Greg Tenorly Suspense Series Boxed Set

by Robert Burton Robinson

  “Well, are you hungry?”

  “I’m starving. And my feet are killing me.”

  “Good time for a break then.”

  She turned to one of her waitresses. “Shelly? We’re gonna take Table Twelve.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  “And we’ll have iced tea.”

  “I’ll bring it right over.”

  Good, thought Edsel. Table Twelve was in the back corner.

  He and Angie walked to their table, and sat down.

  After a few moments of listening to the band Edsel said, “The Fiddlers sure sound good tonight.”

  “Yep,” said Angie. “They always do.”

  Shelly delivered their iced teas, and took their order.

  Angie’s cell phone rang. When she saw who was calling, she said, “Not again.”

  “What’s the matter?”

  “It’s Clifford. He’s started up again.”

  “He just can’t let you go, can he?”

  “I’m sorry. I’ll be right back.” She got up and walked to her office.

  Edsel sat at the table, wondering if Angie would ever get back together with her ex, Clifford Silverstern. His family had money—tons of the stuff. They owned a bank, a jewelry store, a funeral home, a hotel, and a fancy Italian restaurant.

  Edsel couldn’t believe it when Angie started dating him years ago. He knew she wouldn’t marry him for money. She must have truly been in love with the putz. The day of the wedding was the lowest point in Edsel’s life. For a moment, he had toyed with the idea of jumping off the Rainbow Bridge.

  After a year or so, Angie began to see Clifford for who he really was. But she was too stubborn to give up on the marriage. She toughed it out for another fifteen years. Near the end, even her father, Herman, was begging her to get out. He had come to hate Clifford for making his daughter miserable.

  Unfortunately, Herman Maberly hated Edsel just as much as he hated Clifford. If the old man were to walk in and see her eating dinner with Edsel, he’d probably go home and get his shotgun.

  Angie walked back to the table shaking her head. “I’m sorry.”

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah. Clifford just doesn’t get it. There are plenty of women around town who’d jump at the chance to be with him. But the more I tell him I don’t want him, the more determined he is to get me back.”

  Shelly brought their food.

  “Wow, that was fast,” said Edsel. “Smells good.”

  They listened to the band and watched couples Two-Step around the floor while they ate. Edsel decided to save the important talk until after dinner.

  “How about some cherry pie for dessert? We baked them this afternoon,” she said.

  He smiled. “You know I can’t resist your cherry pie, Angie.”

  “Okay. I’ll go get us some.”

  In less than five minutes, she hurried back with the two plates. “I hope I didn’t give you too much ice cream,” said Angie.

  “Not at all.” Edsel grinned with delight. There was no dessert on earth better than Angie’s cherry pie, topped with Blue Bell Homemade Vanilla ice cream.

  “Oops, I forgot. I’m supposed to be helping you eat healthier. Let me just take that back in the kitchen and I’ll—”

  “—don’t you dare,” he said, guarding his plate with both hands.

  She smiled. “Just kidding. It’s okay to splurge every once in a while.”

  Edsel’s mouth was already full of pie and ice cream. He mumbled in agreement.

  “It’s nice when we sit down together for a meal like this. We should do it more often.”

  “Well, you’re always so busy running this place,” he said. “You ought to hire somebody to help you manage it.”

  “Me? What about you? If you’d hire another mechanic, you wouldn’t have to work seven days a week.”

  “Folks don’t trust anybody else to work on their cars. That’s why they bring them to me. They don’t want some green kid tricking around under the hood.”

  “I know.”

  They finished their desserts.

  “Angie?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”

  “What is it?”

  “Well, you know that we’ve been friends for a long time.”

  “Forever.”

  “Yeah. And you know I like spending time with you.”

  “Sure. Me too.”

  “Well…”

  There was only one couple on the dance floor, doing the Texas Two-Step. It’s a dance that involves quick, precise movements with your partner, and spinning counterclockwise around the floor. Sometimes the woman hangs onto the man with her right hand by putting a couple of fingers through one of his belt loops. Usually, he’s wearing blue jeans, so the belt loops are strong.

