DieterM
08-05-2011, 09:18 AM
“We need to talk”, Amber said. She was standing in front of the huge bay window, her slender silhouette highlighted by the city below. Through the hidden high-tech speakers, the remastered Giulini-recording of “Don Giovanni” coated the whole living-room-area with a discrete shield of Mozart exclusivity.
“We do that quite frequently, honey, don’t we?” Edgar answered teasingly without lifting his head. The numbers on his IPad created a complex pattern, a multi-layered, hypnotizing symphony of promise and cash-flow and productivity and net growth that he eagerly gazed at.
Amber sighed before walking over to the white leather couch where he was sitting. “Really talk,” she specified and sat down beside her husband in an elegantly flowing movement. She looked at her manicured nails painted an expensive dark red, waiting for him to react.
Edgar lightly touched the screen, which went dark immediately. He put the IPad on the oversized glass-table before him, folded his fingers on his lap and smiled at Amber. She was such a beautiful woman, breathtakingly so. That noble nose; those wide, blue eyes; the fragile-looking, bare neck; the rich, black hair spilling over her frail shoulders; her ability to wear those white designer clothes with such a natural grace; the deep tan of her immaculate skin that glowed with health and softness.
“Are you free tomorrow afternoon?” Edgar asked out of the blue. “Can we meet on North Rodeo Drive?”
“Where exactly?” Amber asked back, blinking. “When? And why, for God’s sake?” She sounded taken aback by the sudden change of subject.
“I want to buy you a neat little something,” Edgar grinned liked a shy boy. He leaned over and kissed her on that soft spot right beneath her ear. How he loved that musky smell of tobacco flowers, vanilla and cocoa she was wearing. “Each drop of that ****ing – whatdotheycallit, damn? – Eau de Parfum worth the buck it costs”, that’s how Edgar’s associate had so blatantly but accurately put it.
“Oh.” Amber softened up a bit. “You must not spoil me.”
“I know. But you deserve it. And your delicious neck looks so desperately in need of some pearls. Or would you prefer a diamond?” Edgar stared at his wife, expectantly like a beggar. His voice became determined, “Let’s just do it, okay, hon? Let’s meet at Van Cleef. Is threeish alright with you?”
Amber tenderly patted his cheek. “Three is perfect, darling. You’re such a wonderful husband, do you know that?”
“Trying to do my best to match you, hon,” Edgar stood up and strolled over to the huge crystal bar to pour himself a drink. “Do you want something, too, hon?” he asked over his shoulder.
“Just a glass of that Roederer, if you want,” Amber replied slowly, gazing through the bay window with a thoughtful expression. L.A. was spread out in the distance, sparkling and shining and breathing till the end of the world. She heard a bottle being opened with a semi-loud PLOP!, liquid being poured, then the soft steps of her husband. “And above all, I want us to talk.”
“Okay, I’m back and all ears,” Edgar said, sitting down at her side, handing her the champagne flute and sipping his drink. Ice cubes clinked in the massive tumbler he was holding. “What is it, honey? You seem to be worried.”
“It’s the boy,” Amber replied. She put the champagne flute on the table without drinking.
“Oh.” Edgar had been expecting this moment, bracing himself for this discussion. “Has he done something that upset you, hon? If yes, I’ll have a stern talk with Rosita, trust me…”
“Christ, Edgar, don’t be stupid! The boy’s barely one! How could he possibly upset me? I hardly ever see him, anyway,” Amber reacted testily. Whenever she used his first name, he knew that something serious was up.
“Haven’t you told me that he’s started teething?” Edgar wanted to know, nonetheless a bit miffed by his wife’s tone.
“Oh, that.” Amber shook her hand dismissively. “Yeah, it seems. I think I heard him cry yesterday, when Karen was here. In fact, it was Karen who noticed the noise…”
“And that bothered you, hon? I do understand. It can be quite disturbing to have a brat brawl when you’re having a nice chat with your best friend…”, Edgar said.
“Well, it did not bother me, Ed! Can I finish what I have to say, please?” Amber’s voice grew impatient and annoyed. “Hell, it’s already quite difficult for me to say what I gotta say, okay?” She took a nervous sip of her champagne at last.
“Sorry, hon,” Edgar soothed her. “Go on. And take your time, if it’s so hard for you.”
“Okay. So, yes, we heard the boy cry for a while,” Amber went on, calmer now. “I simply instructed Rosalita over the intercom to take him further downstairs. I mean, you can’t possibly have a child govern your life, right? So, the nuisance didn’t last too long, okay?”
“Great. Go on, hon. What is it then?”
“Well…” A long and desperate sigh escaped Amber. “I don’t know. I can’t explain, really. I mean, it’s nothing, you know, tangible…”
“But?” Edgar sensed that there must be a ‘but’ there.
