The Wager (5 page)

"A problem, Sir?" the manager of the restaurant spoke to Turk.

"Call the police," Orphelia demanded. "That vicious dog is threatening my husband."

The restaurant manager looked at Dogzilla sitting absolutely still and silent on the floor.

"Doesn't look like it to me."

"We were just leaving," Turk advised the manager. "Sorry about this mess. This should cover the bill and the damage."

Turk handed the manager several large bills, freed Trump and Angus from the table, put his arm around Bea and moved the shaking woman toward the parking lot.

"Dogzilla, come."

The large Rottweiler followed but kept his eyes on John Broughton.

"Mother, don't you dare go off with that man," John Broughton yelled at Bea's retreating back. She turned.

"I don't know when I've been so ashamed of you John!"

Bea allowed Turk to escort her out of the restaurant. The manager stepped in front of John Broughton when he tried to follow.

By the time Turk drove back into Bea's driveway the rich food and the two cocktails had loosened Bea's usually strong moral conditioning. The dreadful scene made her feel extremely rebellious toward her son. When what Bea was now viewing as a sexy senior sensed receptivity and pulled her close

against his powerful torso she offered no resistance. Following a deeply passionate kiss, Turk opened the garage door with Bea's remote, placed all three dogs in the backyard, returned to the car and carried an almost unconscious Bea up through her kitchen door, through the living room and onto her comfortable and luxuriously adorned bed in her bedroom. Turk did not turn on the light as he undressed both Bea and himself. He used the light of the full moon shining through the window to guide him to sensual areas in a display of foreplay that had Bea in ecstasy. Through a haze of sensuality she was experiencing sensations in areas she had not even known existed. By the time Turk allowed himself to reach completion Bea's sex life had been transformed forever.

The next morning Bea awoke with the worst hangover she had ever experienced. She staggered out to the kitchen, swallowed several headache pills and found Turk cooking her breakfast in the kitchen.

"All my love," he told her, planting a kiss on her forehead. Bea's heart fired up and an unfamiliar warmness settled around her heart.

"He's so gorgeous and so romantic," she thought.

Her positive moment was shattered, however, as Angus suddenly went into a barking ft at the front door. Bea peered out her window.

"Oh, God!" she muttered. "It's John and Orphelia. I forgot they were coming this morning to take me on a tour of that Assisted Care Home."

"I'll handle them for you," Turk offered.

"No, I'll have to make peace somehow. For the sake of my grandchildren. Please go!"

From her tone of voice Turk realised that it was important for Bea to take care of the matter. He nodded.

"I'll take Trump. Call me when you want me to return him." Turk placed one of his cards into Bea's purse on the counter and headed for the back door blowing a kiss before he disappeared. Bea rushed to throw on some clothes as her son and daughter-in-law moved toward the front door.

"Who the Devil is that?" John Broughton asked moments later as his wife and as he could not help but notice a car with a Rottweiler's head sticking out the back window moving out of Bea's driveway.

"Damn! Didn't get a good look at him. I think it was that fellow with the odd name from the restaurant."

"I told you your mother is brain damaged from that stroke!"

"Don't be ridiculous, probably a delivery man."

"At 8:00 a.m. in the morning. Your mother is having an affair, John."

"You're jumping to conclusions."

"Look how long it's taking her to open this door. I'm telling you we have a serious problem here. If she marries that man her will is invalidated."

Orphelia launched into a discussion of the state's community property laws. By the time she was through John had become as highly anxious about his mother's behaviour and the consequent danger to his inheritance rights as Orphelia.

"I'm going to speed up our arrangement with the Director of the Care Home," Orphelia told John. "Divert your mother and I'll use my cell phone."

"Who was that man leaving your driveway, Mother?" John demanded as Bea finally opened the front door. "Is that the man from the restaurant yesterday?"

"None of your business!" Bea marched into the kitchen.

Orphelia gave him an "I told you so," look and flipped open her cell phone.

"Proceed today as we planned in several weeks time," she instructed the care home director. "Yes, speed up the action. Today! We may not get her back again."

"Turk is right," Bea thought as John interrogated her angrily in the kitchen. "I really should revoke my 'Power of Attorney.'"

