Consequences

limousine to her estate with her wealthy, handsome husband. Amused, she decided that was the Vanity Fair version. For the unabridged version: she was secluded in Tony’s limousine, she would have liked to drive her own car, to his house, her prison on multiple occasions, with her husband who was handsome and cruel, sadistic, manipulative, and controlling. Even Tony’s success as a businessman lost its luster since talking to Simon. Tony ruined lives, futures, and dispensed consequences to make money. Simon had fun and made games. People spent less than $2 for one of his games, but with enough people, that added up. The reality saddened her. She didn’t know for sure, but predicted that forty-six people in Pennsylvania were without jobs.
    Her life wasn’t worse than that of many others. On the contrary, it was better in many ways. She realized injustice was a widespread problem, yet many of the same questions remained: how did she end up here? How had her life’s goals been so radically modified? When she took the time to think about it, none of it made sense.
     
    On October 14, in a company plane Claire happily flew across the continent with the Simmonses, the Millers, and Tony. A week earlier she would’ve considered the likelihood of their California trip occurring improbable. However, she’d spent the last week at home with her devoted husband. Each evening the man she married returned home from his office.
    The stress of his unpredictability was making her insane. Since the auction he had been attentive, loving, and caring. With the weather turning cooler, the days shorter, and the stress of the dual Tonys , Claire believed that she was teetering literally on the edge of sanity. A strong wind was all it would take to blow her one way or the other. Iowa had its share of storms, strong winds, and tornadoes, they were all unpredictable. It made an ironic parallel for her life.
    Courtney remained true to her observant promise. She knew that something was askew with Claire and Tony. She didn’t know what. Claire thought that the less she knew the better. Tony didn’t understand their connection. Claire tried to facilitate his misconception by complaining about Courtney, “She is fun, but she talks so much . . .” It was a ploy which she prayed would work. She really needed Courtney in her life.
    They touched down in Los Angeles on Friday night. The party was the following evening. During their flight they shared wine, laughed, and were entertained by stories of Eli’s previous parties. Apparently, the sky’s the limit regarding behaviors with the Hollywood scene. Claire waited anxiously to experience it for herself. The Simmonses and Millers were dropped off at a five-star hotel. The Rawlings went to their apartment.
    The LA housekeeper met them at the door while a driver took their luggage to their room. Tony explained that they would like a light dinner as soon as possible. Claire wasn’t hungry, her head ached. She only wanted to unpack and go to sleep.
    Once alone, Tony assumed his alternate persona. “Tomorrow evening we will be in an overtly public arena. It wasn’t long ago that a glitch occurred in a setting such as this.” She didn’t want to hear him.
    “Tony, please don’t start this again.” The flight, wine, and aching head contributed to Claire’s irritability. Her insolent retort stunned him momentarily. Recovery didn’t take long. As she carried clothes to the dresser, he seized her arm and turned her to face him.
    “Claire, I do not appreciate your flippant attitude. There will be many more journalists present than you have ever been exposed to at one time.”
    His grip hurt. She looked directly into his eyes and stood tall as he glowered over her. “I assure you my attitude is not flippant. It is just that you are increasingly repetitive. I know the speech and I know—” She didn’t get the chance to finish her sentence. It was the first strike since her accident . She remained standing but temporarily dazed by disbelief more than pain.
    He spoke again as if he hadn’t just shattered his promise and her security. Her house of glass now lay in a pile of shards. “You have a responsibility and I expect you to behave appropriately.” He let go of her arm, walked to the suitcase, and pulled out Claire’s hiking boots. “By the way, would you like to know why these are packed?”
    Her mind wheeled as he changed subjects. She was having difficulty keeping up. Refusing