Amanda's choice

by AmandaYoungFan

For years, she's done the Entity's bidding, thinking somehow, her doing so was also doing the bidding of the man she respected most, John Kramer. But seeing the survivors outside of the trial have made her question if what she's doing is right. What happens to a killer in the realm who no longer has the drive and stomach to do the Entity's bidding? (Feel free to comment)

73. The color of money

Kyle had spent several moments in his car, thinking about seeing Amanda again, and on T.V. no less, almost 20 years after he had seen her for what he had thought at the time, was the last time he'd see her. His mind dwelled on the interview as he drove back to his one-bedroom apartment at Watson Glades Place. It was the cheapest rent in town, but was still pricey at 500 bucks a month. The packing crew job he had at Tennessee Hemp Care barely covered his expenses.

He'd never admit it, but he only had himself to blame. He'd settled in the State of Tennessee a year after pumping and dumping Amanda, and from there, he'd slid into petty crime and had a listing of court records on the state database that was not the longest ever, but longer than most. He had a few possession charges, which would have made Amanda laugh as she had been sent upriver on a possession charge of her own, though hers had been bogus, a couple of drunk driving charges, and then they got a bit more serious, including petty theft, trespassing, vandalism, and most recently, stalking, but the stalking had purely been a misunderstanding in his book.

None of the sentences were long, usually time served, though he'd had to do a lot of probation. He was currently on informal probation now for the stalking conviction, and as usual, the magistrate had waived the 500 dollar fine.

But the record, even though he had avoided felonies, still hampered him when it came to finding work. It didn't matter if the crime was petty, the applications he'd filled out always asked whether he'd been convicted of a crime, and he'd always had to answer yes.

Which is why when he'd lost his higher-paying job after his second driving under the influence conviction, he'd settled for the packing job. They'd asked about prior crimes, but hadn't cared, he'd been hired anyway.

He'd never settled down, and had never gotten married, though thanks to his still-decent looks and charm, he got pussy whenever he wanted. But man, did it fucking suck being broke.

He sat in his recliner for a while, then dug out his Toshiba laptop from the closet. It had cost him $500 bucks in 2003, but money had been better then, and it had been affordable. And there was a ton of free porn, which was part of the reason why he'd taken the plunge.

He'd made friends with both of his neighbors and they'd both graciously shared with him their broadband passwords so he could surf the net. He got himself to the Google homepage and typed in Jake and Amanda Park. He clicked on the Google News tab and as he read, his eyes widened.

There were a number of articles on their surprise survival, and a number of articles from right after the boat sank all sad and crying that they'd died with the ship. Then he found one interesting article from a week ago that talked about plans to send a sub to collect the bodies that her hubby's daddy was going to help pay for and he read it and when he was finished he leaned back in the recliner, wide-eyed.

Amanda hadn't just married a rich kid, she'd married the son of a goddamn billionaire. Jackson Park wasn't Bill Gates or Warren Buffett rich, but he was worth at least seven or eight billion based on what he could glean from Google. Donald Trump was famous from that T.V. show, but after researching on Forbes, he found that Park was worth much, much more. And while the assets were Jackson's, naturally, he was sure that the kid had access to as much of it as he wanted. Hell, he probably had a billion dollar trust fund.

How in the Hell had that pretty, but still gawky, teenager he'd popped the cherry of gotten herself all the way to New York City and gotten Park's rich son to not only fall for her, but marry her? He did the math. She was a few years younger than Kyle was, but she was at least 35 or 36. According to what he read on Park, he was 27 or 28. Shit, she was eight years older than him and she'd still managed to bag him?

I mean, she had grown up to look real goddamn fine, but a lot of that was probably high end makeup, spas, and who knew, maybe even a little plastic surgery. She wouldn't have looked like she did now when she met him. Attractive, sure, but she'd have limits. The kid could have anyone and he'd fallen for her. Had she conned him maybe?

