by H.H. Fowler
Peter rubbed a hand through his curly salt and pepper hair. He resolved within himself that the next few days were going to be one heck of a ride. He would not allow Karl to frighten him away. If Karl desired a fight, then a fight would be employed.
Chapter Eleven
Wednesday Morning – Lakatos Steel & Co.
Paul sat down to catch his breath. He kept promising himself that he would not work so hard at his age. Sixty-year-old men should not be trying to run both a church and a steel plant at the same time. However, Paul’s catalog of conditions excluded some of the most-qualified men from taking rein of the business. There was no doubt that Paul loved both of his sons. He could not have asked for any better young men than Wynton and Brian, but if the decision had been left up to Paul, and all other avenues failed of him trying to find that ‘right’ fit, he would have preferred that Wynton to succeed him as CEO of Lakatos Steel & Co.
Wynton was the one with the business acumen, and if the company ever moved into the global arena, Wynton would be the one more qualified to do it. The boy had worldly exposure, class, and charisma – ingredients that were not obvious in Brian’s life. The fact that Brian had been against the expansion of Brandon View Church told Paul that Brian was not ready to handle the future. Brian was thirty years-old and hadn’t even begun dating, much less found a wife.
The Lakatos men had all been married by the age of thirty. Was this a sign? Paul thought. Am I wasting my time with the wrong son? Maybe I should put my focus on Wynton. At least he would understand how to operate the administrative side of the church. If only Wynton would recommit his life to the Lord… Paul sighed quietly. He admitted that much of Wynton’s aversion against the church had to do with that ‘incident’ involving Karl’s daughter. But had Doreen and the congregation kept their negative criticisms out of Wynton’s ears, Paul believed Wynton would not have been driven away to revel in the pleasures of sin.
Paul stood and glanced at his wristwatch. In twenty minutes, he would meet with Karl to look over the blueprint of Brandon View’s new facility. The blueprint had already been approved, but there were a few other concerns that Paul needed Karl to address. It was a multimillion-dollar project that required a huge financial budget, but Paul had convinced himself that with his company supplying the steel and with Karl’s fortune spearheading the development, money would not be an issue. They had partnered to make this project a success – as they had always done in the past with previous endeavors. Whatever he and Karl put forth their hands to do, it would turn to gold.
Paul wilted in his emotions at this new move in the life of the church. He was excited, but at the same time, he knew once Doreen found out about the expansion, she would hasten to dampen his spirit. He withheld his ideas from Doreen because she was not a supportive wife. She would try to swindle him out of his life’s dream and would enjoy belittling any accomplishment he strived to achieve – especially when it came to the church.
The way Doreen spoke to him made him feel as if he were not capable of doing anything right. But he would show her soon enough that he did not need her to validate him. God alone did that. In time, Doreen, in time … I will show you I have been divinely directed to pastor that church…
A soft knock caused Paul’s gaze to fasten upon his office door.
“Come!” he shouted.
The door pushed open slowly and the first thing that Paul noticed was Karl’s shoes – an expensive pair, made by Salvatore Ferragamo. They were the kind of shoes that made men look effortlessly elegant. Paul had seen a pair that cost a thousand dollars, but Paul’s inspection was cut short by Karl’s lethargic steps. Everything about Karl looked well-polished, except for his two, red, swollen eyes that appeared as if they were about to pop out of their sockets.
“My heavens, Karl,” Paul exclaimed. “What has happened to you?”
“I am a man who keeps his appointments,” Karl said to his friend. “And I have made plans for lunch for two at Bennigans. Are you hungry?”
“And are you out of your mind,” Paul countered. “I can see that something’s wrong with you. I’ve known you for over thirty years. You can’t fool me. I have seen you cry once – and that was when your mother died.”
Karl kept his eyes steady on Paul, which exhibited a distance that Paul could not place.
“Sharon died last night, Paul, and I think that I might have killed her.”
Paul’s cheeks flushed red as he stumbled back into his chair.
