Cafe Romance (34 page)

R
oxanne found the door key in the brush in a small envelope just as Don said it would be.  Entering the vacant bungalow she began to collect her belongings. She had no idea where her husband was at the moment. And though she was thankful that he had decided not to be there when she arrived, she still did not feel completely at ease inside there, alone. What if he was on his way there now? She began to wish she had informed Kurt of her decision to return, though brief it was meant to be.

Trying hard to concentrate on her purpose for being there, she threw her clothing and personal effects into two luggage bags she had retrieved from the cedar-lined closet. Wasting little time, she began in the bedroom and worked her way into the living room.

Just then, from behind, she heard a key turn in the door lock. A subtle squeaking could be heard as the door slowly opened. Turning anxiously she found
The Beast
towering over her, watching her, analyzing her, probing her with yellow stained eyes. She could not tell if he had been drinking or not, though it did not matter at this point, she felt. Suddenly, a wave of apprehension swept through her, leaving her heart jumping in her chest.

“Hello Roxanne,” he uttered, his voice emotionless.

“Don, I thought you said you were not going to be here when I arrived.”

“I wasn’t here when yah arrived,” he answered, grinning sinisterly.

With knees that clicked nervously together, Roxanne decided to carry on as if he was not there.  Turning, she resumed her packing.

“So, where have yah been?” He spat, stepping forward. “And with whom?”

Pausing, she answered, “What difference does it make?  It’s over between us, Don.”

Drawing closer Don fired back, “Says who?”

Says Who?

Says Who?

Says Who?

The words seemed to reverberate throughout her head like a misguided bullet ricocheting throughout a metal-clad chamber. In a vain effort to squash the intrusive noise she raised her hands to her ears. Coming here alone was a big mistake, she realized. She should have never trusted his word. Once again he grilled her, “Says who, Roxanne, I’m asking?”

Clenching her hands so tightly together that her nails dug into her flesh, she dropped to her knees, in panic and in tears. Raising her eyes upward she felt impaled by his steady gaze. Her heart was thumping big time now as his expression darkened with contempt. How did she ever manage to get involved with such a monster?  she pondered.

Raising his hand high above her, as if to strike her, Don’s raspy voice sent another wave of chills throughout her spine, as he declared, “This is the last time I’m going to ask yah this before I knock you senseless. Who says this relationship is over?  Who says?”

“If I’m not mistaken, I think the Lady said it was over!” A strong and powerful voice bellowed from behind.  Standing larger than life, at the entrance, was Kurt. 

Turning, Don demanded to know, “And who the hell are yah?”

“Don’t you worry about who I am,” Kurt answered, walking towards Roxanne.

Assisting her up from the floor, he smiled and assured her that everything was going to be alright.

“Thank you, Kurt,” she replied, breathing a sigh of relief.

“Kurt!” Don stammered, obviously trying to put two and two together.

“Yes, I am Kurt,” he said briskly.

“Kurt Douglass from Jersey?” he said, as he turned and faced him. “That’s it. Ya’r her former lover. What the hell are ya’r doing here in Tampa? And why are ya’r here… visiting with me wife? ”

“What’s it to you?”

“I just want to know how it is that ya’r here in this area. I thought yah two haven’t been in touch fer years?”

Ignoring Don, Kurt strolled pass him and assisted Roxanne with her luggage.

“Tell me, Kurt, how does it feel bedding my wife behind me back like the low down ghetto scumbag yah are. She’s not as ripe and tight as you may remember her being, uh? Thanks to me. Yah know, you ghetto scumbags are not the only ones well-hung.”

“Excuse me,” Kurt said, with eyes that said he had had enough. “What did you call me?”

“Yah heard me, yah dirty low down ghetto scumbag. Now take yah dirty hands off my -“

Don never got a chance to complete his statement. Kurt had spun around with a force and speed matched only by a tornado, his clenched fist connecting with Don’s jaw like lightning and thunder during a storm. It was a definite and uncontested knockout!

