Chapter 3: Poisonous Ties
"Why are you here?" Hilary asked, wiping wet cheeks and chin, letting hardened anger take heed. "How did you find me?"
She looked into the stern gaze of her father. He was tall, around a proud six foot. Wrinkles on his weathered, stretched face spoke of trials and tribulations, of exhausted running from countless mistakes. Hair was cut low and professional, lightly sheened. Black mole puckered beside long lashed right eye. He wore a black suit and black shirt and tie, looking as though escaping a rich friend's funeral.
"I have been looking all over for you, my elusive daughter," he said, voice deep and booming like a soft beaten kettledrum. "Nice home you have."
Devon came into the living room, keys in hand, staring quizzically.
"What's going on?" Devon asked.
Hilary put her hands on her father's chest, pushing him further into the shadows. She shut front door.
"We should just eat in," she said, masking distraught, cleaning roughly with yellow sleeve before facing questioning boyfriend.
"Hilary, who was that?"
He came near.
Hesitation arrived and sat inside Hilary's chest, suffocating her.
She hated lying to Devon. Hated keeping things hidden below the surface. They were so open with each other, so free of taint. She lived a splendid dream of having a handsome, charming prince rescue the side of her wanting savior, that side of her wanting a great man. Devon was a great man. Flawed, yes, but great. At least to her. He was the one man championing her, accepting bad parts of her equaling the good. No strings attached. Nagging consciousness coaxed truest trust, to let him inside. Absolutely inside. With Devon, she wouldn't have to lie in toxic memories alone.
"Who do we think we are?" The grating negative crept in and sank spirits, drowning her slow and steady. "Living in some fairy tale cottage knowing full well that the most important members of Genoa City, Devon's beloved family, would never accept your relationship, never accept you into tight, tender cusp of their close-knitted circle."
Hilary was an outcast. And further still, the real truth would further damage them.
She could already imagine the venom Lily would spit at her.
"That was no one," she fibbed. "He just had the wrong house."
Falsehood tasted vile. She could puke in any moment. But she swallowed guilt and touched Devon's strong shoulders, hiding behind glassy smile threatening to crack and shatter into smithereens.
"Well, since we're eating in..." Devon stroked her back and hugged her close. Oh how his love mated with her love, mated in the air, fighting to envelope doubt. She loved him like she never loved another man. She didn't want to destroy its fragile beauty, crush it with something as painful as what she had done with her father.
She knew he wanted to know. He could feel the secret. He must.
Hilary pulled away from his healing tendencies, putting off inevitable task and forced more garbage to spew through mechanically moving lips.
"You know what, I... Peanut and I have a craving."
"What is it? Whatever you need."
Hilary wrote out a list of ingredients that could only be purchased at one store. Far. Far away.
"Okay."
"Thank you."
She wouldn't let him leave just yet, stealing his hands, cupping and rubbing them. Her lips met his, unlocking keys to desire, to once in a lifetime love. Devon's hands swung over around her back, enjoying delicious pleasure, the fruitful wine of her inviting tongue both providing and robbing sustainable breath.
"I love you," she sighed, breaking away.
"I love you," he repeated, stroking her face, hazed from he glow of short ecstasy. "I'll be back, okay?"
"Okay."
Within minutes, she heard Devon's Rolls Royce engine start and drive off. She shrugged turbulent animosity, waiting and waiting.
The knock came.
She whirled the door opened.
"Douglas Turner, why the hell are you here?" She yelled, disheartened spirit seeping into her broken voice. "And I want the truth this time."
"Wow, no more 'Daddy' greetings," he said, tugging too hard on lost little girl strings.
"You haven't earned the title in quite some time," Hilary snapped, refusing to cave.
"Ann, look."
"Hilary. My name is Hilary now. Hilary Curtis."
"Oh yes. That's right. Will you invite me in?"
"That depends."
"On what, Sweetie?"
"Don't call me that. If I let you in, you be straight. No lies."
"Alright. Alright." He held hands as if in a standoff. "I promise no lies."
A distrustful brow raised. She opened door wider and inspected him, wary, hugging cardigan close.
