Revealed: The Missing Years
Page 10
After the captain announced their altitude and the little bell dinged, Brent leaned his chair back and opened the eBook app on his phone. He’d placed it on airplane mode much earlier than necessary. It helped with the relaxation. Despite the fact that Brent had been actively involved in the attempts to stop the publication of Meredith Banks’ book My Life as It Didn’t Appear, he still purchased the book out of morbid curiosity the day it came out. He wondered how Ms. Banks would sensationalize what Brent had read in a more clinical legal brief.
Brent wasn’t blind or deaf. He heard whispers and murmurs. He knew that he wasn’t the only member of the Rawlings Industries legal team to buy the book. Everyone was intrigued. However, as a close friend of both Tony and Claire, when asked, Brent maintained his stance, continually professing that he had no desire to add to Ms. Banks’ rankings or bank account. Perhaps it was a misleading statement, but it was not an outright lie.
When Brent first downloaded the book, he was only able to read as far as the author’s introduction that explained Meredith and Claire’s relationship, setting the stage for the details to come. Brent had tried to read Claire’s words, but couldn’t. Knowing without doubt that what he was about to read was completely accurate made it too painful. Nevertheless, curiosity is a strange beast. Despite best intentions or convictions, it doesn’t fall asleep and quietly fade away. No. If left unfed, curiosity becomes a hunger that grows in strength and voracity until it monopolizes unconscious thoughts and dreams.
Seeing his friends last night gave Brent the sustenance he needed to move past Meredith’s introduction. Seeing firsthand that Tony and Claire’s relationship had matured, and watching them with Nichol, gave him the necessary strength to continue reading. He was ready to read the words, knowing that through Meredith, Claire spoke of the past—a dark past, but nonetheless, a time that was gone, never to be repeated.
Brent also justified his reading as company research. If the world had a perception of Anthony Rawlings, as his personal attorney, Brent needed to understand it. Sitting in a commercial airplane at thirty thousand feet gave Brent that opportunity. It was undoubtedly a better place to read Meredith’s story than on a Rawlings Industries plane.
My Life as It Didn’t Appear: Chapter 1…
Imagine, if you will, that you are suddenly keeping company with one of the country’s most eligible bachelors. What would you expect? Perhaps flowers and romance? Maybe candlelight and soft music?
I’m Claire Nichols, formally Rawlings, and I wish I could say that was what I experienced. I wish I could tell you how Anthony Rawlings wooed me, seduced me, and romantically worked his way into my heart. Unfortunately, my reality was starkly different.
Although it now seems inconceivable, when I first met my ex-husband—before my life changed forever—I didn’t know Anthony Rawlings nor did I know of him. I’ve read numerous accounts that paint me as nothing more than a calculating gold digger. I may never be able to convince the world otherwise, but the truth is that I never wanted wealth, or fame, or any of the things that entered my life on that fateful evening when I saw his dark eyes for the very first time. Before that night, my life was amazingly simple and yet complex. As an out-of-work meteorologist, I tried to make ends meet by tending bar at a local restaurant. I had friends, a family, and my life was content. I didn’t realize how truly happy I was until my life was taken away.
Never has nor ever will money be my barometer of happiness. I can tell you with all certainty that money does not buy happiness.
There were many other truisms that I learned after March 15, 2010. The most important was about appearance: never doubt its power or importance. It was a lesson that I mastered to perfection. My outstanding dedication to that lesson helped to perpetuate the misconceptions regarding my relationship with Anthony Rawlings.
Am I writing this book for money? No. Am I writing it to exact revenge? No.
I’m telling my story for one reason and one reason only because I need to have a voice in my reputation. I’ll no longer sit quietly and allow the world to be misinformed—or more accurately, disinformed—at my expense. You will soon learn that I was complacent for far too long. Some of the details from my story will be difficult for me to share as well as difficult for you to read. I can’t make you believe me. All I can do is tell my story to anyone willing to listen.
My reality began on March 15, 2010, in an establishment where I worked as a bartender. Anthony Rawlings appeared out of nowhere and sat down at my bar. Throughout the evening he was witty, charming, and debonair: all the qualities you’d expect. He asked to meet me for drinks after my shift. Although I had a firm rule against dating customers, Anthony Rawlings had a way of making you forget your rules and play by only his instead.
Brent swallowed back a bitter laugh. Damn—she was spot on. He continued reading.
Although I agreed to his invitation, as a safety net I refused to leave my place of employment. He willingly acquiesced and waited for me. When my shift was over, we sat, drank wine, and chatted effortlessly about nothing in particular. Sometime during our conversation, he asked about my aspirations and dreams. With a deep baritone voice that has graced both my nightmares and my dreams, he began, “Claire, surely you don’t want to spend forever serving drinks to stooges like us.”
