Blue Castaway, Page 2

Paul eyed the digital clock on his dashboard and exclaimed, “Shit! I’ll never make it on time.”

  He finally saw the exit sign he had been looking for and sped off the main highway. Unfortunately, a Mississippi state trooper was waiting patiently with an active radar gun.

  The trooper pulled him over, walked up to Paul’s window and said, “Hey, Paul. How’ve you been?”

  “Fair. And you?” replied Paul as he removed his driver’s license and proof of insurance from his wallet.

  “I’m doing well, thanks. I see you still favor the far right pedal,” stated the trooper as he received the documents.

  Paul looked out the passenger window and offered no reply as the officer began writing.

  The officer looked at the empty gun rack behind Paul’s head and said, “Done any huntin’ lately?”

  “Not much. Been too busy working.”

  The trooper finished writing the ticket, handed the book to Paul for his signature and said, “Still working at that auto body shop?”

  Paul signed the ticket, handed the book back to the officer and said, “Nah. I took a warehouse job in Memphis. Better pay and chances for advancement there.”

  “You still live here though?”

  “Yeah, it’s a drive for sure. I don’t mind it as long as traffic keeps moving. It only gets frustrating when some idiot screws up the works with an accident.”

  The officer gave Paul his copy of the ticket and said, “Slow down or you’ll be walking to that warehouse!” He tipped his hat and returned to his police car.

  Paul drove off slowly and maintained a “safe driving posture” until he reached the side road he had been searching for. Taking that particular dirt road had the potential of being hazardous. He liked to use it because it cut a critical twenty minutes off of his driving time to his apartment. He had used the five-mile, rural stretch of unpaved road on several occasions. He didn’t like to use it on a regular basis because it was liberally peppered with deep and unforgiving ruts. The holes in the road often doubled as small ponds after heavy rains. Unfortunately, as luck would have it, the area had experienced a torrential downpour the preceding day and the road was reduced to a slippery, red clay mess. Negotiating the road would be more like venturing on an amusement park slide than driving.

  Paul cut to the right to avoid a large pool of water and directed his truck to a much smaller one. He immediately validated the expression, “big things come in little packages”, when he drove into the monster rut just beneath the water surface. The recoil slammed his head into the roof of the truck cab and sprayed red mud onto the surrounding kudzu.

  “Damn!!” he exclaimed as he rubbed his head. “There goes my freakin’ alignment!”

  Paul looked a few hundred feet ahead and spotted someone walking in the center of the road. The individual appeared to be walking directly toward him. He hammered his palm on the horn and shouted, “Move the hell over you dumb bastard!! You blind or what?”

  As he closed in on the person, he slowed down somewhat and saw what could have been a woman. She was wearing a long, dark dress that covered both ankles and arms. Her black, stringy and knotted hair ran limply to her waist. The two black dots on either side of her nose looked more like high gloss marbles than human eyes.

  He expected her to move to the shoulder of the road and yield to his truck. She didn’t oblige and continued walking leisurely toward his truck, like she had just stepped out the front door to fetch the newspaper. He swerved to his right at the last minute, narrowly missing her. In the process, he nailed another rut and sent a massive wall of red muck sailing directly at the woman. He watched the rising wall of sludge in his rearview mirror as he turned and followed the bend in the road. Once around the bend, he looked in his mirror again. The woman was no longer in view. Paul knew that there was no time for the woman to avoid the watery onslaught and it brought a mean smile to his face. He laughed heartily and shouted, “Shower time, bitch!!”

  What he didn’t see…what he couldn’t see, was what happened next. The lethargic looking woman spun around like a tightly wound spring that had just snapped and in a deep, nearly masculine voice, yelled, “RAD NEFI SABRAM!!” Every drop of water and every ounce of mud shifted course and landed many feet from the woman. She didn’t bother to watch where it landed. She turned and resumed her journey, like she had just swatted a fly from her shoulder and nothing more.

