Jurassic Heart

  Jurassic Heart

  Jacqueline Druga

  Jurassic Heart - By Jacqueline Druga

  Copyright 2018 by Jacqueline Druga

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any person or persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Paula Gibson and Kira, I know this was a stretch for you guys. Thank you .

  Cover Art by Christian Bentulan

  www.coversbychristian.com

  CHAPTER ONE

  PAIGE’S SIDE

 

  I remember the days when I was everyone’s little princess, albeit many years ago, but those memories are still very vivid. Every now and then I dream of those days. A young girl, naive to the world. I never knew others lived differently. I believed my life was the same as everyone’s. Waking to the smell of lilacs in a bed so plush I could stay in it all day.

  My clothing was selected for me, the nanny there when I opened my eyes, a warm wash cloth in hand to wipe away the sleepers.

  The house staff was plenty and we needed the thirty room mansion. Breakfast was my favorite. Chef prepared pancakes that seemed to float on air. My belly was never empty when I started my day. I didn’t go to school, I had private tutors and the best friends money could rent. I never wore the same outfit twice, and casual day was typically something without lace.

  That was my life and the way I lived. Then at eight years old it all came to a grinding halt.

  When I think back, I hear the scratch of a record.

  My grandmother died. It was her money, her house and her insistence that I be treated like royalty. My parents were always off on an excavation, so I lived with her. When she died everyone assumed I would inherit all her money. I would have, had she not owed the IRS so much money, but everything was taken to absorb her debt. Even my dresses.

  My parents were relieved. Although it meant one of them had to return. My mother gave up her job as my father’s assistant and returned home for good to care for me.

  We traded the huge mansion for a six-room modular home, my dresses for blue jeans, and tutors for public school. Although the rented friends were much better than the ones I was forced to make. I consumed my first hot dog at the age of nine. It was good.

  A life of normalcy was the best thing that ever happened to me.

  It was a family thing. My father, his father and grandfather were all paleontologists with a very recognizable last name. Bronavanavanavich. It was funny how people had such a hard time pronouncing it. To me, it rolled from the tongue and I’d always simply explain to them, “It’s Brona, like Donna, Vana, like Donna, Vana again, like Donna, Vich, like witch.”

  Bronavanavanavich, a family of paleontologists. All of them were considered top in their field and were world renowned for making discoveries and contributions.

  They all made their mark.

  I was going to follow in their footsteps.

  In fact, I was going to be better. I had learned from the best. When I was old enough, I was out with my father at the sites, getting my hands dirty, digging and learning. Educated by his wisdom and privileged to read the notebook passed down through the generations of scientists. It would be mine one day. I would add to it.

  I was going to be the fourth-generation Dr. Bronavanavanavich, paleontologist. The female Dr. Bronavanavanavich. I had a pretty big name to live up to, large shoes to fill, and I would do it.

  How could I not?

  What could go wrong?

  Cue that scratching record again.

  DASH WINTERS’ SIDE

 

  Applause filled my large lab the second I returned from my trip. I didn’t even have time to show my photographic evidence, when Hedlin Rush, one of the Three B’s, approached me.

  The Three B’s were a billionaire club. There were three of them that took interest in the scientific community, we as scientist gave them the name, 'The Big Three'.

  They competed with each other and somehow, I knew my latest project would be the Holy Grail.

  Hedlin’s eyes still had a spark, but his face was puffy, probably due to a recent round of Botox. He was a short man, then again, most men are short when standing next to me. My whole life people mistook me for an athlete. At fourteen years old, I stood six foot three, and the basketball coach constantly tried to persuade me to play.

  When I decided to ‘bulk’ up, the offers moved to football and wrestling. But I wasn’t a sportsman. My game was knowledge, my sports were books, I tackled each one enthusiastically.

  My entire life was a stepping stone to my genius. By the time I was three, I was reading and writing. Math was my forte and I conquered algebra before kindergarten.

  I had my medical degree before most young men lost their virginity. I performed my first brain surgery on the eve of my twenty-first birthday. Medicine wasn’t challenging enough, it was a good career to fall back on, but I needed to go further. I needed to change the world. A fact I knew since I was a small child.

  Everyone knew I was special.

  In fact, when I was seven Stephen Hawkins came to me for advice. He would adamantly deny he had, saying he only visited me for encouragement.

  Intelligence is a lonely world.

  Stephen and I knew the context of that conversation.

  Back to Hedlin.

  He was excited. So much so, I worried that a man of his eighty years would have a coronary and drop dead at my feet. I didn’t need to save another life. Not that I minded, but it seemed to garner far too much attention.

  “Don’t take an offer from anyone,” Hedlin said. “I am funding this. Whatever you need, I have this. Blank check.”

  That was what I wanted to hear. Blank check. Usually funding was capped.

  “There’s no guaranteed pay back on this one,” I said.

  “There’s a future in this. You know it. I may not live to see the payback, but it will happen.”

