This is my first erotic story -- I welcome all feedback.
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If my pancreatic cancer hadn't struck Don so quickly, I would have handled events more gracefully. But I had to make big decisions hastily, and because I was rushed, my worlds were now colliding.
Don Malloy appointed Jet as the executor of his will. Considering his plans at the time, that made sense then. But circumstances changed. Back then, I only lusted after Fiona -- I planned to use her and lose her, like I did all those other women. I didn't really care what she felt. Now I loved her, and I wanted Fiona to get over the old Jet and fall in love with me.
I was juggling three issues. One, as Jet, I was trying to win back Fiona's heart. Two, Fiona's twin sister, Jocelyn, was in danger, and we were harboring her from harm. And third, I had to administer the disposition of Don Malloy's estate, which was going to take time and energy away from the first two objectives.
I had to explain to Fiona why someone Jet had never met decided to appoint Jet as his executor. While thinking how to do that, it occurred to me that, by altering that story by just the tiniest detail, everything fell into place. I rationalized I was fighting fire with fire -- tell a small lie to hide the colossal lie.
On Tuesday morning I told Fiona that, when I started my investment advice practice, I only had a few customers -- not enough to make the business thrive. That was nothing new -- Fiona already knew that company was going nowhere.
Among the very few customers I had, I explained to Fiona, there was this one. We spent hours, days even, talking about finances. And when you talk about finances, you are really talking about life. After all, money is nothing more than a means to live your life at your desired comfort level. So a good financial planner starts with your life goals, and then works backward to determine the financial portfolio you will need to support that way of life.
So while we were talking about finances, I told Fiona that this one customer and I started talking about our lives. Sometimes you can tell a stranger things you could never tell your best friend -- and that is how our discussions went. Over time, we became friends -- maybe even good friends -- and I started sharing details of my life with Don. I eventually discovered Don dispensed better advice than I did, and that's when I knew I would never succeed in this business, and so I eventually closed it down.
Yawn.
"Fiona," I looked into her eyes. We were at the dining room table. Big talks always seemed to happen there. "Don was the one who turned me around. He was the one who told me if I don't do something drastic to change my life, I would lose you. Don was the one who convinced me to smash my own finger, because by taking such an extreme measure against my own body, I would force myself to re-evaluate who I am." I waited for Fiona to absorb what I was saying before driving it home. "Don is the reason the old Jet is gone, and why I am sitting here trying to win you back." I congratulated myself with how close that part of the story was to the truth.
Fiona didn't know where I was going with this. She saw the vulnerable underside of this dynamic. "So, what ..." Fiona critiqued ",,, you go off and talk to Don? About us? About me? How much do you tell him? Did you talk to him yesterday when you went out? Does he know about Jocelyn, you and me? About, you know ...?"
"No," I answered softly. "Don is dead."
"What?"
"Just after I took his advice, and smashed my finger, Don took ill. It turned out to be cancer. He went into the hospital. I couldn't even visit him -- he fell into a coma for a long while, and never recovered." I paused because talking about Don's death was making me emotional. "I got a phone call yesterday morning after you girls went back to bed. He died." I realized my voice cracked as I said that. That was not for effect. I was really shaken.
I didn't understand the sudden intensity of my grief. Yes, Don was dead, but I was still here.
She held my hand for a short while as I recomposed myself. "I'm so sorry." She paused, thinking. "And on top of everything else."
"That's why I am telling you this, Fiona." She looked at me cautiously. "I also found out that Don appointed me as the executor of his will."
"What's an executor?"
"It is the person who processes the will -- who handles all the money."
"So," she asked with a faltering tone, realizing it couldn't be true as she spoke, "you get all his money?"
"No," I offered neutrally. "I distribute Don's money to the people that Don wanted to have it."
"So where does his money go?" I think she was asking out of genuine curiosity, not opportunism.
"I haven't read his will, yet," I replied with the honesty of a lawyer.
"Okay, so ..." she paused in thought, "... why are you telling me all this?"
"Because this is going to take up some of my time. Even without Jocelyn's issues, I feel this is a critical time for us -- for you and me. I think we -- I should say I -- have made some real changes that have allowed us to become closer together. I also know I still have a long way to go before I can earn your complete trust. This is not the best time for me to be dealing with the discharge of someone else's will."
"I think you need to," replied Fiona without hesitation. "I think, if this Dan guy ..."
"Don," I corrected.
"Sorry, Don -- if Don was this important to who you are becoming, and that affects who 'us' is, then you need to do this." I had to admit her argument was very perceptive.
She thought for a while longer. "Jet?"
"Yes," I answered.
"Back before ... before your ... your finger thing ... I didn't think you even cared if you lost me."
"Well, I did, and I didn't." I faked it. "But Don told me something else." She waited while I collected my thoughts.
"I think if he were here today," I offered, "Don would tell you he died a broken and lonely man. He deeply regretted some things he did, and the weight of those regrets haunted Don to his grave." I paused because this was difficult -- I was telling the bare honest truth. "Fiona, back when I was the old Jet, I think Don saw some of himself in me."
"What I'm trying to say, is that, yes -- I am doing all these things to win you back. But I am also -- maybe even mostly -- I am doing this for me. I now know that, if I hadn't changed my life, starting with hitting my finger, then I would surely end up like Don -- broken and lonely." I actually believed that of the old Jet -- except he would have been broken, lonely, and rich.
I paused for a long time. "Don helped me see that I could take a chance -- a chance he never had, or never took -- I don't know -- a chance to make a change -- to make a difference in my life." I paused in reflection. "I don't think I'm explaining this very well, but I think Don would be happy if he knew that, because of him, I changed my life enough to have a chance for you and me to stay together." I was getting emotional, and I was confusing myself with my interlaced truth and lies, so I stopped.
