Real Love

Chapter 3

Writer's Notes:

'Real Love' is my personal tribute to JammyJimmy's (JJ) story, 'Threads: The Island'. I give JJ credit, because credit is due, for this story and for my own inspiration and entrance into writing. 'Real Love' is actually the first story I wrote, even before 'Tale of Two Teens', my first published story.

As I was writing this story way back when, I was hoping JJ would be the editor. Having been unable to make contact with him, I have been reluctant to release it. Some say JJ has passed away, but I don't know. JJ, if you read this and want this story removed, please contact me. Several readers have relayed to me, both publically and privately, that they would like it released.

Therefore, 'Real Love' is an unauthorized, reimagined rewrite and sequel to JJ's story, 'Threads: The Island'. The general storyline in JJ's story is embedded in this story. Several of the character names have been changed because this is my story. Anyone who has read JJ's story will identify the characters quickly, starting with my main character, Bradley Weber, formerly known as Kyle Watson in JJ's story.

This story is long, but tolerant and filled with several emotions. If you stick with it, you will experience euphoria, happiness, sadness, sorrow and it will make you horny. You'll be disgusted, pissed off, scared and you'll grieve, cry, frown, smile and sometimes, you'll laugh, I hope.

'Real Love' starts off slow, but gains speed with age. Feel free to leave comments about what you like and what you dislike about the story. Feedback is a good thing for those writers who want to know what reader's like and dislike about their stories.

Please don't be mean in the comments because those that put in many hours over a period of several months, and thought into designing and writing these stories don't appreciate it, nor do they deserve it.

I do hope you enjoy the 'Real Love' series. Just don't forget one important detail -- it's fiction. Please do give us 'not so professional' writers a little slack.

JJ, wherever you are, whatever you're doing, fair winds and following seas my friend.

Let the saga of Bradley Weber continue...

MDSW

* * * * *

Three years have passed since the memorable night with Julie and the lap dance with Sahara. After Julie departed on her trip back to New York, Brad realized he didn't get any contact information from her and he's been kicking himself in the ass ever since. He knows she went to Berkeley College, or did she? She lied about her name, did she also lie about her college? Is she really a photographer? Too many unanswered questions gave Brad masturbation inspiration to the memory of both Sahara and Julie.

It's a tragedy at best, but in his leisure, Julie has given him more memories than any other girl he's been with. Now it's behind him and he has to move on with life, but will never forget either of them.

* * * * *

The phone rings on Brad's desk. He frowns, not needing another interruption. For the last two hours, he's been explaining what he's doing to two directors that suddenly show up out of the blue. Over the weekend, he's been working twenty plus hour days trying to get the recommendation done for his company to purchase EDIT, an electronic records management application and he's nearing completion.

He picks up the phone saying, "Hello. Bradley Weber, Business Strategy Team. How can I help you?" he says, answering his phone, the standard answer whenever an internal call comes to his desk.

"It's reception. There's a Mr Alden here to see you. Says he's a lawyer."

Bradley frowns. Another interruption.

"I don't have him as an appointment."

"He says it's urgent that he speaks with you," the security guy at reception states.

"Umm, okay. I'll be right down."

"Cheers."

The other end of the line goes dead as Brad heads to the elevator, hoping he can get rid of him in a hurry and get back to work. A frown is creasing his features, wondering why a lawyer is here to see him. There's nothing legal he's involved in at work, he knows he's a pretty well behaved guy and he knows he's up to date on his car loan payments and all that.

He enters the elevator and hits the button for the ground floor. Leaning against the wall, he tries to think of a single reason why a lawyer would want to see him, but by the time the doors opens and he reaches the reception desk, he still hasn't come up with a single reason.

"He's in there," the portly security guy grunts, poking a thumb in the direction of several vacant meeting rooms HR uses for interviews.

Brad looks over, seeing an elderly man, around the age of retirement, in one of them, but there's something very sharp about him. Maybe the slicked back white hair, or the black suit, shirt and tie, but from his initial glance, Bradley won't be surprised to find out that this guy is Lucifers lawyer. He has that supremely confident look about him.

His frown still on his face, Brad opens the door.