  Paul’s thoughts shifted to the woman’s garb. He was confused by her choice of wardrobe. No one in their right mind would or at least should, be wearing clothes like that in the crippling heat and humidity they were experiencing. Anyone dressed like that would surely feel like a steamed hotdog at the least. She didn’t seem to be sweating and certainly didn’t have the flushed, red face of someone about to collapse from heat exhaustion. It puzzled him why she was dressed the way she was and it puzzled him why she was even on that road. In all the years he’d driven that road, he’d only seen one person in the area and that was a hunter off in a field. There weren’t any houses on that road, save the old abandoned farmhouse. It had been empty for so long, locals weren’t even sure who owned it. Area teens had occasionally used it for beer parties and sexual explorations. They moved on to new, more inviting locations, leaving an array of empty beer cans, bottles and used condoms. Over time it became a condo for raccoons and field mice. If you were just driving by, you could barely tell there was a house there at all.

  He was surprised when he drove by the old house to see the windows and front door restored. The rest of the house was still blanketed in the lush, thriving kudzu and gave the appearance of a green cave with windows. A narrow path, not more than a foot wide, led to the front door. He was driving by too fast to discern any other details.

  The muddy road served its purpose and brought Paul to within a few miles of his apartment. He doubled the speed limit for the remaining distance and entered his parking lot like a professional race car driver coming in for a pit stop. He parked his truck and cringed with frustration and anger when he saw the muddy, red streaks adorning his beautiful new vehicle.

  He ran to his ground floor apartment, unlocked the door and saw Kevin pacing wall to wall. He appeared to be engaged in a frantic conversation with someone on the other end of his cell phone.

  “Hey, Kev, what’s up?” asked Paul in a somewhat winded voice.

  Kevin made some comment to the person on the other end and slapped the phone shut. “Man, where the hell have you been?”

  “After the party last night, I was too messed-up to drive, so I got a motel room and crashed there. I didn’t leave a wake-up call and overslept. Then I got caught in traffic on the way home. Chill, man, we’ve still got thirty minutes,” replied Paul.

  “I hope you realize it’s going to take fifteen minutes to get to the church and you’ve still got to get changed. Patricia’s pissed as hell and wants a major chunk of both our asses.”

  “She’ll get over it,” claimed Paul.

  Paul removed his outer clothing hastily, donned a white dress shirt, snap-on bow tie, tuxedo and high gloss, black, dress shoes.

  “Let’s go, asshole,” said Kevin as he tugged on Paul’s arm. “I’m driving.”

  “Have you seen LJ yet?” asked Paul.

  “He was here for about an hour. We called every place we could think of trying to find you. He finally went over to the church just before you got home,” replied Kevin as the two got into his vintage, Mustang convertible and drove off.

  Both were silent until they reached the church. They scrambled around to the rear entrance, where they were met by Paul’s other good buddy, LJ, and a nervous pastor.

  LJ was sitting on an iron stair railing, casually puffing away on a cigarette. He smiled when he saw his friends running from the car to the steps. He looked down at the concrete, saw a carpenter ant dashing to the other side and stomped it with his foot. He spit into the dehydrated, yellowing grass and waited for his friends to join him.

  The pastor stood
at the top of the stairs, looked at Paul and asked, “Do you remember what you’re supposed to do and when you’re supposed to enter?”

  “Sorry I’m running so late, Pastor Sayers. I remember what to do.”

  “We’ve only got seven minutes left. I’ll let everyone inside know that we’re ready to proceed.”

  LJ jumped off of the railing, gave Paul a manly embrace and said, “You just cost me twenty bucks!” He looked at Kevin and said, “I’ll settle on payday.”

  “You bet against me?” said Paul as he backed away from LJ.

  “No man. I bet that you’d come to your senses and wait a few more years. You’ve still got a lot of party left in you. Now, Kev and I have to find a replacement!”

  “A replacement for what? Nothing’s going to change between us. I plan on having the best of both worlds. You’ll see,” stated Paul.

  “Okay, buddy. Let’s get inside. They’re about to pronounce sentence on your future and handcuff you with a single band of gold!” laughed LJ as he put his arm around Paul’s shoulder and ushered him into the pastor‘s rectory.

  Once inside, Paul waited for his cue. The organist played the pre-selected song and Paul, Kevin and LJ took their positions at the alter. The old church’s outdated air conditioning units valiantly battled the overbearing heat. The numerous, body length windows magnified the sun and thwarted their best efforts. The church interior felt like an oven set on preheat. Massive beads of sweat formed on the men’s foreheads and streamed down their faces. Paul looked at the organist with pleading eyes, urging her to play the wedding march so they could get the ceremony underway. She had a small fan blowing a steady breeze on her and wasn’t about to deviate from her mission.