So he kept looking, and found a New York Times submittal on Jake Park's wedding. But here was the first kicker. The wedding photo was obviously Amanda, but the write up said that Jake had married Linda Gideon, and the parents were John and Joan Gideon. And that, right the fuck there, was confusing.

The most recent articles called her by her real first name, Amanda, and her married name. Had she conned him to get into his bed, and then once they were securely hitched, made up some excuse like Linda was a middle name, but her actual first name was Amanda? He thought briefly about her having been using an alias, but if she was on the run from something, she wouldn't drop using it.

Something was fishy. He just wasn't sure if it was blackmail, cash-money fishy. But maybe...It would be worth a try.

One thing was for sure. He was tired of being broke. Surely she could find a way to get him a million bucks if he blackmailed her, because he was more and more sure now that the kid didn't know about her real past. She'd used Linda Gideon to keep her secret, and then recently changed course. Maybe because she felt sure now that he wouldn't divorce her. But he knew her secret, he'd tell her. The truth that would make all her high-society friends shake their heads in shame. But they didn't need to know, neither did the dummy she'd married. He'd keep the secret, all she needed to do was raid the cushions of Jack Park's couch.

There was a blurb in the Times posted earlier today. The Parks had returned to New York from Soto Cano Air Base in Honduras, and were currently staying with the parents. Where were they at? He searched Jackson Park, found a feature article about the mansion he'd bought in the Upper East Side. It was a story feature from 2005, but said he'd bought the mansion in '88. Didn't give the exact address but said it was on 63rd Street. He took out his flip phone and took a picture of the outside from the picture on his laptop screen.

He thought there were a couple of guys he knew in New York that he could call and maybe get a place to stay at. They weren't super close but close enough. He was sure that one of them had some old buildings or managed some of them.

He dug through the numbers on his cell phone and called Wade, a guy he met in jail. Both were in the can for being picked up for drunk driving. They became fast friends as their cells were across from each other. Wade had left a number but Kyle had never called it, at least until now.

Wade liked money. And he was trustworthy. He told him about his idea, but didn't mention names, just that the wife of a billionaire's son was someone he used to bang and had a history she probably hadn't told her hubby. For a nice easy price, he'd keep the lid on it. He needed a place to stay that would cost him little to no money. Wade was silent for a moment. "You ever been to Beacon?"

"Hell no. What the Hell is a Beacon?"

"It's a town. Some developers bought the grounds to an old mental hospital that closed here in 1999. They bought it in '03. It's located right near Beacon. It was called the Craig House. It's very private, and I'm the only one that has access to it other than them, but they never come here. I'm the caretaker. Most of the electrical and water has been shut off and some of the outlying buildings have been demolished, but the centerpiece of the place is a big old Victorian mansion. It used to be used as a psychiatric hospital for the rich clients. While it's in disrepair, the utilities have been left because they know with some good renovations, it'll be a showstopper and they don't want to ruin the plumbing and the electrical."

Wade paused. "It's also creepy as fuck. I've never seen any ghosts or anything in it but it's just got a vibe. I don't think it's haunted. I don't believe in that bullshit, but it has history. A lot of big names were treated in that place. It's about an hour north of New York. It's got a lot of grounds and the house isn't visible from the road, so you could hole up there for a while. If you get anything out of the chick...If you decide to go through with it, let me know, and I'll meet you there."

Wade hung up. Kyle looked at the internet stories a bit more and then decided to try and sleep, after all, work started early tomorrow.

*****************************************************************************************

The next morning, The Park residence had received a call. It originated from the office of a senator Ted Stevens, Chairman of the Committee on Commerce, Science, and Transportation. The initial investigation into the Ocean Princess had been completed following many hours of survivor testimony, but now that the Parks had been located alive, could they be present at noon tomorrow in the U.S. Capitol to testify?

Because of their direct involvement with the rescue, they were told, their testimony would be invaluable to the investigation. The initial report was being put on hold within the U.S. Department of Justice. While there was no official maritime law requiring captains to go down with the ship, the sheer number of American tourists aboard were prompting the U.S. Government to charge Catalanto with multiple counts of attempted manslaughter, as his primary residence was actually in Miami.