"Hi. I'm Bradley Weber. My friends call me Brad. Can I help you with something Sir?"

The lawyer immediately stands offering a surprisingly warm handshake.

"I'm Mr Alden, Brad. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me on such short notice."

"Sure," Brad says, closing the door and taking a seat opposite the old man. "Do you mind if you tell me straight away what it is you want? We've got two company directors in the building today, so it's kinda busy upstairs."

The old man nods.

"Very well. I'm sure you're wondering why a lawyer has turned up out of the blue to see you. It involves an inheritance from a relative and you're one of the listed beneficiaries."

Brad's eyes widen at the lawyers words.

"Oh."

"Not what you were expecting?" Mr Alden asks, an eyebrow raised at the expression on Brad's face.

"I didn't know what to expect, but this wasn't even on the list," Brad admits. "Who are we talking about here? I'm not aware of any relatives of mine that has died."

He frowns as he thinks about it.

"Not in the last few years anyway. Are you sure I'm the right Brad Weber?"

"I'm absolutely sure."

The lawyers confident expression leaves Brad in little doubt, confusing him further.

"So... Um... Who died?" Brad asks.

"For that answer, please bear with me for a few moments while I show you a few things," Mr Alden says, flicking open his briefcase and removing several Manilla folders, placing them on the table before him. The old man's fingers tap for a few seconds on the files before he clears his throat.

"Brad, you're twenty three years old, born on the 19th of March, correct?"

The lawyer's tone is precise, factual, and Brad nods.

"Yeah... Would you tell me who you're representing please Sir?"

"I need to show you a few things first, then I will tell you. Please bear with me. What I'm about to tell you will come as a bit of a shock."

He flicks open the first file, containing several photos. The first is a black and white image of his baby picture, wrapped in a blanket and a woolen hat on his head.

"My baby picture," Brad says aloud, knowing he's stating the obvious, but wonders how he got it. "I've seen it many times."

But, if he had fifty guesses at what's inside the manilla folders, he still wonders where this is going.

"Correct," Mr Alden replies. "This is a photograph taken of one of a set of triplets several hours after they were born on the 19th of March, twenty three and a half years ago, Brad."

Brad's eyes shot up to the old man's, but the lawyers gaze is fixed on the photo. His finger taps the baby on Brad's left.

"Yeah, I think you've got the wrong Brad Sir," he says immediately. "I don't have any brother's or sisters, or whatever."

Brad is becoming disgruntled by the lawyers presentation and isn't convinced. Babies all look the same to him anyway.

"Please, bear with me," the lawyer says firmly, moving the photograph to one side. Underneath the photo is a stack of papers and Brad can see Adoption Certificate written on the top one. His fingers deftly rotate the document so Brad can read it.

His eyes meet the lawyers a few seconds later.

"I know nothing about this document. I couldn't tell you if it's real or not. I know I'm not adopted though."

"Is this your birth certificate, Brad?" Mr Alden says, sliding another document in front of Brad.

He checks and nods, frowning as he wonders why the hell this lawyer can have a copy of what looks like his own birth certificate.

"Could be, but I don't know how you have it."

The lawyer flicks another document next to the birth certificate.

"This is a name change by deed poll that accompanies the adoption certificate," he continues in the factual, clinical and emotionless tone, flicking another two documents in front of Brad. "And this is your original birth certificate."

Brad forces himself to look carefully at what's in front of him. He knows his own birth certificate is correct and can't see anything on it that's strange or unusual, so he begins to read the name change document and compares it with the adoption certificate. He can feel a knot in his stomach as he fails to find any inconsistencies, and with reluctance, he looks at the original birth certificate.

He reads the name of the baby on the certificate and his eyes immediately shot up to the lawyers face, seeing an expression of sadness there, perhaps even a hint of empathy at the young man sitting opposite him whose very foundation is being ripped out from under him.

"The... The surname?" Brad stammers.

Mr Alden doesn't say anything. He simply slides another photograph across the table, this time of the two infants, cradled in their father's arms and a nurse holding the other. It's a younger version of a familiar face, known the world over.

For the past few days, Brad has had no contact with the TV due his long hours at work and his commitment to complete the project.

