Blue Bloods of Bois D’Arc

by Brown,Dick

  “Roger, can’t you at least spare me an hour this afternoon at Neiman Marcus to pick out our wardrobe for the cruise to Italy?” Cass asked her fiancé.

  “Princess, I told you I have to finalize some details that are holding up our newest club acquisition this afternoon. Why can’t your mother go with you? She picked out everything else for our wedding,” Roger said sarcastically.

  “Be nice. This is the most important thing in her life. She’s been planning it since I was ten years old.” Cass paused, then turned on her sexy charm. She pressed herself against him and said almost in a whisper, “Can’t you let your lawyer friend Larry handle it, please?”

  “Larry is handling it, but I still need to be there,” Roger said apologetically. “Let me call Larry to meet me there in twenty minutes. Maybe we can finish early enough for me to go with you.” Roger stepped into the kitchen, picked up the wall phone, and punched in Larry’s number, holding down the switch hook out of Cass’s line of sight.

  “Hey, Larry. Something’s come up and we have to meet with the owner sooner than I planned. Can you be there in twenty minutes? Thanks, Larry, see you then.” Roger released the switch hook and hung up. “The business is going really well. Don’t you want it to succeed so we can live in that beautiful brick Tudor house in Highland Park?”

  “Of course I do. But we don’t have to live in Highland Park. There are plenty of nice areas we can live in. It doesn’t have to be the most expensive neighborhood in Dallas.”

  “Nothing’s too good for my princess,” Roger said and gave her a quick kiss. He gently squeezed her on his way out the door. “I’ll be back by two or two-thirty at the latest, okay?”

  “Thank you. Be on time so we can avoid the rush hour traffic,” she called futilely after him as he pulled away, squealing the tires of his graduation gift to himself: a new silver Porsche 911 Targa with the hard top removed.

  Two-thirty came and went. Roger was a no-show. Furious, Cass paced the living room floor. She had called the number he left her, but there was no answer. By the time he finally arrived at four-thirty, Cass had worked herself into an emotional meltdown. The instant he came through the front door, she pounced.

  “Where the hell have you been?” she screamed.

  “Look, I told you I have a business to run and that comes first. I got tied up longer than I planned. There was an issue with some of the bar equipment that had to be worked out.”

  “Yeah, sure. You come in here smelling like a brewery with your tie loose and top button open and you expect me to believe that?”

  “Here’s what you have to believe. I’m in charge here. Do you understand that? I have a business to run and can’t be running around all over Dallas for stuff you and your drill-sergeant mother have all day to do. And another thing, princess, you don’t tell me when or who I can drink with.” With that said, Roger did an about face and headed for the front door.

  “Where are you going? You’re drunk, come back here! This conversation isn’t finished,” Cass shouted at his back.

  “Oh yeah, it’s finished and I’m going out. I’ll be back when you’ve calmed down,” he said and slammed the door behind him.

  Cass collapsed into sobs on the couch. They’d had fights during their whole relationship, but always made up with amazing sex. She blamed this one on the pressure of the wedding and his dislike of his pushy soon-to-be mother-in-law. She knew Roger wouldn’t be back any time soon. She wiped her eyes and picked herself up. “Two can play this game,” she said aloud and headed to the liquor cabinet. With a bottle of bourbon in one hand and a tall water glass filled with ice in the other, she planted herself on the couch and began toasting all the qualities of their relationship, good and bad.

  “Here’s to the princess from little old Bois D’Arc, who gets everything she wants, well, most of the time. Here’s to the man I’m going to marry, who really knows how to please a woman, most of the time.”

  The toasts followed one after the other until she was a bawdy drunk.

  “A toast to my fucking handsome knight,” she rambled on, “whose charm and money captured his hot little trophy princess with his most valuable assssset, a big dick,” she said with a wicked giggle.

  With that toast, she emptied the last drops of bourbon and passed out on the couch with her arm dangling to the floor still clutching the empty bottle.

