Selfishly she thought about her upcoming twenty-eighth birthday and contemplated the truth of her life. She rode in her 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 to cry, she exhaled and took the bait. “Why do I have my hiking boots?”

“As a surprise for your birthday, I made reservations for Sunday and Monday night in the presidential suite of a very exclusive hotel inside Yosemite. I thought you would enjoy the Sierra Nevada Mountains and National Park. After last year, I didn’t want to miss celebrating your birthday.” His tone became stern. “However, instead of surprising you like I hoped, our romantic birthday getaway now rests in your hands.”

Claire tried to follow his words, her hands? What did he mean?

“If your memory isn’t failing, if you can remember my concerns and rules, and if you can obey the few requests I have made, then we will be able to keep the plans for your birthday. If, however, you are unable to handle your responsibilities I will have no choice but to cancel the reservations and we will concentrate on ways to help facilitate your memory for the future.” He stared at his wife as she sank to the edge of the bed. “What is your choice? You want to be a partner. Tell me what you want to do, go to Yosemite or go home and review appropriate behavior?” This was another of those offers you can’t refuse type questions.

God she hated the dance. A blow to the cheek one minute and discussing a romantic getaway the next. It was the one step forward, two steps back waltz, she wanted to scream. Sitting on the side of the bed, she allowed herself tears and swallowed. Her voice revealed her distress, yet she tried to sound composed. “I’ve never been to Yosemite. I’ve heard it is beautiful. That sounds like a wonderful birthday.”

Unmoved by her tears he stood waiting for a response to his question. Seeing her husband’s stare, feeling a too-familiar twinge of panic, Claire realized she hadn’t answered his question. “I’d like to go to Yosemite. I’ll do as you say.”

He moved closer, took her hands, and helped her stand. Their chests touched as she looked up at his still too-dark eyes. She didn’t look away. “Claire, I do not want to break my promise, but at the risk of sounding repetitive, public failure is not an option.”

“I understand. I’m sorry for making you break your promise. I will do better.”

That night while lying in bed next to his sleeping wife, Tony remembered a scene from his childhood. It was one of many that shaped so many of his decisions.

His grandfather’s booming voice, “Boy, you will not be joining us at dinner this evening.” Surprised. he noticed the absence of his place setting. Tony asked why. His grandfather didn’t speak but removed a letter from the breast pocket of his jacket. Tony retrieved the letter and unfolded the page. It was his grades from the last semester of classes. He’d taken seventeen credit hours, a very full load for a freshman. There were five A’s and one B+, in Calculus. That seemed good to him. He remembered still not comprehending his grandfather’s tone. “You plan to succeed in this world, boy?”

“Yes, sir, I do.”

“Then don’t let this happen again, failure has consequences. Perhaps some time alone eating in your suite will help you remember that perfection is the minimum requirement for success.” His grandfather then turned his eyes away and took a drink of his wine.

“Nathaniel, perhaps he did his—” His grandfather’s dark eyes stopped his grandmother’s plea. She looked down at her plate. The subject was closed. Tony looked at his parents, they too were looking down.