Clearly, he was a successful man, and I was flattered by his genuine interest. I explained my wrinkle in employment, and he offered to help: he proposed that my dreams could be as simple as a signature away. With a rush of enthusiasm, he presented me with a napkin from the bar, and asked, “Would you be willing to give this all up for something bigger? What if this napkin were truly a contract and what if it said WEATHER CHANNEL at the top? Would you be willing to sign on the line for something like that?”
Brent wasn’t blind or deaf. He heard whispers and murmurs. He knew that he wasn’t the only member of the Rawlings Industries legal team to buy the book. Everyone was intrigued. However, as a close friend of both Tony and Claire, when asked, Brent maintained his stance, continually professing that he had no desire to add to Ms. Banks’ rankings or bank account. Perhaps it was a misleading statement, but it was not an outright lie.
When Brent first downloaded the book, he was only able to read as far as the author’s introduction that explained Meredith and Claire’s relationship, setting the stage for the details to come. Brent had tried to read Claire’s words, but couldn’t. Knowing without doubt that what he was about to read was completely accurate made it too painful. Nevertheless, curiosity is a strange beast. Despite best intentions or convictions, it doesn’t fall asleep and quietly fade away. No. If left unfed, curiosity becomes a hunger that grows in strength and voracity until it monopolizes unconscious thoughts and dreams.
Seeing his friends last night gave Brent the sustenance he needed to move past Meredith’s introduction. Seeing firsthand that Tony and Claire’s relationship had matured, and watching them with Nichol, gave him the necessary strength to continue reading. He was ready to read the words, knowing that through Meredith, Claire spoke of the past—a dark past, but nonetheless, a time that was gone, never to be repeated.
Brent also justified his reading as company research. If the world had a perception of Anthony Rawlings, as his personal attorney, Brent needed to understand it. Sitting in a commercial airplane at thirty thousand feet gave Brent that opportunity. It was undoubtedly a better place to read Meredith’s story than on a Rawlings Industries plane.
My Life as It Didn’t Appear: Chapter 1…
Imagine, if you will, that you are suddenly keeping company with one of the country’s most eligible bachelors. What would you expect? Perhaps flowers and romance? Maybe candlelight and soft music?
I’m Claire Nichols, formally Rawlings, and I wish I could say that was what I experienced. I wish I could tell you how Anthony Rawlings wooed me, seduced me, and romantically worked his way into my heart. Unfortunately, my reality was starkly different.
Although it now seems inconceivable, when I first met my ex-husband—before my life changed forever—I didn’t know Anthony Rawlings nor did I know of him. I’ve read numerous accounts that paint me as nothing more than a calculating gold digger. I may never be able to convince the world otherwise, but the truth is that I never wanted wealth, or fame, or any of the things that entered my life on that fateful evening when I saw his dark eyes for the very first time. Before that night, my life was amazingly simple and yet complex. As an out-of-work meteorologist, I tried to make ends meet by tending bar at a local restaurant. I had friends, a family, and my life was content. I didn’t realize how truly happy I was until my life was taken away.
Never has nor ever will money be my barometer of happiness. I can tell you with all certainty that money does not buy happiness.
There were many other truisms that I learned after March 15, 2010. The most important was about appearance: never doubt its power or importance. It was a lesson that I mastered to perfection. My outstanding dedication to that lesson helped to perpetuate the misconceptions regarding my relationship with Anthony Rawlings.
Am I writing this book for money? No. Am I writing it to exact revenge? No.
I’m telling my story for one reason and one reason only because I need to have a voice in my reputation. I’ll no longer sit quietly and allow the world to be misinformed—or more accurately, disinformed—at my expense. You will soon learn that I was complacent for far too long. Some of the details from my story will be difficult for me to share as well as difficult for you to read. I can’t make you believe me. All I can do is tell my story to anyone willing to listen.
My reality began on March 15, 2010, in an establishment where I worked as a bartender. Anthony Rawlings appeared out of nowhere and sat down at my bar. Throughout the evening he was witty, charming, and debonair: all the qualities you’d expect. He asked to meet me for drinks after my shift. Although I had a firm rule against dating customers, Anthony Rawlings had a way of making you forget your rules and play by only his instead.
Brent swallowed back a bitter laugh. Damn—she was spot on. He continued reading.
Although I agreed to his invitation, as a safety net I refused to leave my place of employment. He willingly acquiesced and waited for me. When my shift was over, we sat, drank wine, and chatted effortlessly about nothing in particular. Sometime during our conversation, he asked about my aspirations and dreams. With a deep baritone voice that has graced both my nightmares and my dreams, he began, “Claire, surely you don’t want to spend forever serving drinks to stooges like us.”
Clearly, he was a successful man, and I was flattered by his genuine interest. I explained my wrinkle in employment, and he offered to help: he proposed that my dreams could be as simple as a signature away. With a rush of enthusiasm, he presented me with a napkin from the bar, and asked, “Would you be willing to give this all up for something bigger? What if this napkin were truly a contract and what if it said WEATHER CHANNEL at the top? Would you be willing to sign on the line for something like that?”
