Cafe Romance (28 page)

Kurt was listening to his exterior sound system and hosing down the hot concrete patio and
Moonbeam
when a sleek white limousine glided to a gentle stop in front of his lot. Setting the hose down, and picking up a clean cloth to dry his hands, he approached the vehicle with a huge smile.

"Uncle Kurt!" his nieces cried out the moment they were free of the car, both rushing him with loving embraces. As usual, Arthur trailed behind, never quite able to match his daughters’ energy levels, or footwork. The hot Florida sun weighed in heavily, too. With a digital camera case draped over one shoulder, Arthur looked like the typical tourist, not a beltway politician.

“Hello Senator!” Kurt said, walking forward. The brothers greeted one another with clasped hands, warm smiles, and the customary shoulder bump. The gesture, one of those manly ‘
Brother in the Hood
’ things.

Once inside of the cool motorhome, Kurt offered them cold drinks and snacks. At their request, he gave them a tour of
Moonbeam
. For the next two hours the foursome chatted and traded life stories. The girls ventured off after a few minutes to watch a movie on the television.

Later the senator and his daughters took turns showering then changed into formal wear they had brought along with them. They had been invited to an evening banquet being hosted by the democratic mayor of Tampa. Dressed formally, Arthur the brother now looked like Arthur the senator in his long black tuxedo, his charming daughters like little princesses.

Kurt had been invited along but had politely declined the invitation. He was tired and wanted to rest up. Besides, he was a conservative.

Minutes later he waved the trio off.

The following day the two brothers, and nieces, met at Busch Gardens and spent the better part of the day enjoying the amusement park rides, a tour of the zoological park and the famous Busch Gardens brewery.

That evening they ate dinner at a small, though untrendy, Greek eatery, known for their low calorie salads, by the harbor. With no room for dessert, the four of them retreated to
Moonbeam
where the girls watched another movie and the two brothers continued their conversation. 

"Man, I just can't get over this motorhome," Arthur said, shaking his head incredulously. "I didn't know they made them this classy. I'm seriously thinking about buying one now."

"They are quite comfortable, too," Kurt qualified.

"Tell me something, my brother," Arthur began, opening a bottle of Ocean Spray, "Why did you decide to continue to work when you didn’t have to?"

"Oh, that's an easy one to answer," Kurt replied, pouring pretzels and potato chips into a plastic bowl, he had just lined with a paper napkin. "First of all, I’ve had the pleasure of meeting several lottery winners who have continued to work long after winning their millions. Many of them told me that they continued on at their current jobs because of a need for normalcy in their lives. Others, because they know they can quit any time.

“Now in my case, I traveled first and got that out of the way. And I had a blast! But you know something, my brother? I grew tired of being on the road, and all alone. I had nothing but a lot of time on my hands, but little in-between."

"Well, what are your plans now, short term and long term?" Arthur asked, scooping up a handful of snacks.

"Right now, I am working for the Florida Department of Labor, as you know, though I plan on leaving the agency by spring of next year. I want to start my own business. My plans are not finalized yet, but will be in the food service field, that I do know. Maybe something in the five-star restaurant area. You know, classy."

"Sounds like a winner to me," Arthur replied, then added, "If anyone has the tenacity and cash flow to cover the initial investment and startup for such a venture, it's you, my brother.”

"I hope you’re right. Having a financial reservoir helps. Not only does it help, it makes all the difference. As they say, money talks, bullshit walks."

The two brothers chuckled, laying a high five across each other’s hand.

"By the way, I'm also opening up a tutoring center next month for the underprivileged. It's sort of a pet project of mine's that's designed to help youths at the junior and senior high school level. I've got some great people who are in line to run the operation. I've already looked over dozens of applications and profiles and I think I've just about settled on three of the twelve or so top-notched administrators listed. The remainder of the staff will be volunteers."

"Tutoring, huh," Arthur nodded, then added, "You know, that’s really a swell idea. If only I had had a tutor in eleventh grade, I might have become a doctor," he chuckled. “That calculus really kicked my ass.”

"I know what you mean,” Kurt laughed. “Anyway, I believe there is a great need for it in the inner city."