  When Roger arrived a little before midnight, he was high and reeked of marijuana. He and Larry had finished the legal work in just a few minutes and spent the rest of the evening smoking pot and snorting a few lines of coke. They finished the evening watching two of his stoned waitresses performing a striptease on the bar. When the jukebox stopped, the two lawyers climbed onto the bar and laid the naked dancers.

  Roger stumbled across the dimly lit living room toward the bedroom. Focusing as best he could, he caught sight of Cass’s barefoot body passed out on the couch, stone-cold drunk. Should I pick her up and take her to bed, he asked himself? They always had great sex making up after a fight. But he realized he was too wasted to carry her to the bedroom.

  The longer he stood staring at her bare feet and moving up her shapely legs to the miniskirt barely covering her ass, the more aroused he became. Why not right here, he thought? Roger carefully rolled her over onto her back, gently hiked her miniskirt up above her waist and slipped her bikini panties off. She rolled her head to the side and made some mumbling sounds he couldn’t understand, but didn’t wake up. Having difficulty with his balance, he sat down and slowly removed his jeans and jockey shorts. Kneeling down beside her, he gently massaged her little pink button until she was wet and aroused, arching her back even in her alcoholic stupor. Roger inserted himself into her. Cass semiconsciously responded to his slow rhythmic thrusts with undulating hips accompanied by increasingly guttural moans until she came to orgasm. Roger was too high to finish. All was quiet, except for the heavy breathing of the two slumbering bodies lying in a heap.

  Cass roused first, slowly glanced at her watch, and then in a panic called out, “Roger . . . Roger, wake up!” She shook him by the shoulders and attempted to push him off her. “We only have an hour before we’re supposed to meet my family at the Adolphus for breakfast before they leave for Bois D’Arc. Get off me. Come on, wake up.” She managed to slip out from under his tall athletic frame and briskly patted his cheeks trying to get a response.

  “Stop hitting me,” he grunted.

  “You promised you would go with me. Get moving, we have to hurry.”

  He slowly pulled up and propped on his elbow. “You were really good last night. I thought you were too out of it after all that booze. I just couldn’t resist your sexy body, seeing you lying there. Maybe I should go out with the guys more often.”

  “I don’t remember,” Cass said sharply. “Now, shut up and get in the shower.” She grabbed Roger by the arm and pulled him up and marched him into the bathroom. She turned on the hot water until the shower was like a steam bath while she finished undressing.

  “I’m not getting in there,” he mumbled as Cass pulled his shirt over his head and shoved him into the hot stream of water and held him there.

  “Ouch, ouch, ouch, it’s scalding.”

  “Go ahead and scream, that’s what you get for taking advantage of me last night.”

  Adolphus Hotel

  “Well, Cass, it’s almost here. The day we’ve been waiting for. Your grandpa and I . . . and your father, too, of course, are so proud of you. He just doesn’t show his feelings, but he is so looking forward to walking you down the aisle.”

  “Really, where is Daddy?”

  “He had to go back home after we finished shopping last night. Had a meeting with the country club board about upgrading the golf course and clubhouse in hopes of attracting some golf tournaments next year.”

  After a light breakfas
t of juice and dry toast, Cass rose from her chair and announced, “I hope you don’t mind, but Roger and I have some shopping of our own to do. I need a few things for the cruise.”

  “Well, why didn’t you wait until the last minute while you’re at it?” Margaret snapped. “If I wasn’t organizing this wedding, it never would happen. You two run along then, but we need to get together and go over everything from start to finish before the wedding Saturday. That’s tomorrow you know. I’ll call you this evening. Please plan to be there.”

  “Okay, Mom,” Cass said, trying to suppress a look of dread. “The breakfast was delightful. Have a good day and we will talk to you later. Tell Daddy I’m sorry I missed him,” Cass said in a much friendlier voice as she and Roger excused themselves.