He took in gilded realistic oil paintings lining pistachio green walls and sheer white lace bellowing over floor length golden yellow curtains of modest sized windows. Plush crimson carpet complemented, giving a young couple's home a sense of warmth and comfort. He glanced at cream velvety soft sofa with accented teal and burgundy pillows. Hilary's slim silver Mac notebook and scattered labeled manila folders neat in composition as if too afraid to be complete disarray took oak coffee table precedence. Elaborate bookshelf lined with varied first edition volumes. He walked by rare, expensive books just to pick up silver ornate framed photograph of Hilary and Devon off polished mantle. Beautiful, smiling portrait hovered above dead embers and old ash in the fireplace. Hilary saw the metaphor in that their father/daughter relationship, out of season, out of date. Likely to never blaze again with roaring affection.
"So you've snagged a billionaire, huh? The Chancellor heir?" Douglas asked, eyes covered in shiny dollar signs.
Hilary shook her head and covered her face in opened palms.
Disappointment pulled her thoughts into unforgotten beseeching undertow.
/
Devon wasn't sure what occurred. One minute they were readying for dinner and the next Hilary acted remote, distant. The stranger shook her. He admitted being hurt that she wouldn't confide why, but he would wait. Wait for her to set free.
He flashed back to his father requesting a family gathering. He wished that could happen. Wished it bad. They were the most important people in his life. They deserved truth and honesty and respect. He was tired of dodging them, of living some undercover existence with the woman he loved above all.
Velvet black box seemed to burn a hole in his pocket. He took it out and gazed. Earlier memories came crashing as he paused at the red light. Hating Hilary after discovering what she was about, throwing money in her direction so she would leave town, yelling foul insults, temper tantrums...
When had those sparks turned to passion? Turned into wanting something more than assuaging lust?
Despite his father's warnings, he wanted to go through with asking Hilary to marry him. He loved her. Nothing would change the course of his heart. The compass was made. Set in a beautiful infinity stone. Hilary was the one. Hilary was it.
Proposing over a plate of thirty-five dollar spaghetti sounded nice. He was sure most men did that. Proposed at some fancy expensive eatery or at some famous tourist attraction overseas. Maybe fate suggested getting down on bended knee at their home would make for a more romantic alternative.
"There is nothing wrong with that idea," he mumbled to himself, driving into modest filled parking lot.
His smile returned, but did little to ease sporadic nerves. He wanted to tell Lily and their father. He needed them to know about Hilary. However, he kept picturing the pool incident and how worse it could have been. Sometimes Lily filled his nightmares. She would push Hilary much more violently, blood filling the pool, staining clear water. He would hear Dr. Gillian's voice, "the baby did not make it" repeat over and over.
Of course, he kept these fears silent. He would not voice to Hilary despite being able to tell her anything.
He didn't understand Lily. Cane had pulled horrible stunts. Yet Lily forgave him. Why could she not forgive Hilary? Why could she not see that Hilary had changed? He wished Lily's hatred would melt away, albeit their relationship would be strained. Strained was better than volatile.
"That's asking for too much," he thought. Of course, Lily would forgive Cane. She loved him. She owed Hilary no such kindness or compassion.
He was almost finished at Ralph's Market, grabbing one last item before encountering nemesis again.
"Are you following me?" Devon asked snidely.
"Nope," Mason said, pretending to be interested in cereal boxes. He carried red plastic basket filled with milk cartons, greens, apples, and... condoms.
"I don't need to be seeing you more than once a day," Devon snorted. "In fact, I would like to not be seeing you at all."
"Same here."
"I'm glad that we had this talk."
Devon continued strolling down the aisle.
"Wait," Mason called out.
Devon turned around slowly and arched a brow.
"I don't have the time to play mind games with you, Mason."
"You know, things aren't always so perfect." He picked up Wheaties.
"What is that supposed to mean?" Devon took his hands off the cart and folded them across his chest, not buying Mason's line of unneeded advice.
"Nothing. Just stating facts."
"I can tell you where to shove your facts."
"Listen, I know that you and Hilary are screwing around."
"What?! You have been following me! I will have you arrested for stalking. Not a good look for a known identity thief!"
"Look genius, I saw from the get go that it was only a matter of time before you two started kicking it between the sheets. Spare me the 'how dare you' routine."
"What do you want? Money?"
"Wow. So you really aren't planning to tell your dad, your hot sister? I wonder if she-"
"I don't want to hear another word said about Lily from your dirty, filthy mouth."
"Temper. Temper. Better watch it or you could lose all that money from Grandma Six Feet Under."
Devon balled aggravated fists, dying to give a blow.
"Watch how you talk about my grandmother."
"I just think you better be careful about that serpent in your bed." Mason neared, smirking. "She likes to bite."
Devon had it, pushing him into boxes. Mason laughed and laughed, seeming not phased at all.
