Cafe Romance (29 page)

“Who the hell was that?” he stammered. “Yah new lover or something?”

“Don’t be silly Don. That was my friend Annie, back home,” she lied.  “You remember Annie, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I remember that good for nothing friend of yours.”

“Don, she was my maid of honor.”

“There’s no honor in that woman,” he grimaced, now walking towards her. “I know she slept with Carly Simpson’s husband.  I know that for a fact.  She’s nothing but a two bit whore.”

“Don, that’s not true. Not everyone is a whore just because you say so.”

“She is, I say,” he yelled, grabbing her by the shoulders roughly, his breath reeking of Scotch, his Irish accent more pronounced. “And yah ain’t too far behind her from being one yah’self.”

“Don, you’re hurting me,” she almost cried from the pain.

“Yah slut, I’m about to put a real hurting on yah in a minute,” he said excitedly, releasing his grip momentarily.  It was his first day back and it had been over three weeks since he satisfied his animal lust. Away from his devoted mistress back home, Don decided his wife would have to do for the moment. After all, she was still a very attractive looking woman, especially at this moment, a moment of earthy need. 

Looming large over her, he stared at her beautiful face, her full heaving breasts and felt a need to satisfy himself, now, at this very moment. He craved her warm soft body and the hot passion of her loins. Her sweet fragrance was driving him crazy. Yes, it had been some years since he last desired Roxanne in this desperate way.

Reaching out he cupped her breasts but she pushed his hand away in protest. When she refused to gaze into his eyes, after he complimented them, he really became annoyed. Like the savage he was he slapped her across the face, cursing her as she went down. “I don’t know why I married ya’r sorry black ass. Ma pappy warned me about yah from the start. He always said yah were only after my money.”

With eyes streaming with hot tears, Roxanne managed to stand up and dash passed him, regretting the day she ever laid eyes on him. “Don, you’re nothing but a low down dirty bastard,” she screamed, slamming the bedroom door behind her.

A second later he kicked it wide open, his eyes blazing with excitement at the chase. Walking over to the bed where she sat, looking sultry in his eyes, her short red skirt riding high on her thighs, he ripped open her blouse, buttons popping off one after the other, until her full breasts were exposed. Unfastening his belt, he unzipped his trousers and stepped out of them clumsily.

Terrified, Roxanne covered her breasts with both arms. Pushing her back onto the bed he Bogart his way in-between her thighs, eager to sample the goods. With a defiant look across her face, she brought both knees together and kicked him off of her. Not a good move. It only seemed to arouse him even more. 

“Ah, so yah want to play rough, do yah,” he leered, rising up off the floor.  “I’ve always admired the spunk in yah. Always loved to tame yah wild African pussy. I guess that’s why I’ve put up with yah so long.”

With that he penned her struggling form down on the bed and raped her, then again less than an hour later.

C
hapter 16

T
he notion was almost amusing, to a degree, Kurt thought, now that he had money, being labeled a philanthropist by the press back in his hometown. To Kurt's friends, those who had known him for years, he had always been a philanthropist, and long before his sudden lottery windfall. If he had twenty dollars on him and a friend needed ten of it, he would give that friend the entire twenty. It was just his way of helping a fellow human being out. He reasoned that being a philanthropist only counted when you were rich. Well today was as good as any day for being one, for being that kind of friend.

Seated comfortably in his recliner, he made the final call and waited for the other line to pick up. 

"Hello!" the frail voice said from the other end.

"Hello, Ms. Ruth," he began, then added, "This is Kurt. Kurt Douglass!"

"Kurt!  Is that really you, Kurt?  Oh Kurt!" the voice proclaimed joyously.

Ms. Ruth, a former elementary school teacher, and family friend, often took care of him as a little boy while his parents worked.  She had been a godmother, of sorts, to him throughout his life, especially after his mother passed away, especially during the difficult time he went to live with his father and stepmother. In more recent times she had been a person he could share fond memories of his mother with. It had been nearly two years since he last spoke to Ms. Ruth. Now that he had her new phone number he only hoped that he could repay her, in some way, for her kindness and devotion to him during those early years.