****
“Thanks for coming on such short notice. Tara has gone out for today.” Wynton greeted his brother with a tight hug and then broke into a mischievous grin. “Your chest is almost as big as mine. What are you pumping up for and you don’t even have a woman to enjoy it?”
Brian playfully pushed Wynton back into the apartment. “I’m pumping up to whop that little smug of your face –”
“Hey, stick to your calling, preacher,” Wynton teased. “You are not a violent man, or, should I say a renegade, like me.”
Brian hated when Wynton referred to himself as a, renegade, which to Brian meant that Wynton did not intend to go back to his Christian roots. What had been Wynton’s source of inspiration had now become something he made a mockery of. “You are God’s anointed,” Brian explained to his brother and then added with a pat on Wynton’s shoulder, “You are simply misguided at the moment. We’ve been taught that God is married to the backslider.”
Wynton shook his head and walked away. “You have more confidence in me than I have in myself,” he said. “I’ll give you that. However, I am satisfied with the way my life has turned out. I don’t have to answer to anyone for my success. The question is, my big bruh, are you satisfied with the way things have turned out for you?”
Brian kept his expression plain, but on the inside, Wynton’s words sacked him like a ton of bricks. “Having Christ is the best decision any wise person can make. What does it profit a man to gain the security of this world, but lose his soul to damnation?”
“I did not call you to preach to me, Brian,” Wynton said. “I simply asked if you were satisfied with the way…forget it –” Wynton realized he was about to have the same conversation he’d had with his brother a thousand times. It made no sense arguing because none of them were going to compromise their beliefs. He continued to walk toward the kitchen with his pants sagging across his hips. “You want something to drink, big bruh?”
Brian took a seat on the sofa and threw up his feet on Wynton’s coffee table. “What have you got?”
“I have a rack full of liquor,” Wynton quipped, adding a smirk for good measure. “You want some?”
“You love being a clown, don’t you? You and Karl are the devil’s advocate. Leave me out of your unhealthy habits.”
“Man, you need to lighten up. The Bible warned about drinking in excess. It did not say that you couldn’t drink. It says we should not get drunk and my intention is not to get you drunk. Am I making sense to you?”
“Oh, where have I heard that crap before? Get behind me Satan! Be gone, back to your filthy pit!”
Wynton chuckled as he plunged down in a chair opposite Brian. He wagged a bottle of Guinness in Brian’s direction. “One of these days, old boy, I will get my way with you. Just don’t get married any time soon, because that night before you stroll to the altar, I will give the orders to lace your fruit punch with Ecstasy. It will be easy to control you then. I promise that you will not begin your honeymoon as a virgin.”
Brian stopped giggling and said seriously, “You had better be kidding with that nonsense, because that isn’t remotely funny. Why does everything have to be a joke to you?”
Wynton took a swig from the Guinness bottle, which did little to mask his lopsided grin. “You had better elope and haul tail to the Justice of the Peace. I will not stop until I get you over to the ‘other’ side…having bedroom experience is priceless...”
“Wynton, I will not allow you to contaminate my ‘sanctified�
�� ears. You are acting like the devil and you know it…”
The spirited banter between the brothers began to ebb toward a more staid topic. However, Brian could not keep the amusement out of his expression when Wynton began to relay the wrestling match between Tara and Doreen.
“…Tara gave me an ultimatum,” Wynton was saying. “You should have seen them – grappling like two ghetto chicks from Ybor City. I had all of the hell, pulling mother away from my woman. She gave Tara a concussion…”
The situation was serious, but Brian felt himself giving in to his laughter.
“This is no joke, man,” Wynton told his brother. “Our mother is crazy! She followed me and my entourage all the way to Jamaica, got into my dressing room and waited in the dark. Those are the actions of a psycho.” Wynton flailed his hands in defeat. “I have no idea how to correct what’s going on inside that woman’s head.”