  “This trip isn’t about establishing a future project,” I said. “This is personal as well as scientific.”

  “I know.”

  “You still want to give me a blank check?” I asked.

  “I do.”

  “Thank you.” I extended my hand.

  Hedlin didn’t shake my hand, he pulled it back and waved his bony finger. “On one condition.”

  “Which is?”

  “I come with you.”

  It was ridiculous. Was his health even up to the trip? “Hedlin, I am taking only a small team. The area is limited.”

  “I realize this. And I also know you still haven’t picked your team. When you do, count me in. I am one person,” he said. “One person with a check book. If you’re worried about me dying. Don’t. I don’t care. This is something I have wanted to see my entire life. You showed me I can see it. Until today it was something money couldn’t buy. Now it can. I want it. Shall I call my accountant, or do I walk away?”

  I couldn’t walk away so I made the deal with the devil. Sometimes we must sacrifice to get what we need, and for the greater good.

  I finished my presentation, showed the photos and videos, then retreated to my office. I was excited, the final test was a success, I returned safely. This was a euphoric feeling for me, knowing I was going to make it to the next level.

  Every time I had success in a project, I thought of Stephen Hawking and how he taught me intelligence was lonely.

  I had a few good friends and plenty of women in my life, but I didn’t have that special someone. That was what was missing from my life. The one special person who I wanted to sharing things with.

  It was hard, but it wasn’t for lack of trying. I d
id try to find my soul mate, my partner in life. However, I was either misunderstood or women were intimidated by me. Whatever the case, I was emotionally alone.

  I hated it, but I compensated as best as I could.

  On my way to my office, I messaged Sandy. One of my ‘friends’ who seemed to always be at my beck and call.

  She arrived at my office right after I did. The second I sat in my large desk chair, I opened the bottom drawer and pulled out the scotch. I fixed a drink and brought it to my lips while Sandy clocked the door, grabbed the remote and closed the blinds.

  “Congratulations on your trip,” Sandy said softly.

  “Thank you. Would you like a drink?”

  “Maybe after.”

  I watched her, she moved slowly from the door and stood by my desk. She wore that little black skirt I always liked with a white blouse that showed her red bra.

  “I’m glad you called me.” She unbuttoned her blouse. “I was hoping you would.” Once the blouse was open, she slipped it from her shoulders and let it drop to the floor. “Should I come to you, or are you coming to me?”

  “I’m feeling tired.” I took a sip of my drink. ‘I think I’ll stay here.”

  She reached behind her undoing her skirt, allowing it to drop and stepped from it as she seductively made her way to me.

  I inched my chair back to give her room between me and my desk.

  I had to give it to her. She was trying. Sandy was absolutely beautiful. Her red hair was full and came just to her shoulders. Her lipstick always matched her hair. She was all about ‘red’, including her panties and bra. She removed my drink from my hand, said in a seductive whisper, “Dash, I want you.” Then lowered to her knees before me.

  Her delicate hands undid the buttons on my dress shirt, exposing my well defined chest.

  It wasn’t anything she was doing.

  Her hand smoothed against my skin, her silky and moist lips gliding on my abdomen. Yet, I was having difficulty finding the moment. It seemed each time I called one of my ‘special’ friends, it was harder and harder to get into it, to stop my mind from thinking mathematical equations. I hated myself for doing it. It was meaningless, often cheap, and Sandy deserved better than to be a pawn in my game of self-indulgence.

  It would take a few minutes, but eventually my mind would allow me to give in and my body soon followed. Until I found that someone, that connection I so desperately missed and needed, the services of Sandy and my other special friends would have to suffice.

  CHAPTER TWO

  PAIGE

 

  There are defining moments in our lives that tell us things will be different. Defining moments that make us different and do things we normally wouldn’t do. It pushes us to limits and to do things for the good of others, tossing our own wants and desires in the trash.

  My father’s death was one of those defining moment. I knew the second he was killed life would never be the same, in more ways than one.

  It was the summer after my high school graduation. I delayed my start to college to get the hands on work I needed. It was a chance of a lifetime, and I didn’t want to miss it. My father, on his previous dig in Argentina, discovered specimens that led to his claim of a new species from the Jurassic era.

  It was believed to be bigger than a Spinosaurus and more ferocious than the T-Rex and Raptor combined. Like most dinosaurs, my father branded its name, the Bronavanasaurus.

  Funding had come in and we returned to the site to uncover the entire beast. It was exciting, people waited on updates, they hinged on every bone we discovered. Television documented it and it aired as a top rated, realty show for two seasons.

  Then the earthquake hit.

  The entire site collapsed, everything was lost and worse, my father was killed and my mother suffered a life debilitating injury.

  The rest of her life would be spent in a wheelchair, never walking or moving, only breathing with assistance and speaking through the help of an electronic device.

  Dreams of the Bronavanasaurus were buried.

