The Red Match

"Marty!", Charlotte's voice echoed round the house. She was not expecting an answer and truly she didn't get one.

"Someday, I'll go crazy finding this child", she murmured to herself and closed the balcony door.

She had been searching for Marty, her troublesome eight year old boy for about thirty minutes and she was already exhausted. She made towards the garage to see if he would be there playing but he wasn't. She turned to go back inside but stopped at the unfamiliar sight of a brown Mustang pulling up her driveway. Charlotte watched, admiring the driver's zest as he revved the engine, a respectable distance from her momentarily poisoning the fresh morning air with soot. The door clicked open and Marty came out grinning.

"Marty", she screamed. "Where the hell have you been."

Marty frowned. "Driving a Mustang. Isn't that obvious?"

Charlotte walked towards him angrily and snatched the keys from his hands.

"And where did you get a Mustang?", she queried.

"Now that's a better question", Marty smiled and walked right past her.

"I'm talking to you, don't walk away."

"Okay", he said and stopped.

"Good. Now would you answer my question?"

"Nope", he replied and ran off.

"Maaaaartyyyyyyy!"

"Don't be such a kill joy, the boy had a lot of fun today", a familiar voice said from the passenger's seat.

"Sheila?", Charlotte frowned.

"Oui", Sheila replied coming out of the car. "Your boy's a fast learner. Far better than you at your first trial."

Charlotte sighed. Sheila had been her friend for close to twenty years and her discomfort noticing how Sheila loved hanging out with her son was simply borne from the fact that she knew very well that Sheila didn't really have the 'Midas touch'. Infact, she had like the opposite of that because she hardly ever put her hands on or into something that worked perfectly well. Even if it did, it was always short lived. Back in college, she had caught the eyes of every college girl's dream guy, billionaire businessman, Kieran West's son, Karl West and their relationship only lasted for a month. Karl who had already fallen in love with Sheila had secretly contacted Charlotte as her best friend and begged her to help him plan a surprise engagement party so he could formally propose to her. A surprised Charlotte helped organize the party but knowing how badly her friend reacted to surprises, decided to tell her a day to the D-day. It turned out to be a terrible idea as Sheila freaked out and avoided contact with Karl for a whole week. After her period of self isolation, she came back to the real world and found out that it wasn't exactly how she left it - Karl had travelled to France to oversee his father's business there and attend another business school. He had planned to take her along with him but she wouldn't pick his calls or even reply his texts. She cried her eyes out at the realization of what she had missed and went on to borrow money from everyone she knew to raise the money for a flight ticket to France. Eventually she got scammed by some guy who promised her he could get her a ticket and two months accommodation with three hundred bucks. She never heard from Karl again and Charlotte that day concluded that Sheila had to be the most unlucky person in the world.

"And you. Where did you get that Mustang?", Charlotte finally asked.

"I'm a model..."

"...that has been out of contract for two years now", Charlotte cut in. "For God's sake you shouldn't be spending like this."

"Whatever", Sheila laughed. "You got a lot from your dad. If not for him, you wouldn't be giving me financial advise, would you?"

Charlotte wanted to tell her how successful she had become as an artist...how her painting had been auctioned at the La Gazelle for $100,000...how she had refused a million dollar offer from French business mogul, Pierre Deschamps for her replica of The Mona Lisa which he could swear was better than the original, how she had over twenty different awards and a hundred other certificates from different art organizations lying dusty and abandoned in old shelves in her room but instead she smiled.

"Guess I've always been daddy's little girl", she shrugged. "Come on in."

"Thought you'd never ask", Sheila rolled her eyes. "I'm super hungry."

"With a 2 million dollar mustang", Charlotte thought leading her through the front door of the Reeves family mansion.

The Reeves family mansion was the biggest residential home in the whole of Manhattan. Secluded among trees on one of Manhattan's most exclusive streets, it had turrets, balconies, an indoor garden, two pools and a gazebo. The walls of the fence were high and had many shades of brown suggesting that they had been there for years. The interior decorations were just as good as the exterior; exotic paintings lined the polished walls of the mansion giving away the family's love for art. The silk curtains were pitch black, embroidered with gold at the top and hanging over 9 feet, allowing only occasional rays of sunlight come in when the wind blew them apart. The chandelier suspended above the white ceiling reminded Sheila of the one at the Hotel Matiàl and she was about to make a comment on it before her eyes darted round and found the Mona Lisa painting.

"I always knew you were a lover of art", she laughed her eyes fixed on the painting on the wall. "But to stoop so low to steal a painting."

Charlotte followed her eyes and smiled knowing it was her Mona Lisa painting that piqued her friend's interest.

"I didn't steal it though"

"Jon did?"

"You would not disrespect my husband in my house", Charlotte raised her voice.

"Ex-husband", Sheila corrected settling down on the couch beside her. "Get used to it girl. You're all alone now."

