Chapter’s End

What the hell am I doing here? he thought to himself as he sat in his car, stopped halfway up the drive to the house. I could just turn around and leave. There’s no law that says I have to be here for this.

He was about to put the car into reverse and leave the property when another thought came to him: You promised Paul you would be here for this. Sighing, David put the car into drive and pulled up to the front of the house.

Looking up at the house through the windshield, he couldn’t help but to believe that the house would have looked better in Antebellum Georgia than Beverly Hills. Six white marble columns stood at the front of the main section of the house, three on either side of the double oak front doors. Above those oak doors was a tiny little balcony that was useless for anything except standing at to view the front lawn and driveway, accessible only by a pair of French Doors on the second floor. On either side of the doors were two sets of windows, each soaring upward through the two floors and topped by half-circles.

Antebellum Georgia, he thought as he turned off the engine of the small Mercedes sedan. Tara! his mind suddenly screamed. The damned house looks like Tara from ‘Gone With the Wind’!

It had been almost eleven years since he had been inside the house, but he could still envision every bit of it, from the granite floors in the foyer to the wrought iron baluster on the stairs to the marble statues that lined the upstairs hall. Every detail was burned into his mind as if he had just walked out earlier that day.

“You never forget your prison cell,” he mumbled as he stepped out of the Mercedes and ran his fingers through his shaggy blond hair.

He was still leery about actually going into the house, the memories of that last day flooding back into his mind, that last day in which his grandfather had finally released him from the prison that was this house.

He took a deep breath, ran his fingers through his hair again, and started walking toward the front door. As he reached the steps leading to the door, they swung open, and he saw a gray-haired man standing there. His breathing stopped, his heart started to race; panic started to fill him. The man standing there was shadowed, not completely visible, and he just knew that it was his grandfather, the abusive, sadistic bastard that had made his life in that house a living hell during the twelve years he was there.

“David?” the man asked from the doorway, stepping forward into the sunlight. “Are you okay?”

David let out a sigh of relief as he saw that the man was Paul Stratton, not his grandfather.

“Just seeing ghosts,” David replied, the relief evident in his voice. “Thought you were him for a moment.”

Paul nodded as he walked further toward David. “I understand. Everyone else is here, so if you want to come inside we can start with the reading.”

David took off his sunglasses and looked at Paul with emerald green eyes. “Does that mean they are here as well?”

Paul nodded. “The first to arrive. They brought the girls as well.”

“Of course they did,” David sighed, looking back toward the house, squinting in the California sun. “This isn’t going to be easy.”

Paul reached up and placed his hand onto David’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “You will be just fine, David. Teddy made sure that they got enough to not bother you after today.”

“I can handle one day,” David sighed, more to convince himself than Paul, and started to walk up the steps toward the door, closely followed by Paul.

Stepping into the foyer of the house, it was just as David had thought. Nothing about the house had changed since he was kicked out on his eighteenth birthday.

“You’re eighteen,” his grandfather had said that day. “That makes you useless to me now. Your bags have been packed, there’s ten grand in with your clothes. I don’t care where you go or what you do, but you are no longer welcome here.” It was that moment that David’s life had changed into what it was now, a life of loneliness in an empty house on the beaches of Malibu.

Paul walked ahead of David and led him to the large ballroom at the back of the mansion, where David was surprised to see about 25 people seated in folding wood chairs. Looking around the room, David recognized many of the people in the room as being employees of his grandfather in one form or another. Paul led David toward an empty seat in the front row, next to a woman in a wheelchair.

David sat down and looked at the woman, shocked to see that it was Misses Gunderson, the housekeeper that had worked in the house the whole time he lived there. He smiled at her, remembering that she was the only person to treat him well when he lived in the house.

“How are you, Misses G?” he asked her, thinking about how old and frail she looked. She was no spring chicken when David had first arrived at the house as a six-year-old child.

She looked at him, squinting her eyes through the thick lenses of her glasses, and leaned toward him. “David? Is that you?” she asked, her voice a hoarse and cracking whisper.

“Yes, ma’am,” he quietly replied.

“Oh, David. It’s just awful, isn’t it? What a tragic way to die,” she said, tears welling up in her eyes. “He wasn’t perfect, David, and he had a mean streak sometimes, but deep down he was a good man.”

“I’m sure to some people he was,” David replied. “He just never showed that side to me.”