T
urk O'Brien stared hard toward the parking lot of the Dog Park. His eyes were searching for Bea Broughton and Angus. It was half an hour past the usual meeting time and Bea was nowhere to be seen. Turk became more anxious that Bea had not returned the messages he had left for several days about dropping off Trump as expected.

"Wonder if she minded getting so close so fast?" he wondered. "Or maybe she's caved into her son's demands because of the grandchildren." Turk felt quite a bit of pain in his heart about such a possibility. The pain merged with some of the intense emotion Turk had experienced with the rejections from his two wives. Nausea struck him in his stomach.

"I'll have none of that Shit again," Turk vowed. "I'm not going to call Bea again until she calls me."

He released Trump and Dogzilla and sprinted after his friends who had gone ahead with their animals.

Up ahead Honey Pratt was having a talk with Tyler Thompson, the local Funeral Director, who had intercepted her as she walked Bourbon. His Rhodesian Ridgeback, Inferno, and her Pit Bull, Bourbon, made a strange pair as they ambled together, just in front of their masters. Honey, Tyler, Inferno and Bourbon were several hundred yards behind the other Dog Walking Club members. As they came to a grassy knoll with trees and a ravine behind it Inferno suddenly went down on his front paws facing Bourbon and barked.

"Isn't that cute, Sugar?" Honey said to Tyler as Bourbon took up Inferno's challenge and roared off as fast as his shorter legs would allow up to a grassy knoll and then into the ravine behind it. The Rhodesian Ridgeback roared after him and very quickly caught up, rolled the Pit Bull over in his charge, grabbed Bourbon's cherished red ball, from which Bourbon was inseparable, and then shot behind some trees in the ravine. The sturdy Pit Bull picked himself up and used his nose to follow Inferno behind the trees. In a few seconds the sound of barking and growling reached Tyler and Honey.

"This man is my best chance to win the wager," Honey said to herself as she gave in and joined the well-dressed, distinguished looking, ninety years old in conversation. "This old boy has been flirting with me since I joined the Dog Walking group. Nothing gross, just winks and compliments."

"Y'all never have married?" she queried.

"Why settle for one when you can have the pick of the crop any time?"

Tyler's answer startled Honey. She had the same philosophy herself. Ever since the love of her life had vanished out of her life when she was twenty-five years old leaving her with three kids less than six to raise.

"This old boy is loaded with self-confidence," Honey decided, as Tyler Thompson put his arm around her shoulders, stopped her in the middle of the concrete walkway, and gave her a sensuous kiss. He seemed oblivious to the stares of onlookers. A sensuous pat to her seat made Honey come back to the present as Bourbon and Inferno came roaring back. Honey noted that Bourbon had his ball back. Tyler moved them all in the direction of the other walkers.

"Getting him to bed is going to be easy," Honey interpreted Tyler's behaviour. "But I bet hanging onto him for as long a month isn't."

"Y'know, I've always been interested in the mortuary business. The range of coffins and funeral accessories is amazing. How do y'all get people to buy those expensive coffins."

"Come over to my Chapel this afternoon," Tyler invited. "I've got a large service scheduled for four o'clock. I'll give you a personal tour of the graveyard and showroom afterwards."

"You're on Sugar," Honey agreed. She approved of the way Tyler disengaged himself from her as Turk O'Brien's Rottweiler, Dogzilla, and Malcolm Brook's dog, Trump, came pounding down the pavement. Honey noted the Funeral Director staring at Turk himself as he approached jogging from the rear.

"He doesn't like gossip," Honey gave a sigh of thanks. "At least amongst people who know him." Honey surveyed the wealthy funeral director openly as he chatted with Turk O'Brien.

"He's lost none of his height," Honey decided, "weighs as much as he should, no more, and that cute little, neatly trimmed beard conceals any jowls if they exist. Not bad for an aging Caucasian."

Even though she usually preferred men of colour for possible significant others, Honey decided to explore a possible short-term relationship with Tyler Thompson.

"Sixty thousand would provide at least ten Afro-American scholarships for college, I could add some myself, and maybe that old boy could be hit on for a few more, maybe in his will."