She took my hand again. "That might be the most important thing you told me since this whole thing began." She reflected for a moment.
I thought we were done, but Fiona asked when Don's funeral was going to be. I was stunned to realize I had never thought about that. I explained Don had no family, no friends -- maybe the hospital would do something, but I knew that wasn't true.
"Give the man a proper funeral, Jet," Fiona said. "You owe him that." Great. One more thing on my to-do list -- bury myself.
This was not the way I expected this conversation would go. I was expecting Fiona to be putty in my hands -- all 'boo hoo you lost your friend'. Instead, Fiona was strong. She was wise. She was supportive.
Next I prepared to phone Jason Braggs, president of M.B. Security services. I had to put some thought into the call before I placed it. When I got through to Mr. Braggs, I explained I was a former colleague of Don Malloy.
"How is Don doing?" asked Jason.
"I am sad to report Mr. Malloy passed away yesterday, Mr. Braggs," I replied somberly. "That is partly why I am calling you." I explained I was the executor of Don's will. Don had spoken very highly of Jason, and I thought Jason would like to know the circumstances surrounding Don's death. After I explained about the cancer and coma, Jason thanked me for contacting him, and I could tell he was expecting to wind down this call.
"Mr. Braggs," I continued, "as fate would have it, I have a second reason for calling you. I have an urgent need for your professional services regarding the security of a high value target with a credible threat." I used the lingo I knew Jason would understand. "Mr. Malloy told me that, if ever I needed security work, that I should put you at the top of a very short list."
"You should also know," I continued, "there are complicating factors." I explained 'the target' has an identical twin, and the two are living together with me while one takes refuge from the threat. I explained to him the phone call with the San Antonio police, and how Jocelyn was certain they used the words 'credible threat'. I gave Jason the name and number of the police officer who called Jocelyn. Jason asked me questions and we discussed details for another twenty minutes. I told him we have Jocelyn's separation agreement, and Jocelyn was making a detailed account of everything relevant to her ex-husband's circumstances and the threat against her. He asked me to courier that to him as soon as it was finished, and he gave me the address. He then told me a list of precautions to take, all of which I already knew. Finally we talked about money in very broad terms -- he was trying to gauge if I had sticker shock at a security cost that could exceed one hundred thousand dollars -- I told him that was what I had expected.
"Are you calling locally?" he asked. I said yes. He said he was chocked full this week, but he could meet all three of us Monday morning next week at 0900. "Mr. Terrance," Jason offered, "you seem to already know a bit about the measures you should be taking -- that is good. I feel I need to warn you, that when you come here on Monday, all three of you might be surprised by the changes you will have to endure to protect the safety of the target." I knew exactly what he meant when he said 'the target' -- he was not talking about Jocelyn. "I just want you be sure all of you come here on Monday with an open mind." I assured I would pass the message on, and we hung up.
I spoke to Fiona before leaving for the day. I told her we would have to postpone the dungeon party, at least until the following weekend, because of the security threat to Jocelyn. I told her about the meeting I set up with Jason on Monday. I explained everything would become clearer at that meeting. Fiona didn't understand the reasons why, but she also didn't hesitate to postpone the party -- if this involved Jocelyn's safety, then the decision was already made.
My last chore before leaving home was to give Jocelyn the replacement cell phone I purchased the day before with a new number. I admonished Jocelyn that she shall restrict the use this phone to talk only with Fiona and me. Period. No exceptions -- ever. No, not even the police in San Antonio, I said. I told Jocelyn the police would be taken care of after our meeting with Jason Braggs on Monday. I also admonished Jocelyn from accessing any email accounts or personal web pages that she signs in to, including webmail, FaceBook, Twitter, internet banking -- ANYTHING that asks for a user id and password. Finally, she was not to use any phone to call anybody back home for any reason.
With that done, I kissed Fiona goodbye and went out. The remainder of my day was consumed by Don issues. I went over to Don's house and put together a detailed list of all his financial portfolios. I pulled out my to-do list I made earlier about selling the house, and started making phone calls. Then I called the hospital and a few mortuaries before settling on the funeral home. And finally -- how weird is this -- I wrote my own obituary.
Speaking of FaceBook and the like, I had to shut down all of Don's social network accounts. For FaceBook and Tumblr, I posted the obituary I wrote, and announced that would be the last posting ever on Don Malloy's account, and then changed the passwords for the accounts. For the rest of the social network accounts, I either cancelled them, or decided to just ignore them and let them go stale.
About that time I received a call from Sam Allison -- the estate lawyer. The death certificate had arrived, and he was now ready to sit down with me to review the will. So I met him at three in the afternoon. Before I went to Sam Allison's, I got some tools from Don's basement and I removed all the disk drives from Jet's old file server and laptop with Fiona's dash cam videos on them, and took the hard drives, together with Jocelyn's old cell phone, to a data security company I know, called Kill-O-Bytes. They have these massive shredders that literally tear apart the disk drives -- enclosures and all -- into tiny silicon crumbs. Anything Fiona did in her car was now her secret to keep, and Jocelyn's cell phone and SIM card were irreparably destroyed.
Meanwhile, back at the condo, Fiona helped Jocelyn go through her recollection of Ted's issues and the threats against Jocelyn. They decided to work on the party anyway, even though it was postponed to the following weekend. Fiona had called Nicole, the girl we met at The Arc, and asked for her help in putting together a suitable guest list of six to eight people.
Today was Tuesday, which meant skydiving class was tonight. I drove home. Jocelyn had made a chicken Florentine supper -- it was delicious. Then Fiona and I drove to skydiving class.
"Can Jocelyn live in Don's house until it's safe for her to go back to San Antonio?" Fiona asked me as I drove to skydiving class.
