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DreamWeaverChapter 21 free porn video
The next morning, we were surprisingly organized, owing to the work Mel had done to make sure everything was ready the day before. We dressed warmer than was really comfortable for Georgia, but we’d probably be frozen when we got to DC.
We had breakfast and checked out smoothly, drove to the airport and I loaded our luggage onto a cart while Mel turned in our rental. We got in the priority line at the airline to weigh-in our bags and get our boarding passes. We were in first class, which was a new experience for me. Our bags were tagged and we each took our carry-on with us. She had repacked to make sure her shawl was in hers and my recipe box was in mine. Neither of us wanted to have them in our luggage if it got lost.
We had plenty of time to get through security, so we stopped along the way and had lunch while we killed a little time. I hadn’t seen any delays or cancellations in the notices, so that was a good sign. We finished our lunch, got in line and were processed through security. I took Mel’s hand and we strolled through the throng of holiday travelers who were late, desperate or lost. We had almost an hour before our flight was called. I stopped at one of the shops and bought a cheap battery booster for my phone and iPod. I’d get a better one when we got to DC, but this was good enough for now.
Mel was a bundle of nerves as we waited. I joked with her that if she kept fidgeting, she was going to make security suspicious, but she couldn’t help it. This was her first time seeing her family since Stan’s death. Finally, we were called to board and, being in first class, we were among the first to board. I started plugging in right away. I started with the new battery charger, letting it pick up a charge first. That pulled Mel out of her funk and she smirked at me.
“Making sure you capture every moment?” she asked knowingly.
I shrugged. “I want to make sure that she doesn’t have a chance to have a private word with me.”
She nodded, and that seemed to make her feel better. We chatted a little about how well Christmas had gone and about when we might like to return to visit.
“Easter is May’s next big traditional dinner,” I said. “I can’t see any reason not to go down if they’re in the mood to host. For that matter, we should have them up at some point. I’d like to have May take some time and relax for a while. She cooks and cleans all the time. We can get Eliza an assistant for a week and have them up to see the house.”
That definitely got her attention and she started making plans almost right away, thinking about when she could arrange it and what to set up for everyone to do.
“Sweetie,” I said softly. “Roger likes to play pool, Glen golfs, May will love the idea of relaxing for the week and Beth will drool over the chance to lay out by the pool. She may or may not be bold enough to try to get an all-over tan if she’s out of sight of her father when she lies down.”
“Your ex-wife, sunbathing nude in our backyard,” she said dryly. “That won’t be awkward.”
I shrugged. “The point is that there’s something for just about everyone,” I pointed out. “May can have peace and quiet and freedom from cooking for a week, Beth can relax and bond with her new little sister, Roger can kick my ass at pool and get his ass kicked in the gym and Glen’s going to fall in love with the driving range and putting green. Roger and Glen will probably both lose their mind over the car collection too.”
She nodded in agreement and started chatting about ideas and activities and that kept her distracted right up until our safety briefing. I’d never been in first class, so I paid rapt attention, treating it as my responsibility to see to Mel’s safety if we had an emergency, so I made sure I knew where the emergency exit was, gave an eye to all the safety gear and listened to the flight attendant as she went through her speech. Most of the other passengers were bored, so I assumed I was the only virgin in first class. When we were done, we had to wait about a half-hour for our turn on the runway and then we were airborne. Mel was still planning, thinking about Fourth of July and talking about a big barbecue - with our own fireworks display and music and all our friends.
“Can we have a pony-ride too, Mommy?” I asked her teasingly.
She stuck her tongue out at me.
“Be serious,” she scolded me.
“Bella may cry if you don’t have ponies. She said Mary’s never been on one.”
“Wrong kind of pony,” she giggled and swatted me. “Stop joking. I want to do this.”
“Okay,” I agreed, and we started talking about planning the Fourth of July party for our friends and family.
Mel’s family might not get invited, but that was entirely up to what happened in the next week. We kept the topic up for most of the flight. We agreed that it was far too big a job for Eliza, so we’d hire a catering service for the event. I swapped out the charger for my phone and then finally my iPod while we chatted about the party. I had no doubt that she could have planned it with one call, but we were in the air and this was mostly a way to keep her distracted and relaxed.
By the time we landed, we had menu, entertainment, decorations and fireworks planned. We were also talking about who would stay with us and who we’d have to arrange for drives for at the end of what promised to be a fairly drunken celebration. We deplaned and collected our luggage and started wandering in the direction of the rental desk to get our car.
