Accidentally in Love, page 7
“Mr Phelps, I’m Michael Kent, the manager of this branch. I’m very sorry to inform you that we won’t be able to open an account in your name.”
“Why not?” Ethan asked irritably. But he didn’t really need to bother asking the question – the answer was obvious.
“We have been informed that you are under the tutelage of a court appointed guardian and that all unapproved transactions, like opening a new account, must be previously authorized by them. Do you want us to contact them for you? ”
Visibly shaken, Ethan got up from his chair, looked at the bank manager and then at the blonde girl for a long time. “No, I don’t think there’s any need to do that. I still need some time to think about it, anyway.”
“Of course,” said the bank manager, trying to sound sympathetic. “Please, don’t hesitate to contact us if there’s any other way we can help you.”
“Thank you, I will.”
He took back his ID and walked quickly out of the building. His pace was so fast that Chris had difficulty keeping up with him.
“Don’t say a word… not one word…” he ordered Chris, as he turned to look at him. But the warning came too late, because Chris was already bent over double with laughter.
“Please, I’m begging you, I really want to meet this Sara,” he said, as he continued to laugh.
He had said this in all innocence, but Ethan stopped in his tracks, suddenly struck by a possible alternative plan. His angry expression turned into a smile. “You know what, maybe you’re right – I guess we should try to get to know Ms Di Giovanni better. Much better.”
*
Ten minutes after receiving the phone call from the Victory State Bank in Staten Island, the screen of Sara’s phone lit up to advise her she had received a message.
Well done! But remember, that was just the first round. You started this war, and now you’re going to pay the consequences.
The message came from the number she had saved in her contacts under the name ‘Drunken Psycho’. Sara tried not to laugh, she really did, but, as Ethan had said, it was a losing battle.
*
For a few days, things had been going like a dream. She’d had no more reports from unknown out of town banks and, above all, had received no more crazed sounding threatening messages. It seemed as if the waters were calm and Ethan had decided to abide by the rules imposed by the judge. And, in Sara’s modest opinion, not many people would have complained about only having thirty thousand dollars a month to fritter away. All that he needed to do was to take a little care and he would be perfectly able to live the life he was accustomed to. A drunken, empty life, sure, but that was none of her business, as Rebecca had reminded her on more than one occasion…
She tried to push away the annoying feeling of compassion she experienced in similar moments. Instead of being pitied, Ethan Phelps deserved to be hated: without ever having had to lift a finger, he had stacks of money and yet he spent his days sleeping or getting wasted even though he had a pretty decent brain. He should have felt some form of responsibility towards the community, either because of his riches or because of the intelligence that he worked so hard to try and hide. The two things together could make a real difference, not just for him but for other people too. It was a pity that life was made up of choices and that Ethan had decided to throw his away.
Sadness. That was what she felt every time she thought about it, even when she didn’t want to. She reminded herself that the actions of her ward had nothing to do with her. America was still a free country, where everyone could do whatever the hell they wanted – even if what they wanted was to throw their lives away.
For a moment she let her mind wander and wondered what kind of childhood Ethan could have had to have made him end up like this. His brother, James, seemed pretty normal to her. Maybe a bit reserved and uptight, but people with big corporate responsibilities were seldom a barrel of laughs. James worked in the firm just as all his family had done before him, while Ethan responded to these great expectations with one slap in the face after another. She and Eva were completely different too, but she hoped that when they had to face moments of difficulty, neither of them would start acting crazy.
“All quiet on the Ethan front?” Rebecca asked her as she walked into her office and handed her a coffee.
“Thank you. Yeah, not a squeak. You think he’s still alive?” she asked, before sipping the hot drink.
“Oh yeah, alive and kicking. It’s just tactics.”
“Really?” Sara asked, sounding surprised.
“Yeah. They’re men, they think they’re smart. They still don’t understand we are always two steps ahead of them.”
“Oh, are we really ?” laughed Sara.
“Well, we try to be, at least. Make sure you’re prepared, he’ll strike when you least expect it.”
“Don’t you think you’re being just a teensy bit over dramatic?”
Rebecca laughed. “Maybe, but you’ll see that I’m right. Unfortunately…”
“Perhaps he’s realized that thirty thousand dollars is more than enough money to waste every month and has decided to be reasonable about it all.”
Rebecca gave her a doubtful look. “Yeah, right . And pigs can fly. This isn’t about money, my dear, but about power. He’s not going to stop for a moment to ask himself if maybe thirty thousand dollars is or isn’t an acceptable figure. What Ethan wants is to have sole control of his money. The judge could have given him a limit of three million and he’d still be convinced it wasn’t enough. It’s not how high the limit is, it’s the limit itself.”
“I get what you’re saying, but the limits were only imposed because he kept pushing his family’s buttons until they reacted. I mean, in a way, all of this situation is of his own making.”
“I’m afraid he doesn’t see it like that, my dear. You are just one of the tools he thinks he can use to continue grinding down his brother and uncle’s patience.”
