Now and Forever 5, Love's Journey (4 page)

“Their kind of devotion is a rare thing.
Your mother and I were close too. I hope you find it, Pete, I’d
like to see you happily settled.”

“What are the chances of finding another
Callie in a hick town like Willow Falls?”

* * * *

Back in Willow Falls, the nightlife was
beginning to heat up as Alan drove Rex to The Wet Tee Shirt. It was
six o’clock and the place was filling up. It was dark but Rex saw
an empty table close to the stage.

“Let’s get a drink here and then have dinner
somewhere else. The food here probably sucks,” Rex suggested.

Alan agreed. After they ordered drinks, the
music started up again and the girls, who had been on break, came
out and began to dance topless.

Rex watched as a brunette and a redhead
gyrated. He couldn’t decide which to approach, so he made eye
contact with both. The redhead looked bored and spying Rex staring
at her didn’t do much to change her attitude. But the brunette
smiled back at him. He looked her over carefully and liked what he
saw. She would be perfect, if she were cooperative. He’d come back
after dinner, when he could ditch the stiff, Alan. Then he could
move in on her.

* * * *

Across town in the hospital, Jay was
restless.

“We should’ve had children. Now you’re going
to be completely alone.”

“Hush. It’s fine, Jay.”

Marcia tried to listen and be sympathetic to
his feelings, but her emotional reserve was stretched to the
breaking point. Her nerves were raw; she hung on to sanity by a
thread sometimes, waiting for her beloved Jay to die.

On this beautiful day in May, she got home
to the frame house with brown shutters and cream shingles at about
six in the evening. The front door was unlocked. She entered
cautiously, ready to dial 911 on her cell phone when she saw him. A
tall, strange man was in the kitchen, fixing the sink. She jumped,
fear in her eyes.

“No, no, so sorry, sorry,” he said in broken
English, raising his hands, smiling and shaking his head. “I fix
sink. Johnny’s father, Jakub.”

Marcia exhaled a big sigh of relief. The
sink had needed fixing for a week at least. Jakub looked to be
about fifty years old. He was about six feet and broad-chested,
wearing a blue work shirt and jeans. His shirtsleeves were rolled
up to reveal large, firm forearms. His short hair was a warm brown,
going to gray. His face, weathered by time and the elements, had
even, handsome features including warm brown eyes. Marcia
determined he was no threat.

She poured herself a strong vodka and tonic,
looked through the mail and switched the television on to the
ballgame with barely a nod to Jakub.

Jakub worked for another fifteen minutes,
then put everything back together. On his way out, he looked at the
television and asked, “Yankees?”

“Mets,” she replied and managed a small
smile.

“Finish tomorrow. Goodnight.”

Marcia made another strong drink, ate some
cheese and crackers then climbed up the steep stairs to the
bedroom, took her clothes off, fell into bed and passed out.

* * * *

At midnight The Wet Tee Shirt was still
rocking. Rex walked in after dropping his cousin at home. The place
was dark. There was canned music and two busty women were pole
dancing topless. Men were drinking, talking, and ogling the
dancers.

Rex sat down near the stage and ordered a
beer. Being in the mood for sex, he watched the women with
interest. At The Hideaway in Harlem where he worked for eight years
as a bouncer, he only dated waitresses and kitchen help. He rarely
had time to connect with other women because he worked six nights a
week. He managed to score enough sex to stay reasonably satisfied,
but Rex had never been in love. He was thirty-five years old, lucky
in blackmail, unlucky in love.

“Wadda ya have?”

Rex looked up to see a topless waitress
there to take his order. His gaze slid down her body like a snake,
openly evaluating her breasts and hips. She stifled a yawn.

“Scotch neat. You dance too?”

“Sometimes. Not my night tonight. Be right
back.”

Rex had a lonely childhood. He’d missed
having a father and had gotten angry at being pushed around by his
sisters. He put a stop to it when he was fifteen by knocking his
oldest sister, Hazel, onto the kitchen floor once. They left him
alone after that.

