Jarillo Sunset

by Constance Bretes

  Char snapped her gaze up to meet Vincent’s eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, your father is totally focused on his gambling and drinking. He has no room for friends and family, except to occasionally call you. He lives and breathes his gambling. You’ve been here what, two years? You don’t have much in terms of friendship, you practically live and breathe real estate, you pull double-duty by working at the office and at home, and when you think about it, Char, isn’t real estate a bit of a gamble too? I mean, instead of gambling at a casino, you’re gambling in real estate. I’m sure your father is a very lonely person, and I think you’re a very lonely person too. Granted, you don’t do the things that are destructive to your body as your father does, but there’s that single-minded focus that I wonder if you share with your father, and that’s probably the reason he only has contact with you, because deep down inside you understand what he’s going through.”

  Char had never thought about any of this, and she wasn’t sure what she thought about his analysis. She was under a lot of pressure right now to sell the most homes because of the possibility that she could lose her job, but according to his theory, that could just be a smoke screen for her. No, she didn’t like his analysis.

  “I’m not sure I agree or like your analysis of me, Vincent.” Char flicked a gaze over him.

  “Well, no offense. I didn’t say it to hurt your feelings. It was just an observation, that’s all.”

  “I guess we’re all entitled to our opinions, and you can certainly have yours. Right now I’m focused on real estate because I’ve got a one month deadline, or rather, less than a month to make the most sales, and it’s not coming easy for me. I don’t know how my competitor’s doing, and all sorts of mysterious disasters keep happening at the office with his stuff, and he keeps blaming me.”

  “I understand that. You’ve got that added pressure on you right now.” Vincent paused. “Has anything else happened since you told me about someone putting stuff on his papers?”

  “Yes.” She filled him in on the incident with the shredded papers, Mike accusing her of writing bogus telephone messages and messing around with his appointments, and her tripping and spilling her latte on him. “I don’t know who the hell is messing with him but, as much as I think he deserves it, I wish they would stop. It’s not helping me at all.”

  Vincent sat with his elbows on the table, his hands clasped together in front of his mouth. She could tell he’d been trying to hold back a smile as she’d explained about the coffee spilling. Then he started to chuckle, and Char couldn’t help but join in.

  “I did tell him I’d pay for his dry cleaning,” she said.

  “Doesn’t he schedule his own appointments and makes his own contacts?” Vincent asked, still smirking a bit.

  “I don’t know what the hell the deal is with him. He should be taking and receiving his own calls, making his own appointments, and not having a receptionist do it. To me, that would be the first place I’d look at, and from what I gathered, he used to date the receptionist, so I wonder if she’s trying to get him back or something. You know, Vincent, this is not the only thing that I put up with. Last Monday I walked in and one of the agents said ‘Here comes Ms. Betty Boobs’.”

  Vincent looked at Char aghast, and his mouth dropped opened. “You’re kidding me,” he said.

  “No, I’m not. I was already madder than hell with the sheriff’s department, and when he said that, I told him that he was damn lucky to be working there, because if it was a place that had an EEO officer, his ass would be fired by now. My boss, Don Stillwater, came out right after my outburst and he walked up to the agent and said, ‘She’s absolutely right. Knock off the harassment’.”

  “Too little, too late,” Vincent said.

  “Yeah, you’re right. He should have put a stop to it two years ago,” Char agreed.

  “You just said you were angry with the sheriff. What’s going on with them?”

  “You know, I tried to do the right thing. I received a call from Minnie, the victim’s sister, with some, what I thought were important time elements related to Dennis. I think I told you that I had talked to your brother.”

  “Yeah, I remember that.”

  “The sheriff called me back and implied that I had given that information to them in order to take the focus off of me. He also asked if I had other phones, like disposable phones, because Dennis had been talking to someone with a disposable phone that used the same cell towers that I did. I’m sorry, Vincent, the sheriff may be your friend, but he was rather rude to me, and I got angry at him. He pretty much told me I was under suspicion and he believed that I had something to do with this murder.”

  “Well, what are the odds that you would walk into a house and find a dead body, only to discover it was someone you know? I can see where it might be misconstrued, or at the very least, raise an eyebrow. Give it a little time, and I’m sure they will work it out and find out that you had absolutely nothing to do with it.”

  “Maybe so, but my life is complicated enough without adding Sheriff Asshole and Deputy No Personality on my case.”

