In Your Arms

Phase 1

It was just after ten o'clock when Marcus Douglas arrived at the Marriott Residence Inn. That afternoon he had his secretary, Janice, get a room for him in her name, in case Randa was looking for him. He walked down the long hall to his room and stuck the key card in the lock. He entered in the room, dropped the key card on top of the television, and turned it on. While Brian Williams reported the day’s news, Marcus wandered around aimlessly.

This was his home now.

Marcus loosened his tie and took off his jacket. He reached in the pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. It had been five years since he smoked his last Kool. He sat down on the couch and lit up. He took a long drag, and then blew out the smoke. It hurt his chest and he coughed a little, but he hit it again. That day had been the worst day of his life.

If this was going to be his home for a while, there were a few things he’d need.

“Soap, toothbrush and toothpaste. Deodorant would be a good thing. And I need to shave in the morning.” He got up and started for the door. All he had were the clothes on his back. He would buy some clothes in the morning. “This is going to get expensive.”

Marcus drove his 750i BMW down the street and turned into Kroger’s parking lot. It had been years since he had to shop for himself. Randa did all that for him.

He picked up a basket and headed for the pharmacy aisles. The store was quiet and empty for the most part. Marcus had picked up just about all the items he’d come for when the quiet was interrupted by the sound of high heels, clicking against the tile. His eyes were immediately drawn to the sound. There was a sense of urgency in her walk.

Marcus glanced at her as she moved closer to him and had to take a closer look as she passed. She stopped and tried on a pair of sunglasses and kept on walking.

“I know her.”

He followed as she proceeded down the next aisle. When she stopped to pick up a box of hair color and some scissors, she turned and looked at him. Now he was sure. Although she turned away quickly, Marcus was sure that he knew her.

“Yvonne Haggler.”

It had been nine years since he’d seen her. She looked good, even better than she did nine years ago.

If that’s possible.

He remembered the day that she came to his office.

“Marcus.”

“Yes, Janice.”

“Your two o’clock is here.”

“Give me five minutes then send her in.”

Five minutes later, Yvonne Haggler was seated before him. She was an attractive young woman, barely twenty-one years old. She was simply, but tastefully dressed. She didn’t wear any makeup and her hair was pulled back in a ponytail.

“Mrs. Haggler, tell me what I can do for you?”

“Mr. Douglas, I need your help. My husband Richard died two months ago.”