So they agreed. And then they spent a portion of the day shopping for a suit for Amanda to wear, and after, she rewarded Jake well into the night with her body for running her all over New York City clothes shopping. The next morning, they arrived in Washington D.C. by 10 a.m. and wandered the streets in their heavy coats sightseeing until 11:30, and then were swept by security for weapons before being led to the Senate chambers at 11:45.

The seats around them slowly filled. Amanda noted no cameras, which was a relief. Stevens took the top seat as the committee Chairman and Amanda and Jake settled into seats with a microphone in front of them. Jake was in Christian Dior, as well as Amanda, in a skirt suit with a high collar and a black Christian Dior silk blouse with white pinstripes. Her black thigh highs were snug on her legs and she wore black closed-toe heels to complete the ensemble. She left her dyed hair down.

Stevens welcomed them and then started the proceedings immediately, asking them for a brief overview of what happened prior to the sinking, up to when they'd first noticed water coming in. They didn't separate out questions by party, and instead everyone could ask a question at any time. They were asked if any warnings had been given.

"None," Jake replied. In fact, the two of us, in addition to Mr. Shaw, were first on the bridge and began searching for the shipboard alarm. It was Mr. Shaw who eventually located it and activated it."

Another question, "And there was no presence of the captain, officers, or deck crewman at any point?"

Jake replied again,"None at all. Mr. Shaw led us in a search of the crew cabins and there was no response to any of the doors we knocked on."

"And Mrs. Park, from the testimony we received from Brian Shaw, you were the one who initiated the distress calls?"

Amanda leaned towards her own microphone and nodded. "I had little to no experience, but Mr. Shaw indicated that the lifeboat evacuations needed to start immediately, so I volunteered to operate the radio phone while my husband, Mr. Shaw, and the other passengers and remaining crew organized lifeboat operations."

"So when you got to the bridge," Amanda was asked, "The EPIRB had not been activated?"

Amanda shook her head. "I used the radiophone to finally get in contact with the Norwegian Star, and he guided me through the process of setting up the automated distress signal after he confirmed he would radio Soto Cano Air Base to make them aware of the situation so an air rescue could be initiated. But the EPIRB signal was activated by me, and not a member of the ship's crew."

They discussed the lifeboat rescue, and how the state of the ship began to make the lowering further and further impossible without Amanda and others cutting the lowering ropes to free the lifeboats into the water. They discussed the Norwegian Star's involvement in the evacuations, and the eventual worst case scenario when the ship had finally listed so far that all the lifeboats had been inoperable.

"And then you, and Mr. Michael Rogo, assisted Brian Shaw in the air evacuations?"

Amanda tried to keep a snide tone from her voice. She knew it was on tape but understood that even then, they had to directly testify.

"Yes, as you saw in the tapes. Mr. Shaw made immediate contact with the helicopter and the three of us joined him."

Amanda was asked, "Did Mr. Shaw ask you to assist him in those operations?

She shook her head. "We'd been joking with Mr. Shaw about the VIP status of being in the Owner's Suite so we kind of used that to jokingly get involved in what was going on. Also by that time, we'd pretty much thrown out the conventions between crew and passengers, and we were all in it together. I think our efforts with the distress call and the lifeboat lowering made it clear that we could follow Mr. Shaw's orders, and were capable, so when the three of us joined him he made no objection."

"And you noticeably made no efforts to abandon ship at any time, what led to that decision?"

Jake leaned forward, "By that time, we were caught up in things and it just didn't feel right to either of us to turn tail and run. Mr. Shaw repeatedly suggested we could leave at any time, but neither of us wanted to do so. In fact, my wife made a sort of pact, that Mr. Rogo also joined in on, that we'd be among the last to go, but at the time, Mr. Shaw was determined to be the last one to leave the ship."

"And Mrs. Park, where did you go during the interval when you were filmed by the network helicopter?"