“Let’s get started,” Paul called out from the table that had been set up at the front of the chairs, ending the conversation between David and Misses Gunderson. “As I know most of you are very busy, feel free to leave once I have finished reading those sections of the will relating to you personally. For those of you who are to receive a cash bequest, you can meet with my secretary in the sitting room and she will give you a copy of the will and a cashier’s check for the amount designated in the will.”

For the next hour, everyone in the room sat and listened as the final will and testament of Theodore Robert Littlefield, Hollywood Producer and studio owner, was read out loud. Most of the people in the room received token amounts of money, and had left after they were named.

David looked around the room and saw that only himself, Misses Gunderson and her nurse, and four other people remained in the room. As he looked at the group of four sitting in the front row on the other side of the center aisle, he realized exactly who they were. Husband, wife and two daughters who were much younger than himself. He knew who they were, even though he had never met the girls and hadn’t seen the husband or the wife since he was 6-years-old.

“Now we get into the more personal bequests,” Paul said from the table. “This is the section of the will dealing with Theodore’s family and closest friend. If you would like, we can take a small break, get something to drink and then come back for the remainder of the will.”

“Just get on with it,” said the man on the other side of the room. “The sooner the will is read, the sooner we can move on with our lives.”

David saw that Paul’s eyes, which had looked sad during the reading, suddenly became flinty points of anger, but his facial expression never changed. Paul looked over at David and Misses Gunderson. “Would the two of you like to continue?”

“Yes, please,” Misses Gunderson answered quietly from the chair.

David just nodded his approval.

“Very well,” Paul sighed. “‘To Misses Henrietta Gunderson, who was always my most loyal employee and closest friend, I leave a trust in the amount of $10 million, said money to be used for her well-being. Upon her passing, any remaining monies are to be converted into a new charitable organization to be called the Henrietta Gunderson Foundation for the Elderly. This money will then be used to help fund retirement homes around the Greater Los Angeles area.’”

“I’m a foundation!” Misses Gunderson squealed with delight, clapping her hands, then grabbing David’s arm with a surprising strength for someone so frail looking. “I feel so famous!”

David and Paul both chuckled. “There’s more,” Paul said and continued with the will.

“‘I also leave to Henrietta a further $5 million for her own personal use. This money is to be used in any way that she deems appropriate.’” Paul then stood and walked over to Misses Gunderson, handing her an envelope. “He also wanted me to make sure I personally handed you this letter, written in his own writing. It’s a personal message from him to you. I, nor any of my associates or employees, have read it. It’s been sealed since he gave it to me.”

Paul walked back to the table and sat back down. “‘ To my daughter, Erica,  and her husband Randall, I leave the amount of $5 million dollars each, as well as my houses in Seattle and Miami, and the brownstone in New York City. To their daughters, I leave $5 million dollars each, said money to be put into a trust until they each reach the age of 25. Said trusts are to be administered by the law firm of Stratton, Barnes & Melville, along with my grandson, David. His signature must be on any documents that finally give my granddaughters their inheritance. Should David pass away before their 25th birthdays, then a representative from the accounting firm of Elliot Masterson Associates will have to sign the documents.’

“Teddy also left a letter for you, which he instructed be left at the house in Seattle. You will find it there, sitting on the dining room table.”

“We have to go to Seattle for a piece of paper?” Randall asked. “What kind of nonsense is that?”

“It’s what Theodore wanted,” Paul sighed. “I’m just following his instructions.”

“Screw that!” Randall bellowed. “If he had something to tell his daughter or myself, he should have had the decency to  have you hand it to her here! You should have just kept it with you anyway, instead of making us go to Seattle to get it!”

“Shut up!” David yelled, standing and looking over at Randall. “You are the one that wanted to ‘just get on with it’ so keep your mouth shut and let Paul finish!”

Randall glared at David for a few seconds, then crossed his arms and sat back in his chair.

“Please continue,” Erica muttered to Paul.

Paul cleared his throat as David sat back down in the chair. “‘Finally, to my grandson David. David, I know I was not the best person to you, and that the way I treated you as you lived with me was inexcusable. I used you to further my own objectives, and for that I am deeply sorry. While I cannot change the past or change what I have done, I can try to make it up to you. You are to receive the remainder of my estate, which includes this house, the movie and television studio, and a company in Denver, Colorado, by the name of Stone River Properties, as well as all remaining cash and investment accounts. It is because of what I did to you that I have much of these assets, therefore it is only fitting that I hand them to over to you. Paul, or one of his associates, will have all of the details. Please accept my apologies for the life I put you though.’”

Paul closed the will, and looked at the seven people who remained in the room. “That is the end of the will. David, I will go over your inheritance with you in detail tomorrow. We will need to meet with Marcia Elliot to get all of the figures.”

