The Ups and Downs of Being Dead Read online

  * * *

  The boarding door at gate fourteen swung open and Rachel was among the first passengers to exit the gangway. Robert was amazed once more by his daughter’s stunning beauty. She wore her blonde hair combed straight back and clasped at the nape of her neck, accentuating the sleek cheekbones, the radiant skin.

  She carried the prerequisite briefcase, but refused to wear a Bluetooth. Said it made her look like a Gap employee. As she walked toward the escalators, passengers scurrying to their flights stepped aside to let her pass. A flight attendant slowed to take in Rachel, then smiled. More than one businessman stumbled or bumped into another passenger. Robert regretted not trying harder to persuade Rachel to model.

  The first time he’d thought about it, she was only sixteen. He’d invited her on a business trip to New York. Their suite at the Marquis had a sitting room, and Rachel was perched on the sofa, her legs crossed, sketching on a pad. He’d come out of his bedroom to urge her to get some sleep, and she’d held up the pad. “What do you think?”

  She’d been working on a pants suit with a calf-length jacket. The long, sure strokes of her pencil, the clean lines of the outfit, showed amazing talent.

  Even with no make-up, her face glowed, her slight smile assuring him the design was good without being told. She had that teasing tilt of the head that cameras loved. He was embarrassed to notice how she’d filled out. Suddenly she was not his little girl anymore. It was the last time he shared a suite with her.

  * * *

  Rachel flipped open her cell and hit speed dial. With all the background noise, Robert could not hear who she was talking to, but her face softened immediately. “Hi. I just got in.”

  Her head tilted down, nestling against the small phone as she discussed her flight. Then her head popped up.

  “You did?” she said. “On Headline News?” Her head nodded as she listened. “I know. I don’t know why I thought I could avoid this. I’m sure they’re waiting right now outside security. I might as well get it over with.”

  A pale rose color tinted her cheeks. “Early supper sounds great.” Her blush deepened to crimson when she said, “I missed you, too.”

  A boyfriend. How had Rachel managed to keep that bit of news from Robert?

  In high school, she’d always thought the boys were too immature for her. She always insisted she was way to busy for their shenanigans. It looked like she’d finally come around.

  A gaggle of reporters was indeed waiting for Rachel. The moment she stepped out of the corridor at the main terminal, cameras flashed, and voices yelled for attention. She let the jackals swarm, bombarding her with questions.

  “When was the last time you saw your brother?”

  “Did you have any idea he was capable of this kind of violence?”

  “How long has he been abusing drugs?”

  Rachel raised both hands to fend off the reporters. When they quieted, she said, “I love my brother, Robbie. I’m not defending what he did, or even his lifestyle these past few years. All I know is, I can’t begin to explain his actions, or encapsulate his life, in a ten-second sound bite for the news.”

  With that, she pushed through the crowd and marched for the nearest exit.

  Robert rode beside Rachel in a cab, pondering her statement to the press. She was smart to express her personal feelings for Robbie, that whole family-loyalty thing. Yet she’d succeeded in distancing herself from his behavior and his actions. He liked that little zinger at the end. The media always thought they could make perfect sense of any situation in ten seconds or less.

  When the cab exited the expressway at Tenth Street and headed up Piedmont Avenue to Ansley Park, Robert reacquainted himself with the established neighborhood. Most of the homes in Ansley Park cost a million plus. He’d learned once at some benefit that the neighborhood was the first built in Atlanta for automobiles. The winding streets curved around small parks, instead of running in a grid to accommodate streetcars. Its location in midtown had kept it trendy, and expensive.

  So who was this new boyfriend? An attorney? A surgeon?

  His house was a brick traditional with a professionally landscaped lawn. And the fact that Rachel had her own key spoke volumes on the relationship. The foyer had a small bamboo fountain and what looked like one of those Asian serenity gardens. Through double glass doors, Rachel strode into a cozy living room, set her briefcase in a chair, and smiled when she saw wine chilling near a cluster of floor pillows in front of the fireplace.