The waitress returned and put his drink on
top of a small, square paper napkin.

“What’s your name?”

“Mary. I’m not available. Sorry.” She
hustled away, her dark hair swinging, her breasts bouncing.

Rex had gone into the army after high school
and learned discipline. The army taught him how to take care of
himself and build up his body. He’d matured, and acquired some
self-confidence. When he got out, he was a new man on the outside,
cunning, muscular, able to defend himself and take what he wanted,
but on the inside he was still the frustrated, neglected child
whose heart was growing callous.

One of the dancers spied him and recognized
him from earlier in the evening. She flashed him a smile and he
smiled back. He evaluated her body and hair, liking what he
saw.

Rex looked good. He got his nose fixed, paid
for a good haircut and bought the most popular clothing styles. He
wanted to create an image, become a babe magnet. Although he was
only five foot nine, he was powerful. His light brown hair and
washed-out eyes were nondescript, but he made a decent first
impression, especially with women. Though he wasn’t the smartest
guy in school, he became wise in the ways of the world working at
The Hideaway. Rex learned how to pick up girls. Underneath his
impressive pecs was a stone-cold heart hardening a little more with
every disappointment, every year of crushing loneliness.

He looked around, hoping to see a “help
wanted” sign at The Wet Tee Shirt but there was none. He didn’t
notice any bouncer on the premises and wondered why. He figured to
use one of the dancers to get the information he needed. He could
probably get a job at the topless bar through her too. The redhead
danced with more confidence than the brunette. He picked the
dark-haired dancer, figuring she’d be easier to manipulate as she
had already smiled at him.

At break time Rex caught her eye.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he offered, smiling
as he pulled out a chair for her.

He looked good enough, clean and trim, but
it was pulling out the chair for her that seemed to catch her
eye.

“I’ll be back,” she said, then reappeared in
a top so skimpy as to be almost non-existent.

She sat down at Rex’s table.

“What are you drinking?” he asked, trying
not to stare at her chest like other men.

“Raj knows,” she said, nodding to the
bartender.

“What’s your name?”

“I’m Deena. What’s yours?”

“I’m Rex. Nice to meet you, Deena.”

Deena smiled at him and picked up her drink.
Rex wore a sleeveless shirt to show off his impressive arm muscles.
He knew he looked good. After a glance around the room, he knew he
looked better than the other patrons and he wasn’t a fat slob, rude
or staring at her chest.

Rex covered her hand with his and kept it
there. He wanted to show her he was different. He wasn’t interested
in gawking at her breasts or trying to get her into bed, he was
interested in a business partnership. If they happened to fall into
the sack together…well, that was an added benefit.

“When do you get off?” Rex asked, putting
his empty glass down on the table.

“Why?” Deena asked, downing the last of her
drink.

“I’d like to take you to dinner. Is there a
nice place here open late?”

“You new here?”

“I rolled into town a few days ago.” Rex
rested his elbows on the small round table.

“How long you planning to stay?” Deena
narrowed her eyes at him.

“Depends upon how my business goes. If it
goes as I planned, indefinitely,” he said, sitting back in his
chair.

“What business are you in?” Deena lit a
cigarette.

“Why don’t we discuss it over dinner
tonight? Do you have plans?”

“The only plans I have are to go home and
fall into bed…alone.”

“Good. Then tonight you can do something
different.”

“You mean fall into bed with you?”

“Maybe just dinner?” Rex asked, raising his
eyebrows.

“Okay. Dinner it is. Where are you
from?”

“New York City. What time should I pick you
up?”

“This joint closes at one a.m. Go home, take
a nap.”

“Naw. I’m fine. I’ll be here at one.”

“No nap?”

“Not unless it’s with you, Deena.”

“Yeah, Mr. Smooth. Okay. Pick me up at one,”
she said, stubbing out her cigarette and standing up.

Rex got up when she got up. She noticed. It
was eleven-thirty, that meant he had an hour and a half to kill. He
ordered another drink and watched Deena dance. He liked looking at
her body while he plotted his strategy. It’d work better if she got
him hired here. Rex sat back and smiled to himself. Perhaps this
podunk little town wasn’t so bad after all.