Honey checked her watch. "Eleven-twenty, plenty of time to change and find something suitable for that funeral," she thought.

Honey whistled for Bourbon, now in the ocean next to the beach with Inferno, Dogzilla and Trump. He swam

in obediently and trotted up after recovering his red, phosphorescent ball on the sand. She gave him a treat and quickly attached his leash. Tyler and Turk stared at her in surprise.

"Sorry y'all, got an appointment, have to leave early" she winked discreetly at Tyler. He smiled knowingly back. Honey moved Bourbon in the direction of the parking lot. Bourbon whined and pulled at his leash as they moved away from his canine friends.

"Sorry Bourbon. Don't worry, I'll make it up to y'all." Honey reached for

another treat from her fanny pack.

Later at the funeral chapel, Honey regretted missing most of the morning dog walking session but she was taking advantage of the scheduled funeral to attempt to attract the attention of the never married Funeral Director. She was glad that Tyler was another of Gloria's designated eligible members of the Seniors Dog Walking Club. Honey looked around the impressive chapel until she located her person of interest.

"He's my best chance of winning that wager," Honey reminded herself as she surveyed the dignified, still handsome man keeping his eye on all aspects of the elaborate funeral being conducted for one of the members of the District Chamber of Commerce. She noticed him smiling at her across the chapel. Honey gave him a wave. He waved back.

Linda Daniels, who had agreed to accompany Honey to the funeral noticed their interaction. "So that's the reason she wanted to come to this funeral," Linda realised. "I guess I should try and do something about Gloria's wager, myself, but I don't feel up to the challenge. She realised that her long time crush on Malcolm Brooks and Gloria's bet were causing severe emotional turmoil.

"What if I make a direct pass at him and he refuses. I'll lose him as a friend for sure."

Linda went over in her mind about her daily visits to Malcolm in the hospital. She acknowledged that they were having great conversations about things of interest to her like animals and their health. Malcolm was particularly interested in the health of race horses and she had done some research on the matter for him. Linda also assured him that she was keeping a close eye on his menagerie of pets up at his estate. Linda told him that his Howler monkeys, named Loud and Even Louder, his Boa Constrictor, Raptor, his Green Tree Python, Squeeze, his black Jaguar, Diego, his Cassowary Bird from New Guinea named Razor, and his large Pyrannas, Vicious and Reprehensible, which he kept in a specially built fish tank in his living room, were all doing well. Linda sensed how important these matters were to Malcolm.

" But he's not really showing any sign of being attracted to me, just glad of the company to pass time I think."

Linda thought about her date coming up with Malcolm's nephew Lorne.

"Maybe he is a possibility," she felt some part of her mind speculating. "After all he does look a lot like Malcolm and we're both interested in the art and culture events going on in the community."

"Anyone who is anybody in the business community is at this funeral," Linda whispered to Honey. The Chapel was full of the bankers, lawyers, politicians and business people who had held the deceased, Joseph Connor, the local Cab company owner, in high esteem.

Linda laughed as she thought about the long procession of cabs she had witnessed on the way in. The procession had followed the extra-long, black, luxurious, hearse carrying

the deceased the short distance from the mortuary to the funeral chapel. Joseph Connor's wife and now owner of his cab company had paid every one of their cab drivers to wear their uniforms and to polish their bright orange cabs to take part in the procession in keeping with her husband's wishes. Linda pondered on how marriages and funerals were such displays of wealth and celebrated with considerable elaboration by well off people.

"It's like ancient Egypt," she mused. "People must think that the elaborate coffins and memorials are going to impress people in the next world," she wondered. "Or maybe they're just for the survivors to impress their relatives and friends?"

"Y'know, I bet there isn't a cab available to be had anywhere," Honey chuckled.

"There must be chaos at the airport," Linda agreed, " Joseph Connor had a monopoly on the cab contract there."

"I really appreciate y'all coming with me today. Some of these folks still don't like a person of colour taking part in high society events, even funerals."

"Nowadays?" Linda's voice expressed her disbelief in Honey's implications.

"Y'all take a good look at those graves out there, Girl? When was the last time that a person of colour was buried in them?"

