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Chapter 15-The Second Encounter

Paul couldn't wait for the door to close behind him. There was no doubt in his mind about what had caused the attack. He couldn't afford to get excited about anything anymore. It was really becoming a terrible nuisance. He looked at his watch as he dialled the number Nico had given him and listened to the phone ring three or four times. He didn't know why he was so certain, but he was. Had been from the moment Nico started to describe Sophia Johnson. He would try to see the girl; maybe then he'd know for sure. Or maybe not. Maybe the changes would be too great. He wondered if he'd really know. And then, as he wondered, the girl answered the phone. Paul took a breath, closed his eyes, and spoke smoothly into the receiver. No one would have known he'd had an attack half an hour before.

"Miss Johnson? This is Paul Blofis of Jackson Group of Companies."

The conversation was brief, cold, and awkward, and Paul knew nothing more when she hung up than he had when he dialled but he would know. In exactly three days. The girl had been so calm and her voice soft and smooth and very modulated. There was no sign of panic. Maybe he was wrong. They had an appointment at four o'clock on a Thursday afternoon in three days. Paul marked it on his calendar, and then sat back and closed his eyes. The meeting might tell him nothing, and yet… there were some things he had to say. He only hoped he lived for another three days.

The clock seemed to tick interminably as he sat in the living room of his suite at the Jackson Hotel. It offered an impressive view of the bay and beyond, but Paul Blofis was not interested in the view. He was thinking about the girl. What had become of her? What did she look like? Had Luke Castellan really wrought the wonders he had promised two years before? Nico had seen a stranger when he met Sophia Johnson. But what about Percy— would he still recognize her? And was she in love with someone else now, or, like Percy, had she become bitter and withdrawn? It made Paul think of his step son again as he waited for this stranger who might indeed turn out to be the girl Percy had once loved. But what if she wasn't? She could be just anyone, a local artist who had caught Nico's eye. Maybe his theory was all wrong. Maybe…

He closed his eyes. He was exhausted. He should have given himself a day to rest before seeing the girl. But he was too anxious to put the meeting off for another day. He had to know. He looked up at the mantel clock again. It was four fifteen. He thought of Percy and how unhappy he had been. He sighed. Had he done the wrong thing? Had he been totally mad two years before? Had he asked too much of the girl? No. Probably not. She had been the wrong girl for Percy. And in time, perhaps, he'd find someone. There was no reason why he shouldn't. He certainly had everything it took: looks, money, position. He was going to be chairman of one of the leading companies in the world. He was a man with power and talent, gentleness and charm.

His face softened again as he thought of Percy. How good and strong he was … and how lonely. He even maintained a certain distance from him. It was as though some part of him had never bounced back. At least the drinking and brooding had stopped, but only to be replaced by a bleak, jagged determination that showed in his eyes. Like a man who has struggled through the desert for too long, determined to make it, but no longer quite sure why. And yet he had so much to be happy about; such a good life to enjoy. But he never took time to enjoy anything. He wasn't even entirely sure he enjoyed his work.

He was still thinking when the buzzer at the door of the suite suddenly interrupted his thoughts. He started, as though for a moment he had forgotten where he was. It was four twenty-five. The girl was twenty-five minutes late. But secretly, he was glad for the time alone.

He set his face in a dignified mask and walked sedately to the door. And as he opened the door, an elegant young woman entered with an artist's portfolio in her hand.

"Miss Johnson?"

"Yes." Sophia nodded with a small taut smile. "Mr. Blofis?" But she knew. She had not seen Paul that night because her eyes were bandaged, but she had seen enough photographs of him in newspaper and magazines. This was the man who had haunted her dreams for two years.

"How do you do?" Paul extended a cool, firm hand, and they shook hands ceremoniously just inside the door, before Paul made a gesture toward the suite. "Won't you come in?"

"Thank you."

The two eyed each other with interest and caution, and Paul seated himself easily in a chair near the table. He had a room set up a tea service there and some soft drinks for her guest. It seemed a great deal of trouble to go to for a girl who had already cost him almost five million dollars. If this was the girl. He eyed her carefully, but he could see nothing. There was no resemblance to any of the photographs he had seen over the years. This was not the same girl. At least he didn't seem to be. But Paul sat back to watch her, and listen. He would always remember that torn, broken voice as they had made the agreement.

"What may I offer you to drink? Tea? Soda? We can order a drink if you like."