  When the wedding march was finally begun, Paul’s shirt was totally soaked in sweat. Water from his upper body was making its way to his waist, saturating his belt and venturing into his briefs.

  It was an old church that was built back in the days before roads were paved and there was only one telephone in the entire town. Radio was coming into its own and served as the main source of entertainment. Television hadn’t been heard of yet. The congregation never grew beyond the limited population in the surrounding rural community. Their pockets weren’t very deep and it was nearly always a challenge just to meet normal operating expenses.

  The church had been standing for five years before it had its first coat of exterior paint and another ten years went by before they decided to add a steeple. The wooden steps leading to the entrance were eventually replaced with concrete and the women’s guild gradually converted a few of the windows to stained glass works of art.

  When air conditioning eventually came around, there was never quite enough in the church building fund to provide for that kind of luxury addition. The only time people thought of fundraisers to bring in more money to support the cooling modification was during the summer months. Each Sunday they would swelter in the pews, wipe copious amounts of sweat from their foreheads and go home with sweat drenched clothing. A few, temporary, window units were installed to ease the discomfort. When Monday mornings rolled around, the fundraising ideas for more sophisticated air conditioning were replaced with the higher priorities of everyday living.

  Patricia heard the music and began her slow march down the aisle. She looked fresh and radiant in her wedding gown. As Paul was watching her, a beautiful woman in the last pew caught his eye. She had blond hair and the face of a supermodel. Paul couldn’t recall ever seeing her before. Even though he was about to be married, he knew he wanted to see her again. He was hoping she would come to the reception and he made a mental note to search her out. Before he knew it, Patricia was standing next to him. He looked into her eyes and smiled widely as she took his arm and they walked to the banister to meet the waiting pastor.

  Paul was surprised at how different she looked. She had somehow transformed her face into a work of pure beauty. He had always seen her as an attractive woman with a sexy body, but when she turned her head to face him, he saw perfection. Her hair had never looked so good. He was aroused by her appearance and wanted to throw her down on the floor and ravage her body. He restrained himself and reluctantly turned to the pastor.

  Paul’s decision to marry was more a family ritual than an individual desire. He was raised in a traditional household where life followed a specific sequence. You grew up, got married and had kids. You worked your ass off Monday through Friday, played or were involved in family activities on Saturday and went to church every Sunday. And just like his father before him, Paul liked the ladies but the ladies didn’t provide a home with knickknacks on the shelves and warm, home cooked meals waiting on the kitchen table when the man came home. They didn’t stick around to clean the house, or make sure there were fresh underwear and socks in the dresser drawers.

  Paul was still a juvenile in many ways and needed someone to organize his life. He and Patricia could have just lived together, but she was looking for a secure port to set anchor in. By getting married, he was buying a physical and emotional insurance policy. He had a immediate source for sexual gratification, extra income from Patricia’s paycheck and someone to see to his every need. All things considered, he was making the best choice for Paul; not Paul and Patricia.

  They went through the wedding ritual, exchanged vows and sped off to the reception at the local VFW hall. When they got there, Kevin offered a brief and totally forgettable

  toast to the couple and shouted, “Let the games begin!!“

  The live band, a local garage group that played in surrounding taverns, did their best to play songs Paul and Patricia had selected. The newlyweds went to the dance floor and the festivities began. Paul got so caught up in the drinking and dancing that he forgot the blond from the church.

  Kevin and LJ took turns dancing with the bride and then made their way to Paul. He was chatting with the pastor at the head table. It was an involuntary conversation that Paul had been avoiding.

  “Now that you’re a married man, Paul, are we going to see more of you at church on Sundays?” asked pastor Sayers sincerely.

  Paul looked away, took a deep breath and looked back at the pastor. “I’ll do the best I can.” Paul knew he wouldn’t make any effort at all to go to church, unless of course, they added a giant screen television. Appeasing the pastor seemed like the politically correct thing to say. Paul reserved Sunday’s for sleeping and televised sports. The only sermon he ever wanted to listen to was one delivered by a sportscaster.

  “Hey, pastor Sayers,” said LJ as he joined Paul at the table.

  “Great ceremony pastor,” said Kevin seconds later as he sat next to LJ.

  “Thanks, boys. I think I’ll mingle with the guests and give you boys some space!” said pastor Sayers with a smile as he rose and patted Paul on the shoulders.

