Cafe Romance (37 page)

Taking her arm and looping it through Kurt’s protective arm, the two resumed their quiet stroll, at a snail's pace, to his Corvette. Earlier Yvette had mentioned how it was ironic that both of them were Corvette owners.  Assisting her into the car he drove a pensive Yvette home.

As he lay in bed that night, he pondered the challenging aspects of his off then on relationship with Yvette. When around her he found it very difficult not to take her into his arms and embrace her. And then there was his longing to kiss her. There was no question how he felt about her. But he was certain that she was still carrying a torch for Antwan. The thought did occur to him that perhaps she had come along tonight just to find out what Roxanne meant to him. Cunning and quite clever, most women are, he thought.

Anyway, it was decision-making time and Kurt was at an impasse. Whatever the decision, Kurt knew that he would have to come to terms with his feelings for her, and more sooner than later. He decided he needed help on this one. An idea quickly formed in his head. Over the past two months he had established a trusting relationship with one of his co-workers. Brenda Barletti was her name. Brenda was clerical staff. Though in her mid-twenties, she was extremely wise and matured for her age. Brenda would be honest with him, he thought. She would provide some insight to his dilemma.

Brenda, a vegetarian, often brought a hearty salad to work for lunch. She usually took a late lunch so it was not unusual to find her dining alone. This bode well for Kurt for what he wanted.

The following Monday Kurt brown bagged his lunch and took his lunch break around the same time Brenda did. Seated alone eating her meal, Kurt walked over and asked to join her. With a radiant smile, she welcomed him gladly. After some small talk, he asked her if he could seek her advice on a personal matter in confidence. She glanced at him, smiled and said that she would be more than happy to listen to him. To his relief, she quickly assured him that he had her complete confidence. After listening intently to him, she gave him a warm-spirited reply:

"Kurt, I think this woman cares for you more than she puts on, or perhaps, more than you realize. True, she may be holding onto something that just wasn't meant to be, this Antwan fellow. If she is, it's because most women in love hold on.  Some more out of pride than anything else. The way I see it, she might be finding it hard to accept the fact that her friend does not want her the way she wants him and her ego is probably bruised. No woman likes rejection. But be warned, if it’s true she is holding onto Antwan, and this reunion fantasy, she will never realize the reality she has in you. If I were you, I would remain on the sideline until she accepts the reality that this friend of hers is never going to see their relationship in the same light she sees it in. That's my best advice for you."

"So you're saying I ought to wait on her, indefinitely?" Kurt replied.

"Not quite. I'm saying give her the space she needs to decide what her future will be. In a reasonable amount of time she will make a choice. If not, you can always explore your options with your friend Vanessa. She sounds like a wonderful person and someone quite interested in you."

"Brenda, its Yvette I love," Kurt remarked, finishing his sandwich. "But thank you again for your input. It's not every day I share my private thoughts with another."

"Anytime, Kurt." she said. "And thank you for trusting me as a friend. Good luck!"

The two completed their meal and returned to work.

If Kurt was going to be a part of Yvette’s world, Antwan would have to leave hers, he reasoned. That evening he made his mind up. He would give Yvette her space, as she had given Antwan his. Hopefully, the results would be the same, he mused. After a shower and sitcom he readied himself for the upcoming workday. Before retiring for the night he took a swallow of wine to assure his speedy entry into the wonderful world of dreams. There would be no tossing and turning tonight.

T
he sky outside, though dark, was lit brightly by a beautiful full moon against a black canvas of twinkling fiery stars. It was a setting that went largely unnoticed by Yvette, who was laying on the cool sheets of her bed, deep in thought. Nothing seemed to add up. She knew Kurt felt deeply about her. She just could not account for his reserve nature. She had given him a reasonable window of opportunity to pour his heart out to her that afternoon, but even then he failed to seize the moment. Few women like being deprived of affection and adulation without a clear-cut reason why she is being emotionally neglected. Yvette felt no different.

