still ill • michael gray

Chapter 9

I step out onto my porch as the Rockefeller boy's large car pulls up. I clutch my purse tightly in anxiety. He waves to me and I walk myself to the road, and open the door for myself in silence to get in the vehicle.

"How are you?" he asks as we get going.

"The same as always," I answer, "but happier I suppose. Going to London was really good for me."

He nods, "You've grown up a lot, I feel like you're older than me now."

I shrug and look out at the road, "I guess you could say that. How have you been?"

"School's been tough," he admits, "my father's on my ass about doing well, but most importantly I've missed you, Bea."

I don't respond and we don't talk for the rest of the ride to the restaurant. It's nothing huge or fancy, just a little place on the water.

"Remember when we used to get oysters here?" He smiles as he helps me down from the car.

I bite my lip, "How could I forget?" I don't let him take my hand while we walk to the entrance.

We get seated on the patio overlooking the ocean. He stares into my eyes with an intense gaze. "So you really like Michael?"

I clench my jaw, "Yeah, I do."

"Even though as soon as prohibition's over he's going to run out of money."

That digs deep but I keep my cool, "He isn't going to run out of money, he has other businesses. Just because his family doesn't get their wealth from oil and massacring factory workers, doesn't mean they aren't wealthy and powerful."

I know I made a good comeback with that one. He hates it when people bring up what his grandfather did. "My family doesn't do that anymore."

"Michael's family never did it to begin with, they came from nothing," I order a martini from the waitress. "His cousin has an OBE now and also is an MP."

"Impressive," John grumbles.

I take a sip of my martini and cross my arms, "So, what else do you have to say? I know you only brought me here to win me back."

He swallows hard, "Bea, I love you, and I apologize if I've been rude, but I just want to give you everything."

"I don't love you," I reply, "and I never did."

"Anything you want in the whole world could be yours—"

I shake my head, "You're not understanding me, I don't give a shit about your money. I can't be with someone who I don't love."

"And do you love Michael?"

I don't hesitate, "Yeah, I do. I love him with my whole heart, and even if he didn't have any money I'd love him all the same."

"He's going to get you killed."

"Then I'll die happy," I get up from my chair, "I have to go make a phone call."

I can't stay here much longer or I'm going to really lose it. I borrow the restaurant phone and dial my house. My father picks up, and at this point I don't care.

Hello?

"Can you or Michael or someone come pick me up? I'm going to lose my mind."

So he won't lay off you?

"I honestly won't be shocked if he asks me to marry him."

I'll be there in ten minutes, hang tight Bea. I'm going to have trouble explaining this to your mother.