“But…” Amber needed some more champagne to find the courage. “… I don’t want it. Him. I don’t want him anymore.”
There, it was said. And Edgar had known all along.
(to be continued)
“We do that quite frequently, honey, don’t we?” Edgar answered teasingly without lifting his head. The numbers on his IPad created a complex pattern, a multi-layered, hypnotizing symphony of promise and cash-flow and productivity and net growth that he eagerly gazed at.
Amber sighed before walking over to the white leather couch where he was sitting. “Really talk,” she specified and sat down beside her husband in an elegantly flowing movement. She looked at her manicured nails painted an expensive dark red, waiting for him to react.
Edgar lightly touched the screen, which went dark immediately. He put the IPad on the oversized glass-table before him, folded his fingers on his lap and smiled at Amber. She was such a beautiful woman, breathtakingly so. That noble nose; those wide, blue eyes; the fragile-looking, bare neck; the rich, black hair spilling over her frail shoulders; her ability to wear those white designer clothes with such a natural grace; the deep tan of her immaculate skin that glowed with health and softness.
“Are you free tomorrow afternoon?” Edgar asked out of the blue. “Can we meet on North Rodeo Drive?”
“Where exactly?” Amber asked back, blinking. “When? And why, for God’s sake?” She sounded taken aback by the sudden change of subject.
“I want to buy you a neat little something,” Edgar grinned liked a shy boy. He leaned over and kissed her on that soft spot right beneath her ear. How he loved that musky smell of tobacco flowers, vanilla and cocoa she was wearing. “Each drop of that ****ing – whatdotheycallit, damn? – Eau de Parfum worth the buck it costs”, that’s how Edgar’s associate had so blatantly but accurately put it.
“Oh.” Amber softened up a bit. “You must not spoil me.”
“I know. But you deserve it. And your delicious neck looks so desperately in need of some pearls. Or would you prefer a diamond?” Edgar stared at his wife, expectantly like a beggar. His voice became determined, “Let’s just do it, okay, hon? Let’s meet at Van Cleef. Is threeish alright with you?”
Amber tenderly patted his cheek. “Three is perfect, darling. You’re such a wonderful husband, do you know that?”
“Trying to do my best to match you, hon,” Edgar stood up and strolled over to the huge crystal bar to pour himself a drink. “Do you want something, too, hon?” he asked over his shoulder.
“Just a glass of that Roederer, if you want,” Amber replied slowly, gazing through the bay window with a thoughtful expression. L.A. was spread out in the distance, sparkling and shining and breathing till the end of the world. She heard a bottle being opened with a semi-loud PLOP!, liquid being poured, then the soft steps of her husband. “And above all, I want us to talk.”
“Okay, I’m back and all ears,” Edgar said, sitting down at her side, handing her the champagne flute and sipping his drink. Ice cubes clinked in the massive tumbler he was holding. “What is it, honey? You seem to be worried.”
“It’s the boy,” Amber replied. She put the champagne flute on the table without drinking.
“Oh.” Edgar had been expecting this moment, bracing himself for this discussion. “Has he done something that upset you, hon? If yes, I’ll have a stern talk with Rosita, trust me…”
“Christ, Edgar, don’t be stupid! The boy’s barely one! How could he possibly upset me? I hardly ever see him, anyway,” Amber reacted testily. Whenever she used his first name, he knew that something serious was up.
“Haven’t you told me that he’s started teething?” Edgar wanted to know, nonetheless a bit miffed by his wife’s tone.
“Oh, that.” Amber shook her hand dismissively. “Yeah, it seems. I think I heard him cry yesterday, when Karen was here. In fact, it was Karen who noticed the noise…”
“And that bothered you, hon? I do understand. It can be quite disturbing to have a brat brawl when you’re having a nice chat with your best friend…”, Edgar said.
“Well, it did not bother me, Ed! Can I finish what I have to say, please?” Amber’s voice grew impatient and annoyed. “Hell, it’s already quite difficult for me to say what I gotta say, okay?” She took a nervous sip of her champagne at last.
“Sorry, hon,” Edgar soothed her. “Go on. And take your time, if it’s so hard for you.”
“Okay. So, yes, we heard the boy cry for a while,” Amber went on, calmer now. “I simply instructed Rosalita over the intercom to take him further downstairs. I mean, you can’t possibly have a child govern your life, right? So, the nuisance didn’t last too long, okay?”
“Great. Go on, hon. What is it then?”
“Well…” A long and desperate sigh escaped Amber. “I don’t know. I can’t explain, really. I mean, it’s nothing, you know, tangible…”
“But?” Edgar sensed that there must be a ‘but’ there.
“But…” Amber needed some more champagne to find the courage. “… I don’t want it. Him. I don’t want him anymore.”
There, it was said. And Edgar had known all along.
(to be continued)