  A clink caught her attention and she wandered into the kitchen. A woman stood at the counter arranging cheese on a plate, her straight black hair hanging halfway down her back. She sensed Rachel’s presence immediately and turned. The tight tee shirt she wore only accentuated her flat chest. The low-slung slacks had no hips to grip.

  “Hey!” She smiled, her Asian eyes crinkling. “You made good time.”

  “Yeah. I kept it short and sweet with the press. Although I doubt if that’s the last time I get cornered.”

  The Asian woman reached out an arm and Rachel slipped into a comfortable embrace.

  “No,” Robert groaned, taking a step back. “No.”

  Rachel tilted her head down. The Asian woman raised her chin. Their faces aligned. Their lips drew close.

  “No.” Robert squeezed his eyes shut tight, envisioning a tall, stainless-steel Dewar at the Cryonics Center.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Silence surrounded Robert. Cautiously, he raised his eyelids to darkness. Ahead, he saw the familiar steel Dewars that held the preserved bodies like his.

  Spreading his arms wide, he embraced the closest cylinder in a hug, and leaned his cheek against the metal to feel its coolness. He felt nothing but heartache.

  A jumble of thoughts clamored for purchase in his head, like jump cut edits that were so popular in commercials.

  The sudden bang from the gun. Rachel’s lips pressed against the Asian woman’s mouth. Morgan’s hand in Robbie’s pants. Amanda’s golden hair flying across her face as she fell to the floor. The snake tattoo slithering up Morgan’s belly. Robbie’s trembling hand holding the gun. The splatter of blood on the wall. Rachel’s hand entwined in silky black hair.

  Most of all, Robert recalled that last desperate look on Amanda’s face. Was it the final realization that she had failed as a mother? Or was it the sorrow that her life was over, just as it was truly beginning? Could it be that Robert’s decision to be cryonically preserved suddenly made sense to her?

  Even after he managed to banish the bloody images, questions continued to parade through Robert’s mind in an endless loop. How long would the nightmare of Amanda tumbling to the floor play in his head? Was he going to spend the next seventy years reliving every second of Robbie’s screwed up life? How would this whole sordid mess affect the Audrey’s empire?

  He thought back on other controversial stories dragged through the public opinion sewers: mostly sports figures or politicians cheating on their spouses. There were a few rapes and shootings, even a couple murders. But in this instance, neither Robert nor Rachel was remotely involved. He was reminded of a quote: You can choose your friends, but you can’t choose your family.

  In the long run, Robert figured the press would be good for business. Audrey’s might even get some sympathy shoppers. Clothing store magnate struck down in the prime of life with cancer. Then his drug-addled son implodes. Hopefully, Jackson Burke would leak a few of the details on Robbie’s limited trust agreement. And emphasize how removed Robbie had been from the rest of the family. Of course, the details of Robert’s preservation would now be made public.

  The media would have a field day with that just like when Ted Williams had been frozen. At least Amanda wouldn’t be mocking Robert publicly.

  The burden of managing the press fell on Rachel now. And the snowball would roll right over her life as well, dragging her relationship with the Asian woman into the public eye. He accepted alternate lifestyles. Hell, no one could work in the fashion
industry and not be sympathetic, even outraged by the discrimination against the gay population. So why was Robert having such a hard time with Rachel?

  “Robert?” The sound of Maggie’s voice startled him.

  Great. He should have ducked into his Dewar the minute he got back. Now he’d have to tell Maggie and Sam all about his dysfunctional family.

  An elderly gentleman hobbled behind Maggie, his stooped shoulders taking a good six inches off his height.

  “Hello, young fella.” The man’s voice boomed in the quiet room. He extended a palsied hand to Robert.

  “Asa Walker,” he shouted, “Grosse Point, patient number sixty-three.”

  Robert extended his own hand for an awkward non-contact shake. Asa didn’t seem to notice.

  “Robert Malone,” he said. “Patient number seventy-two, I believe.” He glanced at Maggie. “Where’s Sam?”