"Yes, it's me, Ms. Ruth," he answered. "As you can see, it took me a while to get your new number. How are things with you?"

"Not so good, son, but the Lord is good and I know he will provide," she said.  "I don't get around much like I use to. Kurt, you know that Ms. Ruth is sixty-nine years old now. And I am starting to fall apart, too," she chuckled. "My house is leaking. I need a new roof and new plumbing. My heater is out and I'm often left with no other choice but to use the kitchen stove to heat the place.

“Like Ms. Ruth's poor health, her house is falling apart, too. But surely you did not call to hear about my problems.  How are you son?"

"I am doing fine, Ms. Ruth," he replied, beaming. It pleased him that she thought of him as a son.

"You joined a church where you're living at now?"

"Not yet, Ms. Ruth. I am still looking for a church home."

"Where are you, son?"

"I'm in Tampa, Florida."

"Are you still married?"

"Nooo, not quite. My wife and I are separated. It just didn't work out like we planned."

"Oh, Ms. Ruth is so sorry to hear that. You're such a wonderful young man, Kurt. Did you and your wife have any children together?"

"No we didn't," he said, then continued. "We tried, but she had problems carrying to full term."

"Perhaps it was for the better," she added thoughtfully.

"Perhaps you're right," Kurt murmured, then added, "Ms. Ruth, I called to see how you were doing and to say that I remember, quite well, the times you looked after me and fed me and helped my family in time of need. Now, if you'll allow me to, I would like to return the gesture. If I may, I would like to help you out with your home repairs. I understand you are in need of some repairs around the house, as you have mentioned."

"Kurt, I couldn't ask you to take on that kind of responsibility. It's too costly."

"Believe me Ms. Ruth when I say that I am in a position to not only help you, but even put you in a new home, if it pleases you."

There was a pause.

"You're serious, aren't you, son," she said incredulously.

"Yes, I am."

"Don't tell me you hit the lottery or something?"

"As a matter-of-fact, I did just that," he chuckled.

"Well, bless your heart!" She exclaimed. "I'll call my son, James, after I hang up, and have him make the necessary arraignments with you, okay?"

“That will work,” he replied wearing a bright smile.

"You know, your mother and grandmother would be very proud of you. Oh glory! Thank you, Jesus!" Kurt heard her chant, over and over. “No more roof leaks. No more backed up toilets.”

In a very poignant moment, Kurt turned his gaze to the left and found his mother's smiling picture resting in its wood frame on a countertop nearby and a soft smile formed across his face.

"Listen Mrs. Ruth, would you rather move into a new home?"

"Why thank you, Kurt, but this is the only home Ms. Ruth has known for the past thirty years.  If you can just fix it up a little I will be appreciative of that, son."

"As you please. Consider it done."

E
arl Pratt hailed from New Jersey and was a boyhood pal of Kurt's. The two attended grade school together and often competed against one another academically and were rivals in the arts. Mild-mannered, of medium built, but slightly asthmatic, especially during the pollen season, he was like a brother to Kurt. The two spent hours, after school, working on various arts and science projects, and playing games such as Monopoly, Scramble, and Chess. They also practiced gymnastics in the backyard with Earl's younger brother Pryor on the weekends.

Though they were fierce competitors, the two were foremost friends. When they went off to college, Kurt headed south to a little known Cumberland Presbyterian liberal arts school named Bethel College, while Earl attended Howard University in Washington DC. Though thousands of miles apart, the two stayed in touch with one another throughout the years. Earl eventually went on to enter the university's law school program, graduating with honors. In time, he became a very wealthy and astute corporate lawyer.

Earl specialized in the art of the deal. Donald Trump, the Atlantic City building mogul; Michael Milken, an ex-con and former inside trader on Wall Street; Michael Eisner, of the Walt Disney Company, Motown executive Suzanne de Passe, Dr. William Cosby, and a Saudi Prince, were but a handful of the elite clientele Earl represented over the years. Needless to say, shortly after his windfall, Kurt was quick to enlist the services of his old friend, initially to counsel him, then after a generous offer, to be his top legal advisor and representative on a permanent and full time basis. He trusted Earl as one would a twin brother or sister.