  But perhaps this particular belt loop had already seen too much action. It ripped loose, causing the woman to lose her balance. Her partner tripped. Then they tripped on each other, unable to catch themselves. Finally, they fell on top of a table. The top broke off its base, and tipped downward, sending plates of food airborne. People at the nearby tables gasped.

  Angie jumped up, and ran over to help. “Is everybody okay?”

  The man helped his dance partner get up. “Be careful, Honey, there’s gravy all over the floor.”

  The two women that had been sitting at the table were now standing, looking at the dinner they had just begun to eat, strewn across the dance floor.

  “I’m so sorry. We’ll cook you up a fresh dinner right away. I’m buying tonight. And I’ll even throw in a dessert.”

  “Thanks, Angie. But you don’t have to do that. We’ll pay for our own dinner.”

  “No, no. I insist.”

  By the time she had things under control, and went back to her table, Edsel was gone.

  “Shelly, I’m gonna walk over to Edsel’s. I’ll be back in just a few minutes.”

  The shop door was locked. Edsel never locked up the shop while he was inside. So, she walked around back to his house. She knocked a few times, but he didn’t answer. Maybe he went for a walk, she thought.

  She headed back to the restaurant, curious about what Edsel wanted to tell her. They would have time to talk tomorrow, on the way to Ralph’s birthday party.

  **********

  “Hey, Blondie Boobs, come give me a lick.” The eighteen year-old winked at Sondra, and laughed with his buddies. He was the tallest in the group.

  Sondra was leading her band toward the stage to get ready for their performance. She told them to go on without her. She would join them in a few minutes.

  She strutted up to the boy, and gave him a sexy smile. “So, you want a piece of me?”

  “Well, sure,” he said, struggling to sustain his cockiness. “You’re hot.”

  His buddies were clearly impressed with their fearless leader.

  “Come with me,” she said, as she took his hand. Then she turned back, and leaned in close to his friends, to speak confidentially. They gathered around her. “Don’t worry boys—I’ll try not to make him too sore.” She led him away.

  “Go, Ryan,” said one of his buddies.

  Sondra peeked into the girl’s bathroom, and saw that it was unoccupied. She yanked him inside, and took him to a stall, pushed him in forcefully, and got in with him. Then she closed and locked the door. She could see the excitement in his eyes. And the fear.

  “Let’s see what you’ve got to offer.” She ripped his shirt open, and a couple of buttons popped off. “Oh, very nice.” She massaged his chest with both hands. “How does that feel?”

  “Good. Real good.”

  She worked her right hand down to his crotch.

  Ryan moaned. He was no longer worried about whether somebody might catch them. He wasn’t worried about anything.

  She rubbed him gently between the legs, and then held him in the palm of her hand—like a couple of big grapes. “How’s this?”

  He
tried to speak, but nothing decipherable came out.

  “And how about this?” She clamped down hard.

  He tried to push her away, but she squeezed even tighter. “Please, stop!”

  “Have you learned your lesson?” If he gave the wrong answer, she would use both hands to crush him with all her might, until his hanging fruit burst wide open.

  Tears ran down both cheeks. “Yes, Ma’am.”

  “Tell me what you’ve learned.”

  “Could you let go first?”

  She loosed her grip—slightly. “Tell me what you’ve learned.”

  “Not to mess with you.”

  “Good. And what else?”

  “Not to mess with any woman?”

  “Right. No matter…”

  Ryan had no idea what she wanted him to say.

  She tried again. “No matter…”

  “No matter how hot she is?”

  “Good. And no matter how…”

  “Ugly?”

  She clamped down hard, and he thought he was about to pass out. He prayed he would pass out.

  “What?” he said. “What do you want me to say?”

  “Never mind.” She released her grip, and pushed him down on the toilet seat.