  Vincent gave a small smile, his eyes slightly amused.

  After they finished dinner, Vincent went to the refrigerator and pulled out a key lime pie.

  “Oh my gosh, did you make that?” Char asked, staring at the yummy-looking pie.

  “Yep, I made it from scratch.” Vincent reached into the silverware drawer and pulled out a pie cutter. He cut a slice and put it on the plate for Char and then put one on a plate for himself.

  Char took her fork and cut into the pie and tasted it. When she bit into the piece, she said, “This is scrumptious.”

  Vincent smiled.

  When they’d finished dessert, they gathered the dishes, rinsed them out in the sink, and placed them in the dishwasher. Vincent covered the left-over lasagna with saran wrap and placed it in the refrigerator.

  Char grabbed her purse and walked to the door, and Vincent followed behind her. She turned to say good night. She wanted very badly to kiss him. Should she? Would things end with just a kiss? Her mind was telling her to go on and leave, but her heart wanted badly to be in his arms.

  She decided to listen to her heart. She stepped closer to him and stood on her toes to kiss him. He immediately bent down to meet her lips and put his hands on her arms to ease her down on her feet.

  His lips sent a jolt of fiery sensations all through her body. His tongue gently parted her lips and slipped inside to explore the recesses of her mouth. He wrapped his arms around her, and then slowly backed up to the couch with her still in his arms. He laid her on the couch, and then came down half over her with his body and continued to kiss her mouth, her jaw, and her neck. She could feel his warm hands roaming her arms and her back, sending off sparks of ecstasy that curled her toes in her shoes. He managed to unbutton her blouse to expose her cleavage. He reached around the back and unhooked her bra and lifted it up, and her breasts sprang free.

  “Hmm, they are just beautiful,” Vincent said as he kissed the skin leading toward her nipples.

  She let out a gasp as he put his mouth over her nipple and kissed and teased it until it marbled. He moved to her other breast and did the same. The pleasure of his lips on her breasts was like having an orgasm without him even entering her, she could only imagine what it would be like when they reached that point.

  She wanted to see more of him, so she reached over his shoulders and grabbed his shirt and began to gather the material in her hands, pulling the shirt up. She was about ready to pull it up over his head when there was a loud bang at his front door, followed by several impatient rings of the doorbell.

  Vincent sat up and looked around. “What the hell?” he mumbled.

  Char felt instant shock at the sudden withdrawal of Vincent’s body on top of hers.

  Someone continued to ring and bang on the front door. Vincent stood up and pulled his shirt down. Char pulled her bra over her breasts and snapped
it in place, and then buttoned up her blouse.

  Vincent went to the door and opened it. Standing outside was Tammie, his ex-wife, sobbing and crying for Vincent to let her in. He unlocked the screen door and said with a snarl, “What do you want, Tammie?”

  Tammie walked in and looked fleetingly over at Char, and then with fresh tears, laid her head on Vincent’s shoulder and started sobbing.

  “My dad... He’s…had a heart attack,” she said between sobs. “They…don’t know…if he’ll…make it. Oh, Vinnie…I can’t lose…my dad.” She sobbed harder on his chest. Vincent stood there looking like he didn’t really know what to do.

  Char grabbed her purse and walked quietly by them to the foyer. Vincent looked at her questioningly and she mouthed the words I’ll talk to you later.

  Vincent gave her a slight nod, one she would have never caught otherwise, and she walked out the door.

  Char was disappointed. She wasn’t sure where they would have ended up if they hadn’t been interrupted again, but she wanted him. If he could cause her emotions to go haywire and her body to sing just by kissing her breasts, she could only imagine what he could do with her in bed.

  Chapter 12

  Char received a call the first thing in the morning from Rosie and Jonathan accepting the counteroffer from Mr. and Mrs. Schneider. After she got off the phone with them, she put her right hand in a fist and jerked it in a downward motion. “Yeah,” she said quietly to herself. One more sale.

  She called Mr. and Mrs. Schneider and advised them that their offer had been accepted and she would be contacting the bank to start the loan process. They were excited and happy about the quick turnaround on the sale of their house and praised Char heartily for a job well done. She called in to her boss and left him a voice mail telling him that she had another sale and would be in to the office later in the day.

  She got into her car and drove over to meet Mr. and Mrs. Gossard at the Jones’s home on San Juan in Hobbs. She introduced herself to them. “Hello, I’m Char Johnson.”