"No, thank you, Mr. Blofis. I'd really just prefer to …" But her voice trailed off as they watched each other, the pretext of their meeting almost forgotten as the older man appraised the younger, watched her move, studied the shape and texture of her hair, and then glanced quickly at the overall picture again. She was a terribly pretty girl, in very expensive clothes. Paul found himself wondering if she were spending his living allowance on outfits like that one. Her wool dress bore the distinct mark of Paris, her suede handbag and shoes were Gucci.

"That's a very attractive coat, by the way. Must be a marvellous weight for this city. I envy you for the easy climate. I left the Philippines in hot humid weather with…," he smiled winningly at the girl, "an upcoming tropical storm. Do you know the Philippines?"

It was a loaded question and Sophia knew it. "Not much. Just knew a little about that tropical country." She was pure Sophia now; there wasn't a trace of Annabeth.

"I saw your work. They're good."

"Thank you." And then without further ado, Sophia reached toward her portfolio, put it on her lap as Paul watched her, and unzipped the case. She smilingly handed Paul a thick black book with copies of her work. The book was large and unwieldy, and the older man seemed to falter as he took it. It was then that Sophia noticed the violent trembling of his hands, and how weak he was when he tried to hold the book. Time had not been kind to Paul Blofis after all. Was it possible that some of her ugly prayers had been answered? She watched the man intently, but Paul seemed to regain his composure as he silently turned the pages.

"I can see why Nico was so anxious to sign you for our center. You do extraordinarily fine work. You must have been at this for years." For once it was an innocent question, and Sophia shook her head.

"No, painting is new to me. And this is my first gallery show."

"Ah yes, Nico mentioned that." Yet Paul seemed surprised. He had actually forgotten this might be Annabeth Chase he was talking to; he was so engrossed in the beautiful work.

Sophia smiled at the man. An almost eerie exchange was going on. She felt as though she were watching Paul Blofis through a trick mirror: she could see Paul plainly, yet the person Paul saw was actually someone else. Sophia thought that she alone knew the secret.

"What made you start up a career as a painter?" Paul looked up, intrigued.

"Because everything in my life changed very suddenly, so much so that I became a new person. The painting was part of that old life, that old me. Then suddenly, I knew I had to ignite and make a new start." Paul almost winced at the words.

"I see. Well, the world has gained a lot, from what I can see anyway. You're a marvellous artist. Who got you started? Undoubtedly one of the local greats. There are so many out here."

But Sophia only shook her head, with a small smile. It was strange. She had come here to hate this man, and now she found that she couldn't. Not quite. She didn't like him. But she couldn't hate him, either. He looked so tired and frail and sick. He wore a death mask carefully concealed with those bewitching smiles. Sophia forced herself back to the man's question, trying to remember what that question was…. Oh, yes.

"No, actually, it was a friend who got me started. My doctor, in fact. He's been responsible for getting me launched as a painter. He knows everyone in town."

"Luke Castellan?" The words were soft and dreamy on Paul Blofis' lips, as though he hadn't meant to speak them, and then they were both shocked into silence.

"Do you know him?" Why had the man said that? Did he know? But he couldn't. Had Luke … No, he'd never do that.

"I… yes …" Paul hesitated for a long moment and then looked at her squarely. "Yes, Annabeth, I do. He did a beautiful job on you." It was a long shot. A wild guess. But he had to say it, even if he made a fool of himself. He had to know.

"There must be some misunderstanding. My name is Sophia—" and then, like a rag doll, she crumpled. There were tears in her eyes as she stood up and walked away to stand at the window with her back to the room. "How did you know?" The voice was shattered and angry. The voice of two years before. Paul sat back in his chair, tired but relieved. Somehow it comforted him to know he had been right. He had not made this difficult trip for nothing. "Did someone tell you?" Sophia demanded.

"No. I guessed. I don't even know why. But I had a feeling the first time Nico mentioned you to us. The details fit."

"Did—" Damn. She wanted to ask him about Percy. She wanted to … Would this never end? Would they never go away? "Why did you come here? To reconfirm our deal? Sophia wheeled on her heels at the window, to stare at the man who tormented her. "To make sure I'd stick with my promise?"

"You've already proven that." Paul's voice was tired and gentle, and uncharacteristically old. "No, I'm not even sure I understand it myself, but I came to see you. To talk to you. To find out how you are, if indeed it was you."