* * * *

In the neat house on James Street, Peter
worked on his lecture then took a break to work on a Beethoven
sonata, a new piece he’d been practicing. He began and after a
minute, stopped. Then he started again. Then stopped.

He was having trouble with the beginning,
when he heard a female voice scream, “Keep playing! Why are you
stopping?”

Peter ignored it, figuring the woman wasn’t
talking to him. He started again. Again he heard the voice coming
through the window.

“Hey, you with the piano! I’m talking to
you. Keep playing!”

Peter stopped and started again. Again the
voice.

“You’re driving me crazy playing the same
thing over and over! Finish it!”

Peter got up and went to the window. About
twelve feet away was the window of the house next door. The shade
was drawn, but Peter knew the screaming woman was on the other
side.

“I’m practicing! This isn’t a concert,
lady,” Peter hollered back.

He sat down again and purposely played the
beginning over and over until he heard the window next door shut
with a bang.
That will shut her up
. He went back to
practicing until Sam came in and told him lunch was ready.

* * * *

Sharing a house with Peter
and listening to his music, reminded Sam of Ellen. He still missed
her and when he heard Peter playing her favorite tunes, his heart
lifted for a moment as if she were there with him. Their friends
envied them their strong, loving relationship
. Sam and Ellen
had been married over thirty years; she was his best friend and his
lover. They had a peaceful, warm, sexy relationship. When she died,
his world collapsed.

He had not been at Vaal University long when
he lost Ellen to a virulent strain of pneumonia that swept through
her body quickly. Ellen was a talented pianist and the inspiration
for Peter. When his son played Ellen’s favorite pieces, if Sam
closed his eyes, he could imagine she was still here.

Sam had become a pretty good cook after
Ellen died. He cooked, and Peter taught. They each had their own
bedroom. The set-up seemed fine, but Sam wondered what would happen
when Peter revved up his social life. He didn’t look forward to
strange women at breakfast every Sunday morning, maybe every
Saturday morning too. Sam hoped Peter would fall in love and get
married.

The more women Peter had, the more restless
he became, and hence the more women. Sam didn’t approve of Peter’s
womanizing but he didn’t say anything…his son had to find his own
way.

After lunch, Peter went back to the piano
and noticed the window across the way was open again. Maybe the
woman had gone out. He started in again on his sonata. This time he
got halfway through, stopped and started again. He played halfway
through and stopped. Then he concentrated on one section, playing
it over and over.

“You’re driving me bonkers! If Beethoven is
too hard for you, try Brahms!”

“Shut up!” Peter yelled and continued to
play the one section over and over again until he heard the window
slam shut.
Good
.

He played for another hour. Then he got up
to get a glass of water.

Peter came back to the piano, barely
glancing out the window. He saw a young woman from the back.
So
that’s the bitch.
He noticed she wore a leotard and footless
tights. The grace of her shoulders, the curve of her hips and the
roundness of her small bottom piqued his curiosity. He started to
play the same sonata noting the sound of the shade coming down
rapidly, then all was quiet. He played it all the way through. When
he finished, he heard applause.

“Not bad for an amateur,” she called
out.

Peter was furious and slammed his window
shut. Sam chuckled but left the room quickly when Peter glared at
him.

* * * *

The next day Sam received a call from
Mac.

“Dad, I need your help.”

“What can I do?”

“Jim Caterson, the head of our English
department, is taking care of his niece. She was attacked in New
York City a couple of weeks ago and beaten up pretty badly and has
come to stay with him. She’s suffering from temporary blindness and
can’t live on her own. She can’t be alone all day and Jim can be
only be home part-time. I need someone to read to her or keep her
company for a few hours every day so he can work. Could you help us
out, until she can fend for herself?”

“Sure, Mac.”

“The best part is…she lives right next door
to you.”

Sam ran his hand through his hair. “Which
side?”