  As soon as she was gone, he stood up, and pulled down his pants to check the damage. To his amazement, everything was still intact, and he was not bleeding.

  Sondra had left the stall door ajar. And Ryan was still in the process of examining himself when a girl pushed the door open, and started to walk into the stall. But when she saw him there, bent over, touching himself, she screamed and ran out of the bathroom.

  That’s okay, he thought. Wait until he told the guys about what he had done with the hot lead singer in the girl’s bathroom. He’d be a legend—as long as his story didn’t get back to Sondra. Oh, he’d still be a legend. He’d just be dead…or castrated.

  If given a choice, he’d opt for dead.

  13 - NIGHT RIDE

  When Angie had walked over to Edsel’s house after the dance accident and discovered he was not at home, she had assumed he’d gone for a walk. It was not unusual to see him walking the streets after dark. She had encouraged him to get a dog so that people would be less likely to think he was up to no good. But most of the neighbors knew him, and were not the least concerned.

  However, this was not a night for walking. Edsel had some serious thinking to do, and that called for a long drive. He’d checked the headlights and taillights before backing out of his attached two-car garage. It had been quite a while since he’d taken his convertible out at night. It was an orange and white 1958 Edsel Citation two-door.

  He drove out of Orange via Highway 87, passing through Bridge City on his way to Port Arthur. It reminded of the many nights he’d made this trip two decades earlier. Back then, he would take 87 all the way down to Bolivar Peninsula, across the ferry to Galveston. On some parts of ‘Beach Road’ you could actually steer your car right onto the beach, and drive straight into the water—if you were crazy enough. Edsel would never have done that. He had been extremely depressed during that time, as Angie was about to marry Clifford Silverstern. But not enough to drown himself or his beautiful car.

  Back in the 1980’s, once Edsel had made it to Galveston he would take I-45 to Interstate 10, and then head back to Orange. The entire trip took about six hours. He wished he could follow that same route tonight. But Beach Road was now gone—or, at least a big portion of it. That road had been there since the Civil War. It had been damaged and repaired many times. But when Hurricane Jerry came through in 1989, it was the last straw. Beach Road has been closed ever since.

  So, there would be no long drive along the beach listening to the waves. No relaxing ride on the Bolivar Ferry. The ferry is still there, but he would have had to take the detour to get to there. It just wasn’t the same.

  Instead, he planned to simply drive the triangle. The cities of Port Arthur, Beaumont, and Orange outline the area known as The Golden Triangle. He wasn’t sure how many revolutions it would take.

  Edsel knew Greg was right. He needed to go ahead and tell Angie how he really felt about her. When Angie’s divorce had become final, he knew it was too soon to say anything. He needed to give her some time. Then, after about six months, when Angie seemed completely over the marriage and the divorce, Edsel considered bringing it up—until Clifford started calling and coming by nearly every day, trying to get her back. So, Edsel had continued to wait.

  He tried not to dwell on the fact that they could have had all those years together. Going to bed with her every night. Not just for the sex. When you love someone as deeply as he loved Angie, the physical part could be fantastic. Mind-blowing. But as much as he wanted to make love to her, he also wanted to just sleep in the same bed with her. Wake up every morning with her.

  Edsel loved working on cars, but he would have been lost without his daily dose of Angie. Even during the years she was married to Clifford, Edsel still got to see her a few minutes every day.

  But that wasn’t enough anymore. It didn’t have to be enough—if he would just tell her he loved her. And that he wanted to marry her. He felt a chill run up his spine. He had not said it in years—even to himself. But it was true. Edsel Torkman wanted to marry Angie Silverstern with all his heart.

  Tomorrow would be the day. He would tell her before they went to Ralph’s birthday party.

  **********

  “Look at them,” said Billy-Eye. “They’re all pushing and shoving, trying to get right up close to the stage.”

  “Somebody might get hurt,” said Craig. “Maybe we’d better break it up.”

  “I don’t think we could, even if we wanted to. And believe me—we don’t want to. This is why they came.”