Brad looks at the certificate again, seeing the surname, Packard.

He re-reads the name of the person listed as the father, Daniel John Packard.

Brad looks back at the lawyer.

"Seriously?"

Mr Alden nods.

"First of all, finding out that you're adopted must be a big shock, Brad. Second of all, finding out your father is Danny Packard is equally as big a shock."

Brad shakes his head. It doesn't make sense to him, this lawyer claiming he's adopted, let alone this absurd claim that Danny fucking Packard, one of the wealthiest men in the world, is his alleged father. A thought struck him.

"Did Ed put you up to this?"

Brad wonders if one of his two best friends is trying to dupe him as a joke. While Casey works upstairs with him, their friend Ed works as a comic book illustrator, but is forever trying to dupe them with practical jokes. This seems right up his ally.

The lawyer's expression turns serious.

"Brad, I assure you this is no joke. Your birth father died two days ago. There's more information here for you, including a letter from your father."

"A letter?" Brad smiles, convinced this is the work of his buddy.

He chuckles.

"Let's see it then."

The old man frowns but opens the second file and pulls out an envelope. The paper is rich and luxurious, and it has Brad's name on it in handwritten form.

Even though Brad doesn't recognize the handwriting on the front, he opens it up and unfolds the letter. It says;

Brad,

I imagine you're in a bit of turmoil right now. Try not to give Mr Alden a hard time -- he's a good man and a good friend who's been stuck with a challenging job.

Anyway, you've just found out I'm your father. Danny Packard, billionaire, celebrity, playboy, entrepreneur, business genius, etc. I'm sorry to say that it's true, Brad. And you deserve an explanation.

Twenty six years ago I met the most wonderful woman named Karen, we fell in love and were soon married. I started my own business making computers and doing some programming, and soon my wife fell pregnant. Life was bliss. Then the business boomed, some of the software I'd written made me a small fortune and within months I was employing hundreds of people. The business side of things isn't important now, but a few more months passed and it was time to go to the hospital.

Karen gave birth to three infants, triplets, a month early, two girls and a boy, but immediately began to have complications. She was rushed into surgery, but to no avail. Just like that, the love of my life had left this earth. She was twenty five years old. She would have been a great mother.

I knew nothing about raising children and I was so overwhelmed with grief that the only thing I could think of was to throw myself into my work. Anything to get away from the pain. My doctor suggested offering you and your sisters up for adoption. I thought about it and finally agreed, thinking it was the best thing I could do for my children. It was the biggest regret of my life. At the time though, it was the best decision I could have made because my business was consuming me. I would have been an absent father and you and your sisters deserve better.

You and your sisters were put with loving families, raised in nurturing and healthy environments, and despite my promise not to, I kept tabs on you all, helping out in little ways whenever I could. Scholarships, jobs and the like. I know it's not parenting, but you and your sisters are the only family I have, even if we've never met.

And that brings us to the present. As I write this, I'm dying from pancreatic cancer. If you're reading this, then I'm already gone and you might have even heard about it on the news. Which brings me to the point of all this.

For twenty five years I've been building a business, an empire some would say, and along the way, several thousands of people have come to rely on me to keep their companies afloat, keep their jobs in place so they can raise their own families. It's a responsibility that I take seriously, which may well sound ironic to you, given that I haven't taken responsibility for raising my own children.

I'd like you to meet your sisters. I'd like the three of you to get to know each other. All that I have built now belongs to the three of you. Your inheritance. I'm told it's quite a sum.

Mr Alden will give you the details on what happens next, but here's the clip notes. Go to my Island in the Caribbean, get to know your sisters, learn a bit about what's being asked of you and decide what you want to do.

Along the way you might even get to know a little more about me.

In hope and love,

Danny Packard

Brad looks at the date on the letter, noting it's only two weeks old.

Gone are the doubts that this is Ed's work. This really isn't his style at all. The knot in his stomach is twisting as he realizes he has to make a call and speak to his parents. He has to know.

"Would you excuse me for a couple of minutes, Mr Alden. I need to make a call."

Brad sees the old man nod, but he's already on his way out the door. He moves on autopilot out the front doors of the building and onto the street, crowded with the usual mixture of coffee-toting office workers, shopping housewives and tourists, and steps into a doorway and dials.