Outside, Devon let outside temperature cool off his frustration.
"Devon!" Gwen called.
Oh great, he sighed inwardly. He was anxious to return home. Hilary brightened him. Always.
"Gwen, hi."
"I seem to be having trouble."
He looked over, seeing that a brand new red Mazda refused to start. He lowered his brown paper bagged groceries on the ground.
"Let's open the hood."
Smoke escaped, evaporating into air, coming for lungs intrusion.
He coughed and shut it back quickly, sputtering and holding his chest.
"Oh my gosh Devon are you alright?" Gwen asked, touching him. "I'm so sorry. I will just call a tow. I cannot believe that happened. Bryan was just fine when we got here."
"Bryan," Devon said, finished near collapsing. "Who's Bryan?"
"My car, Silly."
She smiled. He laughed.
"That's weird. Who gives their car a boy's name?"
"A lady whose first boyfriend's name was Bryan."
"Touche." He picked up his groceries. "Well, let me at least give you a ride home."
"Are you sure? It's a little out of the way of the athletic club."
"It's okay."
Gwen gushed about math and science, so Devon figured he would sneak in his favorite subject to keep from dozing off at the wheel.
"How is it like working at Jabot? With Hilary and my dad and everything? They treating you okay?"
"Oh yes. Hilary is a nice girl. Very secretive."
Devon smiled.
"Word around the office is that she's seeing someone."
"Oh. They gossip about her?"
"How can they not? It's obvious how she got the job."
Devon cleared his throat.
"What do you mean by that Gwen? My father recommended her."
"Oh. I didn't realize..."
"Hilary made a lot of mistakes when she came to town. We're all giving her a second chance."
"Not everyone. Lily seems to be on the unforgiving end."
"You've been talking to my sister."
"Yes. Make a turn here on the left."
He turned.
"The thing is Devon, I like Hilary. She is smart and sophisticated. We speak French during lunch. It's just... Lily said some things..."
"Lily is still hurting."
"Right." She then blurted. "What are you doing this weekend?"
"Ummmmm..."
"I'm usually cranking numbers, but Jack has given me time off. Apparently it's because Neil and Hilary are going to Los Angeles this weekend and I won't be getting those receipts back until-"
"Wait. Hold up. Did you say Neil and Hilary are going away? To Los Angeles?"
"Yes. What's wrong with that?"
"Nothing."
"Why are you upset?"
"I'm not upset."
"You look upset."
"It's nothing."
"This is it." She grabbed her purse and bag, ready to leave. Instead she looked at him and smiled. "Devon, can I be honest?"
"Yes."
"I really like you. I was hoping..."
Oh great. Devon did not need this. But he expected it.
"Listen, Gwen. You're beautiful and everything, but you're-"
Annoying. Judgmental. Grating...
"You don't like me."
"Gwen-"
"But Neil said." She shook her head and immediately escaped the car. "I can't believe this!"
"What do you mean? What did my father say?"
"He implied that you... oh just forget it. Just forget this ever happened. Thanks for the lift okay."
She took her groceries and ran straight into her apartment building.
Devon's brows furrowed. Why the hell did his father try to set him up with Gwen when he knew Devon was ready to marry Hilary?
/
"First Devon. Now you. Why are you both so secretive about your women these days?" Lily asked, stretching out on Neil's black leather recliner.
"You will meet her in due time," Neil said, daydreaming about Hilary, wondering if deep down inside she thought about him too.
"When?" Lily groaned.
"Granddaddy got a girlfriend! Granddaddy got a girlfriend," Charlie chanted melody, interrupting Neil from spilling concocted untruths. He was close by, sitting on the burnt sienna carpet, slamming large ice cream and fireman trucks into Maddie's Black Barbie dream house.
"Awww, isn't it sweet?" Lily asked, ruffling her son's wild golden brown curls. "Your unseen girlfriend already has a fan."
"I'm a fan too, Mommy!" Maddie squealed, making Black Barbie stomp on Charlie's rampage. "Where is she, Granddaddy?"
"Not here, Sweetie. I do think you will like her as much as I do."
"Really?" Her doting eyes looked up at him, sparkling with pure childish glee.
"Yes."
"Is she pwretty?"
"Yes. Very pwretty."
"Will you guys get married?"
"Enough twenty questions," she scolded Maddie, grinning, rubbing Neil's shoulder. She dropped her voice a notch. "I'm so glad you're getting out there, Dad. So proud of you. Even after Leslie, you found love again."
