Consequences(209)

Her life wasn’t worse than that of many others. On the contrary, it was better in many ways. She realized injustice was a widespread problem, yet many of the same questions remained: how did she end up here? How had her life’s goals been so radically modified? When she took the time to think about it, none of it made sense.


On October 14, in a Rawlings Industries jet Claire happily flew across the continent with the Simmons, the Millers, and Tony. A week earlier she would’ve considered the likelihood of their California trip occurring improbable; however, she’d spent the last week at home with her devoted husband. Each evening, the man she married returned home from his office.

The stress of his unpredictability was making her insane. Since the auction, he’d been attentive, loving, and caring. With the weather turning cooler—the days shorter—and the stress of the dual Tonys—Claire believed she was teetering literally on the edge of sanity. A strong wind was all it would take to blow her one way or the other. Iowa had its share of storms, strong winds, and tornadoes, they were all unpredictable—it made an ironic parallel for her life.

Courtney remained true to her observant promise. She knew something was askew with Claire and Tony. She didn’t know what. Claire thought the less she knew the better. Tony didn’t understand their connection. Claire tried to facilitate his misconception by complaining about Courtney, “She’s fun, but she talks so much…”

It was a ploy she prayed would work. She really needed Courtney in her life. Their plane touched down in Los Angeles on Friday night. The party was the following evening. During their flight they shared wine, laughed, and shared stories of Eli’s previous parties. Apparently, the sky’s the limit regarding behaviors with the Hollywood scene. Claire waited anxiously to experience it for herself. The Simmons and Millers were dropped off at a five-star hotel while the Rawlings went to their apartment.

The LA housekeeper met them at the door, while a driver took their luggage to their room. Tony explained they would like a light dinner, as soon as possible. Claire wasn’t hungry—her head ached. She only wanted to unpack and go to sleep. Once alone, Tony assumed his alternate persona. “Tomorrow evening we will be in an overtly public arena. It wasn’t long ago when a glitch occurred in a setting such as this.”


She didn’t want to hear him. “Tony, please don’t start this again.” The flight, wine, and aching head contributed to Claire’s irritability. Her insolent retort stunned him momentarily. Recovery didn’t take long. As she carried clothes to the dresser, he seized her arm and turned her to face him.

“Claire, I do not appreciate your flippant attitude. There’ll be many more journalists present than you’ve experienced at one time.”

His grip hurt. She looked directly into his eyes and stood tall, as he glowered over her. “I assure you my attitude is not flippant. It’s just that you are increasingly repetitive. I know the speech and I know—” She didn’t get the chance to finish her sentence. It was the first strike since her accident. She remained standing, but temporarily dazed—more by disbelief than pain.

He spoke again, as if he hadn’t just shattered his promise and her security, leaving her house of glass lying in a pile of shards. “You have a responsibility and I expect you to behave appropriately”—he let go of her arm, walked to the suitcase, and pulled out Claire’s hiking boots—“By the way, would you like to know why these are packed?”

Her mind wheeled as he changed subjects—she was having difficulty keeping up. Refusing to cry—she exhaled and took the bait. “Why do I have my hiking boots?”