"I'm definitely down with that," Arthur replied on a more serious note. “Matter-of-fact, I’m working on a bill that would basically provide similar services nationwide, throughout the urban areas of our large cities.”

“That’s great, Arthur. Let me know how it goes.”

“Sure thing.”

Leaning forward in his chair Kurt rubbed his chin then returned his thoughtful gaze to his brother. It was something that had been on his mind for some time now. "Look, may I ask you something on a more personal level?”

“By all means,” Arthur replied, leaning forward with clasped hands.

“Being a man in your position, a position of power, wealth and influence, how do you handle it all without getting the big-head or detached from your constituents?"

"It's rather simple, Kurt. I never ever feel that I am more important or any better than the most downtrodden person who supports me, and whose vote put me in office. I consider myself an equal with others. The only difference is that I am in a position where I may be able to make a difference in that person's life because of my position. Why do you ask?”

"It's just that a lot of people have come to expect great things from me. Some think that I can solve all of their problems with one wave of the hand, or with a stroke of a pen and my checkbook. Most of the time, people can find the answers within. Another thing, our people are going to have to learn to change their way of thinking in order to effect a change.

“A friend of mine came to me once. He saw a shortage of money as his problem, and not his inability to manage money wisely, as the problem.  It’s easy to see how he keeps getting back into debt all over again."    

"That's very true, Kurt," Arthur nodded in agreement.

“Then there’s always the special requests I get,” Kurt added. “Everyone wants a favor.”

"I think I see what you're getting at," Arthur chuckled, rising up to toss a used napkin into a nearby trashcan. "Kind of put you in the frame of mind of that Godfather movie, huh? All the favors the Don had to honor on his daughter’s wedding day."

“Yeah, though not so much here, in Tampa,” Kurt inhaled. “Only one person knows about my wealth here and she’s visiting the area. We’ll discuss her in a short while. But back in Trenton. I tell you, I had to get away.”

"Well, money brings power and influence, and power and influence, my brother, is what makes the difference," Arthur chuckled spiritedly, laying five on Kurt's hand. "Remember that always, and what I told you earlier. Now, let's get down to the real deal, the real serious stuff," he laughed, finishing off his drink. "Have you met any charming ladies yet? Anyone special, in particular?"

"Well, kind of, but she's spoken for."

"Married?"

"No, just in love."

            "With the
other
guy, I presume?"

"That's what she tells me."

"Well, perhaps one day soon, she just may wake up and realize that it’s you she’s in love with.”

"I'm counting on it, Arthur. I care about this woman but in all honesty, I think I blew it.  I mean, I could have gotten something going between us a longtime ago, but I just wasn't ready for a truly serious commitment. Then there’s the situation I have with Leslie. I told her that I’d give her a year to make up her mind on whether or not she wants to come back to me. In addition to this, it doesn’t help that my Tampa love interest is still fuming over the fact that she saw me at a club with another woman, especially after I turned down going out with her that very same night.”

“Who’s this amazing woman you, no doubt, are very much in love with?”

“Yvette Roberts is her name. Arthur, I know she loves me, despite this other relationship she’s got going with an old friend of hers. In my heart of hearts, I just know it."

"So you think she's with this other guy on the rebound," Arthur said, crunching down on a pretzel stick. “And all because she saw you with the other woman, right?”

"Could be," Kurt answered, taking a sip of his drink.

"I take it Ms. Roberts doesn't know about your vast wealth," Arthur said, finishing off his pretzel.

"No, she doesn’t," Kurt replied, leaning forward in his chair, with clasp hands.

"Smart move," Arthur remarked. "A very smart move."

“Keeping it anonymous has allowed for me to relax and enjoy people. I do not have to wonder if they are warming up to me because of my monetary windfall.”

Rubbing his chin, Arthur gazed in the direction of his daughters who were still watching television, then returned his gaze to his brother. With a calculating expression he said, “I see what you mean,” adding, “Excuse me, but did you not say a few minutes ago that there
was
only one person in Tampa who knows about your wealth?”

“Oh, I almost forgot…Roxanne,” Kurt answered.

“Roxanne? Roxanne Polite?”

