The Lonely Hearts 06 The Grunt 2 (25 page)

“You expect me to believe that my daughter just up and ran off?” Sharon said, defending her dead child. “Amy loved you, even though no one wanted her to. I told her not to marry you. I told her what would happen. I told her that you would make her miserable.”

“Well, how does it feel to be right about something that you can do nothing about. Bravo. You were right. But it’s not my fault that you chose to spoil her to the point where she could never appreciate anyone or anything, no matter how hard they tried. For her, it was always getting to the next level, but figuring out a way to do it without having to actually work for anything. Well, I pray to God that she found peace in death because she brought me hell in her life.”

“I’ve heard enough from you,” William growled. While he was no stranger to his daughter’s antics, he was not about to be raked over the coals by a poor bastard kid from the fields of Texas.

“Have you?” Brett asked, completely unmoved by the old man’s warning. Maybe 30 years ago this guy was good with his hands but now as a senior citizen, even with one leg, he’d fuck him up. “I don’t think you know the half of it. But you will. I’m glad that this case came up truthfully, because now all of those old skeletons are going to be pulled right out of the closet for the world to see. And everyone will know that your daughter was a whore.” There he said it. He finally said it, and it felt good.

“Spoken like a true gentleman,” Sharon said, gripping the door handle. “You’ve always been trash, Brett Black. You always will be. Nigger loving trash.”

William looked away.

Brett stood tall on the one good leg while balancing on his crutches, knowing Sharon was trying to bait him. Only, he was not about to let them win. “You know, it didn’t dawn on me until right now, but you’re right again, Sharon. I did love a nigger once, but then she packed up all of her shit with her shiftless, lazy worthless ass and went officer hunting across the Pacific. Last I heard, it didn’t end well.”

“I came to this house to tell you that as a man who has survived five tours to Iraq and Afghanistan, gun shots and near death isn’t the type of man who is going to give up on his son, because some sperm donor shows up and wants to know if his last deposit landed in between your daughter’s legs. If you thought that I was scared, then you thought wrong.” Brett clenched his square jaw. “I wanted you to look me in my eyes when I told you that you will lose and when you do, you’ll never see Cameron again. Never. Not as long as he lives.”

“Pride goes before the fall,” Sharon snapped, raising her brow at his leg in a cast. “But I don’t have to tell you that, do I?”

William felt that this had gone too far. Lightly squeezing her shoulder, he grabbed the door and looked out to see who was outside. He had to end this conversation immediately, just for face sake. The last thing he needed was the neighbors seeing Sharon berate a wounded Marine in uniform under the United Sates flag mounted on the porch or for the world to hear that his precious daughter was in fact the whore of Babylon.

Brett looked at Sharon and smiled. “You know you all make that face.”

“You all - who?” Sharon said, pulling away from her husband. She wasn’t going anywhere and she wasn’t ending this until she had said what was on her mind to this sniveling piece of shit.

“The enemy,” Brett said coolly. “You always make that face when you realize that you’re defeated. It’s the same face all around the world, not that you’ve ever been anywhere. You’ll just have to take my word for it. Evil is evil. You’ve just proven that.”

“We’ll see who has the last laugh, Brett. That boy doesn’t belong with you and that woman. He’s not yours. You have no right!” She looked so much like her daughter when she got angry with her wicked words and high soprano voice until he felt like Amy had been reincarnated as a 60-year-old woman.

Ending the conversation, he licked his lips. “Stay away from my family, Sharon Riley. And do yourself a favor and actually try practicing some of the things in that Bible. It’s a good book. You might want to do more than skim it sometime.” Turning away from them, he headed back down the stairs, one step at a time.

“Don’t you dare come to our home again,” Sharon yelled as neighbors looked on curiously. “Next time, we will call the cops on you!” William held her back by her narrow shoulders. “I hope you burn in hell!”

Brett didn’t answer any of her nasty remarks. He didn’t have to. He had gotten under her skin the way that she had gotten under Courtney’s. Plus, he had called them on it. And no one liked to be called on their shit.

As the door slammed and William’s voice rose at Sharon insisting she stop making a fool of herself, Brett knew that they knew they had lost too. The power shift had begun.