Charlotte frowned at her. "Sometimes I wonder if you're actually my friend."

Sheila sat up, obviously concerned about the dent Charlotte was steadily making on her image.

"Of course I am", she said with puppy eyes. "For starters, you'd be in jail for theft if I wasn't your friend."

"I drew that, Shei."

"Enough with the lies, they're making me hungrier", Sheila yawned and walked towards the dining. Charlotte watched her as she drew a chair and made herself comfortable. "Now get me something to eat!"

Marty walked in at that moment and made for the TV, not paying attention to either of them.

"Your son's cool", Sheila commented. "You're the one with the issues."

"Thank you!", Marty replied his eyes glued to the TV screen. Charlotte walked up to her friend smiling. "Only because he doesn't know you're still sitting on his favorite chair", she whispered loudly.

Marty turned and on impulse, he got up frowning. "Get off my chair."

"That's no way to talk to an elder", Sheila frowned back at him.

"Then how?", he asked.

"Fuck off my chair, puta", Sheila yelled demonstrating with her middle finger.

Marty smiled. "I think I prefer that."

"Of course you do", Sheila laughed. "I'm not getting up anyways."

Before Marty could start smarting with his updated vocabulary, Charlotte nudged him.

"You can go watch TV, Aunt Shei and I need to talk about some important things"

He shrugged and went back to the program he was watching while a relieved Charlotte turned angrily to face her friend.

"You'll spoil the child if you go on like this", she started.

"And I might just pass out if you go on talking", Sheila rolled her eyes. "I'm starving for God's sake!"

Charlotte stood up and Sheila accompanied her as she walked towards the kitchen.

"Serve yourself", she said. Sheila circled round, irritation written all over her face.

"I've always known you to be extremely neat", she commented. " This is a mess!"

Charlotte smiled ignoring her friend's bad manners. "I'll take that as a compliment. I've been very busy lately."

"Seeing someone?", Sheila smiled.

"No, not at all", she laughed watching the disappointment crawl back on her friend's face. Sheila had never been the best of friends but she gave the best relationship advice. One of the many perks of losing a billionaire's son perhaps but either way it sat well with Charlotte. As bad as she seemed, Charlotte still needed her.

"Then what?", Sheila asked. "What's been keeping my very dear antisocial bestie busy?"

"Work I guess", Charlotte shrugged.

"Mmm, I see", Sheila mouthed, her voice muffled by the load of pancakes stuffed in her mouth. "Work you say?"

"Work", Charlotte affirmed.

"Very hard work", Sheila laughed stressing the 'very'.

"Actually, its very hard", Charlotte laughed not getting the joke.

"So who's your hardworking partner? Don't tell me you work hard alone. I've never known you to do that", Sheila said.

"I work alone", Charlotte replied innocently. "I've not been able to find anyone who matches my skills yet."

Sheila burst out laughing immediately and continued laughing until tears began to roll down her cheeks. Charlotte watched her friend wondering what part of painting was funny enough to make her laugh out tears.

"I've known you for about 35 years now...", Sheila started.

"You're barely 30", Charlotte cut in.

"Allow me land."

"Alright. Go on."

"...And you've never broken a single plate."

"So what are you implying?"

"That this isn't normal", Sheila said pointing at the broken plates littered all over the kitchen floor and counter. "Who's been fucking you here?"

"Shhhh", Charlotte warned. "Marty is just 8, remember?"

"I knew it", Sheila laughed.

"No", Charlotte protested. "Its been just a month Jon left."

"I could do worse just a week after", Sheila shrugged.

"Sheila!"

"I'm kidding", she laughed. "But seriously girl, you've got to get yourself a man. You think he's out there sobering up over bottles of whiskey? Hell no! He's moved on. You should do the same.

Charlotte drew a chair and sat down pondering on what her friend had just told her. Was Jon still thinking about her? Did he miss her? Or was he with some other chick already, relieved that he had gotten rid of her so easily? She could vividly remember the circumstances surrounding their nine years marriage like it was yesterday. She had met Jon some ten years back at a local charity match in Marseille. She had never been a fan of sports so it was very hard for her deciding to wind down time watching the boring sport with Sheila after a strenuous 5 hour exhibition session at an art gallery in the city while waiting for her flight ticket back to America to be processed. Sheila had insisted they sat at the front because she didn't want to miss out on the action and unluckily for Charlotte, the fans present were not so particular about sitting at the front so there were lots of unoccupied seats waiting for them. They had been watching the game for about 25 minutes and Charlotte was already dozing off when a noise from the back woke her up. She turned and saw that everybody was hurriedly making way for two people on the run. The first man jumped down the stand and doubled towards the end of the row where Charlotte and Sheila sat. The second man followed quickly in hot pursuit but Charlotte could tell from the beads of sweat gathering around his square cut chin that he had been running a long time and was already tired. Then he glanced at her. A quick glance and she understood the message immediately. She yawned and subtly stretched her leg as the first man approached and as expected, he tripped and fell face first on the concrete floor. He walked over to her and assessed the man he had been pursuing on the floor.