“And how the hell will he do that? I mean, his hands are tied…”
Rebecca gave her a sweet look. “My poor, dear, naïve girl, you have no idea what he might do. Prepare yourself – and when the time comes, try not to kill him.”
Sara could hardly believe what her friend was saying.
“Who, me ? Oh come on!”
But unfortunately for her, Rebecca was seldom wrong.
Chapter 5
Almost a month had passed since she had been appointed Ethan’s guardian and, apart from the first few days, the rest of the time had gone by without any major incidents.
After checking with the banks she had discovered that Ethan had already spent all the thirty thousand dollars available for that month. All of it. There wasn’t even a cent’s worth of credit left on his credit cards. Most of the money had been spent on big drinking sessions and dinners in expensive restaurants. Not exactly noble pursuits, but it was his money and he could do what he wanted with it. He could throw it out of the window. Provided he didn’t go over the limit.
Sara was, therefore, under the illusion that, by now, the worst was behind her. As far as she was concerned, they had come to a kind of non-verbal agreement – a gentleman’s pact, if you will – thanks to which, both of them had gone back to their usual daily routines. He by doing nothing and she by going back to her patent infringements.
That was why she became rather concerned when the switchboard informed her that there was a certain Enzo on the line, calling on behalf of Ethan Phelps.
“Hello?” she replied warily. She had absolutely no idea who this Enzo could be.
“Am I talking to Ethan Phelps’s guardian?” the man asked.
“This is she,” was all she could manage to say. Every now and then she daydreamed about being able to quit that position, but the harsh reality of it was with her all the time.
“Good. Listen, Miss, I have your ward here in my salon and he is unable to pay his bill.”
“What bill?” she asked incredulously. “Excuse me, would you mind explaining who you are?”
“I’m Enzo! The hairdresser? ” he answered, sounding almost outraged that Sara hadn’t recognized him from his name alone.
“Ah, I see…” it dawned on her. “The Great Enzo,” she said, with just a hint of sarcasm. She couldn’t help herself.
“That’s right. And Ethan’s bill is seven hundred dollars,” he informed her as if it were a perfectly normal sum of money.
Sara almost fell off her chair. She took a couple of deep breaths. That might have been a normal amount to pay for a weekend away, but it certainly wasn’t for a haircut .
“Excuse me, I don’t think I heard correctly – did you really say seven hundred dollars?”
“That’s right. And that’s with the discount too.”
Sara’s daydreams were a long way from coming true, she realized. By a long shot. “That’s very generous of you…” she said before she could stop herself. This time, though, the portion of sarcasm wasn’t finger food sized but was the main course, and the hairdresser didn’t take long to realize it.
“Don’t try and be funny with me, Miss. Either you come here and pay the bill or I’m calling the police,” he said threateningly, making no attempt to be diplomatic about it.
“Sir, I’d courteously ask you to moderate your tone of voice – or rather your threats, to be more accurate…” she said in a commanding tone. “Kindly give me the address of your salon and I will come there in person to talk to you as soon as possible.”
*
As Sara grabbed her purse and jacket and rushed down the street towards the salon of the famous Enzo the hairdresser, Ethan was comfortably perched on an ergonomic chair, his hair covered in peroxide and tin foil.
“So? Is she coming?” he asked, giggling as he watched his old friend put the phone down .
“Coming? I think she’s running , if you really want to know,” the hairdresser said. “But don’t you think you’re being a bit hard on her?”
Ethan assumed an angelic expression. “Who, me??” he asked, fluttering his eyelashes.
And then he closed his eyes so that he could relax properly before the arrival of that vicious little viper. He was ready to bet she would be there in five minutes at most. Anger could make people do extraordinary things. Even fly.
*
Sara entered the salon with a breathlessness that was a bit worrying in someone who was only just over thirty. If she ever had any free time – something which she was beginning to doubt she ever would, given the events of the last hour – she really would have to sign up for some kind of sport. In situations like this, being able to run fast could be crucial.
“Where is he?” she asked a girl who was sweeping the floor.
“Where’s who?” another girl answered, a confused look on her vacuous face.
“That idiot, Ethan.”
The girl’s face lit up as if by magic. “Oh, Ethan …” she repeated his name with a dreamy look in her eyes .
But Sara had been running so fast that the patience usually maintained even in the most difficult situations had gone. “No, not Ethan ,” she said, mimicking the girl’s gushing. “Ethan,” she said harshly.
The girl looked at her as if she was mad. “Over there.” She pointed to a room at the bottom of a corridor.
Sara found him instantly. His lordship was relaxing, his eyes closed as if he were asleep and his head full of bits of tin foil. “Oh, my God,” she sighed abjectly. “I don’t believe it.”
Fluttering his eyelashes as if he were a Hollywood diva, he opened his turquoise eyes and stared at her. He had done all this on purpose. There was no doubt about it.
“Hey, look who’s here,” he greeted her, as if her presence in the salon was perfectly normal. “My wonderful court appointed guardian.”
“What is this nonsense about?” She was trying in vain to keep calm, but she couldn’t control her tone of voice.