Courtney peered out of the window as he approached the car. “What just happened?” she asked, putting down her cell phone. She had recorded the entire thing, just in case, she needed evidence for the police or her attorney, but she couldn’t hear what they were saying until Sharon started cursing at him.

Brett got in the car and closed the door. “That’s what you ladies call
closure
.”

Chapter 20

"Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you.”                            

- Matthew 7:7 (NIV)

With Al Green playing on the surround sound system piped out on the patio to add a little ambience to the already romantic evening, Mr. Benson slipped a hand behind the woman’s back and gripped her waist, pulling her closer to him as they sat on the sectional enjoying the gentle breeze and each other’s company.  A smile crept across his lips as he nuzzled his nose into her hair and breathed down her neck. 

Thank God for Friday night
.  He had been waiting all week for this moment. 

Mae was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on, and he knew that he was damn lucky to actually have her in his life.  It was just happenstance that he met her at a reception for the Black Lawyers Association in Raleigh a year ago.  He knew then, when he saw her standing at the bar alone, ordering a dirty martini as she flipped her natural hair over her shoulders and killing that navy blue St. John’s dress, she was going to be trouble for him.  He had been right.  After introducing himself, she bought him a drink, and the rest was history.  They had slept together that same night in his hotel room.  The next morning after room service, he had done the unthinkable for a playboy like him and asked her on a second date.  She accepted, and he hadn’t slept with another woman since then. On top of that, she was single like him, divorced twice just like him and wealthy, just like him.  He couldn’t have found a better match if he had tried.  Now, every Friday was reserved just for them – no kids, no grandkids, and no drama.  She drove down from Raleigh, or he drove up from Atlantic Beach. It didn’t matter as long as they saw each other.  Hadn’t missed a Friday in 52 weeks, and they both were firmly against marriage.  Third time wasn’t necessarily a charm, and they were now set in their ways.  Why mess up a good thing?

“Damn, you smell good,” he growled, wanting to take her upstairs to the bedroom right then and make sweet love to her.  She was wearing that dress tonight and keeping his attention.  He liked a woman with a little meat on her bones and she made the meat on her bones look delectable.  Size 14-16, with hips and ass like Pam Grier, a face like Phylicia Rashad, and a mind like Thurgood Marshall.  She was superwoman. 

Mae smiled.  He was always so frisky after a few glasses of cognac. For him to be such a big muscular man, he couldn’t hold his liquor at all.  Putting down her drink on the table, she turned to him and wrapped her arms around his neck.  Face-to-face, she looked him in his big brown eyes, filled with needy seduction, and kissed him slowly. 

His wide-set full mouth tasted like cognac and chocolate and was as soft and lush as any bed of pedals she had laid in. 
Mmm
, she wanted to lay into his mouth tonight, curl up with his spear-like tongue and let him feast on her body for dinner.  Melting into his wide chest, she inhaled the fragrance of his cologne and the warmth coming from under his white Armani button down. 

“Come closer,” he said, pulling her up onto his lap.  Making her straddle him in her red silk dress, he set his legs wide and angled his growing erection to play with the center of her damp panties. 

“You are something else with yourself, you know that?”  she said, feeling his large hands roam down her back with tender restraint. 

“I’m normally a very civilized man, baby girl,” he joked.  “But you bring the animal out of me.  I’ve been thinking about you all day.  Now that I have you here, I’m going to do everything that I’ve been fantasizing about.”  With his index finger, he pulled at the spaghetti strap of her dress until it was down on her shoulder, and then gently ran that same finger around the low-cut front of her dress.     

“What are you doing?” she asked in a raspy voice. 

He looked up at her with a devilish grin, eyes twinkling.  “I’m hungry for you,” he said, easing one of her breasts out of her dress.  His thumb stroked her nipple, creating a flame in her loins. 

She moved her hair back, arched her back and allowed him to taste her, slow and sweet.  His lips attached to her skin and suckled at her brown nipple while his large hands gripped her buttocks. 

Mae bit her lip, breathing erratically as he flicked her nipple with his tongue over and over again until it start to make her sex pulse out of control.  “We should take this upstairs,” she said, hand on his baldhead, guiding him. 