“Don’t you ever call me a low down ghetto scumbag again, you spineless pig!” Kurt said forcefully, as Don lay stretched out across the floor nursing his swollen, aching jaw.

Grabbing Roxanne’s luggage, the two left the house and a dumbfounded and demoralized Don.

“How did you find me?” she asked, as they drove off.

“I called you several times at the suite but you never answered. I decided to see if you had a change of heart. I actually thought you had decided to go back to him. It never crossed my mind that you may want to retrieve your belongings on your own. Roxanne, that was a very unwise thing to do, you know.”

“Yes, I know. I’m sorry,” she answered with a blink.

“Just promise me that you will never pull a stunt like that again.”

“I promise, Kurt.”

“Good,” he smiled.

“Kurt, you do know that Don’s a very powerful man?  He’s not going to let me go that easily, you can rest assure of that. It’s a family thing.”

Turning to face her, Kurt gave her a look of resolve, saying, “He has no other choice but to let you go, Roxanne. We’re getting a restraining order on him first thing tomorrow. And remember, he’s not the only one with power and influence. But most of all, remember that I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

With that said, Kurt returned Roxanne to her suite.

T
hough normally a low-keyed person, and a private one, at that, it was becoming much harder for Kurt to maintain that privacy. And it was bound to happen sooner or later.

Because he was already up, Kurt arrived at work a little earlier than usual, and greeted his co-workers warmly, which was his daily routine, and made his way to his office. As he waited for his computer to boot up he leaned forward in his chair and reached for the phone to listen to his voice mail. One of the three awaiting messages instructed him to promptly report to his supervisor's office upon arrival.

Rising up out of the chair, he headed out of his office, turning the corner at the end of the corridor, until he stopped in front of Mr. Brad Lancaster's office, his stiff
by-the-book
immediate supervisor. Kurt knocked lightly on the door and was told to enter. Before him sat his supervisor, Mr. Lancaster, who greeted him, in a mollifying tone of voice. Also in attendance was his supervisor's boss, Mr. Trevor Reid. By the grim look on their faces Kurt knew that he had not been invited there to socialize. Kurt's curiosity was at an all-time high. Finally Mr. Lancaster spoke and asked Kurt to be seated.

Clearing his throat, Mr. Lancaster began, “Kurt, I’m going to cut through the chase and just say that it has come to our attention, since your recent address update, that you are now residing in a very affluent neighborhood, known for its pricey dwellings, fancy gardens and chauffeured driven limousines.

“Now, being a State employee, myself, for over twenty years, and top management at that, not even I can afford to reside in such an upscale section of town. By state employee standards, you are living better than most businessmen I know, and far better than any of your supervisors, and I’m talking combined.

“We thought perhaps that you were just renting a room out there. Then we thought that perhaps you just may have had a little income on the side. We didn’t know. Anyway, we checked with the county and the house is registered in your name, and is paid for in full. Care to enlighten us?”

A troubled and pensive Kurt said nothing, at first. Talk about Big Brother. "You guys are actually serious, aren’t you?” The two managers nodded. “Gentlemen, I am really surprised by your inquiry," he began, and added, "Look, I am not sure I fully understand your concerns, but I can assure you that I am not some hustler, or some Mack Daddy pimp, nor am I a drug dealer. And no, I don't have a rich uncle or aunt who left me a fortune.

“First of all, the house in question
is
my house, as you have discovered. And I must tell you, respectfully, that I am offended by this inquiry. I cannot believe I’m sitting here talking about where I am about to live.”

“Kurt, no one is accusing you of anything,” Mr. Lancaster said, looking up from beneath craggy brows.  “We just wanted you to clarify your living arrangement, that’s all.”

“Gentlemen, I have worked here just a little under six months but you should know by now that my reputation is impeccable. I am a hard worker...and an honest worker. Hell, I was even recognized as worker of the month...twice. I have always been on time and I have never taken a day off due to illness.