“This?” he asked, pointing to his hair with a chuckle. “Highlights. I mean, it’s cool that your hair has never seen the inside of a hairdresser’s in its life, but I’d have thought that even you could have worked that one out for yourself. ”
Sara counted to ten to prevent herself from grabbing him by the neck and then squeezing tightly. She was sorely tempted to.
“Seven hundred dollars ’ worth of highlights?” she asked.
He just smiled even more broadly. “Some things are either worth doing properly or they’re not worth doing at all…”
Sara remained silent for a moment. As she looked at him, realizing she would lose if she didn’t change her tactics. He was playing his game; she had to find a different way of tackling things. And quickly.
“Of course they deserve to be done properly, Ethan – but highlights? I mean, for a man who wants to look virile…” she snapped, leaving the sentence hanging in mid-air.
The smile that had been on Ethan’s face disappeared instantly.
“My virility is legendary in this city,” he hissed angrily.
What a predictable man he was…
“Actually, the only thing about you that’s legendary in this city are your drunken antics, but if you want to delude yourself into believing the opposite, be my guest,” she teased him. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter even if you don’t end up looking particularly virile…” she hurried to reassure him with great skill .
Ethan’s face became a mask of disbelief. “I could give you a list of women who would be ready to testify…” he began, but he didn’t have a chance to finish his sentence before being interrupted by Sara.
“Hey, do you know who you remind me of with that platinum blonde hairdo?” she asked him, casually.
“Who?” His voice was sounding almost comical.
“One of those long hairs out of that metal band from the eighties. What were they called?” She pretended to think for a moment. “Ah, yes, of course – Iron Maiden!”
He leaned so far forward that he practically fell out of his chair. “Iron Maiden? ”
“Yeah, that’s exactly who you look like. Dressed up in all that horrible black leather with long blonde hair…”
“I do not look like someone out of Iron Maiden!” he yelled rather too loudly. By the sound of it, he wasn’t Iron Maiden’s biggest fan.
“I don’t know what you’re getting so upset about. I mean, apart from the way they looked, their music wasn’t bad – and anyway, if it isn’t them, then who the hell is your inspiration? Don’t tell me – Marilyn Monroe.”
Sara watched him in amusement as he struggled to contain his anger. “They. Are. Only. Highlights! ” he said, trying to sound threatening. Pah – what an amateur.
“Of course, of course. I don’t know what I could have been thinking. I mean, the world is full of attractive men with bleached blonde hair – although, now that I actually come to think of it, I can’t actually name one…”
At that point, an enraged Ethan suddenly leapt to his feet, making her jump. He was still a man of over six feet in height, after all. And now, he was also angry.
“Enzo!” he shouted. “ENZO! ”
The owner of the salon appeared on the scene in a flash. It was obvious he was used to handling customers who were completely out of their minds, which, given that his customers were willing to pay him seven hundred dollars – with a discount – made sense. For that amount of money, she would have put up with them too…
“Good morning – are you the nice lady who is going to pay the bill?” asked the small man quietly.
“No, I’m the nice lady who is going to make sure that her jerk of a client will come back in exactly four days to pay you what he owes you. When the balance of his account has been restored, for him to spend as he sees fit. And in future, I would suggest that you check Ethan’s credit card before you start doing his hair. I would be grateful not to be summoned here again at such short notice just for a few highlights. As far as I’m concerned you can put highlights on his brain too, as long as he pays for it out of his pocket money ,” she said firmly.
“Are you going to give it a rest with this nonsense?” said Ethan. “There are much more urgent things to be dealt with at the moment! Enzo, you have to get this stuff off my hair!”
The other man turned to look at him in puzzlement. “But Ethan, we’re barely half way through doing the highlights! I can’t take the foil off now!”
“Ha!” laughed Sara. “Hear that, Ethan? You’re only half done…”
“Get them out!” Ethan ordered. “Get them out right now!”
Enzo realized it was better just to do as he was asked. He ordered one his subordinates to remove the pieces of tin foil, rinse the hair out and rub it dry with a soft towel.
Sara had thousands of things to do, but she just couldn’t resist the infantile impulse to watch the scene right the way through until the end. Because Ethan’s roots had gone a strangely orange color. And orange was a color that didn’t really suit anyone except Pippi Longstocking.
Meanwhile, Enzo was trying to work out how to solve the problem he was now faced with. Sara could see what his dilemma was – whether to leave Ethan in that state or not.
“Color,” he ordered the girl standing next to him. “Express tint, dark blonde.”
Ten minutes later, Ethan’s hair was a uniform color: a honey colored blonde that was actually quite nice, and definitely much better than the absurd platinum blonde he usually affected. Throughout all of this, the owner of the head of hair in question had not dared open his mouth again, and had limited himself to glaring grimly in Sara’s direction while she sat watching from an armchair, making no attempt to hide her enjoyment at what was taking place. It had been a long time since something had made her laugh so much.
His hair was still long at the back, and Ethan said nothing to Enzo about trimming it. She was on the verge of saying something herself, but decided she had done enough for the cause for one day.
Enzo turned triumphantly towards Sara, perhaps realizing that she had the sceptre of power in her hand. “Pretty good job, right?”
