PART I
CHAPTER 1
JACK FULTON
Jack was laboring on a three-dimensional model of an office building, oblivious to the heavy rain pelting against the glass wall behind nim. It wasn't surprising that he failed to notice Dale's unannounced arrival.
"Take a breather." Dale smiled; a doubled but not creased set of plans dangled from his left hand. He walked over to Jack's table.
Jack looked up over his gold-rimmed reading glasses at his only true friend of some fifteen years in expectant silence.
"Need help." Dale shrugged. "Again. Need to turn these in to Chris by morning, but I just can't seem to get the facade right."
Jack nodded. "Put them there." He nodded towards a cherrywood desk that sat against the grey fabric wall partition. A huge HP flat-screen occupied the upper desk space. The quad-core tower sat neatly tucked away under the desk. A high back cherry wood leather chair on rollers filled the space in the middle.
Above the desk was a matching wooden structure of twenty-four 6" x 6" cubicles that extended over the six foot desk span, half of which contained plans Jack was either working on or were under construction.
Jack had chosen the corner location and designed his own furnishings. All the other architects used glass or laminated desks with more modern styling. Jack was partial to wood.
"You're all heart, buddy. Gotta run." A second later Dale was gone.
Jack looked at his watch. It was five. It was then he turned on his swivel stool to see the torrential rain, typical of Houston's May weather.
Jack felt indebted to Dale for life. Fifteen years ago, Jack had gone through a really messy divorce at the ripe young age of twenty-seven. He had married at the too-early age of twenty, and had born a son. That was the highlight of his marriage.
It had been at Harvard where he stumbled upon a woman who literally seduced him and convinced him he wanted to marry her. The first two years were great, until his unplanned son came along. He was happy about it, but his wife didn't want a child to cramp her lifestyle.
As with all young couples, they went through economically difficult times at first, but his job selling appliances and her income selling shoes in Macy's while they both finished their degrees, hers in engineering, proved sufficient for them to survive and party on.
He had no difficulties in finding himself a well-paid job with an architectural firm in Cambridge immediately after graduating third in his class, but his wife could not find the same success. She was forced to continue at Macy's for a while longer.
Jack adored his son and the time and affection he spent with his namesake was not taken well by his wife. Their quarrels became numerous and quite loud, and romance quickly disappeared.
His wife found some new friends. She spent a lot of time with one in particular, from whom she took a lot of advice. Her special friend had been divorced twice, and the third husband had killed himself in front of her and her daughter, all in a five year span.
One day while at work, the sheriff, accompanied by Jack's employer, paid him an official visit to serve him divorce papers. Jack's pride had not allowed him to discuss his personal problems with anyone.
The embarrassment, the misery, was more than Jack could stand. All he wanted was peace so he gave her the house they had just bought two years ago; the car; everything. All he asked was to see his son every Sunday and for two weeks every summer. He contemplated custody, but his lawyer told him there wasn't a chance. His son was his wife's meal ticket. She would make Jack pay. It wasn't till later he found she had been seeing another man, another Harvard graduate, whom she obviously thought could provide her the life she preferred.
The divorce cost him $85,000 and would take him three years to pay off. He found himself a roach-ridden apartment. Jack's employer in Cambridge could not have the image of the firm tarnished so Jack had to find another job.
What destroyed him the most was that two weeks after the divorce, his wife upped and left Cambridge with no forwarding address. Now he had no job, a ton of bills, and no son.
CHAPTER 2
A NEW BEGINNING
In Houston, Jack found more opportunities for architects, better weather, and a much-needed change. He stayed at one of those pay-by-the-week economical places located on FM1960.
At the closest golf course, the Wind Rose on Kuhkendal, Jack paired up with a threesome looking to be a foursome. Dale, a scratch golfer, was the slightly built one. Six feet tall, blond hair and blue eyes, he used strong prescription glasses without rims. Dale's two friends had handicaps of three and five. Jack's handicap was ten.
Dale was the outgoing type. He explained how they usually played for $5 a hole, $10 for every birdie, and $20 for every eagle. They would accept an eight handicap on Jack's word.
Jack was biting at the bit to accept the terms. He loved competition, but he didn't have the cash to gamble with so he politely refused.
Dale gave him a long studious look before telling him not to worry. They would exclude him.
Jack's eyes met the ground and he gently patted down a spot of grass with his driver.
