Preview of "Secrets of The Ridges"
1. Scheme
A chilly 1991 September evening. Rod positions himself at the left front window of his garage apartment, cautiously leans to his right, gazes through a slit in the curtains. An imposing stone mansion faces the garage across sixty feet of brick courtyard that doubles as a driveway. No one is visible on that side of the grounds, or at any of the old manor's three stories of windows.
He leans to his left and carefully scans the other hemisphere: all clear. Snatching a light jacket, he steps quickly to the side door, his only exit, opens it slightly, and surveys that angle. Satisfied, he slips through the door and makes a quick, hushed descent of an outside flight of steps.
He glances around once more, then sets a brisk pace toward the gates of the estate, some three hundred yards to his right. The rain has stopped, though it’s still overcast, and the sinking sun is just a misty speck on the horizon struggling to peek through a light fog. A thick, crisp air of freshness hangs over the estate and amplifies every sound - - the gleeful chatter of birds aroused by his presence; each click of his boots on the brick drive. Most people would have been enchanted. To Rod, it’s an annoyance, a threatening racket.
He fairly races past the garage, then skips off the drive and into the grass, which is wet but quiet. Sometimes the old man or one of the servants see him leaving and, though he’s off duty, come up with some reason for him to hang around The Ridges. Rod cannot be diverted or detained tonight.
As he fades into the fog and then rounds a curve, he relaxes and concentrates on his mission. Tonight, he’ll take Brenda to bed again, make fantastic love to her, then gently begin bridging into his scheme. First, he’ll confide his most private dreams to her. She will be captivated at how similar they are to her own, and eventually try to note that. But he will interrupt awkwardly and apologize for having rambled on so. When she protests, he’ll explain it with a confession that he’s never felt this way about anyone. He’ll again speak of his goals, citing 'we' rather than 'I' because, by now, they will consistently include her. Then he will whimsically allude to the only serious obstacle - - money.
He will speak of it briefly, just enough for her to ponder whether his interest is really in her, or in her job at a bank. He will not let it develop further; they will make love again, and he’ll take her home.
Tomorrow night he’ll let their bedroom conversation drift into sources of money, and will gently disdain her teasing hint of embezzlement. He will assure her that he knows a better way. The next night he will develop this thought as a painter prepares a canvas. It will be the following night before Brenda discerns clear features of his portrait and, if he has the right girl, it will be too late for her to turn back.
Though less than ideal, she is the best this small town can offer. He has searched for three weeks: not much time, but all he had. And, she was close - - blonde, attractive, intelligent - - and wary, but pliable in skillful hands. By the time he has her apply for the job at The Ridges, Rod shall have her further along on a sexy tan and shedding those five or six extra pounds.
He’s nearing the end of the oak lined drive now, within sight of the gates, and confidently back on the pavement. The river stone drive is flanked by tall woods with thick undergrowth which shields the estate from plebeian roadside gawkers, and muffles Rod's steps. Casa D'amigo is just over a half mile from the entrance to The Ridges, in the center of the village. He’ll be there on time - - which means several minutes early.
2. Girl Talk
Brenda thinks he said 7:30, but isn't certain. She likes Rod a lot, doesn't want to be late, and arrives at 7:00 just in case. Though she has known him only four days, Rod has been early for every appointment, and has been very precise about everything else.
With up to twenty-five minutes to kill and her favorite booth empty but cluttered with dirty dishes, she decides to wait at the bar. She does not wish to get into a conversation with another man, so she takes a seat by a girl in her twenties. Though very attractive, the girl does not appear to be on the make, and certainly not a hooker. The local hustlers would never wear faded jeans, dirty sneakers, a loose pullover sweater and a ball cap; especially if they had this girl's firm slender body, deep tan, and long sun-bleached blond hair.
"Mind if I sit here? I'm meeting someone in a few minutes, and I don't want to draw flies."
"Sure. My name's Gina." She extends her hand.
"Brenda Forrest. You're not a regular here, are you?"
"Just arrived today...from Phoenix."
Cocking her head quizzically, but receiving no elaboration, Brenda nods politely and says "Oh."
Gina rescues her: sort of.
"I like horses, green hills, small towns......"
It wasn't flying. Brenda's 'whatever you say' shrug leads Gina to laugh. " OK. I had a bad relationship, wanted to get far away as fast as I could, and wound up in Bexley."
"Well, it's far away, alright. But I doubt you'll find much here to help you forget."
"A job would help. Know where I can find one?"
"There aren't many, unless you want to work on one of the estates, or in a place like this. I drive to Fairfax every day. Do you know computers?"
"Not really, and I'm a lousy typist." Gina glances around the bar and grill, with its Mexican decor, small dance floor, and assortment of locals eager to make savagely lustful eye contact with her. "And I can't see myself working here."
She quickly turns her gaze back onto Brenda. “Tell me about the estates. Are they all apple-picking migrant workers?"
"Not quite. There are a few permanent farm workers, lots of horsey people, house servants, a few office-type jobs...not all that glamorous unless you just like being around rich people. And they can be real shits. My boyfriend works at The Ridges as a chauffeur. His boss is one of the nicer ones, but still a spoiled brat."
