Authors: Curtis Bennett
“It wasn’t easy for me but I’ve also had my share of luck,” he replied.
“That’s an understatement if I ever heard one,” she smiled, the animation in her face returning. “I mean, you were always the quiet one, the more cultivated one in our little group. The unassuming one. Still, out of all of us you were voted the most popular person in the entire school. And I understand why. It’s your quiet and confident personality.”
“I’ve had my moments. All in all, I try to keep things in prospective. My grandma always made sure of that.”
“I know that, “Roxanne reflected, adding, “But you’ve been very fortunate, if I must say. More so than the average person. I mean, to begin with, your brother is a United States Senator. You were once a friend of the late and famed saxophonist Emmanuel ‘Mannie’ Boyd, of the Count Basie Orchestra. You knew Donnie Cochran, the first African-American to command the Navy’s world-renowned Blue Angels flight demonstration team and long before that assignment. You even performed with the seventies sensational all girl-group Sister Sledge before they even became famous. And that’s just touching the tip of the surface. And now you are a very wealthy man. I’m just so amazed at you and the life you have lived.”
“How do you know all of these things?” he asked, with a puzzled look.
“Don’t forget, we grew up together. Besides, grandma fills me in on the rest every time we spend a quick moment together. She’s so proud of you and so am I.”
“I should have known,” his voice trailed, adding, “Like I said, I try very hard to keep things in prospective and even harder to keep them private.”
“Well, I give that much to you.”
The two returned to the dance floor, shortly afterwards, and embraced for one final slow number. Feeling whole again, something she hadn’t felt in years, Roxanne nestled her head against Kurt’s massive chest. Just like she did at their high school prom.
Though touched by the moment, he wished it was Yvette’s warm body bundled in his embrace now. This would have been the perfect setting for them, he thought. The club, the music, the moonlit sky, the gleaming bay in the background, it was all just so right. As he often did, he wondered where Yvette was tonight. He knew that she had gone out with Juanita but where? And was she thinking of him at this very moment?
C
hapter 14
I
n the shadows of a Roman-styled pillar stood an unknowing witness to the wonderful time Kurt and Roxanne were having at club Neptune’s Reef. Unable to take the hurt and blatant betrayal any longer Yvette sort out her best friend Juanita, who was at the main bar chatting with a former co-worker, and said she was ready to leave.
The two well dressed women exited the club onto the narrow street and walked the short distance to Juanita’s luxury sports utility. “And to think I asked Kurt out earlier and he turned me down,” Yvette scorned aloud, walking quite briskly, tears welding in her eyes. “I trusted him, Juanita. God, how I trusted him. Men! Oooh!”
Unlocking the door to the vehicle, Juanita said, “Girl, I’m sure he’ll have one helluva explanation for you, once he finds out you saw him bumping and grinding with Ms. Thang.”
“And to think he told me he was going to call it a night,” Yvette reeled.
“He called it a night, alright.” Juanita leered, as the two entered the SUV.
“You should have seen the way they were dancing,” she fumed. “I mean, they were practically glued together.”
“I can imagine,” Juanita replied, as she turned the ignition key.
“I just don’t get it,” Yvette said, still simmering, as they drove off.
K
urt woke up in the pre-dawn hours with a nightmare vision of an hysterical Yvette standing over himself and Roxanne, who was in bed alongside of his nude form, demanding to know how he could betrayed her. Glancing over at the clock Kurt saw that it was just five in the morning, far too early to be up. Realizing it was only a bad dream, he lay back down, in an effort to return to sleep, but was too shaken to completely relax. He could still hear Yvette’s trembling voice.
Wanting to hear her soothing voice he picked up the phone and dialed her but there was no answer. She must have turned the ringer off, he reasoned. After all, it was five in the morning and most people do not want to be awoken that early. Still, he had no way of knowing that Yvette had spent the night at Juanita’s eastside condo. With one quick sweep of his hand he uncovered his semi-nude body and rose out of the bed. After throwing on his robe he headed into the kitchen area and poured himself a cool glass of wine. Only then did he return to sleep.