  Chapter 27

  The wedding

  The beautiful gothic structure was the latest and most impressive in the 165-year history of the First United Methodist Church at that location. It was a downtown Dallas landmark. The sanctuary was full to capacity and draped in floral arrangements for what could have been a royal coronation. Roger’s aunt and uncle, his only family, and the Worthingtons were seated. Roger and his best man were in place. The massive pipe organ that had played a soft prelude suddenly bellowed the first notes of Wagner’s Lohengrin. The audience rose with a loud whooshing sound and all eyes turned to the radiant bride beaming behind her veil on the arm of her proud and smiling father, the only role he’d played in the entire process.

  Cass glided effortlessly down the aisle, displaying her original Oscar de la Renta design as if she were on a fashion runway. The popular young de la Renta had launched his own label after successfully designing the First Lady’s famous wardrobe during her White House years. Nothing was too good for Randolph Worthington III’s granddaughter. She was his blue-blood legacy.

  The original airy design was a beautiful, white, sweetheart-neckline tulle ball gown with a corset back. Her bodice and dropped waist created a stunning silhouette with sequin detail sparkled that glistened with each step. Her flowing fifteen-foot train embellished with lace floral patterns fanned out and seemed to float down the aisle.

  The couple exchanged their own written vows before a chancel glowing from hundreds of candles staged for the reduced-lighting ceremony. The vows were sealed with a kiss and Mr. and Mrs. Roger Helms quickly exited the church. A double line of friends showered them with rice as the bells in the beautiful gothic tower pealed melodious tones skyward in the early evening, announcing the newest addition to Dallas society.

  The reception

  Thunderous applause greeted the bridal couple as they made their entrance to the Adolphus Grand Ballroom. The scripted reception was strictly Dallas Blue Book protocol orchestrated by Margaret, who’d dispatched a troop of photographers and videographers to record every minute of the event. After the couple waltzed a few turns around the dance floor, guests joined them. Cass looked around the room for her father, who was to have the next dance.

  “Do you see Daddy anywhere?” she asked Roger.

  “No, your mother probably has him locked away somewhere.”

  “Be nice, she wouldn’t do that on my big day.”

  “Wanna bet? I don’t put anything past her. I think I see him already seated by himself at the head table.”

  Roger guided them through the crowded floor to the head table. Cass called to her father, and he rose to approach the dance floor. Before he reached Cass, he was intercepted by Margaret who instructed him to go to the kitchen for some item that she needed.

  “Mother, what are you doing? Get one of the waiters to get what you need. He has the next dance with me,” Cass said and shot a piercing glare at her mother. She took her father’s arm and they swirled around the floor to the lilting strains of The Blue Danube Waltz. It took her back to when she was a little girl and stood on his shoes as he danced them around their living room to the same beautiful waltz.

  The dance floor was cleared after a few numbers and everyone was ushered to their seats for a full three-course dinner. A drum roll interrupted the rumbling conversation of two hundred guests waiting to be served.

  Randolph Worthington III stood up. “I want to thank all my dear friends for joining our family in the celebration of the grand occasion of my granddaughter Cass’s wedding.” He dipped his head, acknowledging the polite applause. Then he raised his flute of champagne. “A toast to my granddaughter, whom I love with all my heart, and the young man she has chosen as her life partner. I wish a life full of happiness and may there be little Worthing . . . forgive me, little Helmses in their future—near future, I hope. I’m not getting any younger, my dear.”

  The toast brought laughter and a round of “Hear, hear” from the celebrants as crystal flutes of Moet & Chandon Imperial Champagne were raised and tasted.

  “And now please enjoy yourselves and partake of the finest food in Dallas. Thank you again for honoring us with your presence. Enjoy your dinner and your evening.”

  More toasts by the best man, maid of honor, and others were made in the couple’s honor as dinner was being served. By the end of the hour, dinner had been served and cleared. The orchestra resumed its repertoire of the traditional music Margaret had selected while Champagne flowed steadily.