  It was 10:55 PM, and Orange Puke was nearly at the end of their second set. The Buttard boys had calculated that scheduling the first set at 7:00 would get the kids there early, and the second set at 10:00 would keep them hanging around. Nobody wanted to miss the final song of the night—Orange Puke’s signature song: “Puking My Guts Out (All Over You).”

  A few of the kids were wearing caps. One girl was in a raincoat. But most appeared ready and willing to bear the full brunt of the inevitable vomit shower. It might as well have been real vomit as far as many mothers were concerned. Those orange stains would never come out in the wash.

  “I know how they do it,” yelled a 14-year-old boy into his friend’s ear.

  “How?”

  “Remember last night when they tilted their heads back?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s when they did it. That’s when they poured the stuff in their mouths.”

  “No. We would have seen that.”

  “I’m telling you. Watch them. They must have a bottle hidden under their coats.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  The song was almost over. The three guitarists stepped to the edge of the stage, as they swung their guitars to their backs.

  “Okay. Watch,” shouted the boy. “Here they go.”

  The three women tilted their heads back. Then they hurled on top of the crowd. Girls screamed. Boys yelled. Everyone scattered.

  “Yuk,” said one of the girls.

  “Isn’t it cool?” Her friend wiped the orange goo off her own face.

  “This place is a mess,” said Billy-Eye. “Worse than last night. We’ve got coke and popcorn and candy wrappers all over the floor. And now we’ve got puke.” He looked around. “And I think that over there is real puke.”

  “But it’s worth it. Right?” Craig smiled proudly.

  “I hope so,” said Billy-Eye.

  “Definitely,” said Lenny as he walked up. We’re nearly out of candy. And we had a ton of it. We’ll have to make a run to Sam’s tomorrow, so we’ll have some for tomorrow night.”

  “How about the video games?” said Billy-Eye.

  “I don’t how much we’ve taken in, but the kids have been playing them non-stop.
So, I think we’re good,” said Lenny.

  “I just hope this vomit gimmick doesn’t wear off too soon,” said Billy-Eye. “When the kids get tired the band throwing up on them we’ll find out if they actually like their music.”

  **********

  Greg was sitting on their hotel room bed in his underwear when Cynthia emerged from the bathroom. He assumed she would slither out into the dimly lit room wearing her most skimpy lingerie. So, he was surprised to see her in one of his Oxford dress shirts.

  “Let’s play a little game,” she said.

  “Okay.” The way she looked, he would have done anything she asked. Even if it was something crazy, like: walk down to the truck stop and get me the shoe of a truck driver. Hopefully it wouldn’t be that. But Greg could already picture the big guy chasing him down the hotel hallway wearing only one shoe.

  “You can be the student, and I’ll be the teacher.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.” It sounded much easier than going after that shoe.

  “Greg, you’ve been a very bad boy.” She pulled a chair away from the table and slid it to a corner of the room. “So, you must be punished.”

  “I understand, Miss Cynthia.”

  “You’re going to have to sit here in the corner for a while.”

  “For how long, Miss Cynthia?”

  “I’ll let you know when your time is up. Now come over here.”

  Greg walked to the chair and sat down. “I really like your shirt, Miss Cynthia.”

  “Thanks. Would you like to see it up close?”

  “Yes, Ma’ma. Very much.”

  Cynthia sat down on Greg’s lap, facing him. “It’s a nice fabric isn’t it?”

  “I think so. It’s a little hard to see in here.”

  “Yes. It is kinda dark. Tell me if you can see this.” She unbuttoned the shirt and opened it.

  “Oh, Miss Cynthia. I really like this fabric.” Greg kissed her on the neck and began to work his way downward.

  Then they heard another woman’s voice. It almost sounded like she was in the room with them. They suddenly realized they were close to the door that opened into the adjoining room.

  It was a young woman voice, speaking in perfect monotone. “Oh, Baby, you’re so good. Keep going. Yeah, Baby. That’s right.”