"You saved my life", he said panting.

"Indeed. Who's your man?", she asked.

"Ethan Stag", he replied. "Would have lost my job if he eluded me again"

"You're a policeman."

He smiled. "And you're?"

"Charlotte", she replied

"I mean.. I'm an artist, a painter but my name is Charlotte"

He brought out a gun and hit the criminal on the back of his head before talking again.

"I'm Jon. And I can't remember when last I met a lady who watched soccer while stopping a criminal. Maybe you could show me how to multitask sometime?"

"Well, I don't really..."

Charlotte felt Sheila's sharp fingers dig into her skin and she turned angrily giving her friend the eye.

"You don't really what?"

"Its nothing", she smiled. "Here", she said handing him her phone. "Your number."

He took it from her, punched some digits in and returned it.

"Oui, call me", he said.

"Sure", she replied. "I'll be leaving now."

She turned and made her way up the stands and out of the stadium and as expected, Sheila was all over her immediately they were out of his sight.

"Are you out of your mind girl?", Sheila asked as they walked towards a cab.

"What did I do this time?"

"Seems you want to be a nun. You almost refused a date with a hot French guy."

"Its not a date", Charlotte sighed. "He probably needs help catching criminals or something and that I can't help out with."

Sheila stared at her and shook her head. "You're so clueless. Lord knows where you fell from."

She ended up calling him the next day and he was surprised to hear that she was in the US. They talked over the phone for months before they could finally fix a date and in no time, they were in love with each other. After 6 months of dating, they finally tied the knot at a local church in Manhattan and started living together at the Reeves family manson. It took him almost three months to get a job in Manhattan. The city sheriff was not impressed by the idea of having a French man joining the local police force and although his records in Marseille had been good, he was given the lowest rank. He never complained about it to her and she was all the more certain that she had found the perfect man. How could he so easily give up his former rank just to be with her? Then the first child came, a boy, and that was when she began to see the signs- signs that she may have made a mistake choosing him as a life partner but way too early to back out. It was just four days after she put to bed and she was rocking their little boy to sleep when he walked in.

"Little Harry, little harry, do do sleep", she sang. He paused on hearing the song. "What's that?" She raised her head up unsure of what he was talking about. "The song", he added.

"Ohh", she laughed. "I formed it myself."

"I mean the name", he said with a straight face.

"Ohh..Harry? I've decided to name him Harry, that was my dad's name. He was such a loving dad."

"Yeah", he said removing his jacket and dropping it on the arm of the chair beside her. "My dad was a loving man too. To his dogs though, not me. But still a loving man. We're not naming him after my dad are we?"

She stared up at him, too surprised to talk. In their ten months of marriage, he had never brought up an argument about anything she decided. Why now that she wanted to give her son a befitting name?

"His name is Martell", he added with a tone of finality.

Charlotte had always been the quiet and very much obedient wife but there was no way she was allowing him chose the name. She was the one that carried the child in her womb for nine months and eventually gave birth to him. Moreover, Martell sounded to her like the name of some old drug lord.

"It's Harry", she said not even daring to look up at Jon who had now unbuttoned his white long sleeved shirt showing off his rock hard abs.

"Martell"

"Harry", she screamed in protest.

He walked up to her, gently placed his arms on her shoulder and looked straight into her eyes. If this was some subtle plot to coax her into changing the name, it wasn't going to work she thought.

"You carried the child, but I gave you the child. Whatever I say is final and anyone with a contrary opinion automatically becomes the enemy. Now what do you do to your enemy?" She was too stunned to speak. She couldn't tell if he was joking around as usual or actually being serious. If he was actually serious, then he was taking it too far.

"What do you do to your enemy?", he asked again.

"I...I'll avoid them I guess", she managed to splutter.

"No", he shook his head. "You'll destroy them."

Charlotte gasped.

"But you are my lovely wife", he continued ignoring the shock written all over her face. "So I'll only discipline you."

"Discipline me?"

"Yes", he replied sternly. "Now drop my son Martell and stand up."

By now, she knew she had bigger problems to face so she ignored the name, dropped the child and stood up.

He raised his left hand high and brought it down so hard on her cheek that she staggered back a few steps and fell on the floor. Martell started crying immediately.

"Up", he commanded. She struggled to her feet whimpering and feeling her cheeks burn red from the slap. He slapped her again, harder this time and she fell down immediately and hit her head on the glass centre table. That was the last thing she remembered.

She woke up around 5:30 in the evening and found out that her baby was still crying. She ignored the blood stain on the floor that had come from a cut on her head when she fell and rushed to breast feed her baby.