"Leslie is not the be all, Lily. But this one is."
"Prove it. How about inviting her out to the family barbecue?" Her cell vibrated. "Wait a sec." She checked and read the screen. "This is Cane. He's downstairs."
"He doesn't want to come up?" Neil wanted to bide time, stay seconds longer watching grandchildren play with toys. "Say hello to his father-in-law."
"Don't take this personally but nope!" She kissed his cheek and got up from the couch, waving towards the twins. "C'mon kiddies, Daddy's waiting!"
"Daddy! Daddy!" Charlie and Maddie cried in unison, racing to the door.
"You're not even going to give your Granddaddy a goodbye hug and kiss?"
They came back over, hugging and smothering him with wet kisses.
Charlie and Maddie warmed coldness inside his heart. That warmth breaking through icy coldness showed he wasn't too old to enjoy children, that soon Hilary and he would fill a happy home with them.
After Lily and his grandchildren left, Mason called.
"Part two is on and Rich Boy's on the move."
"Follow him."
Mason tailed him all the way to south side fancy grocery store.
"You wouldn't believe this," Mason revealed. "That pretty little Jabot accountant is here. She's just getting out of her car. What a coincidence!"
"Hmmmm..." Neil stroked his chin, another plot forming in his mind. Earlier after lunch with Devon, laying the pressure down thick for his son to set Hilary marriage proposal aside, he told wolfish tales to Gwen, filling her gullible head with empty promises. Although as he spoke, he wanted them to be real, wanted Devon and Gwen to build a solid foundation together. He could see them moving into that cottage, see Gwen replacing his Hilary in the photographs. He saw it all forming the more he fabricated and invented for Gwen, for complacent, eager to please Gwen. She had licked her lips and allowed Neil to see her bright eyes sparkling like an intern desiring something bigger than themselves, something more than building hours of labor without payoff.
"Is this of interest to you?" Mason asked.
"Yes," Neil answered. "Yes. It is."
"How so?"
"None of your concern. Just fix her car so that she is the damsel to Devon's distress."
It was as though fate perfected situation for him, as if fate knew Hilary would be his. Puzzle pieces were just falling, sliding in without difficulty.
He crossed his legs, stroking bearded chin again, smile covering his face, reflecting on part two. Douglas Turner wanted to be found. A man in dire situation, escaping the law, revealing fear for his lost beloved Ann.
"I know where she is," Neil had said, selling her out over the phone, voice disguised, filling desperate Douglas in.
Thudding knock invaded Neil's glee.
"Son, what brings you by tonight?" Neil asked, not surprised to see his scowling son.
Devon marched right in.
"What is going on?" He asked, unable to hold fury and contempt.
"What do you mean, Son?" Neil sounded concerned, but inside happiness flooded every pore.
"Gwen just tried to put moves on me. I think you know why."
"Yes. She has a crush on you. I thought she should go for it."
And Gwen ate it up- hook, line, and sinker.
"You know I'm serious about getting married," Devon huffed. "This is not some whim. I'm in love."
"You said that you were in love with Roxanne too," Neil reminded him.
"Stop bringing up Roxanne!"
"Calm down. Why are you so upset? I'm sorry about Gwen. I just think you should give her a chance before you tie yourself down. Get to know her. She's intelligent. She's beautiful. Right up your alley."
Devon paced back and forth, agitated.
"Sounds like she would be perfect for you," Devon groaned. He reached into Neil's glass cabinet and picked up a clean crystal. He poured water from the living room decanter and took a long swallow. He acted like water, not alcohol, granted liquid courage. "What's this I hear about Los Angeles?"
Neil hid urge to smirk and wallow in his jealousy.
Now, you know how it feels, Son. The torture, the agony...
"Gwen told you."
"Yes, and not... I mean. Yes. Gwen told me."
"Hilary and I are going to Los Angeles to pitch another idea to Forester."
Neil sat on the couch, coolly watching Devon, wondering if this would be the time he cracked and "revealed" all.
"What does that have to do with Jabot?" Devon asked. "The line is cosmetics right?"
"Yes. And?" Neil's brow rose, expectant, waiting.
Devon sat down beside him, inches apart, worrisome and still agitated.
"I just don't see why you two are doing this. Forester is primarily clothes."
"Son, that's why we're doing this. We want them to branch out."
"I don't think that's the main objective. At least not for you."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
Devon stared at Neil bravely, with confrontation in his eyes.
"It's Hilary, isn't it? You want her."