Gina's heightened interest is controlled but noticeable. Brenda wants no competition for Rod, especially from the likes of Gina. "The best thing to do would be to get a Washington Post and check out the Fairfax jobs. It's not that far, you'll make good money, and the working conditions are much better than anything you'll find around Bexley."
Gina smiles and nods. "Thanks, Brenda. I'll do that."
They’re distracted by a weather-beaten man of about forty who, planting an arm on each of their shoulders, leans between them and drawls "which one of you gals wants the first dance?"
"Thanks, but I'm meeting someone," Brenda smiles.
"No," Gina snaps firmly as she jerks her eyes from his Fairmont Stables cap to her beer.
"Come on, now. That music's too good to waste."
Brenda shakes her head, her smile fading. Gina doesn’t move.
"OK, let's just have a drink. Sam, bring the ladies and me a round." One of his friends moves to join them.
Gina cocks her head toward him and speaks in a soft, business-like tone. "I'll have to charge you $25 a minute to talk, $45 to dance, up front, with a $100 minimum; and anything else is out of the question."
His mouth falls open for an instant before his lanky frame stiffens defiantly. Then he looks Gina over and smiles "that's negotiable, ain't it?"
Her eyes tell him it most certainly is not, and, with a huff, he backs into his approaching friend. He turns around, puts his hand on his friend's chest, and mutters "come on, Duke. Nothing in this pond to catch; 'cept maybe VD." And they strut off.
"Wow," Brenda murmurs with a curious stare. Gina laughs.
"I don't use that one often. Once, though, I did pick up a quick hundred bucks."
Brenda stares a moment longer, recovers, and glances at her booth, which had been cleaned.
"My boyfriend's due any second. I'd better grab our booth. See you around, Gina."
3. Upgrade
Rod arrives shortly after Brenda settles into the obscure corner booth. He glances around, notices Gina but resists paying much attention to her, and goes to join Brenda. As he passes Gina, neither of them acknowledges the other. But she follows him out of the corner of her eye. Brenda is smiling at Rod, but concentrating on Gina's fascination with his narrow waist, strong shoulders, and especially his butt.
As he kisses Brenda and sidles in beside her, Gina removes her cap and shakes her hair free. She rises, stuffs the cap into her hip pocket, makes quick eye contact with Brenda, and ambles to the restroom. She tarries there until the other girl joins her.
A brief 'hi' is followed by a long silence as both of them comb their hair.
"Stop by our table and let me introduce you," Brenda offers with a hint of pugnacity.
Rolling her eyes across the mirror to the truculent likeness beside her own, Gina replies penitently. "I wish I could, but I have to run." She turns, and adds with a sincere smile. "Thanks for the tip about jobs in Fairfax. I'll check into it."
"Let me know if I can help," Brenda softens. "Good luck."
Gina leaves, tossing an extended glimpse at Rod as she strolls gracefully to the bar and pays her tab. When she turns to walk out, Rod gazes at her again then slowly turns his attention to the returning Brenda. The two girls take that moment to quickly nod and smile at one another.
- -
The following night, there is no ball cap, no dirty sneakers, and the sweater has been replaced with a smart vest over a modest, light blouse. Her hair falls over her shoulders in striking but very dignified waves. And she has strategically seized a table which is visibly convenient, but not threatening close, to the booth Rod and Brenda occupied the previous evening.
She had just been served a light supper when Rod and Brenda arrive. Again, the ladies manage to greet one another when Rod isn't looking; again, Rod and Gina manage an extended mutual observation when they think Brenda is distracted.
While Rod excuses himself to make a phone call, Brenda walks over to Gina's table.
"I hardly recognized you."
"I took your advice. I've been job hunting around the Beltway all day. And, I managed to slip in a couple of stops at the malls," she smiles.
"Any luck?"
"Not yet. But I may have an iron in the fire."
"Good for you."
Apparently, Gina isn't going away, and God knows what she might look like tomorrow night. Brenda wants to bring this to a head and find out where she stands.
"Why don't you join us for a drink when you finish eating?"
"Thanks, but I'm in a bit of a rush. I'd love to meet him, though. You two make quite a couple."
"We’ll do that." And, smiling, she turns and catches Rod's peculiar stare as he hangs up the payphone. She motions him over, makes the introductions, and they sit with Gina for a cordial couple of minutes or so.
Gina toys with her meal another thirty minutes then hurriedly prepares to leave when she sees Brenda go toward the ladies’ room. She sets out to follow her, deliberately passing quite near Rod’s booth.
"Gina, let me know if there's anything I can do to help you get settled in Bexley," he offers.
She pauses, stares at him sensually for a very brief moment, then laments: "You and Brenda make a very nice couple."
There had been nothing suggestive in his voice, though he is clearly attracted to her. He did not want to be diverted, but she is too much to ignore. Perhaps just once.
"I'd rather be part of a very naughty couple."
"Do you have a lot of money?"
He wasn't from Fairmont Stables, and wasn't taken aback. "I'm expensive, too."
"I'm not for sale. Just very ambitious."
Now he’s intrigued. "Will one-hundred forty-five million dollars do?"
- -
After that, there was no more Brenda, no more Casa D'Amigo. Just Gina.
She has taken a quiet apartment in a guest house at a neighboring estate, on a week-to-week basis. There are no other tenants, and it is ideal for the purposes of Rod and Gina.
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