“You don’t need to convince me,” Brian chuckled. “I still live at home with her. I’m surprised the old man hasn’t snapped by now. I can hear them arguing every night. I’m at the point where I’m considering looking for my own place.”
“It’s about time. A grown man like you should be ashamed.” Wynton took another swig from the Guinness bottle as a blur of nostalgia showed up in his eyes. “That’s why I got out of there as soon as I could, man – too much drama for my taste…” Then he said, almost as an afterthought, “I did not want Jasmine to go to New York, but she never would have survived under mother’s tyranny. Jasmine was a tough cookie back then, but even she is no match for Doreen Lakatos.”
“I’m impressed,” Brian admitted.
“Over what?”
“That you’re not upset. Jasmine had the whole church believing you raped her.”
“I blame that fat brood – Jasmine’s mother.” Wynton still had that look of nostalgia in his expression, but this time it was attended by an amalgam of perversion. “Sharon may have caught me with my pants down, but one week later, Jasmine was all over my chest. We ended up on the floor of that abandoned house – the one that was across the street from the church. We had sex another two times after that…that girl was just plain rebellious…”
Brian shook his head, appalled by his brother’s admission.
“What?” Wynton smirked. “Jasmine could not get enough of me. I can’t help it if my physique has been built to satisfy a woman’s sexual cravings.”
“You mean that the other way around. It is you who can’t get enough,” Brian said. “I can’t believe you are bragging about that mess.”
“What did you expect me to do? Turn her down?”
“Yes! The police had even gotten involved after that incident between you two. You should have stayed away from her instead of convoluting the matter.”
“Relax, Brian. That was twelve years ago. I have nothing against Jasmine but mad love. I’m over and done with that juvenile part of my life. I’m about to marry one of the ‘sexiest” girls in Brandon, Florida. Hence, my big bruh, I have called you here. I have moved up the date of the wedding.”
“Thank God,” Brian said, “You and Tara are living in sin every night.”
Wynton swatted Brian’s religious comment with a biting remark. “Do I sense a pinch of jealousy, you forty-year-old virgin?”
“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Brian shot back. “At least the woman I marry will not have to worry about me shooting blanks. I’m like a new car that has never been driven off the car lot.”
“You know, you say some really weird things sometimes,” Wynton chuckled. “Shooting blanks has no relation to the thousands of times a man has sex. I was always careful never to get any of those silly girls pregnant anyway. My ‘soldiers’ are marching quite fine. Tara and I will have a house filled with good-looking babies. I can assure you of that.”
“You can’t assure me of anything, because you don’t have any children to prove that.”
Wynton waved Brian off. “You are more naïve than I thought. You really need to find a woman quickly and have some sex – seriously, man. I see a little bit of Steve Urkel in you.”
“So,” Brian said after an awkward moment of silence. Wynton’s last words still stung, but he hid it beneath a casual air. “When is the wedding?”
Wynton leaned over and reached for a current issue of a GQ magazine. He tossed it to Brian, where it landed with a slap against Brian’s palm. The heaviness lifted and it appeared as if the brothers were enjoying each other’s company again. “In several weeks,” Wynton said. “You are always in a suit and tie. You would do a better job in choosing what we should wear.”
Brian studied the white, blonde-haired dude who graced the magazine cover in a rust single-breasted coat. Navy blue slacks and a striped white shirt that was open at the neck. “This magazine serves as a sharp reminder,” Brian said, “that you are more white than black.”
Wynton responded with a grin, “You shouldn’t tease me so much. Your little juniors might come out looking like me. You might be the color of caramel, but Caucasian is in your genes.”
Brian laughed. “Admit it, man, you light up when people call you white boy.”
Wynton shrugged noncommittally. “That’s why I don’t trust my taste in certain things. I’m leaving everything up to you. You’re the best man and these are some of the things that best men do.”
Brian just stared at his brother in amusement. Sometimes, he wished he could exude some of the easy-going qualities he observed in Wynton’s personality.