Hours later, he woke up to face a new day. After a refreshing early morning shower, he dressed, grabbed his wallet and car keys, and hurried into the kitchen to fire up the burners on the gas range. He rushed the refrigerator next, withdrawing a couple of eggs and some hickory smoked bacon and some fruit. In his life, eating breakfast was an essential part of his daily regimen.
He had just finished eating breakfast and was just seconds from heading out to work when the phone rang. The familiar voice spoke very solemnly and tearfully. After what had to be said was said, the motorhome suddenly breathed quietly around him: the soft hum of the air-conditioner, the gentle purr of the on-board generator. This was often the case after one receives an unexpected phone call about a loved one's sudden death, how everything becomes surreal-like, still and quiet, almost irrelevant. Kurt consoled his grief-stricken aunt and promised her that he would be on the next available flight home. In the next breath, he called Yvette to break the news to her, that his dearly beloved grandma had passed away early that morning, but there was no response, not even from her answering machine. He left a message saying that he would be heading north to attend his grandma’s funeral in New Jersey and that he’d have to give her a rain check on that dinner date and night out on the town. He also said he’d try to contact her later. In the meantime, he made a brief visit to his job and told them he’d need to take some unpaid leave for a few days.
Returning home, he packed his clothes and made plane reservations via the Internet. He tried calling Yvette again. Still, no answer. He couldn’t leave a message because her answering machine was off. He tried her cell phone but he got no response from that either. By four that afternoon his plane landed in New Jersey.
As expected, the atmosphere there at grandma’s house was one of great sorrow and sadness. But attentive family members and friends helped buoyed it all. After the service he called Yvette again to update her on events and to let her know that she was still very much on his mind. Still, he got no response. Angling his wrist, he squinted at the illuminated face of his watch. Where could she be, he pondered? He was beginning to get very concerned.
Y
vette had passed the week away working, cleaning house, getting caught up on some reading and re-establishing her ties with her best friend Juanita. The two women met twice for lunch that week. Though upset with Kurt, she chuckled after Juanita mentioned that ever since Kurt had entered her world her lunch hours had become a premium item, leaving all others to reserve lunch with her at least two months in advance. However humorous the statement was, the sadness quickly returned to her eyes.
Exhausted, she expelled the breath she’d been holding. Though she loved her job, she just wasn’t into number crunching today. She kept having flashbacks of her last conversation with him and it made for poor concentration. And where was he anyway? She wondered why he hadn’t called. After lunch, she phoned his job, just to see if everything was okay with him. It was then that she learned he had returned to New Jersey to attend his grandmother’s funeral. Sadly, she thought, she would never get the chance to meet grandma.
I
t was Friday. Yvette had requested the day off to get caught up on a few things. She had settled down and was watching the afternoon news report when the phone rang. Who could it be, she pondered? Only Juanita knew she had taken the day off. Her first thought was Kurt, as she raced to grab the receiver before the caller hung up. It had been nearly two weeks since that dreaded night at the club, and though the hurt was still fresh, she was ready to hear his side of the story. God, it’s amazing how events can change at the drop of a dime, she thought. Had she not seen him in that woman’s arms that night she would be home longing to hear from him and to hear him say he was taking off early from work to be with her. But things were different now. The voice on the other end of the line belonged to Antwan.
He said he had intended to leave a message on her voice mail but since Yvette was home, so much the better. With some coercion, he was able to talk her into accepting an invitation to dinner, along with a few rounds of miniature golf. Anything after that was icing on the cake, he rallied.
Almost immediately, she regretted her decision. If only she had not been so bored, sitting around waiting and hoping to hear from Kurt, perhaps she would have declined Antwan's offer. And why hadn't she heard from him? If only she had not misplaced his cell phone number. As for her own cell phone, she had dropped it and had to put it in the shop for repair. Perhaps he was just too busy with his new interest, she thought, sardonically. Then she wondered, what if he somehow had gotten wind that she had caught him with
Ms. Thang
, as Juanita named her? It didn’t really matter, now. She had a life to live.