"Hey, honey."

"Hi, mom," Brad replies, trying to keep his voice relaxed and casual. "Listen, I need to ask you something."

"Okay, honey, but you'll have to be quick. Your dad and I are just about to leave," she replies.

Brad can hear a car door close in the background.

"Oh, right. Today's the hiking trip, right?"

He hears his mom sigh.

"I swear Brad, you never pay attention."

He takes a deep breath.

"Mom, I need you to listen to me here, okay. I just had a visitor here at work, a lawyer named Mr Alden."

Brad pauses as he hears his mom shout for his dad.

"Ben, you need to be in on this," he hears her say. "Okay, son. What did he say?"

"Mom, dad. I've got to ask you. Am I adopted?"

Brad holds his free hand flat over his free ear, listening more intensely than he ever has in his life.

The silence that stretches into seconds on the other end of the line adds to the sinking feeling in Brad's stomach.

"Son, it's me."

Brad hears as his dad come on the phone, his tone gentle.

"It's true, son. We adopted you when you were only a couple days old. I'm sorry you've found out like this. Do you want to meet up and talk about it? I can come and pick you up?"

Brad presses his face into the corner of the doorway, trying to think. It's true, he's adopted. His mind whirls with a myriad of emotions, feeling like his world has just been turned upside down, so he takes several deep breaths, and thinks about what he knows. His friends are still his friends. His parents have kept this whopping big secret from him, but they raised him and have been there for twenty three years for him. Does it really matter that they aren't linked by DNA? The thought helps him clear his head a little and he sighs.

After a moment he replies.

"No, it's okay, and don't get all worried, okay. I know you're my parents, I know you're my mom and dad, you made me what I am today and nothing's going to change that, okay?"

He can almost hear the relief in the tones of their replies, so he presses ahead.

"Thing is, I've found out a little about who I am before I was adopted," Brad adds, not quite sure how to proceed with this bit, so he opts for directness. "How much do you know about that?"

There was a hushed, whispered conversation at the other end of the line that ends abruptly after a few more seconds.

"We know who your birth father is, honey," Brad's mom says a moment later. "Do you?"

Brad swallows.

"Yeah, I think so."

His mouth is dry but he makes himself say the words.

"Danny Packard, right?"

"That's right, son," his dad says quietly. "We weren't supposed to know, but we did."

"Has he left you something in his will?" his mom asks. "Is that why the lawyer is there?"

"Em, I think so," Brad says, feeling more than a little dizzy now.

"Listen, he's telling me I have sisters."

"What?" both parents reply at the same time.

"That I have sisters. Twins," he replies. "Well, actually triplets, and I'm one of them, apparently."

"Brad, son, we had no idea," his dad says and Brad knows deep inside that he's telling the truth. "Sisters?"

"Two of them," Brad confirms. "The lawyer wants me to go and meet them."

"Then you should go," his dad replies immediately.

"Absolutely," his mom adds. "Are you alright, Honey?"

"Bit shell-shocked, I guess," Brad says. "Listen, I've got to head back in there. Are you guys okay?"

"Yeah, son, don't worry about us," his dad answers. "We'll stick around here for a few days, I think. Why don't you come round for dinner tonight or before if you want, we'll have a chat."

Brad frowns.

"No, you should go on your trip. You two have been planning it for months."

Every time Brad visited his folks, they had maps up of the areas of Canada they were hiking through and he knows they have various locations booked for the occasional night in a hotel and if they set off late they'd lose their reservations, and a bunch of money.

"Honestly, I'm okay. You should go on your trip, and besides, I can call you if I need to. You guys can call me too, okay?"

Brad can almost hear them silently discussing it with looks and gestures at the other end of the phone, something they've done as far back as he can remember.

"You sure, son?"

"Yeah, dad. You and mom go on your trip. I'll be fine."

"You sure you're not pissed at us for not telling you?" his dad asks bluntly, as is his way.

Brad sighs. "Honestly, dad. I'm not angry. I'm a bit shell shocked and I can't say I won't be angry in the future, but if I do, I know where to find you."