.
Sophia-Anne was dangerous.
"I didn't light the match," she replied with a small, crooked grin that she had always given him when she wasn't telling him the entire truth, "I brought you something. Mama made it for you. I had to tell her what happened to you."
Frederick smiled as he looked down at the brown bag and smiled as he pulled the tuber ware out of the bag. Grilled pineapple slices sat in a beautiful, sugary rum glaze in the bowl.
"She used rum instead of water," Sophia-Anne informed him and chuckled as she added, "We can deny our heritage all we want, but our stomachs betray us every time."
"Tell her I said thank you and give her a kiss for me," he said as thoughts of the Cuban mother rushed through his mind. She'd always been so kind to him.
"She spoils you," she answered, "She always wanted us to marry."
Frederick felt the prickle of longing come over him. They had been friends for a long time. He knew everything about her and she knew everything about him. When they were in college, they were always together, but for some reason it never worked out for them.
"So why are you here again," he asked again.
"I wanted to see an old friend," she admitted with a kind smile, "Maybe we could talk about old times. Maybe about James Munson," her brow arched as her kind smile transformed into a mischievous one, "You and I always had a fun time playing with him didn't we. You know he's a plumber now."
Frederick sighed as he thought of the sexual deviancy that he and the woman in front of him had dabbled in when they were in college.
"Servicing other people's pipes now I assume," she added with a chuckle as she plopped herself onto his couch.
"Did you really come here to talk about Jimmy," he asked as he followed her over to the couch and sat beside her.
Frederick sighed as she placed her heels upon his lap, but he did nothing to deter her movement. He placed his hands upon her ankles and took in the warmth that she had always offered him. The cold stare that she had so often set on everyone else had melted as she sat with him on the couch.
"Not really," Sophia-Anne confessed with a heavy sigh, "but it's always nice to see you."
He rubbed at her ankles as she eyed him with a sad smile.
"I've missed you Frederick," she whispered and looked around the office, "I've missed this."
"Your husband is-"
"Not particularly loving," Sophia-Anne answered, her words sounded a bit bitter to his ears, "He has a string of lovers that he flaunts out in the open. You know that little flake you see beside him on TV? That's girlfriend number 2."
"I'm sorry Sophia," Frederick answered, even though he knew there was more to the story, "Are you in some kind of trouble?"
"Frank doesn't know," she said after a beat of awkward silence passed between them, "He doesn't know about what I do. When we were in New York something happened."
Frederick hated when he talked to her about the criminal lifestyle that she had been drug into by just being born into a particular family.
"Are you in danger, Sophia," he asked quickly, his words were void of worry. He'd always known that she knew what strings to pull to survive.
"I'm not," she answered with a growing smile, "I've set up a partnership with some Cuban rat in Washington Heights," she grinned wickedly, "Frederick, darling, he thinks he's going to get his dick sucked out of this. You should hear the things he says in Spanish to me. It would make you blush."
Frederick smiled at her. He knew her arrangement with her husband. They would pretend to be happily married while he could gallivant with whoever he wanted. Sophia-Anne had really gotten her claws into his bank and into his history.
Sex was her weapon. It gave her power over every man that fell for her charms. And if there happened to be a man that didn't fall for her sex appeal, then they would fall victim to the thugs that carried out every little task she ordered to be done.
She could destroy her own husband if he made any threats against her, and he was completely unaware to her empire in the streets.
For some reason, he'd been the one that had wrapped between her rib cages and remained there. He was thankful for that.
"How could he resist your charm," he asked and then chuckled, "The charm, of course, being debateable."
He smiled as he watched her eyes sparkle and her bottom lip fall in childish shock at his words. She lightly bumped her leg into his as she rolled her eyes.
"In order for him to not tell the whole world about my extracurricular activities," she stated, her voice back to its serious tone, "He thinks my husband should be disposed of."
"Then why come to me," Frederick asked as he let her harsh statement enter his mind.
They were entering an iffy area. As a psychiatrist, he should tell on her, but as old friends, he held a certain loyalty towards her.
She trusted him.
"Because you will be my psychiatrist after the fact," she answered as if there were no need to open it up for discussion.
Frederick smiled at her. She loved to pick at him, and now he could finally pick at her.
"It would be a shame if it were leaked to the press about your double life," he admitted.
The look that he received from her made him hot under the collar, more than he would have liked to admit. Teasing a dangerous animal was always fun when you knew they were declawed and toothless, but teasing a dangerous animal like Sophia-Anne could be deadly and there in lay the fun for him.
He felt her weight swift on the couch and she stood quickly so she was glaring down at him. Her eyes were dark, like the sky just before a wild storm was to roll in.
"For future reference, Frederick," her voice was even as she looked down at him in slight anger, "I'm not a fan of veiled threats or improvisation on well thought out plans. If you are planning on threatening me then you should be aware right now that I can, and will, step on you," Sophia-Anne paused as she leaned into him and placed a small kiss upon his forehead, "Regardless of the feelings that I have always had for you."
Frederick felt his heart stop. He was never at the end of her cold words and her icy stare. He knew that what she said was true. She didn't have to pull the trigger or light the match, but she could end someone's life with a snap of her slim fingers.
He swallowed that sudden fear that came over him and gave her a small smile to soothe things over between the two, "It was only a joke, Sophia. I'd never-"
"You keep that threat in mind," she added with a smirk as she collected her purse and sauntered over to the door, "Oh, by the way," she gave him her best smile, "Is Abel Gideon still a resident of this hospital? It was Abel Gideon that cut you open wasn't it?"
He didn't like this new line of questioning or the way that she stood with a predatory stance in his door frame.
"He was being detained at another hospital," he answered, "but he is being brought back here to serve out the remainder of his sentence. Why do you ask?"
Frederick watched her with curiosity as she pursed her lips together and shrugged her shoulders.
"No reason really," she answered.
"There's always a reason with you."
"I was just thinking," she said with a devious grin that painters could give to their worst devils, "wouldn't it be something if he took a stumble down a flight of stairs?"
"Are you suggesting that I intentionally hurt one of the residents of this hospital," Frederick asked, a bit insulted.
She gave him her best shiteating grin and leaned forward as she whispered, "You could say he just fell down the stairs. Women say it all the time and the cops believe them."
Her words were harsh and really reflected the type of life that she had. She walked the line between good and evil. She wasn't crazy, but she wasn't exactly sane either.
"Am I expected to see you again," he asked, ignoring her horrible suggestion.
She smiled at him and said, "There's a Governor's Ball tonight. You should wear your black suit with the pink shirt, it's always my favorite."
He nodded at her words. He couldn't refuse her. He could refuse anyone, but his old friend.
"Then I'll see you tonight," she whispered as she opened the door to leave, "And enjoy mama's gift."
He watched her leave. Her heels clicked as she walked with a confident grace that only came from someone that was as full of themselves as she was.
He closed the door as she disappeared from his view and walked over to his desk to enjoy what her mother had made just for him.
As Frederick dined upon his home made Cuban meal, he was blissfully unaware of the exchange between two guards and Sophia-Anne about the fate of Abel Gideon who was to arrive soon or the amount of money that she had slipped the two guards to commit the crime.
He was blissfully unaware of the shady, underhanded revenge that his old friend was getting upon the man that had put him in the hospital for weeks.
The only thing that he was aware of at this moment in time was the wonderful taste of the pineapple and the memories that lingered in the air just like Sophia-Anne's perfume.
So I worked on this stupid oneshot for weeks and I'm still not happy with it.
I hope you like it!