Amanda leaned forward, "Mr. Shaw was wanting to get a visual update from the bow, and didn't want to upset the coordination of efforts to evacuate, or put a passenger in line in the position of having to lose their place, so it was decided I would go. While inside, I returned to our cabin and collected some of our identification and my husband's cell phone before I made my way to the bridge to see what the status was of the bow. Mr. Shaw indicated that if it was becoming submerged, we were running out of time. After I observed it, I made my way back to where everyone was."

"And where did you go when you went inside the ship for the second time?"

Amanda replied, "The appearance of the passenger who had slept through the initial alarm made all of us nervous so it was decided that we should try to do a quick search to see if anyone else had been overlooked. Mr. Shaw attempted to go, but I knew that he was more important for the rescue operations so I beat him to the punch and went myself. He wasn't happy about that."

The same senator asked, "And approximately how far did you get into your search?"

"I knocked on doors on deck eight and seven in their entirety, and I was beginning to search deck six when the emergency power went out. The water was also getting very deep on that deck, and every time I stepped out of it, it followed my feet until they got wet again. So I panicked, and then figured out a way to get some light to see, and decided that was as far as I dared risk going into the ship's interior, and I made my way back out to the Sunset Bar."

From the opposite side of the room, Jake was asked, "And then you refused to leave, is that correct?"

Jake said, "I had visual contact with Amanda, and while I trusted Mer. Shaw completely, I couldn't fathom not leaving the ship with her, even when the danger had gotten so great, so I begged Mr. Shaw to leave before me, and he reluctantly agreed because I was desperate. I want to make it clear that at no point did Mr. Shaw order us to do anything we did. All the risks we took were of our own choosing, and yes, it almost killed us. But you could put me in that spot a million times and I'd make the same decision. I was not going to leave that ship without my wife."

Amanda snaked a hand across the table, took Jake's hand, and squeezed it. They looked at each other and shared a smile. She let Jake tell the lie about how they'd escaped, since he'd gotten quite good at it, and after describing their time in the lifeboat "drifting," they were thanked for their testimony and the session was dismissed. They pulled on their heavy coats and neither wanted to hang out in Washington, so they got a taxi to Dulles and flew back to New York on the first available flight.

Roger snagged them from the airport and they returned home. It had been quite an experience. When Amanda had stripped to everything but her heels and thigh highs, Jake's erection had grown too big to ignore and he asked her politely if she wouldn't mind getting fucked by the Jake Park Cock Committee. Amanda had smiled, gotten on the bed with the stockings and heels on, and had savored a fucking fit for a queen as she dug her heels into Jake's thighs while he trust passionately inside of her.

Still, they weren't off the hook yet. Miami Mayor Manny Diaz called two hours later after tracking them down and requested the attendance of the Parks at a ceremony at the Port of Miami. They agreed, and then Amanda begged to go clothes shopping again the following day.

After much searching, she once again was drawn to Christian Dior, settling on a black lace slip dress with spaghetti straps that came down mid-thigh, and a pair of comfortable thong sandals that were black on top but with a partial white heel. She already had a strapless bra, so all that was left was to add to the ensemble a pair of CD mirrored sunglasses in an aviator style. It only ended up costing her around $11,000.

She laid Jake almost as soon as they got in the door.

Since they kept being interrupted, they decided to just stay the day in Miami, and wore casual clothes on the morning flight down. Jake went ahead and got a suite at the Hilton Bentley, the same hotel they'd stayed in before boarding the Ocean Princess. The ceremony was at 3, and it was 11 a.m., so Amanda of course laid Jake for an hours before she dolled herself up in make-up that wouldn't sweat from her face, admired the way her ice-blue contacts set off her eyes, and carefully teased and brushed her black hair in a long, lustrous style.

She donned her new dress, sandals, and sunglasses and Jake slipped into a light gray summer suit with a short-sleeve white dress shirt and they lunched at Santorini by Georgios, and Amanda got her first taste of roasted lamb, Greek-style.