“Yeah, my one time fiancée? She’s the woman I was out with the night Yvette saw me.”

“Roxy! How interesting,” Arthur said, munching on another pretzel. “Anyway, what’s she doing down here in Florida?”

“She is down here with her husband, Don. He’s an oil-executive type now. He was here to inspect oil platforms in the Gulf. The two are not on the best of terms.”

“I see,” Arthur sighed, patting Kurt supportively on the shoulder. “But let me ask you something, my brother. How is it that she is down here with her husband and you’re the one out dancing the night away with her?”

“Fate, my brother. That’s all I can say,” Kurt added, stroking the side of his head briefly with his hand. “Believe me, it’s not something I asked for.”

“You think Foxy Roxy may be after you because of your wealth?”

Kurt scanned his thoughts, then replied, “I honestly don’t know, bro.”

“Keep your guard up,” Arthur advised. “Remember, she is still a married woman. Ex-fiancée or not.”

As brothers do, the two talked politics and sports, and shared their views on Arthur raising two girls without the benefit of their mother, Arthur's former wife Belinda, who had succumbed to injuries received in a car accident two years earlier. It was during that time of tragedy and grief that Kurt and Arthur grew extremely close. It was Kurt who took in Arthur’s daughters for nearly four months, along with his wife Leslie, at a time Arthur was force to deal with the loss of his wife and running a re-election campaign.

The following morning his niece Alicia, who had recently gotten her driver's license, offered to drive her uncle to a nearby convenience store, in their rented Explorer, to buy some orange juice for breakfast. That afternoon the trio headed for the SUV and after a final round of hugs and kisses, Kurt complimented Alicia on her driving and bid his niece Trina and his brother Arthur goodbye.

I
t had been a long and busy day at the job and Kurt had been feeling under the weather lately. He couldn’t wait to get home to rest. With his stomach rumbling like a diesel engine, he returned home and heated up some soup. He needed something he could slurp down, not chew. Something that would settle his upset stomach. With a warm blanket in hand, he seated himself down in his favorite recliner then ate his soup. Afterwards, he read the daily news and fell fast asleep.

Without warning, the phone rang, waking him up abruptly from his early nap.

Reaching for the phone Kurt collected himself and answered in a husky whisper.

“Kurt, darling, it’s me, Roxanne,” the voice answered, taken aback by the roughness of his voice. “Are you alright?”

“Just feeling a little under the weather,” he replied, then asked, “Where are you?”

“Still in Tampa.”

“Roxanne, I thought you had returned to Virginia.”

“That’s why I called. Don has been given a six-week extension. Isn’t that great!”

Hell no! This is not what Kurt wanted to hear. His life was complicated enough. He knew Roxanne would want to see him again. Hasn’t she caused him enough trouble as it is? Not that she was bad luck or anything, but it was beginning to seem like whenever she was around he would lose someone dear to him. First grandma passed away, now Yvette had abandoned him. But was he really being fair to Roxanne? Or was it just pure frustration? Be kind, he coached himself.

“So, they needed him to hang around a while longer.”

“Yeah, the safety problems seem to be more serious than they originally thought and he has to see that they are brought up to government safety standards before next month’s big government inspection.”

 “I see,” Kurt said, downing about a tablespoon worth of cold soup left in his soup bowl. He wiped at his mouth with a napkin, then hugged the phone again.

“I want to visit with you sometime soon,” she told him, in a voice that said she was not taking no for an answer. “Please, it would mean so much to me, Kurt.”

“All right, Roxanne,” Kurt said in quick surrender. “Call me in a few days and I’ll let you know for certain, okay?”

“Sure. Talk to you. Bye!”

Hanging up the phone she paused to savor Kurt’s voice, which seemed to have regained its rich deep tone after a few seconds. She wished she could just be there with him to help him feel better.

Standing up she turned, with an excited look across her face, then just as quickly, she froze in her tracks, her face now a mask of fear. Standing in the bedroom doorway stood her husband Don, with his hands propped on his hips, a wide drunken smirk across his face. She had left him asleep in bed, or so she thought. She was not sure how long he had been standing there or how much he had heard. The fact that he was standing there, at all, was not a good sign.