“So, do they know when we’re coming, or are we getting checked-in and settled before we call them?” I asked her, pushing the cart filled with our bags.
“I had to tell them the dates,” Mel admitted. “They were expecting me for Christmas. Then again, they were expecting me for Thanksgiving.”
“You didn’t go home for that?” I asked, surprised. It was the first time we’d talked about it.
“It was too late to get a flight from LA,” she explained. “Besides, I didn’t feel like seeing them at that point.”
“Okay,” I said lightly. “Did they know what flight we were going to be on, or just that you were arriving today?”
“Just the day,” she said. “Why?”
“Well, there’s an older guy over there, scowling at us like we ran over his dog,” I commented. “I just wondered if it was your father or someone I pissed off at some point in the past.”
“Where?” she asked, scanning the crowd, not seeing where he was.
“Off to our left a little,” I said softly, nodding a little in the direction. “He’s wearing a long brown coat and has dark hair, going gray.”
She looked in the direction I’d indicated and blanched.
“Oh, boy!” she moaned in dismay at seeing him.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone, starting the recording app and figuring that our interrogation started now.
“Do we pretend we don’t see him or go over and say hello?” I asked comfortingly.
“Too late,” she said with a sigh. “He’s on his way over here.”
I looked up and he was approaching, looking less and less enthused.
“Hi, Dad,” Mel said with less enthusiasm than she’d greeted Stan with the last night we saw him. “I’m surprised to see you here. Are you meeting a business partner?”
“I came to pick up my daughter,” he said and then looked at me, “and her valet, apparently. I’m sure we’ll be able to find him a spot out of the way.”
I liked him immediately ... No, not really. I wanted to use my fist to pave his superior sneer flat. He was dismissive and presumptuous and arrogant. I knew right away that he was a lost cause and that Allison was likely a complete sociopath growing up in his care. My skin crawled with the effort not to hit him.
“He’s not a servant, Dad,” Mel said, getting annoyed. “This is Rand, he’s my fiancé.”
“Your husband’s dead a month and you’re already engaged to someone else?” he rolled his eyes. “He’s after the money, Melody. Even you can’t be this blind.”
He turned to me without waiting for an answer.
“Alright, Rand,” he started, sneering his way around my name. “What’s it going to take to get rid of you? I can write you a check with all kinds of zeros on it, but there’s no way my daughter is going to marry you.”
I looked at Mel, and she looked at me and I laughed.
“He thinks he can buy us!” I exclaimed in between peals of laughter.
Mel looked angry and she was starting to turn red, so I put a hand on her arm to get her attention. I gave her a comforting look and she bit her tongue. I looked at her father.
“Mr. Carmichael, you don’t have the financial resources to convince me to abandon Melody. You can get out your checkbook and write a fat pay-off, but your offer is going to be pathetic.”
“We can do this the easy way,” her father said, his voice taking on an edge, “or we can do it the hard way. Your choice.”
“Are you threatening me, Mr. Carmichael?” I asked him evenly.
“That depends on whether you’re smart enough to take what I’m offering or not,” he said coldly.
I turned to Mel.
“I think he’s threatening me,” I said to her. “What do you think?”
“I think that he should stop interfering in my life,” she said tightly.
“I’m looking out for you, Melody, since you seem to be incapable of doing it yourself,” he spat.
“If you were looking out for her when she met Stan Weaver, you’re either the shittiest parent in history or you were complicit in selling your daughter as a sex slave,” I told him bluntly. “Did you even have a lawyer look at the prenup that she signed with Stan? Or, were you just so thrilled to have her off your hands and have leverage against him; that you were too busy clapping with glee to notice that the document was a noose around her neck and a license for him to do whatever his sick mind wanted?” I snapped back.
“How dare you!” he thundered. “What would you know about any of this?!!?”
He was turning red himself now.
“I read that document,” I told him with a sneer of my own. “It stated that if there was a divorce for infidelity that Mel would walk away with nothing! It didn’t specify that it was if SHE cheated. At any point, Stan could have filed for divorce for his own infidelity and enforced that agreement to turn her out into the streets penniless. A second-year law student would have rejected that clause. You, you fucking idiot, you forced the marriage down his throat, and he forced her into virtual slavery. If you were any kind of father, you would have read it over and had a lawyer do the same. So, tell me, how much did Stan pay you for your daughter? Did you make a lot of money, selling your 18-year-old daughter to a 50-year-old sexual predator?! Was it worth it?!!?”
