Authors: Curtis Bennett
Walking into the kitchen area he fixed her some fresh coffee, ironically Irish coffee, as requested by her. Fortunately, he just happened to have a bottle of brandy on hand. After she seemed relaxed he showed her his bedroom and gave her free run of it. He assured her he’d be fine sleeping up front on the pullout.
As he lay there in the dark trying to fall asleep, he contemplated his next move. First, he had to get her into her own dwelling. She could not stay here with him for any length of time, beyond a few days. More importantly, he had to persuade her to divorce this mad husband of hers before things really got out of hand.
Checking on her before finally turning in he found her asleep comfortably on his wide bed. She was still wearing her low cut gold colored blouse and short black skirt. Her crème colored thighs appeared as youthful and as shapely as he remembered them being. Even in her sleep she was an ageless goddess.
Walking over to her unsuspecting form, Kurt unzipped her skirt and helped her slide out of it. She stirred gently from her sleep. She was wearing black lacy panties, he observed. With a sigh, he unfastened her blouse. Beneath this she was wearing a black lacy push up bra, not that she needed any help in that department. With the air on, it was rather cool.
Reaching for the quilted blanket he pulled it gently over her soft and sensuous looking form, then leaned down and kissed her on her cheek. Looking up into his eyes, she smiled. “Get some sleep,” he urged her, then turned the lights off and headed out the room. Unable to sleep at first, he watched a late night talk show until he finally dozed off.
B
ack at their waterfront bungalow,
The Beast
woke up only to find Roxanne gone from their bedroom. Rubbing the crud out of his eyes, he rose up and stumbled towards the bathroom. He looked inside of the bathroom closet. But she wasn’t in there either. He called out to her but silence permeated the air about him. Befuddled, he searched the remainder of the house, frantically at first, and then called it off. Heading over to the counter he retrieve his Vodka and poured himself a glass.
Walking over to the recliner he sank into it, glass in hand. After another swallow, he sat the glass aside and searched for his cigarettes in his pockets and shook one loose. Lighting it, he puffed furiously at it for a moment, and then began to cough uncontrollably. It was a deep and raw type of cough. If he did not have lung cancer when he first took up smoking, he definitely had it now, whether he was aware of it or not. After regaining his composure, he grabbed the drink and took another swallow. She’ll be back, he assured himself. Probably got a hotel room for the night. Hell, she had no one to run to here in Tampa, as far as he knew. No family, no friends…no one. Yes, she’ll be back and begging for more. If not his sexual prowess, then his money, he reasoned.
C
hapter 19
Y
vette tossed the cordless phone forcefully onto her bed and glared into the distance. This was her third attempt in as many hours to contact Antwan at home and at the job. She was even more frustrated because it was well pass 11:00PM. Though she wanted to give Antwan the benefit of the doubt, she was growing increasingly tired of their cat and mouse, hide and seek, never see relationship. Sure, it was possible he had stayed late at the job, leaving just before her call, but why had he not called her, she pondered? He had a cell phone.
Matter-of-fact, she had not heard a peep out of him the past three days. And she refused to call him anymore, after this attempt. An intuitive voice, inside, kept telling her that something was not quite on the level. Reaching for the phone, she called Juanita to discuss the matter. Juanita would surely know what course she should take.
T
he idea that Roxanne might be in imminent danger prompted Kurt to go into action the very next day. Rising up early, he showered, dressed, and then cooked breakfast. There was much to be accomplished before sunset. And it was better to accomplish all of these things on a full stomach, he reasoned rather wisely.
As she lifted her head up, she smiled appreciatively when she saw Kurt entering the room holding a hot tray with breakfast on it. With a little effort, she raised up on the bed as Kurt sat the serving tray aside. Thoughtfully, he propped a few pillows behind her back for support, then gently placed the serving tray squarely over her blanket-covered thighs.
“Thank you, Kurt for everything,” she uttered, just above a whisper.