  “Man, I just can’t believe you got married!” exclaimed Kevin as he swallowed a big gulp of beer from his green bottle.

  “Being married doesn’t change anything. There’s still plenty of babes out there just waitin!” stated LJ. “Your word is still good, isn’t man? I mean, you’re still plannin’ on meetin’ us at Grumpy’s every Friday night aren’t you, Paul? You weren‘t just bullshitting us were you?”

  “Bet your sweet ass I am. I’d never turn my back on my ‘buds’. Matter-of-fact, the first Friday I’m back from my honeymoon, I’ll even let you guys buy my drinks!”

  “Really? You’d actually let us do that for you?” said Kevin sarcastically.

  They all had a good laugh, raised their beer bottles and made a silent toast to their friendship. Kevin was the only one to view Patricia’s bouquet toss.

  An exhausted-looking Patricia made her way to the three men and said, “We should be going, Paul. Remember, we have to be up early to catch our eight a.m. flight out of Memphis.”

  Paul wiped his mouth with his hand and said, “Okay, baby.”

  LJ jabbed Paul in the ribs and said, “It’s started already! Did the pastor
give Pat a leash with the marriage certificate?”

  Kevin looked at Patricia and said, “Hey, Pat, when you threw the bouquet, did you and Jenna have it already worked out so that she‘d catch it?”

  Jenna was Patricia’s best friend and had been engaged to her boyfriend for more than two years. Both of them always thought Jenna would be the first one to get married. The two had thought about and planned their weddings since they became friends in their early teens. They’d spend hours looking through bridal magazines and fantasizing about their elaborate wedding ceremonies. Each time they’d discuss their weddings, the scope and expense would grow. Patricia’s final wedding cost was thousands less than anything ever discussed or planned between the two of them.

  Patricia raised an eyebrow and smiled. She moved closer to Paul, put her arm around his shoulder and said, “We need to get going, sweetheart.”

  Kevin gave Paul and Patricia a hug and wished them good luck. LJ stood off to the side and hugged a beer. Then they said their goodbyes to the remaining guests and dashed out the front door of the hall. Kevin brought the rental car with big, white letters saying “Just Married” on every window, except the windshield, to the entrance and tossed the keys to Paul.

  “Make sure you turn that in at the airport before you guys leave, or you’ll spend the next ten years trying to pay off the rental bill!” laughed Kevin as Paul climbed into the car.

  Paul looked back at Kevin, smiled mischievously and said, “Me? The car’s on your credit card, not mine!”

  Kevin’s mouth opened momentarily, like a hanger door for mosquitoes, as he remembered the terms of the rental agreement. Then he returned the smile and said, “You almost got me!”

  As Paul sped off he turned to Patricia and said, “Do you want to go back to the apartment and get our luggage together before we check into the hotel, or do you want to check in first, eat and then come back for our stuff?”

  “Let’s check into the hotel first and change. I can’t wait to get out of these shoes,” said Patricia.

  “Did you remember to put our street clothes in the trunk?”

  “My sister, Angie, did,” Pat replied.

  “Good. I could really use a shower. I was sweating my ass off in the church. I hope you gave Angie more than just a change of clothing!”

  Pat looked at Paul, smiled warmly and said, “What did you have in mind?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe something black and sexy.”

  “Like a whip?” laughed Pat.

  “That’s not what I had in mind, although it doesn’t sound all that bad!”

  “You’re terrible, Mr. Porter.”

  “So are you, Mrs. Porter.”

  “Maybe I should prime the pump!” said Pat as she ran her hand up Paul’s leg.

  “Keep that up and we won’t make the hotel. I have to remember to get you liquored up more often. I like you this way!”

  Pat plopped back in her seat, rolled her window down and let the breeze hit her face. “Oh, my!” she exclaimed as she rolled the window up. “I forgot how hot it was out there.”

  Paul laughed and said, “You were making it pretty hot inside too!”

  They finally reached the hotel a few hours past sunset, checked in and made love until they were both exhausted. Paul propped the pillow against the headboard, lit a cigarette and enjoyed his nicotine fix. Pat rested in bed for a few minutes and then decided to take a hot, relaxing shower. She came out of the bathroom with nothing more than a white towel wrapped around her head.

  Paul stared at her exquisite body and said, “You need to either put some clothes on, or jump back into bed!!”