  “His class starts tomorrow so Asa agreed to come early to relieve him.”

  “So what brings you back to the Center?” Asa yelled. “Having trouble with mobility? I know I had a heck of a time getting the hang of walking through doors.”

  “No, Asa,” Maggie said quietly. “Robert’s had some issues with his family.”

  When Robert flinched, Maggie gave him a sympathetic smile. “There’s a television in the lobby. We’ve been watching CNN.”

  “So, you’re the fella who’s wife got murdered,” Asa shouted. “Nasty business. I’m going to talk to Stuart at our next meeting. We need to forbid members from going home.”

  “Don’t be silly!” Maggie snapped at Asa. “And stop yelling. We can hear you just fine.”

  She attempted to link her arm with Robert’s. “Come on. Let’s go to the lobby and you can tell me all about it.”

  Behind him, Asa was still babbling. “Before I’d even reached the glass transition state, my wife had hauled off my Lay-Z-Boy, redecorated the whole house. She joined a bridge club. She’s even doing yoga! At her age!” His voice actually dropped a couple decibels. “I didn’t know she wanted to do all that stuff? Why didn’t she just tell me?”

  Maggie wagged a hand at Asa from behind her head to get him to quiet down.

  “Asa’s got some memory issues,” she told Robert. “And he was stone deaf for the last ten years of his life. That’s why he talks to loud.”

  She gestured for Robert to take a seat in one of the easy chairs in the lobby. “He means well, though.”

  “There’s really nothing to tell,” Robert said. “If you’ve been watching the news, you know as much as I do.”

  He refused to blubber about his family to this old woman. It was too much like being on one of those embarrassing afternoon talk shows.

  “Oh, Robert,” Maggie sighed. “So like a man. You’re all about the facts, and determined not to reveal the tiniest emotion.”

  “Look, I appreciate your concern,” Robert said, “but I think I can handle this by myself.”

  “That’s what they all say,” she said. “But you know, even after I retired, friends and family came to me with issues and I did my best to help them work through their problems.” She smiled. “It’s difficult to stop practicing now.”

  “I don’t need a psychologist,” Robert told her flatly.

  “No. You need an impartial observer who’ll just listen. I’m not here to pass judgment on you or your wife or your son. My job is to help you sort out your feelings.”

  Robert shook his head. How could he reveal such hatred to this stranger? How his whole family was a bitter disappointment? Once he got started, would he be able to stop?

  He remembered his father standing at the front door as the sheriff told him his wife had been killed in an automobile accident. He didn’t gasp, or sob, or clutch his chest. His head just wavered, caught in some meaningless gesture between a nod and a shake as the sheriff expressed his deepest sympathies.

  And when Robert broke down in tears and ran to his father for comfort, all his father said was, “Stop that, now. Crying won’t bring her back.”

  “Let’s go for a walk,” Maggie said. “Asa can hold down the fort.”

  Before Robert could refuse, Maggie passed through the glass front door, then stood on the sidewalk outside, waiting for him.

  “Oh, boy,” Asa mumbled. “You’re in for it now. She won’t let up until you tell her everything.” He bounced nervously from one foot to the other as he stared through the glass.

  “What if I refuse to go?”

  Asa threw his head back in a guffaw. “Don’t worry young fella,” he said. “You might feel like you’ve been hit by a bus when she’s done with you, but you’ll be glad you got it all out.”

  Slouching his shoulders, Robert joined Maggie. She wasn’t condescending or smug, as though she knew he had no choice. She merely nodded and started walking.

  “Can I ask you something?” she said.

  He turned his palms up in resignation.

  “Were you there at the shooting?”

  Robert nodded.

  “It’s such a helpless feeling,” she said. “Seeing something happen, and not being able to prevent it.”

  Maggie strolled along with her attention directed to the pavement as though she was on the look out for cracks that would have tripped her up. At least she wasn’t staring at Robert, waiting for him to say something profound.

  “I’ve been a temp for a couple years now,” she continued. “I’ve heard some heart breaking stories.”