Rising up from her bed she gathered her belongings and headed into her luxuriously and spacious ‘
Niagara Falls
’ shower room area. She actually had a 4”x 10” black Formica panel, engraved in gold script letters, and mounted above the entrance to her bathroom, saying just that. She had purchased it at a local flea market a week earlier.

Slipping out of her silk teddy, she put on her shower cap, then entered her Roman Garden tub, closing the shower curtains behind her. With very little effort, she bent down and reached for her all-natural body sponge, turned the shower on full throttle, after making a slight temperature adjustment, and grabbed a fresh bar of scented soap. There was one possibility, she thought as she lathered herself generously. Perhaps Kurt had something going on with that cute Latin doll he shamelessly brought to lunch that afternoon at
Café Le Soir.
And the nerve of him, she thought. Even if it was his date’s idea to come there. Surely, if he felt anything for her, he would have strongly suggested another restaurant. Perhaps this had been a blatant effort to make her jealous, she entertained.

C
hapter 22

M
orning came early for the unhappy millionaire. Looking out the ivy cloaked bay window Kurt took into full view the magnificent estate grounds he now called home. The view was awesome, breathtaking, and the landscape picture perfect. For a moment, he pondered how pleasing it must have been for Solomon and Bathsheba to wake up to the splendor of the lush and bountiful gardens of the Holy Land, day in and day out.

Though it was the beginning of a new day, it was old familiar thoughts of Yvette that now occupied his mind, as he gazed pensively over his two-acre kingdom, a kingdom with a king but no queen to share it with. After a quick shower and breakfast Kurt took off for work.

That evening, as he read the editorial page of the daily, his phone rang. It was a collect call from his stepsister, Trish. And from the sound of her voice, she was high.

“Hello Brother,” she said cheerfully. “How yuh doing? You know, yuh
can
call me sometimes.” Trish made sure she emphasized the word
can
.

“Hi, Trish,” Kurt replied with guarded reserve. “I’m sorry I haven’t been in contact. But I’ve been rather busy, lately.”

Without hesitation, she replied, her voice heavy with sarcasm, “Look brother, I’m yuh sister. You should never be too busy for me.”

“You’re right, Trish, but you know, you are not an easy person to catch up with.”

Trish sighed, then said, “Yeah, I heard yuh were looking for me the last time yuh were up this way.”

“That’s true,” he replied. “But you’re never at home.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Trish asked in a grudging voice. “Are yuh trying to say I stay in the streets, or some’n?” This statement, along with her agitated tone, made him think of past conversations they had indulged in which often turned into heated arguments, and a shockwave passed through him, and then went away.

“Trish, please let’s not argue,” he pleaded. “I’m sure you called me for a reason other than this.”

“Other than what?” She retorted. “Look, I called just to see how yuh were doing, since yuh can never seem to call me. I guess now that yuh’r Mr. Big shot millionaire, yuh don’t have time for yuh’r sister.”

“Look, Trish, you know that’s not true,” he shot back. “And furthermore, how can you say these things about me after all that I have tried to do for you?”

“Yuh’r supposed to do for me,
bro-ther
,” she argued, accentuating the word brother. “I’m yuh’r sister.”

“Yes, I’m supposed to do for you, Trish,” he began to explained, then added, “but nowhere does it say I have to kiss your ass at the same time I’m assisting you.”

“Alright, Mr. Perfect one,” her voice stammered with bitterness. “Yuh would like to think yuh take care of everyone. Look, I don’t need yuh’r damn money.”

“Well, why do you constantly ask for it?” Kurt tried to keep the sudden anger out of his voice. He loved his sister dearly and missed that period of their lives when they enjoyed a loving relationship. But that was long before drugs got into the picture, along with her irrational mood swings.

“The hell with yuh Kurt,” Trish said, her voice a loud shrill.  “I don’t have to put up with dis crap.” Her island accent always grew more pronounced whenever she was under the influence.

Fearing he could no longer keep his anger repressed, he finally said to his irate sibling, “Look, this conversation isn’t going anywhere. I love you, sis, but I have to go.” With that, he reluctantly hung up on her, though not before he heard her cussing up a storm in the background.