  Dreams of becoming a paleontologist and going to college were gone. The closest thing I got to uncovering bones was playing Dr. Bones at the Carnegie children’s museum, taking the kids on fake dinosaur digs. My father’s closest and best friend, Larry, was the director and he told me as long as he was alive I would have a job at the museum.

  That was good, because I didn’t have the time or energy to worry about employment.

  I had to worry about my mother.

  I couldn’t care for her and she deserved far more than a state-run nursing home that took every cent of her retirement benefits.

  I sold the modular home, found a small studio apartment, took the job, and placed my mother in the most expensive, luxurious nursing home in the country. Which happened to be an hour outside our town. Grand Meadows. It was worth every penny, and they got every penny I had. Plus, they had experimental treatments for spinal injuries. Some worked, my mother moved her little finger and I couldn’t stop that progress.

  Between the house money and insurance, my mother’s comfort and care was paid for, Larry often found me side jobs and projects that helped me financially.

  Once I even went to Montana for an official dig. My father’s name preceded me and opened some doors.

  However, the insurance money and house money wasn’t going to last forever and was evident when my bank account dwindled.

  Larry knew and did what he could, but I had to think of something, I had enough money to pay for two more months.

  I was hosting a fundraiser at the museum when a temporary answer came. It was not one I wanted or saw myself taking, but it presented itself and I was desperate.

  Henry Jenkins was a dashing older man in his late sixties, he was maybe even seventy, he wouldn’t say. He frequently and freely wrote out checks for the museum and other projects. I had never met him until that fundraiser. We didn’t speak much about anything, I don’t even think Henry knew my last name.

  My name wasn’t important, he smelled my desperation and reeled me in like a trained fisherman.

  I was dressed very nice that night. Larry’s wife loaned me a low cut, navy blue gown. My hair was pulled back and flowed against my back. Henry was bold and invited me to dinner, I declined and I told him why. I was working constantly to pay for my mother’s care.

  He insisted on dinner and said he had a ‘job’ for me. One that would eliminate the hosting and bit things that I did.

  My curiosity was piqued and I joined him for dinner. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t wooed by the eloquence of the dinner and treatment. Henry needed an assistant. Not administrative. Rather one to attend events with him, go to dinner, and so forth.

  “You are stunning and intelligent,” Henry said. ‘You look the part. I am not looking for a wife or girlfriend. I am looking for a comparable arm decoration.”

  I got it. I understood and was relieved by his not wanting a girlfriend.

  “How much does the position pay?”

  “How much is your mother’s care a month?”

  “Twenty-two thousand dollars.”

  “That’s what it pays. And you can still keep your job at the museum. This is evenings and weekends.”

  He paid the first month in advance with cash, and I was thrilled to take the job. We went to three events in so many weeks, each was fun. I wore rented dresses selected by Henry. He was a delight, then I learned the details on the fourth date.

  We were in the limousine. I had too much to drink and was giggling.

  “I’m so sorry, Henry, I didn’t mean to drink that much.”

  “Nonsense. That makes it all the better.”

  He reached forward and closed the privacy window.

  “What’s going on?” I asked. “Did you need to speak in private?”

  “Something like that.”

  He inched to me and placed his hand firmly on the space above my knee.

  “What are you doing Henr
y?”

  “My dear.” His hand moved up my thigh pulling my dress with it. “You didn’t think you were making this much money to go to parties, did you?”

  His hand was buried well beneath my legs now, but stopped short of landing on my underwear.

  “We can call the whole thing off,” Henry said. “No hard feelings. No need to pay back what I gave you. Or …. You can give me the go ahead and our arrangement will continue. Your call.”

  I was thirsty, my mouth was dry and I was holding a drink in my hand. I downed it and thought of my mother. How much stress I was under to pay for her care.

  How easily the Henry money came. Would taking it one step further really be all that bad?

  Was I selling myself? In a way I was, but with good reason.

  I set down the glass and stared at Henry. Then I took his hand and moved it up and against me.

  “That’s my girl.” His hand rubbed against me as he leaned forward, pushing me down to the seat.

  That was the first time.

  At first the arrangement was a ‘night cap’ as he called it, after events, or if there weren’t any parties, he’d call me to spend time at his home.

  I obliged, every single time.

  As much as our deal was my dirty secret, it was his as well. I was not to tell a soul, and as far as anyone was concerned, I was his assistant and that was it. He didn’t want his adult children to know, or anyone.

  I was fine with that.

  The initial few weeks were difficult and awkward for me, then it was commonplace. I liked Henry as a person. He was kind man. We had our social front and then the switch when he wanted his due. We became close acquaintances. Ones with benefits. Each of us viewed those benefits differently.

  It stayed like that for the first couple months, it was easy to say I wasn’t his girlfriend, because Henry had one. Lyla. She was older than Henry and he wasn’t physical with her. In fact she found out about me, allowed it and made sure I knew my place.