“You’re more than welcomed,” he replied, benevolently, seating himself at the foot of the bed. As she quietly consumed her breakfast, he ran down a list of things he wanted to accomplish before the day was over. And true to his word, before the sun had set, he had moved her into her own three room luxury suite in downtown Tampa, along with room service and two thousand dollars’ worth of clothing and shoes to last her until she could reclaim some of her belongings from the bungalow she once shared with
The Beast
.
J
uanita shook her hair slightly, then finally, with her fingers, removed a strand of hair from in front of her eye. A gust of wind had blown in from the east as she sat, along with Yvette, on a wide concrete bench overlooking the vast picturesque bay. Below them the restless blue-gray waters appeared unusually choppy. The sky above was slightly overcast.
The two friends had gotten together for a day of shopping. Because it was such a mild and beautiful day, they decided to add a promenade by the waterfront to their itinerary. It was a warm conversation on a warm peaceful day, until a harbor tug passed by tooting its loud horn. After it distanced itself from them the two returned to their discussion.
"So you’ve decided to call it quits with Antwan," Juanita sounded out.
Yvette nodded and said tightly, "Yes, it's over."
"Any chance of you two getting back together, again?"
Yvette shrugged, withheld a frown, and said, "It's over, Juanita."
"I see," Juanita replied, chasing her hair again with her fingers.
"We had a long talk and this is what we both decided on," she said numbly, shifting her eyes from the bay to focus on her friend. "Juanita, Antwan had more than enough time to decide where he wanted to take this relationship. And I have tried my best to accommodate him. I even loan that asshole money to help get his business started. To date, he has yet to pay me back one dime of my money. Anyway, it’s apparent that he was not as committed to this relationship as he initially put on to be. Right now, I consider him a friend, if that. We can still talk and he can stop by to visit but other than that, I'm through with him. Besides, since he owes me, I don’t want him to get too comfortable being out of my presence."
“Girl, if you don’t mine me asking, how much money did you loan him? I mean, what are we talking here…one grand?” Juanita asked, with arched eyebrows.
“Try four,” Yvette answered.
Juanita’s lips parted in surprise. After swallowing hard, she finally managed to say, “Four grand? Girl, what were you thinking?”
“I was only trying to be the supportive woman, that’s all.”
“But that was part of your money you were saving to open up your own business, I thought,” Juanita shot back.
"Look, I’m going to get it back! Every damned penny of it!" Yvette leered sarcastically, then apologized to Juanita for being snappish.
"That's alright, dear," Juanita said, resting a reassuring hand on her distraught friend's shoulder. "Obviously, this man has really touched a nerve with you."
"Yes, he tried me," Yvette replied with utter contempt in her voice, then added, "but you know, I am not going to give him another opportunity to hurt me. I'm so tired of letting myself get close to men only to get hurt in the process."
"Well, I can't say that I blame you," Juanita retorted.
"I am just going to keep to myself, from now on," Yvette almost sobbed.\
Juanita reached down into her purse and withdrew a clean tissue and handed it to Yvette so that she could dab away at the tears that were beginning to well in her eyes. Yvette thanked her friend, then collapsed in her arms, sobbing quietly. And like the good friend she was, she was quick to comfort Yvette with a warm embrace as she watch several seagulls fly out to meet the blue horizon.
D
on ‘
The Beast’
Middlebrook was livid. It had been nearly three days since he last saw his wife, Roxanne. Scheduled to depart for the oilrigs the following day, he returned to his bungalow with Lynn Dupree, his voluptuous secretary, whose hotel suite he had camped out in, the past two days. Almost, as if on cue, Lynn had arrived in Tampa the evening before Roxanne walked out on
The Beast
.
As he had in the past, in Virginia, Don found comfort in the arms of Lynn, who was more than eager to be his significant other, his soft pillow in times of turmoil. Still, he was anxious to know Roxanne’s whereabouts. Something did not quite add up with her disappearance. He had already called back home to see if she had returned there but no one had seen or heard from her. It was becoming more apparent to him that Roxanne must have met someone here during her stay who was possibly harboring her. She just did not have the clothing, personal effects, and money to sustain herself more than a day or two, he concluded.
