Real Love Ch 04

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

* * * * *

"Your aircraft is ready for boarding Sir and have a safe flight."

"Thanks, LeBron," Kelly says as she stands up.

"Yeah, thanks man," Brad adds as he stands.

"Shall we?" Kelly asks, motioning him toward the door, and on to the private jet parked on the tarmac one hundred and fifty feet away.

Brad walks the distance to the aircraft, feeling the effort it takes even with a hot chick walking beside him, and walks up the stairs and inside. He's amazed at the interior.

"If you're going to fly, then a private luxury jet is the way to do it," Kelly says. "Big leather reclining seats, big TV, DVD's, games, great food, drinks, even a kick-ass internet connection. Bathroom with a multi-head shower, a kitchen with a proper coffee machine. Luxury in a steel tube at thirty-seven thousand feet."

"Very nice," Brad notes as he finally takes his seat.

"Your first time in a luxury jet?" Kelly asks, settling herself across the small aisle from him.

When he nods, Kelly gives him a brief tour of the aircraft as they continue their conversation, but Brad doesn't really caring about the jet, being as tired as he is.

"Only ever flown with United and the seats weren't exactly spacious."

Kelly smiles as they conclude the tour and he settles on a spacious, luxury seat.

"Well, if you're flying, then most of the time it will be in jets like this. You should buckle up. We'll be taking off in the next few minutes."

"Cool."

Brad does as he's asked and gets comfortable in his leather seat, facing forward on the right side of the aircraft, while Kelly does the same directly to his left. As he looks around, he has another of those surreal moments, wondering how the hell his day started, writing a paper on 'Project Budget Control and Financial Reporting Issues', to suddenly being on a private jet with his appointed assistant about to travel to a Caribbean island to meet sisters he never knew he has.

The thought of Stacy and Peggy brought the subject to the forefront in his mind again and he frowns.

"Everything okay, Brad?" Kelly asks. "Are you nervous about flying?"

"No, never been a nervous flyer."

He considers telling her about Myrtle Beach, but figures he needs to get to know her better and then decides. Brad knows if it's just him and his two sisters who know what happened, then he wouldn't ever need to tell anyone, but he's genuinely worried that there are five other people who already know.

Kelly turns her head forward and settles back in her seat.

"I used to be terrified whenever I got on an aircraft, but in the last five years I've been on so many flights it doesn't bother me at all anymore."

Just then, the pilot appears, introducing himself as Captain Murphy. He runs through the usual safety announcement, where the life jackets are located, and that the forecast is good for the weather and the flight should be arriving on schedule.

He disappears into the cockpit, locks the door and minutes later, the jet is rolling onto the runway. It accelerates rapidly, pressing Brad into his seat and then they're off the ground. He watches out the small window, looking down at streetlights and cars moving on the Interstate, seeing the glow from the city in the night sky.

As soon as the aircraft levels off, Kelly unbuckles her seat belt.

"Fancy a drink?"

Brad shrugs.

"Sure."

"Well, get comfortable. We're going to be here for a while. How does a Mojito sound?"

Brad gives her a thumbs up and unbuckles his seatbelt, reaches down and unlaces his new boots, bought earlier that day, then slides them under the seat. He pulls out his phone and checks his emails while Kelly is in the galley.

Nothing from Casey, but an email from Ed, so he opens it up.

Hey fucker, Casey says you've fucked off on a business jaunt for a week. WTF, dude? We're meant to be poon hunting this weekend! Anyway, where the fuck are you? And how much dick are these director fuckers gonna make you suck?

Ed, Esq.

Brad shakes his head. Ed has the subtlety of a wrecking ball sometimes, but he's a good friend. He types back a reply.

Nutsack, busy working, preparing briefings on all kinds of stuff. Could really do without this, but if I do a good job then instant promotion. That's worth another 27K a year. Think how many beers that will buy!!! I'll be in touch in a couple of days. Stay OUT my apartment!!! You still owe me new sheets from the last time! B

ps gave your number to a limo driver chick. Kinda hot, you two should have babies. :B

Kelly appears with a large jug on a tray as well as two glasses of Mojito. Brad can smell the lime before she even put it on the table in front of his seat.

"Emails?"

"Yeah, my buddy Ed."

"You didn't tell him what's going on, did you?"

She gives him a stern look as she sits down opposite him.

Brad chuckles.

"No, I just told him it's an unexpected business trip for a week and I might get a promotion out of it."

She nods and sips at her drink.

"I've always loved these."

Brad tastes his own and nods in agreement.

"Nice."

"The pastry chef on the Island does a Mojito Sorbet. It's incredible."

"Sounds it," Brad replies. "So tell me about the Island then. What's it like?"

"It's basically paradise. It's hot, there's a gorgeous cool breeze in the evenings and the air always smells really clean. It's got white sandy beaches, clear blue water, palm trees and more. The accommodation is... luxurious, to say the least. It's very chilled, open and bright. The main house is a mixture of ancient Japanese architecture with a beach hut twist."

Brad laughs.

"That sounds like a sales pitch."

She smiles.

"It's how one of the guests described it and it's kinda stuck. Let's see. What else? Well, it's got all sorts of facilities. A gym, swimming pools, a club, recording studios, helipads and a pier for the boats. There's a couple of speedboats and jet skis too if you want to go for a run. It's got state of the art facilities to run the businesses from, as well as all the usual tennis courts, medical clinic and a boat load of guest houses."

"It sounds enormous," Brad observes. "And amazing."

"It's amazing, not huge though. As Islands go, it's pretty small. It's built around two peaks with the main house on the western side and the guest accommodations on the eastern side. The southern side is a wide bay and the northern side is mostly cliffs, but it's gorgeous, and the view of the sunsets from the main house are incredible."

