Duplicity - A True Story of Crime and Deceit by Paul Goldman (surface ebook reader txt) 📗

agreed time, thebells gently heralded Audrey's entrance, and I once again allowedmyself to watch her before she caught sight of me. Her long,spiraling hair found its way down her back as she slowly glancedaround the small restaurant space. The sun stole through the frontwindows, framing her hair, like a halo. There's my angel, Ithought. I slowly stood up so Audrey could notice me, but part ofme also hoped I might watch her just a little longer before ourdate officially began. Turning toward the back of the restaurant,she finally saw me and flashed me a warm smile. I wasoverwhelmed.

We sat down and ordered our meal. Iimmediately posed a question from my well-memorized list, takingevery effort to seem casual and confident.

“So,care to tell me more about your experiences onJewish Singles?”

“Well,” she smiled,twirling a curl of her hair, “I guess you could say I've had a lotof first dates, and most just ended there.”

“Oh? How come?” I asked,wondering if her experiences had been similar to mine. Before shehad an opportunity to answer, however, her cell phone rang and shescrambled to answer it. She retrieved it from her purse, glanced atthe number, shrugged her shoulders, and placed it down on thetable. Without further comment she answered, “I think I told youhow important honesty in a relationship is to me. Well, in theinterest of honesty, I make it very clear to men that I'm anold-fashioned girl. I don’t believe in sex before marriage. Ofcourse, when I tell a man that, it’s usually the last time I seehim,” she spoke calmly and her eyes never left mine. She wasreading me, awaiting my reaction to what was normally considered adeal breaker.

I took a moment to thinkabout what she said while I blew on my wonton soup to buy sometime. I respected her principles. I was impressed by both hercandor and her convictions. Of course, a part of me wasdisappointed. But it wasn't only a playmate I was after. I wanted alife. A life with a woman of high morals that I could be togetherwith forever.

“You know, I’m not likemost men,” I said evenly, meeting her eyes and smiling. “I thinkyou're a wonderful person, Audrey, and I see no reason not to waituntil we know each other a lot better, to have a deep relationship.So, tell me, would you like to continue to see me?”

“Sure.You’ll do,” she remarked, returning to her meal while glancing downto check her cell phone for any voice mails. My smile faded. I’lldo? What the hell did that mean? I was suddenly unsure of what Ihad just been so certain of. I didn’t want to simply “do” foranyone. When Audrey finally looked back at me, she must haveguessed the direction of my thoughts from the expression on myface, and she quickly clarified her remark. “Oh, silly me. Look atyour face! Me and my twisted sense of humor. I was kidding, Paul.I'm so looking forward to us getting together again.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Meeting the Parents

January 2007

Some of the bestconversations I have ever had occurred within the confines of acar. Removed from the trappings of the outside world and itslimitless interruptions and distractions, a car ride forces you tocommunicate in a way that technology seeks to prevent. Face toface, real time words and reactions, instant emotions, andundeniable expressions all account for the passage of time in acar, on a road, with someone else. Depending on the passengers’relationship, the car ride to anywhere may consist of idle chatteror discussions of greater depth, and it may pass in silence oraccompanied by the comfort of the radio, but it is always the roadless taken, less you take it alone.

The road Audrey and I happened to betravelling on was headed due south, toward Fort Lauderdale and thetemporary home of her parents. Though permanent residents ofHuntington Island, a recent hurricane successfully proved thatthere is no such thing as geographical permanence in Florida, andso they were temporarily living in a Fort Lauderdale condo untilthe repairs were finished.

“Are you sure you knowwhere you’re going, honey?” Audrey’s term of endearment may havebeen thrown in at the end to mask her doubts about my navigationalskills, but I enjoyed the fact that someone was calling me “honey”nonetheless.

“I knowexactly where I’m going,” I responded, confidently. “I used to owna condo at OceanBluffs, which is right down the streetfrom your parents’ place in SeasideTerrace.” I took a moment to bask in thetriumph of my knowledge, hoping my nervousness over meeting herparents would dissipate. “So, would you tell me again what it isyour father does?” Audrey gave a little sigh of exasperation, andexplained for the second time what her father did for a living.Sort of.

According to Audrey, herfather was the son of a very successful man who not only founded aFortune 500 company, amassing a huge fortune of which Audrey’sfather was the heir apparent and she was an obliging heiress. Sucha pedigree did as much to increase my nervousness as it did mycuriosity. It seemed that, despite being the son of the founder,Audrey’s father decided not to work in the family business. ThoughI would certainly not question a man for choosing to blaze his owntrail as I had done, Audrey had no clear answer for what her fatherdid instead. And why the heck would the heir to a huge fortunechoose Seaside Terrace to temporarily reside? It wasn’t a bad place to live, but itwasn’t the Ritz either.

During a lull in the conversation, mythoughts turned to my own career choices and the winding path thathad resulted. After Johnny was born and Talia was in New York, Imoved to Florida, and, instead of returning to cubicle servitude,thanks to the significant profit from the sale of my Californiahome, I had the ability to fulfill my dream of becoming a businessowner like my brothers. I looked to purchase an ongoing business.However, each time I found one, it was the same story. I'd make anoffer, and the seller would accept it. Then, each time I went tolook at the business's records, I discovered that the income of thebusiness was not what the seller claimed. In short,