  Margaret had reached a compromise with Cass to have a small traditional orchestra play for the first hour. That would allow all the social register and political Who’s Who guests to make their appearance and leave discreetly—but not until making sure their photographs were taken with the hosts, to appear in the Dallas Herald’s Sunday paper. The rest of the evening younger guests could kick off their shoes and get down with Cass’s favorite rock band, Creedence Clearwater Revival, flown in for the special one-night gig.

  Most of the guests had straggled away by midnight, leaving the dance floor strewn with confetti, food, spilled drinks, a few odd spike heels and at least one man passed out face down on a table. The band was gone and the cleanup crew was working.

  “My feet hurt,” Cass whispered to Roger as they stood in the middle of the dance floor swaying without moving their feet to music only they could hear in their heads. Her arms were locked around his neck and he had a two-handed grip on her well-toned bottom. “I’m drunk and horny, let’s take this party to our room.”

  Chapter 28

  Bois D’Arc, two years later

  The news of the spy plane shot down by Russian jet fighters two years before was never publicly revealed by the Pentagon or State Department. It put the United States in an awkward position in the Cold War propaganda battle. The government didn’t want to admit they had around-the-clock spy planes on the Soviet-Armenian border. The official limited-circulation report released within the Pentagon accused the Russian of sending out false beacons to draw the aircraft off course to shoot it down. Russia denied the event ever happened.

  Meanwhile, Bois D’Arc continued to grow and prosper. Because of the program’s secrecy, no one knew the aircraft had been modified and equipped with surveillance equipment right in their own backyard by Jack Workman’s company, RJ Systems. Nor did the city know one of their own was on the crew of the ill-fated aircraft.

  The family was kept in the dark except to be told that Rod was involved in a highly classified exercise. Many months after the event, the family was finally notified that Rod was a member of the crew on a missing aircraft. They were assured by the State Department that a thorough investigation had been launched and they would be notified as soon as there was any news.

  The city never knew that RJ Systems, the largest employer in the area, was involved with the mysterious disappearance of the Air Force aircraft. Even though the company had contributed to the rapid growth of the once-pastoral Bois D’Arc community, the government withheld the truth from all but the top management of RJ Systems.

  Jack felt that the way old man W
orthington treated Rod’s relationship with Cass was partially responsible for him joining the Air Force. It irritated Jack that his company had made Randolph Worthington III a much richer man whose bank now rivaled those in Dallas with its growing assets. The city fathers expressed their gratitude with their low corporate tax structure. But Jack still wasn’t accepted in the blue-blood social circles, nor did he want to be.

  Any effort by Jack to communicate with the Air Force or State Department on behalf of Rod’s family to find out if Rod was alive or being held prisoner met a stone wall.

  “Senator Langtree’s office,” answered a young intern staffer. “How may I help you?”

  “I would like to speak to the Senator.”

  “I’m sorry, sir, he’s in a committee meeting and won’t be back before noon. May I take a message for Senator Langtree?”

  “Let me speak to Miss Titsworth then.”

  “I’ll transfer you. Thank you for calling.”

  Rachael answered on the first ring. “Hello, Jack. Harry’s over on the hill. What’s on your mind?”

  “I’m a little pissed at all the stonewalling I’m getting about the Russian shoot-down two years ago with Rod on board. You remember the kid I brought up a few years back? He was a crew member.”

  “Oh my Lord. He was such a sweet boy.”

  “Yeah, well, nobody in the State Department or Air Force knows jack shit and nobody will tell me anything. I want to know if he didn’t survive the crash or if he’s being held prisoner. Those assholes over at State are totally useless. I got passed around like a drunk Aggie coed on bonfire night. I want Harry to cash in some of his chips over at the Pentagon to find out what really happened. That boy’s mother is sick to death not knowing if he’s dead or alive . . . and so am I,” Jack said somberly.