“Several weeks are quite different from three months,” Brian said, as he casually thumbed through the magazine. “Have you told mother about the date change?”
“Heck no! She’s the reason why I moved up the date. Three months will give her too much time to do something stupid. I’m convinced I’ll lose Tara by then.”
Brian closed the magazine and let out a small sigh. “I’ll tell you this much, Wynton, moving up the date is not going to solve anything. This feud between Tara and our mother needs to be fixed before you guys tie the knot. Mother will always think the worse of Tara if you don’t try and change that.”
Wynton flailed his arms in the air a second time. “Well, do you have any bright ideas, Mr. Fix It? Because I have tried everything, but nothing works! I’m about to go insane. I don’t get why she hates Tara so much.”
Brian thought for a moment, and after a short while, he said, “There is an advertisement I came across some weeks ago while I was on the Internet. It might help if you and Tara are open to it. It’s a four-day retreat on an island in the Bahamas.”
Wynton shot Brian a stare of incredulity. “Are you for real? I’m in the middle of world war three and that’s all you’re offering me? A bloody retreat?”
“Just hear me out, man, before you shoot down what I believe to be a great idea,” Brian explained. “It is a reputable organization. Their aim is to help develop healthy relationships between women, particularly in mother and daughter-in-law relationships. To be honest, when I first read the article, I immediately thought of Tara and our mother.”
“Come on, man. Do you really think Tara is gonna spend four days locked up on some remote island with our mother?”
“Who said anything about the Bahamas being a remote island? Your focus should be on trying to convince Tara that this is a good idea. I will handle our mother.”
“I don’t see it happening –”
Brian held his hand up to stop Wynton’s negative rants, “All I’m asking you to do is to try, Wynton. What is so difficult about that?”
When will our consciences grow so tender that we will act to prevent human misery rather than avenge it?
- Eleanor Roosevelt
Chapter Twelve
Doreen owned a Tea House just outside of Brandon in Lakeland, Florida, operated by three young twenty-somethings, desperate to make a good impression. They only saw Doreen twice a week, which was sufficient for them because Doreen’s visits were cruel and frightening – espec
ially when she came to the Tea House in a bad mood. Doreen was a perfectionist, a stickler for details, and anything that was out of line was met with a swift rebuke. She, however, paid them handsomely, which probably was the only reason why her employees tolerated her wretched personality.
Certainly, Doreen was a difficult person to deal with, but she ensured that her customers languished in elegant, serene surroundings – complete with décor that tea connoisseurs would appreciate. Doreen had always wanted to open up a Tea House, but her husband, Paul had always been against it – reminding her that her priorities should be in the church. Her role as First Lady came with many responsibilities and any ‘extracurricular’ activities could hinder the work of God.
Running a Tea House, as Paul had explained, put one’s interpersonal skills to the test and pulled on one’s availability. It required much physical stamina. Smiling was extremely vital, along with long hours, and if not taken seriously, it could be the deciding factor on how long a Tea House would survive. Doreen, of course, paid Paul no mind. She went ahead and had it opened anyway.
The Tea House was her little secret. She’d had it for three years and Paul did not have a clue about its existence. It was her way of saving up for a rainy day – just in case that fool goes bankrupt, as she would normally say. Doreen knew of Paul’s plans to expand the church. She knew of the acreage that he and Karl had recently acquired to construct the new, multi-million-dollar edifice of Brandon View. Paul kept his plans hidden, but her sons told her everything, just as she told them everything that concerned her. She thanked God for such ‘good’ sons – who refused the instructions of their weak father. But if she had anything to do with it, the expansion of Brandon View Baptist Church would never see the light of day.
Paul, you are such a blithering hypocrite, Doreen thought, as she eased her big-bodied black Mercedes Benz in front of the Tea House. You are against me having a business of my own, yet, you have been running a steel plant right alongside running a church. I wonder where you are going to get the money to fund your silly little project. Karl would be a fool to lend his money to you. You’ve already exhausted our life savings, paying people’s rent and utility bills…