Next target

There were a couple of guys from one of the more middle class frats in my English class. They sat in front of me, and I overheard one talk about his job at a posh country club. If there should be a target rich environment for me, it would be a posh country club.

That day I went to my classes and when the frat boys came in to English class, I tapped the one who worked at the country club on the shoulder. "Excuse me, but didn't I overhear you work at Seven Oaks?"

"Yeah, I work in the health club there."

"Can I ask you a few questions about the members?"

"Sure, don't know too much about their personal lives and such, though."

"No, problem. In my psychology class, we're talking about stereotypes, and one that came up was the rich snob, you know, a lady who has to have every whim catered to and is mean to her staff. Any women like that there. I'm interested in how real this stereotype is."

"Really only one that I know of," said the frat boy, "Lillian Towers. Total bitch."

"The kind of woman who if you see coming, you know she's going to bitch about something?"

"Oh yeah, staff knows all about her. Not only is she from a rich family, her dad built Towers Park Plaza, but she's been married and divorced three times, and probably gets alimony, so she probably doesn't have to work, and spends a lot of time at the club."

"Do you know if she's married now?"

"Pretty sure she's not," he said. "Don't recall a ring, and the married women there usually wear rings big enough to sprain their fingers!"

"Thanks, but just a couple of more questions," I said, "how old is she and would you say she's attractive?"

"Mmmm, probably about 35, and yeah, she keeps in great shape and has had some work done, at least that's what we guess, fake boobs, maybe a nose job, Botox, the works."

"Thanks, can't believe there are people actually like that," I said.

"Yep, most of the members are either nice enough or just treat us like we aren't even there."

I thanked him again and wrote the name Lilian Towers in my notebook. She seemed like the perfect target for the blue stone. I just had to figure out a way to get to her. No way was I going to qualify as a member of the Seven Oaks. I could ask the frat guy if she had a regular schedule to come to the country club, but I did not want to come off like a creepy stalker.

After class I went to the library and googled Lilian Towers. Some photos of her at swanky parties came up on the local newspaper's society page. She was a looker, tall, slender, with what looked like C cup boobs. She had sharp features, great cheekbones and thin nose and slightly pointed chin. I could not find an address though, but I knew what she looked like now. Narrowing down my target to one person seemed a bit **** for the blue stone's test, but hey I was young and had plenty of time. I tried another search and found and article about her father, Nelson Towers. I thought about Towers Park Plaza, it was a group of buildings, luxury condos, office building, and retail space. I wondered if she lived there. I devised a plan to find out. First I used the county website to find the name of Lilian's last husband, Paul Johanson. Court records showed he was represented in his divorce by Roberson, Vale, and Peters.

I left the library and went to the campus store. I bought a manila envelope, a clip board, and some mailing labels. I also found a clothing marker. A clothing marker is like a sharpie on steroids. They are meant to write on clothes and not wash off. I went back to the library and used the computers to put Lilian Tower's name on a label and affixed it to the center of the envelope. I then put the name of her ex-husband's law firm on a label and put it where a return address would be. I put some blank computer paper on the clip board. I went to my dorm room and changed into khaki pants and a button down teal colored shirt. I took a bus to Towers Park Plaza. I went into the foyer of the condo building. A man in doorman's outfit was sitting behind a curved counter. Behind the counter were mail slots with numbers, no names by them.

"May I help you?" he asked.

"Delivery for Lilian Towers," I said. "Have to hand it to her and have her sign for it."

"Just a sec," he said. He picked up a phone and dialed a number. "Ms Towers, Earl. You have a delivery....No, says you have to sign for it....hold on." The doorman put his hand over the mouthpiece of the phone. "Can I sign for it?"

"No, sir, must be her. Legal stuff," I said. I was lucky she was home, and I wondered if the entity who had gifted me the ring had anything to do with the luck I'd been having.

"He says it must be you, ma'am," sad the doorman, "legal stuff." He listened for a moment then rolled his eyes. He looked at me again and covered the mouth piece. "She wants me to ask again if I can sign for it."

"Not if I want to keep my job," I said. "You can tell her it's something from Roberson, Vale, and Peters, and it concerns her divorce settlement."

"Not sure I'd want to," Earl said in a whisper. He went back to the phone. "Its' from...."

"Roberson, Vale, and Peters, " I said, showing him the envelope and hoping he would not notice it wasn't office letterhead.

"Roberson, Vale, and Peters," Earl repeated into he phone.

"Yes, ma'am," he said and hung up.

"She'll be right down," he said. "Just between you and me, if you believe looks can kill, don't make eye contact. She doesn't seem to happy about having to come down and take time out of her busy schedule."

"Duly noted," I said, "They don't pay me enough for this some times."

"You and me both, kid," said Earl.

I heard an elevator ding, and walked to where the bank of three elevators were. I readied the ring in anticipation.