06.18.06 Avarice - Pricking of My Thumbs

"Why do you have to go there now, for God's sake we've been home hardly twenty-four hours, and you're off to cavort around already?"

She turned with slight chagrin.

"You haven't even taken me out for fucking who knows how long. Robert, I need to get out of here, do some shopping, and just get away for a bit; is that too much to ask?"

Nothing should shock me about her any more, yet still her contempt strikes through.

"Is it too much to ask of you to understand why we've not been going out? A little matter called Daemon Curtis."

"Is that all you think about? You?"

I shot back that I could ask her the same thing. She didn't quite appreciate my candor. I tried to appeal to her vanity.

That's always a good maneuver.

"You are after all the wife and manager of the number one wrestler in the world now," I declared with a slight air of confidence.

She didn't seem too impressed.

She knew what she wanted: to shop, to spend my millions, and to have a damn good time doing it too.

"Yeah, and you better recognize the reason why you are the number one man in the world."

Subtlety is not her strong suit.

"Marissah, I'm sore as shit, and who is going to keep me company?"

As soon as the words left my mouth, I recognized how sad that sounded. But it's true.

I miss my little boy.

I truly have not felt so abused in my life - not by her, just physically, although... - since my match with Finnegan. Curtis disassembled me, but his own arrogance was his own undoing. I hear that he and Minority Uprising have vanished for now. Who am I going to harass, especially with The Untouchables at my disposal. All fun things to ponder, as I await Marissah's response.

I haven't gotten one. She's on her cell phone.

"I'd like an open ended ticket from JFK to Heathrow please, first class, as soon as possible. Tonight is fine. I'll quote you my credit card. One sec."

"You mean my credit card."

The finger in response. The Lear is being serviced so the poor thing has to fly with the plebes, a fact which I know she is not filled with glee.

"It's a Diner's Club card, that okay? Wonderful sweetie."

She hasn't called me that in a long while.

What the fuck kind of marriage is this?

"Okay Robert, I'm off to Fifth Avenue for a while to chill with Aryanna, and then I'm off to London. I'll probably stop off at the Estate too."

I don't even know what to say to protest or even voice my opinion.

How can one when the other's ears are closed?

"Miss me sweetie." She kissed her fingers and touched my lips with them, and quickly left.

At least I got a "sweetie." A small token.

Silence reverberates now.

So now I am left to convalesce alone in my bed.

The back of my cranium still hurts like holy shit - luckily I received no concussion from that back suplex onto the steel steps, only many stitches.

My knee is banged up, but nothing was put out of place.

And in general, I resemble the proverbial run over by a Mac truck statement.

I lay back and let out a low groan - to whom? Nobody.

I really should fade off to sleep and think of happier things.

As I turn my body to get comfortable - gingerly, very gingerly - a glint of gold catches in my eye.

It is of course, the OLW Championship, which sits not too far off on my dresser drawers.

Suddenly sleep comes a bit easier to me.

II: Monday, June 5, 2006, Wessex, England - Ancestral Estate of the Lancastrians of Wessex

"Who was it Lili."

She's looking awfully nice now with her dyed blond hair - don't know if the Duchess would approve, but what the hell do I care.

"It was Her Grace. She's on her way, and will be coming straight in via Heathrow in the next several hours."

"Shit." I put my hands on my hips and thought hard.

What needed to be done?

The place is looking immaculate, but knowing that bitch, she'll poke her nose into every nook and find something to complain about.

John Cleese is right - that is exactly how Nazi Germany started.

And this Eva Braun will certainly do that.

I'll have to alert the other staff members to be on their toes and to get this place beyond immaculate.

In the mean time, I will keep my eye and ear out for...

RING RING. RING RING.

"Lili?"

"I'll get it Jim."

"Residence of His and Her Grace the Duke and Duchess of Wessex. Yes...hello. Certainly, you're welcome to as per Her Grace's dictates. A bottle of Dom Perignon yes, we can have it on ice. Good evening."

I think I know who it was.

"Well?"

"Paulus, of course."

"And?"

"And what?"

She's a bit slow.

"AND what did he say?"

"He's coming over shortly to check on some of the Duke's other financial dealings as of late."

Only one word comes into my mind upon hearing that oh so likely and apt explanation.

Bullshit.

"And I'm sure a bottle of Dom Perignon helps him to concentrate, does it? I'm sure he'll suck it back with ease. Much like she'll do to him."

She just stood there with her eyes fixed on me. I think my little joke went over her head. Either that or she doesn't like dirty jokes. She should meet this guy I know called Richard...or maybe not, but in any case.

I think it's time to do a little snooping again. Simkins will be proud of me.

It's webcam time. Glad that helpful chap at Staples in the States talked me into buying one.

"Lili, go tell the staff what needs to be done, I have some urgent business to attend to."

What that urgent business was, I didn't tell her. She just probably thought I meant I had to take a mean leak.

I hurry up to my private quarters, which takes almost a few minutes to get to - this place is so damn huge, and even though I've worked here for God knows how long now, I still nearly get lost on a few occasions.

In my quarters I yank out my laptop and webcam, and enter Their Grace's quarters, using the key that I and I alone possess.

I fumble around quickly looking for a suitable place to hide the laptop and the cam, to point straight at, where else, the bed.

I then stop briefly and realize: they might not even come in here. But knowing her to be the kind of woman I think she is - conniving, backstabbing, whore type - then I'd think she will.

I found a suitable location to hide the computer and the cam, and quickly bolted out of there.

Let's hope the damn thing works.

The next hour or two went by in a flurry of activity by various staff members to have everything just so for the fussbudget.

Coincidentally (I think not) Her Grace and Hërr Palus arrived simultaneously.

I bowed slightly. "Your Grace."

"James, lovely to see you."

I nodded politely.

The Duchess turned to Lili, sporting her dyed blond hair. She gave a small sneer, and taking Paulus' arm, the two headed towards the Grand Library.

"Your Dom Perignon is waiting chilled for you."

"Ooh, Paulus," she giggled. He only smirked.

The bastard.

The bitch.

By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes.

After fetching their champagne I tried to sleep seeing it was the middle of the bloody night, but knowing what they might be up to just kept me awake all night long.

I must have stared at the clock all night. Each minute lasted an eternity. Finally it hit 6 am and I got up to begin my daily duties.

The pair of them did not arise until the early afternoon. I then eagerly entered her quarters and grabbed my laptop and camera, which fortunately had gone unnoticed.

I sigh a huge sigh of relief - I would have pissed my pants if I found it missing.

I hurried back to my quarters and locked my door, and switched on the laptop again to review the nature of what I had filmed.

With great anticipation, I hit play. My pulse accelerated, I felt clammy, my hands nearly shook.

What I saw utterly amazed me.