They took the long way around Miami in a taxi before they were dropped off at the Port of Miami cruise ship terminal at neighboring Dodge Island. To Amanda's complete surprise, they met Rogo and Shaw, and then were joined by Dr. Adam Bricker and Julie McCoy, before finally meeting the Norwegian Star's Captain, Juan Gomez, and Adrianus Vandenberg face-to-face.

As he took in the short, tanned woman in the expensive dress and sandals, Vandenberg admitted to himself that she was much more gorgeous in person than the look he'd gotten of her from the binoculars. Then she stripped off her sunglasses, revealing intensely blue eyes and he'd have asked her out on the spot if she hadn't been married.

The group conversed about their time, sometimes chuckling, during the event, and the intrusion of the news in the days since.

"I can tell you, I was overjoyed when it was announced you two had made it. Not only because you were alive, but because I knew then that the bloody press would finally stop hounding me." Shaw roared with laughter.

Rogo grinned, "I saw it before he did. I called him and the poor guy, it was like what, three, four in tha mornin?"

Shaw nodded. "He was insistent too. I thought it was some newsroom that didn't understand the time difference in Wales. But I'm glad I finally answered. It was quite joyous when the first report came in on the BBC."

The group was met warmly by Miami Mayor Manny Diaz, who directed them to six comfortable chairs on risers next to a podium. When she sat down and crossed her golden brown legs, Amanda drew quite a few stares from the males who attended in the audience, and a few of the females.

Diaz welcomed everyone and gave a speech commending them. He felt since the Ocean Princess originated from Miami, it was the city's duty to honor those from both inside, and outside the U.S., who had put themselves in harm's way to save everyone aboard.

"In Miami, we award a Public Safety Officer Medal of Valor to our police, firefighters, and emergency responders. While none of the people on this stage officially fit the bill, they were definitely the first responders in this disastrous situation that could have quickly led to tragedy if they hadn't all worked together. Therefore, since their actions saved lives, and because as Mayor, I can get away with it," There were chuckles from the attendees. "I am going to award one to each of them."

One-by-one, they collected them. Cameras clicked from the moment they'd gotten on stage throughout the medal presentation. Each spoke briefly, and Amanda couldn't remember what she'd said, but she hadn't sounded stupid and she hadn't cussed once, so she considered it a win. They posed for more photos, with the mayor, and without, and then he warmly thanked them all for coming and welcomed them to savor all Miami had to offer.

Everyone's flights left at around the same time, so they all decided to have dinner together. Jake asked the mayor what was a nice, expensive place that had variety for simple tastes and the mayor gave him directions to Joe's Stone Crab.

So off they went. Jake managed to score them JoAnn's room, which the host said would be ideal for a gathering with the number of people present. Thankfully, it was not booked.

Menus were passed out and Rogo opened his and his face went white. "Holy moly. A 120 bucks for crab legs? I better get soup."

Jake said, "I invited you all here, the bill's on us. And crab legs are excellent. If you haven't tried them before, you should."

They started with appetizers of shrimp cocktail and fried calamari, and Rogo almost passed out when he learned the delicious, fried seafood was octopus. Amanda wasn't feeling brave enough for crab, so she instead went with the 65 dollar ribeye, a chopped salad and lyonnaise potatoes. Everyone ordered something expensive, to Jake's delight, because he knew that for most, these were things they'd never consider ordering due to the high cost.

Vandenberg felt guilty, but he couldn't resist taking the empty chair opposite Amanda and even if it was only for a few hours, he savored having the foul-mouthed, yet beautiful woman beside him. They ended up in a conversation about the radiophone call and seeing her dressed in expensive clothes, he couldn't believe that it was the same woman that had cussed in her extreme desperation. Then Amanda proved she was one in the same.

"I don't remember all of it, but I remember saying something like, "Do I sound like I'm fucking JOKING? The fucking captain abandoned ship! He pissed and shit himself at the first sign of fucking danger and probably left a shit smear on the deck!"

Vandenberg blushed. It was definitely her, and he admitted there was something extra appealing about a beautiful woman who did not hesitate to scream profanity.

"You're lucky it wasn't in wartime," Shaw said from across the table. "You could have started a world war." There was laughter around the table.