Dale's jovial nature kept them laughing and Jack had probably the most enjoyable hours in what felt like years. They stopped at the nineteenth hole to figure out who won what.
Dale seemed to always win according to the general consensus. That day he won $180, but the others paid like it was $1.80. Naturally the one who won the most paid the tab and, even though Jack didn't include himself, Dale insisted he pick up his tab, also.
The others excused themselves. Dale insisted Jack stay on and have dinner with him: to keep him company, he explained.
After dinner and a few MGD's, he got Jack to open up about his piss-poor life. Dale had graduated from UT Austin as an architect and made custom draperies out of his apartment for the affluent people of Houston on the weekends. It gave him an extra $70,000 a year.
He told Jack he'd give him 35%, temporarily, if he wanted to join him and he'd personally turn in his resume to the firm he worked for. Jack was grateful.
Dale lived in the Woodlands area with his wife Debbie, who was also an avid golfer. It took Debbie's $45,000 a year as a computer technician and Dale's total income to live their lifestyle.
Dale and Debbie both liked pot. Dale went out one night a week, usually Friday, to the Crazy Eight, a pool hall the size of a warehouse, where he would win between $500 and $2,000 hustling the tables. This was money he did not report either to the IRS or Debbie. He saved this money in a coffee can, in rubber-banded rolls of $10,000.
It was Dale who got Jack into a half-decent apartment off I45, right behind Pappadeaux's. Dale spotted him the deposit and first month's rent (from his coffee can). Debbie would not be a happy camper if she ever found out. Dale would never allow Jack to pay him back.
It took four years for Jack to really get back on his feet and it was Dale who got him through it all. When collectors called threatening him, Dale would advance him the money (he did accept that Jack should pay him back). Although reluctantly at first, half the time Debbie ended up cooking for three, especially on weekends.
He also remembered how Debbie had torn into Dale every once in a while for helping him so much (especially the loan, which she found out about somehow) and how Dale began to hit the hard stuff.
Dale remembered how Jack was always there for him, too, like picking him up and getting him home when he was stoned, and how Jack helped him cut out the drugs (including the marijuana), and how Jack and he had literally fought their way out of some dire situations (mostly at the pool hall). It was because of this Debbie had come to like and appreciate Jack . It was Jack who kept their marriage intact during those turbulent years.
They were inseparable. Dale had got Jack the position as an architect at his firm of Barnes, Jacobs & Simms.
Jack's exceptional talent allowed him to grow quickly with the firm and, when they promoted him to the 4th floor (the top architects of the firm), he brought Dale up with him.
Jack's conservative, quiet nature was not conducive to making new friends easily, or to meeting girls, but Jack's and Dale's opposite characters complemented each other well and gave both a balance in their lives that resulted in them becoming highly respected at work and in the community.
They had remained inseparable until five years ago, when Jack met Lorraine. Jack couldn't be given credit for seducing her; it was
Lorraine that found interest in Jack. He had fallen hook, line, and sinker for the jet-black-haired, blue-eyed sex goddess. Although Dale didn't blame him, he couldn't help feeling some reservations about Lorraine when Jack announced his marriage plans. Of course, Dale would be his best man.
Jack became the keystone architect of the firm. Many of the others came to him for advice and, at one time or other he helped every one of the eighteen architects working for the firm, although the five who became closer to him he had helped a lot more frequently.
CHAPTER 3
CORPORATE AFFAIR
"Hi babe," Jack began. "You ready to call it a day?"
"I was on my way out, sweety." Silence ensued for a few seconds. "I can tell by the tone of your voice you're going to work late again. Whose work are you doing this time? Dale's?"
How did she do that? She seemed to always guess.
"My own," he lied. "I'm a little behind on this high school in Conroe. Chris wants it by the end of the month." He imagined Lorraine shaking her head on the other end of the line in silence. She didn't like how he always helped others do their jobs. He certainly didn't get paid for it, the others didn't pay him for his help, and the bosses didn't appreciate his extra work.
"Okay," she sighed, then resigned to the news almost cheerfully. "I think I'll take in a movie; go to Pei Wei's for dinner. I don't feel like cooking for myself." Lorraine never felt like cooking for anyone.
"Good idea, babe. Have a good time. See ya at home then. Bye."
"Yeah. Bye."