  She smiled and replied, “I’ll get dressed. I’m starved…for food!”

  Paul sat up, threw his legs over the side of the bed and put his cigarette out. “I could go for a bite to eat myself.”

  “Do you have a taste for anything in particular?” asked Pat.

  “Not really, so long as it tastes good.”

  “How about that catfish restaurant on highway 61?” she suggested.

  “Yeah, that sounds real good! I want to shower first.”

  “Afterward, we’ll swing by the apartment, get our stuff and make an early night of it. We have to be at the airport by 6:30. It takes an hour to get there, so we’ll have to be out of here by 5:30.”

  “All right,” said Paul as he channeled surfed. “I want to make sure we’re back in time to catch the basketball game on Pay Per View.”

  Patricia sighed and said, “Don’t worry. We’ll be back in plenty of time.”

  They drove to the restaurant and waited forever to be served. They were sipping warm water and nibbling on stale crackers for twenty minutes before a server finally meandered to their table. He took their order and disappeared into a sea of customers.

  “I sure hope that bastard wasn’t expecting a tip,” said Paul angrily.

  “They look pretty busy and I haven’t seen many servers walking around. They’re probably short-handed,” offered Patricia.

  “Then they should have planned better. They should know their busy times and when they’re going to need the most help. At this rate, I’ll miss my game.”

  “They’re just having a bad night, Paul. They wouldn’t have been in business this many years if it was always this bad. Everyone, including you, can have a bad night.”

  “Maybe, but I’m not running an establishment that caters to people expecting good food in a timely manner.”

  Patricia realized she was trying to get ink from a brick so she went through a mental checklist of things they’d need for their honeymoon. She had already prepared a written list, which she read several times. She was thorough and didn’t want to leave anything to chance. It was a big trip and it had to be just right. Their honeymoon would be her first excursion outside of the United States and she didn’t want one minute of it spoiled because she forgot an imperative item.

  In fact, Patricia had only been to eight states outside of Mississippi and was full of childlike excitement thinking about her first time on a commercial jet and their five-day cruise. They had to catch a flight from Memphis to Miami and hook up with their cruise ship, which boasted seven restaurants, a swimming pool, a ballroom dance floor and live entertainment every night. The cruise also included a two-day stop at Nassau, one of the Bahama Islands.

  While Pat was thinking about their honeymoon, Paul was checking out the babes seated at the surrounding tables. The scant clothing worn by women during the Mississippi summer made it his favorite season. Looking at the women helped take the edge off of the boredom of just sitting at a table. He liked to imagine how their breasts looked without their bras. He would also look at their lips and wonder if they enjoyed performing oral sex. He never once looked at them and wondered what they did for a living or what they liked to do for fun. He never saw them playing with dolls as a child or as being someone’s daughter, sister or wife. He basically saw them as sex machines, devoid of emotion and existing only to serve as possible pleasure centers, or as household servants.

  The server finally arrived with fresh drinks and their dinner after a forty-five minute wait. Paul looked up at the young man and said, “I hope we didn’t disturb your sleep!”

  The man sighed, looked at Patricia and said, “Is there anything else I can get you, Ma’am?”

  Pat smiled, looked at her dinner and then at the server and said, “No, thanks, I’m fine.”

  The younger server shifted his glance reluctantly and asked the same thing of Paul.

  “How about a flare gun so I can get your attention when we really do need something?”

  The young man looked back at Pat and said, “You folks enjoy your dinner.”

  Paul tore into his dinner like he hadn’t eaten in two days. He watched Pat leisurely picking at her meal and said, “Did you forget about the game?”

  “I haven’t forgotten, we still have plenty of time.”

  Paul finished his meal and looked around for their server.
“That bastard hasn’t returned once to see if we needed anything.”

  “I know the service could be better. Your mouth sure didn’t help much,” snapped Pat.

  Just then, their server came from across the room and said, “Can I get you anything else?”

  “How about your resignation?” muttered Paul with a mean smile.

  Patricia looked at Paul angrily and said, “We’re kind of in a hurry so I guess we’ll skip dessert. Would you just bring us the check?”

  The server produced an order receipt from his apron, laid it on the edge of the table and removed their dirty dinnerware as he left.

  Paul snapped up the receipt, glared at Patricia and said, “Are you finally ready?”

  Pat rolled her eyes and replied sharply, “Yes, your majesty.”