They ate the delicious meals, and went through several bottles of Dom Perignon. Amanda couldn't resist trying a key lime martini, and it was delicious, but she made sure not to mix her alcohols too heavily. She had a flight to catch after all. Everyone but Jake wondered how Amanda could put down all the drinks, plus a steak, potatoes, and her salad and still be skinny as a rail.

As the meal concluded and Jake sent the combined bill back with his server with a credit card, the party began to disperse to catch evening flights. Bricker and Julie headed off first, with hugs all around, then Gomez and Vandenberg. Vandenberg may have hugged Amanda a moment too long, and he did give her his email, because, hey, you never knew. Rogo announced that he had to leave next, and hugged them all and said they should stay in contact and do more things like this on occasion.

"You two are the luckiest pair probably in the history of shipwrecks," Shaw told them, the party of eight now reduced to three. "You were dead. I knew you were dead and God, did it kill me. But it was so joyous to hear that news, it really was. You deserved to survive."

"He may have done the heavy lifting at the end," Amanda replied, "But I cleaned up at the poker table that first day, so any luck that was involved rubbed off from me."

Shaw laughed. "What was going through your heads? You must have been completely bloody terrified."

Jake said, "Honestly, I don't remember the terror. I just looked at that window and knew we had to get into the open air or we were screwed." It wasn't quite a lie. After all, it was the opening of a porthole that had really saved them.

They chatted for a few more moments, and then Shaw had to leave to make his flight.

"Thank you," Amanda told him as she hugged him.

Shaw looked at her with an arched brow. "For what?"

Amanda buried her head in his chest. Christ he was tall. "For letting us be VIP heroes. You kept us busy, and you let us help you when you could have told us to fuck off, and it helped. Having things to do really helped."

"The pleasure was all mine," Shaw told her. "I'd say let's do it again sometime, but I've already committed myself. I'm not even going out in a rowboat."

They laughed, exchanged information to keep in touch, and then Amanda and Jake had settled into their seats again to kill the last 15 minutes or so before they needed to collect their shit from the hotel and catch their own return flight.

Amanda nestled her head into his chest. "Thank you for this. It felt so good to see all of them again. We were fast friends, but we'll be connected together for a lifetime. And I even made a couple that were my own age."

Jake chuckled, "It's an amazing achievement, I know. I think Vandenberg was sweet on you, but I can't blame him. And since he helped save our lives, I wasn't going to say anything."

Amanda reached for her purse, dug out the little box, and snapped it open to look at the medal inside. "Amanda fucking Young, getting a medal for valour. Shit, I bet Strahm would faint."

He kissed the top of her head. "Is it better than killing people?"

Amanda shifted in her seat, wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning backwards to look into his eyes. "Mostly." He looked at her carefully. "Better than killing innocent people, sure. But if someone evil comes to tango, I'll kill him before he can even blink." She smiled.

Jake pulled his dangerous woman in close. "Fair enough. Because if someone tried to hurt you I'd do the same. If you're killing an evil person...I suppose I'll give you a pass."

They finished a last glass of the champagne and called for a taxi. 'Not bad, the bill was less than $3,000." Amanda looked at him, stunned. "The Dom was 650 a bottle. And I wouldn't have changed a single aspect of that meal. It was money well spent." And then she smiled and kissed him.

The check out from the hotel was easy, everything was packed so they left the cab waiting while they went up to the room and Jake changed into his casual clothes while Amanda kept on her fancy dress and sandals. "I spent so much on it, I should get some use out of it. Everyone will see you in your long-sleeve tee and jeans and think you're my boytoy." They shared a smile and hauled the bags to the taxi, then joined the check-in line at Miami International.

Amanda was really beginning to savor air travel. Much more than ships, that was for fucking sure. Jake had a spur of the moment idea. The plane was sparsely-filled, and so after they took off, he approached the most adventurous-looking flight attendant, waved a little cash, and he was off to the races.