He stood there, a muscle in his cheek twitching as he turned more and more red.
“You son of a bitch!” he yelled. “You’re never going to get your hands on our money! I’ll see you in hell first!”
“I don’t know what money you think I’m after, but I’m marrying Mel because I want Mel, not because I have some elaborate scheme to steal the money you made by trading her to Stan,” I told him. “I have my own money and enough pride to get a job if that runs out.”
“You know she stands to inherit millions from Stan Weaver’s estate!” he bellowed.
“That’s not your money or your family’s money. Whatever Stan leaves to Melody is hers. Not yours, not mine. For that matter, what makes you think there’s all that much left. He had to sell off a lot of his investments. Cancer isn’t cheap in America.”
“There’s no way he spent that kind of money on cancer treatment in six months. He owned dozens of prime properties.”
“All gone. Stan had some rather unfortunate legal problems just before the cancer was diagnosed.”
“What do you mean?!!?” he demanded, aghast. “He had millions in real estate.”
Mel spoke up and took delight in this part of the story.
“Stan liked to fuck women he wasn’t supposed to,” she said, turning mean. “You should know that, Dad. I remember how pissed you were when he fucked me. One of the women he liked to fuck was married. She was also one of his employees. One of the other women he liked to fuck had the Clap, so Stan spread it to me and to all his other women. When her husband got diagnosed, it all came out and he sued Stan for assault and alienation of affection and causing his divorce, and then sued the business because he fucked her on company time and on company property. The two of them stayed married just long enough for both of them to sue Stan separately and then they divorced, and the husband got all her settlement too,” she told her father in a too-sweet voice. “It’s good to know that you consider all that money communal family property though.”
“He let them sue him like that?!!?” he sneered in disgust.
“Rand has the best legal team in Charlotte,” she said proudly.
“YOU?!!?”
His eyes bugged out at me.
“I don’t know if non-disclosure agreements survive the death of the principle party, so I’d rather not discuss the details, but I can confirm that my grievances against Stan Weaver and Weaver Savings and Loan were settled in a mutually agreeable fashion. So, you see, a lot of the money that you were counting on, or whatever had you bouncing on your toes, It’s now our money,”
I told him, putting my arm around Mel’s shoulders to leave no doubt who I included in my proclamation. He just sneered at me and shook his head.
“You son of a bitch!” he seethed. “You stay the fuck away from my daughter.”
“Look, you’ve been insulting, threatening and dismissive to me, and snide, condescending and controlling to Melody. You can insult me all day long. It doesn’t bother me, but you leave Mel alone. I don’t like the way you’ve talked to her so far, and I don’t like the way you treat her like an idiot. I certainly don’t like your casual assumption that because she came to visit, you’re in charge of her life. You don’t give a shit about her. If you did, you’d have come to Charlotte when she found out Stan was cheating ;so that you could be with her when she was hurting; you would have come down when Stan died, leaving her with no family to rely on. Stan’s housekeeper has been better to her than you have, and from the sounds of it, you always treated her like shit. Now that she’s got money, you want to be family? Convenient!”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about!” he sneered. “Melody is highly impressionable. She needs protection from the likes of you.”
“She needed protection from the likes of Stan, but you sold her to him to seal a big deal, right? You used your first-born daughter as a sex slave to grease the wheels on your big deal with Stan and now you’re counting on the contents of his estate to keep those wheels spinning, by the look of it. You disgust me. Are you sure you’re her father, because I see nothing of you in her.”
Well, gentle reader, I need to confess that I have no idea what I was thinking to blurt that out, but it set him off on a rant that had airport police taking a keen interest in our exchange.
“Don’t do it,” I told him. “I know what you’re thinking, and if you do it, you end up in the hospital or jail,” I told him. “If you hit me, it’s assault and I’ll press charges. I’ll also defend myself and my fiancée. I probably won’t be gentle about it either.”
He growled at me, but he restrained himself by a hairs-breadth.
“You’re fucking lucky we’re in public,” he declared.
“That’s pathetic,” I said flatly. “All three of us know that if you and I decided to mutually hurt each other, I would pick you up and snap parts off of you at will. There’s nothing you could do about it other than piss yourself and beg for mercy. I think we’re done. Run along, stuffed shirt. Your wife is invited to dine with us tonight. You are not. After this outburst, I think it would be best if you immersed yourself in work until we return home.”
Bree
- 09.08.2020
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