“Wait a minute,” Randall said, again sitting forward in his chair. “He leaves his daughter a few houses and some cash, but leaves his grandson what amounts to about a billion dollars? Erica is his heir, not David!”

Erica reached out to her husband, grabbing his shoulder to try to quiet him. She didn’t succeed.

“Erica is the next of kin, not David! He’s just a grandson, not his child, like Erica! It’s not fair!” Randall yelled.

“Fair?!” David bellowed, standing up and walking toward Randall. “You want to talk about fair? How fair was it that the two of you dumped me here? How fair is it that you have never once tried to speak to me since? How fair is it that the first time in my life that I have seen my own mother and father in 22 years is at the reading of a will, where my father decides that he isn’t getting enough? How fair is it that I have two sisters sitting right there that I have never even met? How fair is it that I spent twelve years in this house being verbally, emotionally and physically abused by my own grandfather, when I should have been living with my mother and father? I think Teddy was being more than fair to give either of you anything!”

Randall stood up, coming face-to-face with David, and started to laugh. “Your mother and father? Maybe you don’t know everything you think you know! Why don’t you ask her who your father is, because it certainly isn’t me! Just look at yourself! Go look in a mirror and then look at our daughters. You look nothing like a child of mine!”

“Stop it!” Erica cried out, jumping to her feet. “Both of you, just stop it! Randy, take the girls out. I want to talk to David alone.”

“What if I don’t want to talk to you?” David asked, as Paul motioned to Misses Gunderson’s nurse to leave as well, then walked up to them.

“We will all leave you alone,” Paul said to David. “There is a fully stocked bar in the sideboard if you need a drink.”

“Good idea,” David replied, walking over the sideboard and looking through the decanters as the room emptied out. He found the scotch and poured himself a large glass full, feeling that he was going to need it before the end of the conversation. “You want anything?” he called out to the woman who was his mother.

“No,” she quietly murmured, walking toward him.

He took a gulp of the liquid, draining the glass, and felt the burn as it passed his tongue, his throat and into his stomach. He closed his eyes and let the burn fill him up, taking a deep breath and leaning his head back, trying to relax.

Then he straightened up, opened his eyes, poured another glassful of the scotch and looked at his mother. He knew who she was only because it was obvious within that ballroom, but if he had run into her on the street he would never have guessed who she was. Her dark brown hair, once so shiny and perfect looking was now dull and streaked with gray hair. Her emerald green eyes no longer sparkled, but looked flatly out of a face that was wrinkled, making her look much older than her 44 years.

“Was he telling the truth?” David asked quietly.

Erica looked at him for a few seconds, taking in the sight of the man that her little boy had become, then slowly nodded. “Yes, he was telling the truth. He’s not your father.”

David sat down in the closest chair and looked up at her. “Then I guess you should probably tell me everything while you still have the chance,” he sighed, taking another sip of the alcohol.

Erica turned the chair in front of him around so that she could face him and then sat down. “When I was growing up, your grandfather would have what he called the Weekly Mixer. It was a party that he held here every Friday night, where he would gather much of the talent that worked for him. The idea was that he would be able to tell who got along and who didn’t, and could then make decisions as to who should work together and who should be kept apart.”

“I know all about the Weekly Mixer,” David said, taking another sip of his drink. “I learned to hate the mixer very quickly.”

“I used to like them,” Erica said, a small smile coming to her face. “Then, when I was 15, during one of the mixers, I met this boy. He was 19, and he was at the mixer because your grandfather thought he would become the next big thing in movies and television and wanted to show him around. The drugs and alcohol were flowing freely that night, and this boy had more than his fair share of both. I found him out by the pool, stoned and drunk out of his mind. I was a bit drunk myself, because I would sneak drinks during these parties. Then next thing I know, he was on top of me, and forcing himself on me. I tried to resist, but he was much stronger than I was. When he was done, I gathered my torn clothes and ran to my room. I stayed there the rest of the night.”

Erica wiped a tear away from her cheek, then stood up. She walked over to the sideboard and poured herself a drink. “I guess I did need this,” she softly murmured as she took a sip.

“How does Randall fit into the picture?” David asked.

“Randy was the son of the gardener,” Erica replied. “We had known each other since I was seven and he was nine, and we were very good friends. He was at the house with his father the next morning, and I told him what had happened. He wanted to find this guy and kill him, but I wouldn’t tell him who it was. When I discovered that I was pregnant, Randy was the first person I told. He tried to convince me to get an abortion, but I couldn’t go through with it. When it became apparent I would have to tell your grandfather that I was pregnant, Randy agreed that he would claim to be the father, to protect me from your grandfather.”