  They walked briskly to the cash register and handed a man wearing a red apron their dinner check. He smiled cordially and asked, “How was everything tonight?”

  “The food was good, when we finally got it. The service in this place sucks though!” barked Paul.

  The man’s smile disappeared as he glanced down at the dinner ticket. “I’m sorry you had an unpleasant experience. One of our cooks is sick and two of our servers didn’t come in.”

  “Yah, yah. If you don’t mind we’re in a hurry,” said Paul as he threw some cash on the counter.

  The man at the register counted the money and entered the dinner total into the register. He handed Paul his change without looking at him and said, “You caught us on a rare bad night. I’d like to give you this coupon for a free appetizer on your next visit.”

  Paul pocketed his change, put his hand on the Pat’s shoulder and said, “Give it to some other sucker. We won’t be back!”

  Paul ushered Patricia out the door and walked quickly to their car. He glanced at his watch and said, “We’re going to barely make it.”

  Patricia nearly ran to the car, and jumped in, narrowly missing her head on the door frame. She buckled her seatbelt and crossed her arms angrily. She looked at Paul scornfully and chided, “I sure as hell hope you’re not going to be like this on the cruise.”

  “Like what?” he replied in a shocked tone of voice.

  Patricia turned her head and stared out the passenger window.

  “Like what?” Paul repeated.

  Patricia held firmly to her silence, looking blanking at the scenery that sped past them. Their first night as husband and wife wasn’t even close to what she used to dream about. Somehow, life was supposed to magically change once you were married. Somehow, things that were seen as weaknesses in a partner were supposed to disappear once wedding vows had been exchanged. Patricia knew how harsh reality can be. Despite the facts of life, she still held on to hope and wanted the fantasy to come true. She held onto hope and kept her dreams inflated just in case doing so might help them to become reality.

  Paul shook his head and pressed firmly down on the gas pedal. He knew he was flirting with another lawful encounter and couldn’t care less. Patricia was proving that she was just another unreasonable, irritating woman. She was confirming Paul’s generalization about women. He used to laughingly tell all of his friends in high school that women were only good for two things. After he graduated from high school and was working in a warehouse, he would walk up to male co-workers and ask, “You know the one good thing about women other than sex?” Most of them didn’t attempt an honest answer and would reply, “No, what?” Paul would laugh, pat them on the back and say, “I don’t either!! I was hoping you would know!!”

  While Pat was glaring out her window, she glimpsed a familiar red and white octagonal blur. She turned toward Paul, who sensed her observation and sighed deeply.

  “Don’t worry, it was just a stop sign and there weren’t any cars coming. I know what I’m doing.” He removed a cigarette from his pack, lit it and said, “I’ll get the next one!”

  The two made it home without incident and actually had fifteen minutes to spare. Paul headed straight for the television, found the right channel and settled back onto the couch. “Hey, baby, grab me a beer, would ya,” said Paul without breaking visual contact with the screen.

  She went to the refrigerator, opened it and replied, “There aren’t any left. Kevin must have had the last one.”

  “Damn! Didn’t you do the shopping?”

  “I figured I’d wait to do a regular shop until after we got back from the cruise,” stated Pat.

  Paul stuck his hand in his pants pocket, produced a crumpled, twenty dollar bill and said, “Run down to the corner and get some.”

  Patricia walked into the living room and stood between Paul and the television. She looked at the cash and then at Paul. “Get it yourself. I already have a million things to do before we leave.”

  “Shit!” he exclaimed angrily. “What a way to start a honeymoon.” He jammed the money back into his pocket headed for the door and shouted, “Would you at least put a blank tape in the damn VCR and turn it on?” Without waiting for a reply, he stormed out of the apartment. He emphasized his frustration by slamming the door behind him as he left.

  Living with Paul over the past year, she discovered he could be a real pain in the ass at times. She also experienced moments she considered wonderful, compared to the three months she lived with LJ. They shared an abusive relationship that was lopsided from the get-go. She wanted a husband, a house and four children while she was young enough to enjoy them. She felt like the stopwatch was running and LJ would be the one to stop it before time ran out.