  “Yeah?” Anger forced Robert to tighten his jaw. “Were any of them about a worthless coward who let his mother get murdered?”

  “When were you first aware of Robbie abusing drugs?”

  So much for Maggie just listening to him rant.

  “Back in middle school,’ he told her. “He was smoking pot in his bedroom with his friends.”

  Maggie nodded, still focused on the sidewalk. “Did you or your wife try any type of intervention?”

  “Sure! I told Amanda she should take away his privileges, and his allowance. He couldn’t buy that stuff if he didn’t have money.”

  “And did she?”

  “Heck, no!” Now Robert was really getting streamed. “She never punished him for anything he did. Robbie was her angel, her…”

  “And what did you do to rein in his bad behavior?”

  Robert jerked to a halt. “Oh, sure. Here it comes. Somehow this is all my fault because I didn’t discipline him, right? Let me tell you something, every time I put my foot down, Robbie went straight to his mother. She wouldn’t back me up.”

  After hesitating alongside Robert, Maggie began walking again, her head nodding as though she was putting it all together. Robert followed.

  “I decided that’s just the way things were,” Robert said quietly. “My job was to support my family, just like my dad did.”

  “Did your father take an active role in your upbringing?” she asked. “Punish you when you were bad?”

  “I wasn’t bad!” Robert said. “I got good grades, I stayed out of trouble.”

  “And did your father take you fishing, shoot hoops in the driveway—”

  “Are you kidding? My father was busy running a business.” Robert snorted. “If you want to call it that.”

  “What business was that?”

  “Bobby’s Bargain Barn,” Robert said with a tisk. “It really was a barn, made of metal, plopped at the edge of a cornfield on the outskirts of town. Women filed in like cows to buy their cotton print dresses and sturdy support shoes. Every piece of foundation was white. God forbid you called it lingerie.”

  “I guess that’s where you got your start in the fashion industry,” Maggie said, the hint of a smile crinkling her cheek.

  “Yeah.” Robert smiled himself as he thought back. “He taught me everything he knew, and I did just the opposite. When he died, I sold that abomination and opened my first Audrey’s.” He jutted his chin in the air. “I was only twenty-four at the time.”

  “My, my. You were quite
the entrepreneur.”

  “Yes, I was. I’d been a buyer with Neiman Marcus for a couple years, but they weren’t going in the same direction I wanted to go. It was the seventies! Mini skirts, knee-high boots, psychedelic stockings. God, remember plastic dresses? Girls wanted all that. They didn’t care if the fad would be over in a month. They wanted to look trendy now.”

  “And what did your mother think of you selling the business?”

  “Oh,” Robert slowly shook his head. “She was long gone by then.”

  “Divorce?”

  “No, a 1964 Buick LeSabre. She died when I was fourteen.”

  “Oh, dear. How tragic.”

  “Yeah, well—” Robert was suddenly struck with the image of his mother proudly marching down the center aisle of church with a wide-brimmed hat cocked dangerously to one side. He smiled at the memory.

  “Tell me about her,” Maggie said.

  Robert gazed up at the sky, allowing the memory of her smile to linger a moment longer. “She was a swan among ugly ducklings. She’d been raised on Long Island, so when she ended up with my father in this little hick town in Indiana, I guess she tried to escape the boredom by following Hollywood starlets. Especially Audrey Hepburn.”

  “Thus the name of your stores,” Maggie noted.

  “Exactly. Unfortunately, Bobby’s Bargain Barn didn’t stock anything close to the cute capris and straight shifts that were all the rage in Hollywood. So my mother took up sewing.”

  Robert tried to pinch the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. “Her creations were bad. The buttons didn’t line up properly, collars were sewn on crooked.”

  The smile on his face faltered. “I always told her she looked great, but my dad was pretty blunt. He told her the clothes were okay for around the house, but she shouldn’t wear them to the grocery store. When he saw how he’d hurt her feelings, he tried to soften the blow by telling her that other women would wish they could dress like my mother, but it didn’t help. It was one of those no-win situations.”