Antwan arrived early that evening, and presented her with a bouquet of roses, along with a warm kiss on the cheek to start things off. He was handsomely dressed in dark brown slacks and a black summer polo shirt and wearing the most charming smile she had ever seen on his clean-shaven face. A shiny gold chain hung from his neck. She was impressed by his gentleman style and romantic overtures, and told him so.
After dinner the two drove over to the local putt-putt course and played a few rounds of miniature golf, then returned to his place to relax and talk. After she reminded him, a thankful he politely excused himself and went to change his top, which had been slightly stained at the restaurant. The waitress serving their drinks was new on the job. It had all been an honest mistake. Best of all, they got to enjoy their $42 meal on the house.
When Antwan returned from the bedroom he was wearing a silk-buttoned shirt, which he had not bothered to tuck in. Without skipping a beat he offered her some imported cheese and a glass of chilled wine. Since he was a trusted friend, she accepted. Besides, he would never try anything, she reassured herself.
The two laughed and talked as music blared in the background. In a matter of time, the combination of music and wine, along with Antwan's conversation, would preclude her from thinking straight. Against her better judgment, she allowed Antwan to coax her into his study, where the mood, and the room lighting, appeared more soft and seductive. While she sipped at her drink, he walked over to the stereo. There was one particular golden oldie he wanted her to hear from his recently purchased CD. Slipping the platinum-colored disc into the CD player he faced her, not saying anything, just smiling. The oldie,
Never Can Say Goodbye
, by the sultry and soulful Monica, had begun to play when his large hands went up to his top button.
Yvette stirred uneasily on the sofa when she witnessed this. By now he had unbuttoned his shirt to the waist. "Antwan, what are you doing?" She uttered in bewilderment.
With a deceptive calm, he softly replied, "Relax, I'm just getting comfortable.”
Unease settled over her like a blanket as she set her drink aside, stood up, and paced the room. She felt vulnerable and apprehensive. Still, she tried her best not to show it. Without warning, he took her into his arms and kissed her long and hard.
"Damn, you can’t imagine how much I want you, Yvette," he murmured softly, adding, "And I am hoping that you want me."
Her head was spinning. His probing kiss was erotic and stimulating. He had caught her completely off guard and this frightened her. Though she protested mildly, he drew close a second time, in an attempt to leave a trail of wet kisses along her warm neck, but before he could complete this phase of his seduction she broke away, her eyes averted.
"What's wrong, sweetheart?" he asked, his hand now between her thighs, seemingly enjoying her struggle for self-control. "Antwan, pleaseee, I can't!" She said unconvincingly, now gazing up at him through half-closed lashes. But Antwan was not taking no for an answer, not tonight. He was certain she was ripe for the picking. Experience told him that it was written all over her face and in her body language. This warm and passionate woman had been neglected far too long. Aroused, he told himself, he was just what she needed.
Feeling embolden he moved against her, this time from behind, letting her feel the shape of his swollen print against her soft bottom. Again, she offered a feeble protest. But it almost didn't matter anymore. To her surprise, a sudden warmth and passion engulfed her from within, and she felt strangely weak, not physically, but in her will to resist him, and to such a degree that she returned to the sofa, guided by Antwan, who had confidently beckoned her to.
Though the wine was having an effect on her, it was her internal longing to be desired, along with his probing hands, that prompted her to kiss him back, long and hard. In her heart of hearts, she wanted to hold out for Kurt, but after what she had witnessed at the club, it was obvious to her that Kurt wasn’t holding out for her. And what about Kurt? Surely Roxanne would be there for the funeral. Hell, her soft tender shoulder is the one he was probably crying on, she envisioned contemptuously.
Enough of his problems, she told herself. She felt she had enough of her own problems to deal with. Somehow, she found the strength to continue her struggle, though she sensed this was one battle she was on the verge of losing.