Being a new member in the exciting and very unfamiliar world of the wealthy, it was comforting to know there was someone around he could completely trust and confide in. It was even more convenient for him that Earl had relocated to the Tampa Bay area, though he continued to maintain a deluxe vacation home in New Jersey, too. Earl was one of the reasons why Kurt relocated to Florida.

Looking for a city with corporate growth potential, and a lot less pollen, Earl had packed up his belongings two years earlier and headed south to Tampa, leaving Atlantic City, America's newest version Sodom & Gomorra, far behind. As a result of his successful role in numerous corporate mergers Earl had clout, influence, and friends in high places. And because of his wealthy and prominent clientele, Earl had become sort of a social fixture in the world of the elite during the two years he resided in Tampa.

Though a conservative dresser, Earl wore the finest clothes money could buy. He drank the best wines and ate at the finest restaurants. It was pure delight when he learned that his childhood friend was relocating to Tampa. In a world where one has to constantly impress others, it was good to have someone around that you could be yourself with, sort of let your hair down with. Someone unpretentious and unassuming. Kurt was every bit that and more.

The two friends often got together for dinner to chat, discuss business, and relax, often playing a challenging game of chess, as they often did as young adolescents growing up. Tonight was such a night. After a game of chess, the two began their conversation by discussing stock options, but it was Kurt who brought up Yvette. He knew the two could talk about anything under the sun, as friends often do, especially on a personal level.

"Earl, have you ever met the woman of your dreams, I mean like your soul-mate, only to lose her to someone else?"  Kurt asked briskly.

"I have but one memory I can share with you,” he replied. “You see she already had a man. Matter-of-fact, a husband. And I lost her because of my big fat mouth."

"What happened?" Kurt asked, as he grasped his hands loosely on the table.

"Well, let me first say that the sun, moon, and stars rose and set with this woman, at least in my eyes," he professed, his eyes reflecting fondly the memories he now shared. "She was everything I ever wanted in a woman, Kurt. But there was that one little problem, as you already know.  She was married."

"I'm curious. How did you manage to get yourself involved with a married woman?" Kurt asked, with interest, then added, "I've known you for a long time, but you are not the type to take risks, not that kind, at least."                     

"Normally I'm not but this affair kind of snuck up on me, real gradual-like, and before I realized it I was in deep, real deep. Besides, it was a bad marriage."

“You say it kind’a snuck up on you, huh.”     

“Like property taxes,” Earl chuckled.

           "I know what you mean," Kurt bellowed, then pressed on, "Then, what happened?"

There was a pause.

"Hell, I betrayed her trust, that’s what happened," he answered, his voice revealing hurt for the first time since reflecting on his memories of Sharon. "We started out seeing one another on a regular basis, and believe me, it took every bit of five years to cultivate the kind of trust we felt secured and comfortable with, long before we even got to the point we could take the kind of risks people take when they are lovers, especially when one of the lovers has a spouse. One day we gathered up the courage to lay our feelings out on the table and evoke some ground rules. Well, believe it or not, it was I who insisted that whatever we said or whatever we did together would be kept a guarded confidence between the two of us, for obvious reasons. You know, it wasn't like she had to be told this stuff. I was just trying, more or less, to see if we were on the same page. One can never assume these things.

“Then came that very special occasion, Christmas, I believe. Sharon presented me with a very expensive Gucci watch.  It was a magnificent looking watch, diamonds and all. Well, guess what?  I made the mistake of telling my brother, whom I just knew would never tell anyone else, or so I thought, but did. He told his trusted girlfriend, whom he thought would never tell anyone else, but did, and the girlfriend, of course, told her most trusted best friend, whom she thought would never tell anyone else, but did. You get the picture.

“In a matter of time, three weeks to be exact, what I had revealed to my brother filtered back to Sharon, who exploded. And it didn’t matter that I tried to explain to Sharon that though my brother and I had always talked about almost everything, that he had always kept a shared confidence before, she was not having any of it. There was no excuse for why I violated her trust, she told me. That's all to it.”