“Why not make love right here?” he suggested, kissing a trail from her breast to her neck.

She closed her eyes and swallowed her throat dry now from breathing hard. “Because I’m 47 not 27.” she whimpered.  It was funny though, even as she said that, she knew that he made her feel young again. 

“I’ve never seen a 20-something woman look as good as you,” he said, hand moving further up her dress.  “Besides, it’s not like anyone will see.”

It was tempting for Mae, but she quickly pushed the idea out of her mind. She was a sitting judge, had been an amazing assistant DA, and a damn good trial lawyer, there was no place in her life for this kind of adventure.  All it would take is one extremely powerful lens in front of one extremely ambitious photographer to put all of her work in jeopardy. 

“I spent $4,000,000 on this house for absolute privacy.  Out here on this patio, it’s just me, you and the Atlantic Ocean.  No one is going to see.  Trust me,” he said, sucking on her ear.  Mr. Benson’s lengthy erection trailed the inside of his pants leg, pressing against her, changing her mind.

What was life without adventure?
  Mae thought to herself suddenly. 

She planted her hands on his large forearms and looked in his eyes. “Complete privacy?” she asked in a high-pitched tone, feeling him slowly undulate under her. 

“No one but you…and me,” he whispered, knowing he was close to sealing the deal. A smile quirked at the side of his lips.  “You can enjoy the breeze.  I can lay you down right here on this sofa, strip you down naked, kiss you from your head to your toes…” His husky voice strained as the need grew stronger.  “Trust me.  You’ll love it.  I’ll make damn sure of it.” 

Mae was at her wits end.  Just the image of them in a naked embrace in front of the bay made her shiver.  In all her years, she had never made love on a patio before, and it hadn’t been on her bucket list until now.  Her lip twisted up in thought and just as her mouth opened to say yes, his phone rang.

The sound of the phone was like an alarm clock sounding after an hour of sleep.  Jolting the both of them, Mae’s suddenly curiosity wilted.  

Mr. Benson threw his head back, defeated by the untimely and unwelcomed interruption.  He knew that no one called him on Friday nights unless it was an emergency. So it more than likely was. 

Pulling away from his embrace, she exhaled. “You better get that,” Mae said, coming back to her senses.  The forces of the universe had decided. 
Bedroom it was.

Mr. Benson looked at her and shook his head.  “I was so close, wasn’t I?” The phone rang again. 

Mae grinned. “You have no idea.” 

“When I get off this phone, we’re going to continue this discussion,” he said seriously.

Gently lifting her and setting her beside him on the sofa, he stood up, adjusting his rock-hard erection and disappeared behind the glass pane doors that led into the house, leaving Mae to set her gaze panoramic view of the chartreuse marsh grass and blue-gray water of the coastline and fantasize about what might have happened. 

Mr. Benson picked up the phone in the den and instantly recognized the number.  He answered it quickly and went into his downstairs study.  Closing the door, he huffed. “Boy, I left a message for you two days ago,” he said, frustrated.  He sat down in the corner in an armchair hanging under a picture of the Omega Psi Phi Fraternity Incorporated founders.

Jermaine was immediately apologetic. “Sorry, Pops.” He stepped out into his garage and went to the corner where unopened marked boxes were. “I just got your message.  I haven’t been home in a couple of days.” 

Mr. Benson knew that his frustration stemmed from his current situation, so he silently excused the boy.  Glancing at the door, he wiped his mouth.
He had been so close.
  “You know, I know when you were growing up, things weren’t easy between me and your mother.  Then after that with Linda but still I thought I taught you better than this?  A married woman?”

Jermaine took his knife and opened up the top brown box.  The sound of it drowned out his father’s voice.  “I knew Amy was married, but I didn’t know that she had a kid.  She completely forgot to mention that,” he said in his defense.  He avoided discussing his upbringing altogether.  It was a moot point anyway.  “If she had said that, I would have never offered for her to come here.”  He opened the box and looked inside. 

“How did you think you were going to hide a married woman on a military base in the first place?” Mr. Benson was not impressed, but that was nothing new.  Jermaine had gone through more women than he could count over the years. 