"How many people are on it?"

"Between wait staff, kitchen staff, maintenance and maid staff, as well as the Doc, the Dentist, trainers, security..."

"Quite a lot then?" Brad asks, surprised.

He thought she would say about a dozen.

"I think it's usually around ninety people residing there at a time, but they're not there permanently. Two months on, two months off is the normal rotation. Charles, Terry and Brian are the only ones who live there though, other than you and your staff."

"Who's Charles?"

"He's the Island Manager. He was involved in building the place years ago and stayed on to do upgrades and improvements. Mr Packard lets him live there and he runs the place like a finely tuned engine."

"That's handy, I guess."

Brad takes another sip of his drink.

"Who's Brian?"

"The security guru for the Island. He has kept us safe for years."

"So what should I expect when I get there?"

Kelly smiles and puts her drink down.

"Well, it'll probably be a bit of a culture shock when you arrive. Charles will probably call you Master Weber, or Master Bradley. The staff on the Island will follow his lead. You'll be waited on hand and foot, but you'll also have to work really hard."

"Doing what?"

"Everything from reading briefings on the various businesses to improving your own personal image, to..."

Brad frowns and cuts her off.

"What does that mean? Improving my image? Is there something wrong with it?"

"There was an article in Forbes earlier this year and they cited that there are over twelve hundred billionaires in the world now. When Mr Packard died the number went down by one, but now it's gone up by three. As such, you'll be a public figure and you'll be photographed by the paparazzi every time you go out in public."

She shrugs.

"At least for a while."

"Mr Alden mentioned something about that," Brad says, his tone distinctly unenthusiastic.

"So as a result we have to manage your image, make sure you look like what people expect, being the son of Danny Packard. Someone confident, cool, smart. Stylists like Margaret will take care of what you wear, how your hair is styled, etc, but what kind of physical shape you're in will require some work."

"Eh? Are you calling me fat?" Brad frowns.

He's in pretty decent shape, isn't overweight and plays basketball a couple of night a week with his friends.

Kelly smiles.

"I'm not trying to be offensive Brad. Right now, if someone were to take your picture while you were sitting on a beach, your stomach would look like it's all rolls of fat, even though it isn't. So you need to tone up and quickly."

"Is there going to be press on the Island?"

"No, but there is going to be press when you get back. That's guaranteed, so let's make sure we control what pictures are taken and by whom, and lets make sure you look great in them. That's what I mean by improving your personal image."

"So hitting the gym then?"

"That's the start of it," she nods. "Julian is the trainer on the Island. He'll work with you and get everything set up for fast results."

"Okay," Brad says, not being convinced, but arguing about it now won't change anything until he talks to this trainer guy. "What else should I expect?"

"There'll be a lot of video conferences, lots of papers to read and decisions to make, and lots of work to do, so pretty much from the moment you get up until the moment you go to bed, you'll be living life by my schedule."

"Oh."

The idea of paradise seems a lot less exciting the more he discovers about it.

"Now, at some point, it's going to get you pissed at me because I'll be hustling you to get things done. That's understandable and expected, so I'm explaining this now so you'll understand why at times I seem to be harassing you."

"Sounds delightful," Brad chuckles.

"If your schedule creeps, ten minute delays adding to other ten minute delays, and before you know it you're two hours late getting to bed. That's two hours less sleep than you should be getting. With me so far?"

"Yeah, and if that goes on for a few days..."

"Exactly. By that point, you're not thinking straight, your decision making is poor, you feel like shit, and feel a little uncomfortable skipping the small talk after meetings," Kelly says, looking very earnest. "Now, if it affects you like that, then it affects me more because I'm up before you in the morning and down after you at night, so it's important we try and stick to the schedule as much as possible."

"Okay," Brad nods. "I can't promise I won't get grumpy or anything, but I'll try and do my best."

"That's all I ask," she replies, giving him a dazzling smile.

Brad smiles back.

They watch a movie on the big screen and Kelly asks him all about his life, what it was like growing up, what was his life like yesterday and in the months prior. Does he have a girlfriend, what was life like at school, what hobbies does he have.

Brad feels, at a couple of points, he's being mined for data and tries to turn the questions back on her to find out the same answers about her life, but Kelly skillfully turns the questions back on him, and does it in such a way that Brad feels relaxed and open with her.

Around eleven that night, Kelly suggests they try to get some sleep and disappears back to the bathroom to get changed. She reappears a few minutes later wearing a pair of jogging pants and a white t-shirt that showed the form hidden beneath the business suit. He can't detect any underwear beneath her clothes, not that he's looking. All he sees is Kelly's perfect shape.

Wow, she's frickin hot, Brad thinks as he watches her lowering the leather chair into a bed. His eyes roam over her tight ass, her flat stomach, her full breasts. Don't be an asshole, Brad! After today the last thing you should be doing is hitting on your new assistant, even if she is fine. Really fucking fine.

"Are you getting changed, Brad?" she asks, interrupting his musings.

"What? Oh, all my clothes and stuff are in the luggage in the hold. I didn't even think to pack an overnight bag."

Brad wishes he packed a day sack or something with his tablet in it. At least then he can read something because he doesn't feel he will be able to sleep unless he does. There's too much going on in his brain, even though he's tired as hell.

"You can access the hold through here," she tells him, leading him past the bathroom to a panel on the wall.

She pushes against it and it clicks open. The hold is small but lined on the right with his bags, a stack of small metal flight cases lining the left side.

Brad moves forward and has to open four bags before he finds a pair of track pants and his favorite hooded jersey, clothes for when they land, and, grabbing his tablet, he heads for the bathroom, gets changed and then slumps in his seat to read for a while.