Erica took another sip of her drink and sighed. “Randy turned 18 just before you were born, and he got an apartment for us to live in. After you were born, we struggled to keep up with the bills. Randy was working three jobs, and I was babysitting the other children in the apartment complex to help bring in some money, but it was never enough to pay all of the bills, especially the hospital bills.

“I had asked your grandfather for money, to help with all of the bills, but he refused. We somehow managed to survive. How we did, I still can’t figure out. When you were 5, Randy lost two of his jobs. We couldn’t afford to put food on the table, and had to make some cuts. I got a second job, and Randy found a second job, but it didn’t help with all of the bills, and then we also had to pay for daycare for you when the two of us were both working outside the apartment. As we looked into how to reduce expenses, we realized that we could get a cheaper apartment, but that there wouldn’t be any room for you if we did. It took us months of discussion, and we realized that the best solution was to have you live with my father until we could get back on our feet and be in a position where we could take care of you properly.”

“So you dropped me off here, and left me,” David snarled. “And then never returned. Makes me think that even with all of the abuse I was better off here than with the two of you.”

“I did come for you! We both came for you,” Erica pleaded. “You were 12, and Randy and I came here and talked with my father. We were planning to bring you home, back to me and Randy. We were both working good jobs, all of the bills were paid off, and we were renting a nice, modest house out in the valley. We had some money in savings, not a lot, but enough to get by on for quite some time should either one of us lose our jobs.” Erica sighed and sat back down in the chair.

“But the more we talked with my father, the more we realized that you were better off with him, than with us. You were attending the best school in the area, you were living in Beverly Hills, and there was nothing you would ever want for. Randy and I couldn’t provide that, so it was decided that you would remain with him.”

David stared at her for several seconds, anger flaring in his eyes. Then he jumped up, knocking over the chair he had been sitting in and threw his glass across the room, where it struck the wall and shattered, splashing scotch all over it.

“You bitch!” he yelled. “You made a decision about my life without ever asking ME! You didn’t come to see ME! If you had, I could have told you what life in this house was really like! I hated the Weekly Mixers, because my job at the mixers was to sleep with whoever wanted me! Teddy would then use this against the person who had sex with me! And if I said I didn’t want to do it, Teddy would beat the shit out of me! I was sexually molested and physically abused for TWELVE YEARS because YOU DECIDED TO LEAVE ME!” he screamed, throwing and kicking chairs around the room.

“I had no idea!” Erica gasped, her eyes wide, a hand covering her mouth. And as everything he had said started to sink in, she started to cry. She ran over to him and tried to hug him, tried to connect with her lost son. He pushed her away and she stumbled over one of the overturned chairs, landing in a heap on the floor. She looked up at him, the tears freely flowing from her eyes. “I am so sorry, David! I had no idea what was really happening here! I just wanted you to have everything I could never have anymore! Everything I couldn’t give you!”

She started to sob, and buried her face into her arm, still laying on the floor. “I’m so sorry!” she sobbed repeatedly.

David took several deep breaths, trying to calm himself of the anger that flooded through him, anger at his mother, anger at the man who he had thought was his father, anger at the grandfather that had used his body to blackmail people… and anger at himself for allowing all of it to happen.

He looked down at his mother, heaped onto the floor, her hair a tangled mess of brown and a few patches of gray, her chest heaving from the sobs. He walked over to her, knelt down and helped her to her feet. Once standing, he held her, letting her cry.

“It’s okay,” he murmured. “It’s over, it’s all ancient history now. Let’s keep it there.”

Erica sniffed and pulled away from him. She walked over to her purse and opened it, pulling out a handkerchief. She wiped her eyes and nose, then took out a compact and looked at herself in the mirror within it. She tried to fix her hair, but only managed to get it roughly back into place.

“I only did what I thought was best for you at the time,” she sniffed as she looked back at him.

“I know,” he acquiesced. “Just one more question, then we can forget any of this ever happened.”

She nodded.

“Who was he? My real father, I mean.”

“Does it matter?” Erica asked. “He’s dead now. Died of a heroin overdose not long after you went to live with your grandfather.”

David felt as if his world were about to collapse, as if the floor were going to disappear underneath him and he would be swallowed up by a black void. “It was Emmett Masters, wasn’t it?” he hoarsely whispered, unable to actually speak that name.

“How could you know that?” Erica asked, a look of puzzlement and horror on her face.