“As to the matter, for which I have been brought here for, I am going to give you my attorney's phone number and he will answer any and all of your questions about my living arrangements. Please, let us leave it at that, for now."

He immediately pulled out his attorney's phone number from his swollen wallet and handed it to his supervisor to record. "Now, may I please return to my job, that is, if I still have one?"

The call was made that afternoon. The response they got from Kurt's lawyer duly confirmed Kurt's windfall, leaving the two higher ups pie-faced. They were reassured that the necessary verification would be sent by confidential overnight delivery. The two administrators were stunned beyond belief. They actually had a multi-millionaire in their midst.

Earl, Kurt’s attorney, had impressed upon them to treat this as privilege information. His client wanted to maintain his privacy. The attorney need not worry. Damage control was about to be put into full swing.

The following day, Kurt was summoned to his supervisor's office and given an official apology from his boss and the upper boss. Both said they had no problem respecting his privacy. As far as they were concerned, the matter was now history. Kurt left them to resume his work. Down inside, he knew it was only a temporary fix. It would not be long before word of his enormous wealth reached his co-workers. That’s just the way business offices work.

Right now, his hope was to keep things low-keyed for at least another two months, when he planned to resign his position there. If word got out now, he knew he would have no other option but to leave the agency within a matter of days. Everybody that was anybody would be hounding him again, unknowns longing to be instance buddies for life, charities stalking him relentlessly. He wanted a life void of outside intrusion, and the limelight. For this to happen, he had to maintain a low profile and avoid the limelight.

C
hapter 20

Y
vette had been feeling restless and irritable ever since she discovered that Antwan was seeing another woman, a much younger woman at that. Marian Holly Wincrest was her name, though she was known by her friends as Holly, and it was true, at twenty-six, she was much younger than Yvette, and as beautiful and as full of life...often a very difficult combination for a woman of thirty-four to compete with. But what she lacked in youth, which wasn’t much, she made up for with experience.

Though she had informed Juanita and a few other close friends that her relationship with Antwan was over, that they were only friends, the two had quietly gotten back together to try to patch things up between them, just before Holly entered the picture.

Of Norwegian descent Holly met Antwan through a friend who was a former co-worker of his. After experiencing problems at her place of employment, she found peace of mind in Antwan's ensuing presence and reassuring words. In time she found comfort in his touch and his sweet passionate lovemaking. Before long she told him that she loved him. And Antwan was quick to profess his budding love for her.

Though with child Holly had never bothered to marry. Lovers were easy to find and please but she could never find a man who could please her enough to want to marry them. That was until she met Antwan.

The doorbell rang startling Yvette, who was listening to the stereo. Getting up, she swung into motion. It was Antwan. She had asked him to stop by so that they could clear the air on the money he owed her and had yet to repay. She had hoped she could be warm and open-minded but the moment she laid eyes on him she felt a chill come over her. At that very moment her personality underwent a complete transformation.

She sat down coolly without uttering a word. It was obvious she was resentful of the situation she found herself in. Though she offered Antwan a seat he elected to remain standing.

"Look, I'm glad you asked me over so that we could get this out in the open," he said, as her eyes met his disparagingly.

There was a deafening pause.

Leaning her elbow on the sofa end, her head slightly tilted and resting on the small of her fist, an ice cold dignity created a stony mask of her face. She remained silent, though. Antwan was here to speak his mind and she was going to let him.

Moving a little closer to her, his hands extended wide before him, he added, "I'm not quite sure how this all came about Yvette. I didn't plan it this way. It just happened. As you know, I am seeing Holly now.  She’s very unique. And we seem to have a lot in common."

The nerve of him to use her name in the same breath as his lover, Yvette thought, her face now a mask of hurt and indignation.

"Look, I know this is hard for you, what I am laying down on you, right now. But you have to admit, it's never going to work out between us, Yvette. We never really jelled. We never realized our potential with one another. For all it's worth, we're two different people with two distinct perspectives on life," he said, his face a mask of uneasiness.