"Come, I'm going to show you something." Jake said, holding out his hand as the plane leveled off in the sky en route to New York. Amanda grabbed her purse and curious, she followed him. They appeared to be the only ones in first class. He led her to the bathroom, opened the door, followed her in, and locked it.

"You ready to join the mile-high club, darling?" Amanda immediately removed her panties, kicked off her sandals, and sat on the little counter space that held the sink, spreading her legs wide. Yep, Jake thought, she was definitely ready.

And so they joined it with Amanda's legs around his waist as he stood, thrusting into her and with jeans and underwear down around his ankles. They ended up putting their hands over each other's mouths as they both climaxed, first her, then him. Amanda smiled playfully as she slipped her panties back on and stepped back into the sandals while Jake pulled his shorts back up. He gave the flight attendant a thumbs up and they returned to their seats, smiling and exhilarated from their coupling.

Amanda had quasi-prepared for the cold return to New York, pulling on a parka over the dress while Jake put his own on before they left the plane. Her feet would be cold, but that was a price she was willing to pay. The sandals really were comfy as Hell. She dashed into the warm terminal as Jake called Roger and they waited comfortably until the limo pulled up. She dashed through the cold again, giggling and diving into the limo with Jake following.

The rest of the night was spent showing off the medals and talking about the ceremony and the party afterwards.

****************************************************************************************

The next night, Kyle Donner opened his laptop and typed in the name Amanda Park into the Google News search engine. He'd been doing it every two days, seeing what came up. One article linked to the Washington Post, a brief write-up on their closed-door testimony about the Ocean Princess sinking. The photographer had gotten a shot of them waiting to be led into the chamber, and Amanda was almost unrecognizable in her designer clothes and skirt.

Another story had been posted online from the Miami Herald. Some ceremony she'd been at. Fuck, the woman sure got around. There were several photos, each containing two people, and then a handful of individual shots. In the two-shot, Amanda was holding her hubby's hand and watching someone at the podium, the second shot was a close-up solo shot of her. She was again in an obviously designer dress, sandals, showing off her tan, and smiling with aviator sunglasses perched atop her head.

Her childhood had been far worse than his. She should still be in a trailer, just where she spent her childhood, married to some drunk who kept her pregnant and in the kitchen and expected her to take care of their five, going on six, kids herself.

Yet here she was in designer clothes that her hubby paid for, elegantly made-up with cosmetics he'd paid for, her skin tanned and flawless from who knew how many trips to some spa that hubby had paid for. Her nails were flawless purple. He could see it on her fingernails and it was visible on the second photograph, as the photographer had caught one of her sandaled feet in the frame, as she had been crossing her legs when the photo was taken...She looked far younger than the 35 or so years she was, and she was happily living it up, as far away from her initial social status as could fucking be.

It wasn't fair. The bitch had basically hit the lottery. She'd keep getting rewarded with perks to make herself look young like her hubby, keep having expensive gifts thrown at her, and he would bet that the dumb son of a bitch was so enamored with her that he hadn't even thought to have her sign a pre-nup. So if and when she divorced him, after his daddy died and left him everything, Kyle was sure she'd split and take half of that vast fortune all for herself.

She wouldn't be happy to see him. Well, shit, he was young, he could tell her his emotions were all confused at the time they met, and yeah, he fucked her and abandoned her but that was because he was conflicted by his feelings for her and he ran away, and he felt guilty about it, and while he knew where she came from, if she got him a million bucks, she'd never see him again, and sorry for breaking her heart.

And who knew, maybe she had buried feelings for him too. Maybe he wouldn't have to blackmail her. Maybe if he told her his finances were awful, she'd give it to him, after all, he was her first. Maybe she'd want to go further and get them a hotel room for one last fuck to celebrate their time together. He went back to the Miami Herald photos and looked at her solo shot again. She was really a fucking knockout now, and if she was naked in a hotel bed with him, he'd definitely fuck the shit out of her, and he wouldn't wear a condom either.

A plan was forming in his head, but he still waited. He hadn't quite decided if he was going to execute it yet.