Lorraine hung up the phone and went unannounced through a walnut-stained wooden door to her boss' office.
Two years ago, Bruce Jacobs, junior partner of Barnes, Jacobs, & Simms, threw a rare party at his home. That was where he met Lorraine for the first time.
He stood six foot, had electrifying blue eyes, had impeccable grooming at all times, and was the political, high society member of the firm. At fifty-two, his salt and pepper hair added to his distinguished appearance. He was the one most clients saw and his charisma won him many contracts, so his partners were very happy to let him be in charge of client relationships.
Sally, Bruce's wife, a forty-five year old natural redhead, was also high society and very materialistic. Her 5' 4" height and slight build turned many heads.
Most of the architects dealt with Chris, his senior partner. Chris was tall, thin, had brown beady eyes that made you avoid his gaze, was sixty-two, and had never married.
Simms was exactly the same age as Bruce, had red hair and blue eyes. He was the administrator of the firm and his serious nature fitted his position. He had one married daughter who had given him a grandson, now five years old.
Bruce had a reputation for his affairs. He was deep in concentration on a contract when Lorraine abruptly entered and took him aback for a fleeting moment. He looked up and took a few seconds for his mind to change track. (He remembered when he decided it was time for a new secretary a couple of years ago and promptly offered Lorraine a salary too high for her to turn down. She would be good for the company's image, he explained.)
"You're taking me to dinner," she stated matter-of-factly.
"I'd love to, sweetheart, but I have plans for this evening."
"Oh? Well, I'm sure you could make some changes," she cooed. She unbuttoned two more buttons of her pink loose-fitting silk blouse, and leaned over his dark brown leather swivel chair, placing her hands on the chair's armrests.
"Aw, geez, Lorraine. Sally's going to have a fit if I miss the opera. We're meeting the mayor and his wife there. Political; you know."
"So what time's the opera?" She bent over more and kissed his forehead, then his nose, then lightly kissed his lips.
She felt and heard his breathing quicken.
"Ten," he whispered hoarsely.
"Then we have time," she whispered.
"I need time to change," he feebly argued.
Her hand groped and squeezed the rise between his legs.
"Okay. Let me call her, tell her I'm running a bit late."
She stood to give him space to make the call. "Jack is working late again. He says it's the Conroe project but I don't believe him. It's probably something for Dale as usual. We can have our dessert first." She began nibbling his left ear.
"Just give me a couple of minutes, okay?" He caressed her breast. "Can't concentrate with you here."
"Be back in five, lover," She straightened, buttoned her blouse, and left, closing the office door quietly behind her.
Lorraine was not the first executive secretary he had been intimate with over the years. When he tired of a relationship, he would end it discreetly by paying them off.
Lorraine, however, was dangerous. He sensed Lorraine held the reins in their relationship. Breaking it off when it was time would not be easy. He had met his match with this one. This one could cost him his marriage and even his partnership with the firm. She was by far the most intelligent, not to mention the most sensual, woman he had ever encountered.
His partners were aware of his playboy tactics, and both Chris and Steve had warned him to be discreet. They didn't want any scandals and they knew his wife, Sally, rubbed noses with a lot of political powerhouses who gave them some really big government and community contracts.
"Sally? Hi Dear. Listen, I'm gonna run a little late, but don't worry. I'll make it in time to get us to the opera."
"You better not leave me hanging! The Houston Chief of Police will be joining us too. I want you home no later than 7:30. You have to change yet. I don't want you in a wrinkled suit and shirt. I told Mayor Harding we'd pick him and his wife up on the way. We'll invite them and the Chief out for a drink afterwards. We'll take the Mercedes. It'll be more comfortable. I'll put your clothes out on the bed for you with your Rolex and ring I want you to wear."
"Okay. Don't worry. I'll be there," he assured her. "See you
then."
Bruce could pretty much keep her happy by buying her cars, clothes, and jewelry.
As he softly cradled the receiver of the black phone on his large mahogany desk, littered with folders and papers (a cluttered desk is the sign of a genius), Lorraine entered and announced she had locked the outer office door.
He looked up at her jet black hair that had a brilliant sheen, her large blue eyes, and her flawless facial skin as smooth as the look and feel of a baby's bottom. The only possible 'imperfection' to this woman could possibly be that her nose was just a little too thin and the tip just a little too pointy. She had bewitched him; there was no doubt.