  Unfortunately, LJ only wanted a sex machine. His attitude toward women was much more hardcore than Paul’s. At least Paul had some compassion and emotion when he needed to. LJ had a heart of stone and didn’t give a damn about any woman’s feelings. He didn’t even buy his mother a birthday or Christmas card because he felt it was unmanly to yield to the commercial blackmail established by American businesses. He considered women to be unemotional, inanimate possessions that should be seen and screwed whenever he desired. He didn’t care one bit about their desires or needs. He instructed Paul several times on the proper care and treatment of women. He warned Paul to be careful and to ignore their “whining crap”. LJ cautioned him to never spoil women by treating them like they’re men, or they’d walk all over him and leave him like a glass of flat beer. “Always remember, Paul, if they get out of line, a good slap across the face or push into a wall tows them right back in. Never apologize for anything you say or do, ‘cause they probably had it comin’ for something or another; whether you knew about it or not. Women are lying, sneaky bitches who will spread their legs for any man with enough money. I was screwing this one bitch and she told me she was pregnant. Hell, Paul, you know damn well I had that taken care of and you know damn well I can’t make any kids. I told that lying piece of shit to get out of my life or I’d bury her. They all lie. They all think the hole between their legs is some holy sanctuary. Be careful.”

  One night, Kevin, Paul, Patricia and LJ were at Kevin’s house shooting pool. LJ was pretty drunk and playing a crappy game of pool. Patricia walked behind him and bumped into his cue stick as he was about to shoot. It caused the cue ball to go wide of its mark and miss every ball on the table. He spun around angrily, grabbed her wrist and jerked her arm back and forth.

  Pat grimaced in pain and fell backward over a small table when she tried to break free.

  The two got into a yelling match which infuriated LJ even more. His woman had no right talking back to him. He raised his cue stick in a drunken rage and was about to split her head in half when Paul stepped in and grabbed the stick. Paul was several inches taller then LJ and definitely had the upper hand in body weight and muscle mass. He forcefully walked LJ back against the pool table and kept him there until he regained his composure. “That’s enough, man!” Paul said calmly as he looked into LJ’s eyes.

  “Would you take me home, Paul,” asked a tearful Pat.

  LJ looked at Pat, shook his head and then said,
“Take her home, Paul…and keep her. She’s no good to me now. I’ll just go to the pound and get me another stray!” He wasn’t trying to be cool, he was just being LJ and he had no emotional attachment to Patricia whatsoever.

  Not much was known about the true inner workings of LJ. The only thing known for sure was that he witnessed his mother’s pimp stab a man to death when he was twelve. The only reason that was common knowledge was because it was in the newspaper.

  The trio lived within four blocks of each other growing up and had been friends since elementary school. Kevin was the average, middle-class guy who did okay in school and served as the stabilizing link that joined the three together. He was the only “normal” one of the bunch. The most emotionally traumatic times he experienced while reaching manhood were diarrhea and constipation.

  Kevin pretty much went along with everything LJ and Paul cooked up. He was with Paul and LJ when they removed the powder from several hundred firecrackers, rigged it with some gasoline and a few other ingredients and blew a hole two-feet deep in the woods. The force of the blast blew debris everywhere and started a small forest fire. They reported it immediately to the fire department, saying they saw two, unknown strangers running from the scene and were heralded as young heroes.

  There was only one occasion when he went against the grain and acted alone. They all went to a summer barbeque at Adrienne Sommers’ house to celebrate her fifteenth birthday. Adrienne shared several classes with Kevin and liked him as a person; nothing more. He was too “goofy” in her mind and spent too much time with the “wrong” kind of people.

  The party was well underway when he had to go inside and use the bathroom. He stopped to examine an antique dagger Adrienne’s father had mounted on the wall. He removed it from the wall and was holding it in his hand when her father entered the room.

  “You know, that dagger is more than three hundred years old. One of my ancestors used it in battle somewhere in France I believe and it’s been handed down from generation to generation ever since,” said Mr. Sommers.

  “It’s pretty cool all right,” remarked Kevin as Mr. Sommers took it from his hand and returned it to its spot on the wall.

  “Next time you’re in someone else’s house, it’s best to ask before handling their personal property. Understand me, boy?” said Mr. Sommers as he crossed his arms and gave Kevin a stern look.

  “Yes, sir,” said Kevin. “Sorry.”

  Kevin left, went to the bathroom and later rejoined the festivities in the backyard. Later that night, he was watching television with his parents when the police knocked at his door. Calvin Sommers had filed a stolen property report with the police and named Kevin as the probable thief. Someone at the party decided to take a souvenir and left with the dagger Kevin had been holding.