Linda started. She had been looking at the gravestones, as Joseph Connor's epitaph had attracted her attention. His newly dug grave awaiting his state-of-the-art coffin was adorned with a gravestone with a picture of one of his cabs on it and the name of his company. She realised that Honey was right. Every name that Linda had recognized had belonged to a white person of the community. There had not even been a Chinese or Japanese name despite the abundance of ethnic homesteaders and their

descendants dating back from when the area had first been homesteaded. Linda's face flushed as she realised for the first time that people of colour must be buried somewhere else.

"Oh my God," Linda muttered. "Segregation even in death."

"Exactly, Girl."

Honey and Linda, along with their fellow funeral participants grew silent as Tyler's sonorous voice started the service and he introduced the local minister of the Anglican church. The minister then asked Tyler to do the Eulogy. Honey realised that the elderly Funeral Director who looked and sounded years younger than his age still had his brain cells fully intact. He never missed a word, made a clever observation about cab drivers as important transportation facilitators and had every eye in the audience wet from his references to the deceased never-failing kindness and sense of humour. At the end of the service Honey and Linda fled out of the chapel with the others to witness the casket being lowered into the newly dug grave.

As the minister said the well-known words of dust to dust and ashes to ashes Linda recalled her intense pain at her mother's funeral less than two years before. "What's it really all about?" she wondered again. "Maybe there isn't anything more than dust to dust and ashes to ashes." Tears welled up in the semi-retired veterinarian's eyes. She dabbed at them discreetly.

"There's no real death, Sugar," Angie realised Honey was trying to help her. "The real you, the part that we'all call soul or mind or 'I am' is just freed from the restrictions of the body, y'know."

As Linda was trying to process Honey's advice she noticed Tyler working his way through the crowd toward them.

"I must be going," Linda told Honey as she sensed her friend's anxiety. "I promised Malcolm Brooks I'd come and bring him some of the latest information on optimizing health for race horses. He's having troubles with his racing stable."

"Y'all have the hots for him, don't you sugar?"

Linda freaked and then laughed. She suddenly realised that Honey was telling her why she found Malcolm so attractive. "It's his virility," she acknowledged. "He's been turning me on for years but I mistook the feeling for love."

"Is it all that obvious?"

"Just to a trained eye, Sugar," Honey reassured her.

"It's so painful. Unrequited love. I hope you're right, that it's just unrequited sex."

"Don't make any difference, Sugar. I you ask me they're both just as painful."

"I've had a crush on that man for over ten years. I don't understand it."

"Y'know, I think you are making a big mistake putting that man on a pedestal and dreaming about him all this time. Y'all living in fantasy, Girl."

"What should I do then?"

"Let your illusions go, Sugar. Avoid all contact with the man."

"I know he's got a lot of emotional baggage but he is a good friend and client."

"Baggage, that man's got a whole lifetime of unresolved issues, and the money it takes to play dating games with attractive, young bimbos like that latest girlfriend."

"But he needs someone to take care of him and his animals."

Honey Pratt groaned.

"Y'all must be a Venus In Pisces, Girl. They're either

forever rescuing helpless things in need or living their lives in romantic fantasy."

Linda felt strong nausea in her stomach from Honey Pratt's assessment. It hit home sharply. She reached for another of her tranquillizer pills.

"A Venus in Pisces. An Astrologer friend mentioned I had that placement once, I think. How would I know for sure?"

"Just get your Horoscope done. It'll show you the position of all your planets."

"I think I'll go do that. Look, good luck with Tyler."

"Thanks Sugar, I'm going to need it. By the way, watch out for that young girlfriend of that Malcolm Dude. Think she's a Scorpio and they'all don't like rivals. She was eyeing y'all pretty closely in that hospital room until that Inuvik dog knocked out her contact lenses. Think she could tell that Malcolm speaks rather warmly, for him, to y'all."

"Malcolm speaks to me rather warmly?"

Honey laughed. She realised that Linda had only heard the words about Malcolm speaking to her warmly.

"Y'alls got it bad all right. Look Sugar. Pay attention to my words. Watch out for that Monica. Attracted to the man's money, I think. Just watch your back if y'all know what I mean."