R
oxanne poured her hot Maxwell elixir into her favorite coffee mug and added some cream to it. Stirring the steaming mix gently with a spoon, she was eager to get the high-energy boost one came to expect from liquid caffeine early in the morning. It had been nearly two weeks since she left Don and was slowly growing more comfortable with her new found freedom. For the first time in a long time, she was free to come and go, decide her daily routine, and see whomever she wanted to see without interference from her husband. But there was one slight problem; there was only one other man in her life now and that man was Kurt and to her dismay she had not been seeing a whole lot of him lately, nor as much as she expected.

Sure he kept in touch, but mostly by phone. What was up with him? She thought. This was certainly no way to treat a woman, especially an ex-fiancée, who was in dire need of a friend. Surely he still cared for her. Perhaps even longed for her. What all-American man wouldn’t, she dared to ponder? After all, had not she been serenaded countless times by admiring men on how young and beautiful she looked?

Just the other day she was hit on by a very handsome young buck, about mid-thirties, businessman-type. And the day before that it was the hotel security manager. But they did not matter to her. She had eyes for Kurt. It is from his month that she longed to hear how young and beautiful she was. 

K
urt sipped the hot espresso and wondered what it was Vanessa wanted to talk to him about. She had been vague earlier when she called him at his job, only asking if he could drop by after work. He reasoned that she was having more plumbing problems at her motorhome. Fortunately he had his coveralls and tools in the trunk of the Corvette, just in case this was the problem. 

            Kurt watched Vanessa’s approach from the kitchen area. She was wearing a form fitting low-cut dress. A sudden shudder passed through him. There appeared to be a sexual tension not present there on previous visits. Though uneasy, he said nothing when she sat down beside him and took his hand into hers and fixed him with dark Latin eyes. Her eyes had always been one of her best features.

"Vanessa, may I ask what this is all about?" he said finally, probingly.

"Well, I hope I am not being too forward," she began, leaning confidentially toward him, "But you have no idea how much I've been thinking about you lately. I just can’t hold it in anymore. I get so lonely at times and to the point I think I'm going to go out of my mind over you. I keep telling myself, 'I have to let him know.' So, here it is…I am very attracted to you Kurt. And I mean I’ve got it bad for you."

Instinctively, he moved her hands gently away and stood up. To say that he was stunned by her revelation was an understatement. Few women had ever been as direct with him as she had been and it surprised him, making him awkwardly nervous. First, Roxanne…now, Vanessa. That it had never occurred to him early on that Vanessa might actually become attached to him left him ill prepared for the moment at hand.

“Vanessa," he began, looking down into her dreamy eyes. "I am flattered. I really am. But I had no idea you felt this way about me."

Not normally a woman of desperation, she had no time for introspective analysis. She would have to work this out later, much later. Right now, it was time to throw caution to the wind. "Kurt, I've wanted you ever since the day you came over to help me out. Please tell me that you find me attractive.”

Conflicted, Kurt rested one hand on his hip and the other to his forehead as though in deep thought. What had he gotten himself into, he pondered?

"Vanessa, it is true that I find you very attractive. But we’re just friends. However, I admire your frankness.”

Walking over to a nearby easy chair, he propped himself down and sank back into it. Turning, he raised his eyes to meet hers, and said, “Look, we have had a lot of fun together. We've gone out together. And you’re a woman deserving of any man’s adulation, any man’s desire, Vanessa. But right now, the desire that I feel inside is for another.”

Rising up gracefully, she stepped to Kurt until she was close enough to ease her round bottom on his lap. Wrapping her arms loosely around his neck, she gazed into his handsome face and murmured, "Look, Kurt, what I’m talking about hasn’t a thing to do with love. But it does have a lot to do with desire.” With that she lowered her head and locked her raspberry painted lips on his and kissed him hungrily.

Kurt, knowing he could have taken her right then and there, wanted to do the right thing by her. He considered her a dear and valuable friend and he wanted to keep it that way. He could see that her eyes were stark in wanderlust. And he could feel her heart thudding wildly in her breasts.