  The police took a statement from Kevin and let him go. There wasn’t sufficient cause to take him in for booking. Thanks to Mr. Sommers, word spread swiftly around the small town that Kevin was a thief and liar. Calvin could be heard laughing with local merchants about the spineless turd too chicken to fess up to his crime and face the music like a man.

  One night, Kevin had a few beers that fueled the fires of vengeance within. He took his .22 caliber rifle and hid among some trees on highway 365. He was going to shoot one of the tires out on Mr. Sommers’ car as he drove home from his butcher shop and scare the hell out of him. However, when he shot the tire, Mr. Sommers overreacted, lost control of the car and ended up dead in a ditch. Kevin never shared that experience with anyone and never felt bad about the consequences of his actions. In fact, there were moments he thought about the incident and smiled. It wasn’t a deed he felt proud of. To him, it was like flushing a toilet with shit floating in the bowl. The justice Kevin rendered was harsh and decidedly final. At least there was justice and that made him feel good.

  Years later, it was discovered that Calvin had hidden the dagger in his attic and collected an undisclosed amount of insurance money after the “theft”.

  Paul raced to the convenience store, yanked a six-pack from the refrigerated section and marched quickly to the cash register. There was a person in front of him searching through their pockets, struggling to produce enough coinage to pay for some candy bars on the counter. Paul was rapidly overwhelmed by a horrible stench emanating from that person. He wasn’t certain if the smell was more like a steaming trash bin on a sweltering day or a dead carcass rotting in a field. It actually smelled like it could have been a combination of both.

  He stepped to the left of the person and said, “I really have to be somewhere in a hurry. Do you mind if I go ahead and pay for this?”

  The person turned slowly and stared into Paul’s eyes. It was then that he realized he had encountered the same woman from the muddy road earlier in the day. Her pitch-black eyes made him feel uneasy and he wanted to look away, but he couldn’t. He wanted to drop some money on the counter and leave but he couldn’t lift his arms. He wanted to say something but his mouth wouldn’t move and his vocal cords wouldn’t respond. He could feel some drool running out of the corner of his mouth and he was helpless to do anything to stop it or wipe it away. The situation scared him and the fear caused his stomach to cramp and forced his heart to pound as fast as a road runner on speed.

  The woman continued to stare at him without blinking once. Her eyes were a flat black, void of any moisture. She finally resumed her search for change and said, “You will wait your turn, as I would’ve waited my turn had you been here before me.”

  The woman produced a handful of coins and positioned them in a cluster for the clerk to count.

  “Thank you,” said the clerk as he finalized the sale and put the money in the register.

  The woman left the store without looking back or uttering another word. Paul wasn’t able to move again until she passed through the illumination from the streetlight and entered the night darkness.

  “Man!!” exclaimed Paul. “That was freaky!!”

  “Whatever,” said the disinterested clerk. He looked at the six-pack, pointed at it and said, “Anything else?”

  “Nah, just this.” Paul gave the man a twenty and said, “Man, that woman is spooky as hell. When she stared at me, I literally couldn’t move. Have you seen her before?”

  The clerk dumped Paul’s change in his sweaty, outstretched hand without counting it back to him and said, “Yeah.”

  “She lives around here?” queried Paul.

  The clerk shrugged and said, “I ‘spose.”

  “Shit! I wonder why I’ve never seen her before. Do you know anything about her?”

  “Look, man, all I know is her name is Malvada. That’s all I know. The only reason I know that is because one night I referred to her as lady. She told me her name wasn‘t lady, it was Malvada.”

  Paul looked at the clock hanging behind the clerk and said, “Hey, thanks.” He bolted out of the store entrance and raced home. He returned to his apartment just as the visiting team players were being introduced. He opened a beer and set the remaining beers on the floor by the couch.

  “Pat!”

  “I’m in the bathroom. What do you want?”

  “When you get out, put the beer in the ‘frig so they stay cold.”

  Pat sighed and debated whether she would comply or not. They were married now so maybe it wouldn’t be so hard to slowly modify the rules of the house. She turned her head toward the open bathroom door and replied, “I might!”

  “Women!” muttered Paul as shifted his focus to the game and shoved his encounter with Malvada to the back of his mind.

  CHAPTER THREE

  THE HONEYMOON