Arriving at the bungalow, he exited the car, as a nervous Lynn waited on him, and walked up to the front door. Unlocking it he disappeared inside the one story stucco covered dwelling. The phone was ringing loudly upon his entrance. Coming to life he hurried over to answer it before it stopped ringing. It was Roxanne.
“Where the hell have yah been?” He shouted, angrily into the mouthpiece. “I was just about to call law enforcement to file a missing person’s case on yah.”
“My whereabouts is of no concern to you at this time,” she returned calmly, though anxiously.
“Dammit woman,” he snarled, “tell me where the hell yah are or yah will regret the day yah ever laid eyes on me.”
“Don, I’ve long regretted the day I laid eyes on you,” she snapped back, then more calmly, “Listen, I need to come over to collect my belongings. I’m not looking for any trouble. You hear me? I left my key to the bungalow and I need to get in. Now if I have to, I’ll wait until you leave for the oilrigs. I know you will be leaving in a day or two. But I want to get my belongings as soon as possible.”
“So yah want ya’r stuff!” Don growled. “Come anytime! Ya’ll find them outside on the front lawn.”
“Please Don,” she pleaded. “I just want to get my stuff. Please, I’m asking you not to do that. Please, I don’t want any problems.”
“Well, get ya’r ass home by five tonight and I’ll think about let’n yah in,” he said flatly, adding, “I’m over it.”
“I’ll be there before five, okay?”
“Yeah, whatever,” he said in a hoarse voice.
“No more trouble, Don….please!”
“Nope, no trouble, lassie,” he promised, picking up a nearby cigarette and lighter. “Now get yah ass back home.”
K
urt parked his 40-foot motorhome alongside of his newly purchased two-story home. A week earlier his bricked carport had been modified to accommodate and service
Moonbeam
and two mid-size cars comfortably alongside the house. Just beyond the carport was a huge three-car garage. The house was in suburban Tampa Bay, an area featuring six-foot high ivy-clad concrete security walls with wide wrought-iron security gates at the entrances of each home, and beyond the gates, bricked or asphalt driveways that were banked on either side by vast immaculate green lawns. His $520,000 home was situated on a two-acre plot of land. There was a garden area, with several statuettes, a fountain, and two ponds stocked with tropical fish and water lilies, and a clay tennis court. There were several huge oak, maple, popular and dogwood trees about the property.
Lining the brick driveway were eighteen-foot tall Italian cypress trees, six on either side of the driveway. Closer to the twelve-room house were several pear shaped western red cedar trees, two European white birch, tree ferns, and an abundance of Boston Ivy, Virginia Creeper, Rocky Mountain Columbine, and Trailing Periwinkles. Two sago palms guarded either side of the bricked entrance to the home.
The two-story house was a cinnamon brown colored brick house, with several dormers and wood shingle roof tiles. In the rear section of the house was a split-level wooden deck that housed a built-in Jacuzzi and below that, on the next patio level, an in-ground pool. A large smoked glass-plated Florida room led out to the heavily wooded pool and patio area, which was also screened in. On staff were a housekeeper, a gardener and a part time cook.
He had resisted moving into such surroundings. Though he grew up in a poor family setting and lower class neighborhood, and though he had turned his fortunes around, long before he struck it rich with the lottery, he was always afraid of losing touch with those he had left behind in the
Hood
. Trappings, like this luxurious house, could possibly spoil him and make him self-centered, he feared. All he ever wanted to do with his winnings was position himself to help others in need. For the past year, he had done exactly that, and quite generously. Deep down inside, though, he realized he could not possibly solve all of the problems of the world. But he did want to do his share.
It was only after some thought on the matter, and a lot of prodding by family members and friends that he decided to make this purchase. And he only did so after pledging on his mother's grave that he would not allow the trappings of wealth to envelope him to such a point of blindness that he would forget where he came from and those that helped him get where he was in life now. Earlier that week, he happily picked up his restored maroon colored 1963 Corvette Stingray, which had been in a body shop the past four months, and parked it alongside of
Moonbeam
. He was extremely pleased with the restoration work done on it. Everything seemed to be going just fine…outwardly. Inside, however, he was missing someone very dear to him.