"Why now? Why should I be so interesting to you after two years?" Suddenly she remembered the hospital room. And the night they made the bargain. And the pain. "Why now, Mr. Blofis? Or were you just curious to take a look at Luke's work? Was that it? Well, how do you like your five million-dollar baby? Was it worth it?"

"You know the answer to that. Was it? Are you pleased?" He hoped so. He suddenly, desperately hoped so. They had all paid such a high price for that new face. It had been wrong. Suddenly he was sure of it. But it was too late. They were not the same people anymore. The girl had changed. He could see that. And so did Percy. It was far, far too late, for either of them. They would have to find their dreams somewhere else. "You're a very beautiful girl now, Sophia."

"Thank you. Yes, I know Luke did a good job. But it was like making a deal with the devil. A face for a life." With a ragged sigh Sophia sank into a chair.

"And I'm the devil." Paul's voice trembled as he looked at the girl. "I suppose it's an obscene thing to say to you now, but at the time I thought I was doing the right thing."

"And now?" Sophia looked at him squarely. "Is Percy happy, Mr Blofis? Is he happy?" she asked her voice trembling as she said his name. "Was it worth getting rid of me? Are you now happy, now that I'm out of Percy's life? You succeeded in setting us apart, the mission was a success?"

"No, Sophia. Percy isn't happy, anymore than you are. I always thought he'd pick up his life again. I assumed you'd do the same. Something tells me, though, that you haven't. Not that I have any right to ask."

"No, you don't. And …Percy… He's not married?" She hated herself for it, but she prayed for a no.

"Yes, he is." Sophia almost felt herself gasp and then catch her breath again. "To his work. He lives, eats, sleeps, and breathes it. As though he hopes to get lost in it forever. I hardly ever see him."

Good, you bastard. Good! "Then would you say you'd been wrong? I loved him…you know .. More than anything in life." Then she bowed down as she sat weakly on the chair.

"I know. But I thought it would pass."

"Has it?"

"Perhaps. He never mentions you."

"Did…did he ever try to find me?" They were almost like a sob.

Paul slowly shook his head. "No." But he did not tell her the reason why. The lie weighed on him even as he said the word, and saw the girl's face set in a fresh mask of hatred. There was silence…

Then she stood up frozen . She closed her eyes as tears rolled her face. She can't control them. It was as if a knife stabbed her a thousand times. Then, she took a deep breath.

"All right then, why am I here? Just to satisfy your curiosity? To show you my work? Why?" her eyes blazing with anger.

"I'm not sure, Annabeth. I'm sorry … Sophia. I simply had to see you. To know how it had gone with you. I… I suppose it's maudlin to say it, but I'm dying you know." He looked faintly sorry for himself as he faced the girl, and then he was annoyed for having told her. But Sophia did not appear moved. She stared at the man for a very long time and then in a soft, broken voice she spoke.

"I'm sorry to hear it, Mr. Blofis. But I died two years ago. And it sounds to me as though Percy did, too. That's two of us… in your hands. To be honest with you, it's hard for me to feel a great deal of sympathy for you. I suppose I should be grateful to you. Thank you for your money. Thank you from the bottom of my heart that men turn and stare at me every day, instead of running from me in horror. I suppose I should feel a lot of things, but I don't. I don't feel anything. The emptiness, the loneliness of it all. I tried to make the most of it, tried to fool myself that everything will be fine, at least I am alive. At least I got to enjoy this physical comfort your money brought me. Thank you. But deep inside, I'm also dying. Everything is just physical. You stripped me of everything that I had, of everything that was important to me. Now, I've got nothing anymore. All for a new life, for a new face, for a new world as you call it."

Paul nodded silently, feeling the full weight of the girl's reproach. He knew it all himself. Secretly, he had known it for two years. About Percy anyway. He hadn't known about the girl. Maybe that was why he had to come. "I don't know what to say."

"Good-bye will be fine." Sophia picked up her coat and her portfolio and walked to the door of the suite. She stopped for a moment at the door, her hand on the knob, her head bowed, and tears still falling down her face. She turned slowly then, to look at Paul and saw tears running down his face too. The older man was speechless in his private agony, but the young girl managed to catch her breath and speak again. In between sobs, she said "Good-bye, Mr. Blofis. Give … give Percy … my love." She closed the door softly behind her, but Paul didn't move. He felt his heart rip through his lungs with long searing pains. Gasping for air, he stumbled toward the buzzer that would summon an attendant. He managed to press it once before passing out.