“I… I just know,” David said, not wanting to tell her the truth. “I remember meeting him at one of the mixers, and him saying I looked just like he did as a child.”

She looked at him for several minutes, then walked back over to him and looked him straight in the eyes. “Earlier, you said physical abuse. My father hit you?”

“Many times,” David murmured. “The first time… well, let’s just say that when it happened, there was a lot of swearing involved, from him and myself, and it was all aimed at you.”

Erica nodded. “I’m sure it was. I know my father wasn’t the most pleasant of men. But did he… did he do more than hit you?”

David looked at her for a second. “Sexually, you mean?”

Erica looked away and nodded. “Yes. You mentioned it earlier.”

“Not directly,” David replied. “That part in the will where he apologized for using me… He never had sex with me himself. But many others did, with his permission.”

Erica gasped and looked back at him. “What?”

“How do you think he got as powerful as he was around Hollywood?” David asked her. “Not only was I used as a sexual tool for his guests at the mixers, but my room was wired with hidden microphones and cameras so he could record it. He would then use the videos to blackmail those people to do what he wanted.”

Now that it was out in the open, David felt a wave of relief sweep through him, the weight of the secret finally lifted from him. “Wow,” he gasped, sitting down on a chair. “I have never told anyone about that.”

“Oh God,” Erica whispered, putting her hand to her mouth. “He was a monster.”

David nodded. “I began to think so. Then, when he kicked me out of the house, I realized that if it became necessary, I could use that information. About 5 years ago, I got into some legal trouble. Some friends and I were arrested, but I was able to talk with the sheriff. He was one of those men recorded in my room. He let us go, and buried the record because I told him that I had the video, and wouldn’t be afraid to let it get shown on the evening news. It’s the only time I ever used the information against someone, but it got me out of trouble.”

“How… How many were there?” Erica asked.

“How many what?” David asked, unsure of exactly what she was asking.

“People,” Erica replied shyly. “That were…recorded…in your room.”

David shrugged his shoulders. “I lost count somewhere around 200.”

Erica groaned and almost seemed to deflate in front of him. She sat down in a chair and put her head into her hands. “What have I done?” she asked herself.

“You’ve already said it,” David replied. “You did what you thought was best for me. And now, I am going to do what I think is best for both of us. I am going to walk out of this room, leave this house, and try to forget that today ever happened.”

Erica’s head snapped up, a look of panic on her face. “What do you mean?”

“We haven’t seen each other in 22 years, by mutual choice,” David explained. “And quite honestly, I see no reason to let this one meeting lead to anything else. You have another family now, as well as a few houses and some decent cash. There is no need to be in each other’s lives.”

David stood and started to walk toward the door.

“David!” Erica called out as he reached out for the door handle. “One last question… Please?”

He turned and nodded at her.

“Emmett. Was he one of the people?” she asked.

David laughed a little, nodding. “Oh yeah. He was the first, actually. And just so you know, Teddy got revenge for both of us. Emmett died of a heroin overdose, that’s true. But what you don’t know is that Teddy and I were in his apartment when it happened. Teddy had discovered what was going on. He took me, a gun, and a lot of heroin over to Emmett’s apartment. Once we were inside, Teddy held a gun to his head and made Emmett shoot up. And the more Emmett shot up, the easier it became to convince him to do more. Before too long, Emmett was dead. Teddy had killed him.”

David signed and dropped his head, closing his eyes for a moment. Then he opened his eyes and looked over at Erica.

“Now, here is where I say goodbye, Erica. I would call you Mother, but I believe I never really had a mother.”

David walked out of the ballroom and into the hall. He started towards the front door, but was stopped by Paul.

“We need to set up a meeting for tomorrow to discuss what to do with the assets you have inherited,” Paul said.

“Sell it,” David replied. “Draw up the paperwork I need to sign and sell it all. Particularly this place.”

David walked passed Paul and continued toward the front door. Once he reached it, he stopped and turned back to Paul.  “I have a better idea,” he called out to Paul. “I want this place torn down. I want it completely demolished. Then sell off the land to one of the neighbors.”

With that, David walked out the front door, not looking back. That chapter of his life was closed.

Walking back to his car, David realized that there was a lot of closure of open chapters that needed to be closed because of this day. As he reached his car, he looked up at the house.

“Goodbye, Teddy, you masochistic bastard,” he quietly muttered under his breath. “Thanks for the endings.”

Five minutes later, David was driving back to his own home in Malibu. He would never have to step foot into Beverly Hills again, and for that he was very grateful.