“I wasn’t going to hide her anywhere.  She was just going to stay here until she figured out her next move.  We weren’t shacking up like it sounds.  She said that she was leaving her husband.  Evidently, he was some grunt who always stayed gone and she had had enough.”

“How did you even meet this woman?” Mr. Benson asked. 

“I met her in the gym while I was at Camp Lejeune.  We worked out together a lot,” Jermaine said, forgetting to mention that they also had sex a lot too.  Amy was great at sex. So great, until he paid for a $2,000 plane ticket to get more. 

Mr. Benson knew better than to think that his son was just being a Good Samaritan. “So you mean to tell me that you all were just friends and you were just helping her out?  Is that your story?”

“Something like that,” Jermaine said, looking through the contents of the box for the first time. 

Mr. Benson pushed back in the seat and huffed.  “Come on, son. I wasn’t born yesterday.” 

Jermaine pinched the bridge of his nose.  “Ok. I was screwing her.”  He lowered his voice.  “She was…
skilled
and interesting, and I was bored as hell when I first got here.  I was going stir crazy.”

“You better thank God in Heaven that she didn’t make it over there,” Mr. Benson said sternly.  “This could have been a career killer for you.”  He knew that his son was brilliant and a part of the new world, but in his old world, Jermaine was a young Black man who was running off with a married White woman.  His chain of command would have crucified him.

Jermaine leaned against the garage wall.  “Look, Dad. I’m not alone right now,” he said, hearing heels tapping on the hardwood floor of his kitchen and echoing out to the garage. 

“Neither am I,” Mr. Benson said, smoothing a hand down his shirt.  “So, it’s safe to say that your dick is inconveniencing both of us.”

Jermaine rolled his eyes. “What do you want me to do?”

For Mr. Benson, the answer was simple. “Stop screwing married women,” he said abruptly.

“No, Dad.  What do you want me to do about this case that you’re working on?” Jermaine said, holding up his finger as a Japanese woman stuck her head out of the door and smiled at him. “I’ll be just a second. I’m talking to my father,” he said, bidding her to go back inside.

Mr. Benson rubbed his temples. This wasn’t the time for a long, drawn out conversation.  There was no way he was going to keep Mae waiting much longer.  “Do you have any communication from this woman still in email form or maybe even text or some of those sex pictures?”

“Dad, the girl died in a plane crash.  I didn’t keep any sex pics.  It would have been too weird.”  The idea of jerking off to a dead woman made him a little sick.  “But I do have six big ass boxes in my garage.  I’m looking through them right now.”

Mr. Benson frowned. “Boxes?”

“Yeah, when she left Camp Lejeune, she couldn’t bring all of her stuff on the plane. It would have cost a fortune. So she sent it ahead through FedEx that morning before she boarded the plane.”  He scratched his neck.  “I never opened them until right now.  It wasn’t like we were that close. Plus, I didn’t want to pry.”

“You didn’t want to pry?” Mr. Benson asked.

Jermaine shrugged his shoulders.  “Yeah, I mean. This was
her
stuff. I felt like I’d be invading the privacy of a dead woman by going through it, but also I didn’t want to throw it away.  That felt disrespectful. So, I put it out in my garage in the corner with her name on it and just left it.”

“I need you to send it back to me,” Mr. Benson said a little more urgently.

“Okay. I’ll send them Monday,” Jerome said, glad to get the deceased woman’s belongings out of his hair and the conversation over with.

“No, son. You’ll put whatever sweet little ass you have there with you in your car, load up those boxes and send them to me right now.  It’s Saturday morning over there.  You don’t have anywhere to be.”

Jermaine didn’t push it.  “Okay,” he huffed.  That totally messed up his plans but there was no way that he was going to defy his father.  “Anything else?”

“No,” Mr. Benson said. “Normally, I’d want sworn testimony from the lover about what happened, but you are my son. This would taint your career.  So, do yourself a favor.  First, use a condom…always…even five minutes from now when you get off the phone and go back to whoever is cray enough to be waiting on you.  Second, don’t ever sleep with a married woman for any reason.  Third, don’t ever call me on a Friday night again unless you’re near death.”