  “I’m Floyd Gossard,” the man said, shaking her hand.

  “I’m Wilma Gossard.” The woman smiled as she shook Char’s hand.

  “Okay, are we ready to go in and see the house?” Char asked.

  “Yes, we are,” both Mr. and Mrs. Gossard said simultaneously.

  They walked to the door and Char pulled out her key and unlocked it. Mr. Gossard started right away asking questions about the house. Char answered all of the questions as she guided them through the house. During the walk-through, Char’s phone rang and she looked to see who it was. The number looked familiar to her.

  “Excuse me for a minute,” she said to the Gossards. She stepped back and away from them to take the call. “This is Char Johnson.”

  “Hello, Ms. Johnson, this is Mr. Shafer calling you back. We’ve decided that we will accept the counteroffer from Mrs. Sedewick for seventy-five thousand.”

  Char put her left hand in a fist, shook it in victory, and said, “Okay, I’ll give her a call today when I get to the office and then we’ll have you come in and fill out the paperwork for the bank and get the closing started. How does that sound?”

  “That sounds great. I’ll wait for your call.”

  Char snapped her cellphone shut and went back to where Mr. and Mrs. Gossard were and continued the walk-through. After the walk-through and the discussion of the asking price, Mr. and Mrs. Gossard said they would talk about it and then call Char later.

  As Char was driving in to the office, she received another call from a Mrs. Juanita Ortega, wanting to discuss the possibility of purchasing one of the lots for sale at Sunnyside subdivision. Char made arrangements to meet Mr. and Mrs. Ortega at the lots later that day.

  She walked into the office and went immediately to her cubicle. As she was turning on the computer to do some of her paperwork and contact the banks to get the loan applications, she noticed that Mike was in his cubicle but quiet. She wondered what that was all about, when her phone rang. She looked at the number and it was Vincent.

  She stood up and snapped her phone open. As she was walking outside, she said, “Hello, Vincent.”

  “Hi, Char.” Vincent’s voice was quiet and he sounded down. “How is your day going?”

  “Really well. I’ve got two sales pending and I’m meeting someone this afternoon at your subdivision to look at the lots. What’s going on with you?” she asked apprehensively.

  “First, I wanted to apologize for the interruption last night. Tammie’s father is pretty sick, and they don’t know if he’ll make it or not. Secondly, are you busy Friday night?”

  “No, not really,” she said softly.

  “Would you like to come over to the Apache White Eagle and listen to the band play? We’ll be playing in the alcove Friday night.”

  “Hmm, I’d like to hear you guys play,” she admitted, but she was unsure if she wanted to go into the establishment. “Um, I don’t know, Vincent. I mean, I’m not sure I want to go into the casino. Can I think about it?”

  “Yeah, sure. If you decide to come, we’ll be at the southern alcove, which is in the southwest corner of the building. I’ll leave your name with the security next to the stage area, so if you do come and want to come back and sit with the band when we take a break, just tell him your name and he’ll let you through.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  “He’s the only one that will have a red ID badge on his chest,” Vincent added.

  “Okay, I’ll think about it. If I don’t see you Friday night, I’ll see you Saturday morning, that is, if we’re still on for the Renaissance Festival.”

  “Yes, we’re still on for that. I’ll be by to pick you up about nine and we’ll go and get Rosie and Jonathan.”

  Chapter 13

  As Char left Friday morning to head into work, she received another call. “Char Johnson,” she said as she flipped her phone open.

  “Ms. Johnson, it’s Sheriff Turner.” His voice sounded more professional and less accusatory than it did a few days ago.

  “Yes, Sheriff,” Char said stiffly.

  “I wanted to let you know of the information we found from the toxicology report, and what we’ve turned up in our investigation. The toxicology report showed there were no drugs in Harrison’s body at the time of his death. The fingerprints that were around the glass that was broken next to the door came back with just his prints on it, which indicates to us that he broke into the house. I had deputies canvass the neighborhood and someone indicated that they may know who fired the shot that killed him. We are continuing to investigate this. It is looking more and more like a drug deal gone bad, even though the victim didn’t have any drugs in his system.”

  “So Sheriff, to use your own words, are you trying to get the focus off me and on to someone else?” she said icily.

  “What I’m trying to say is that we may have just had a break in the case, and what you’ve told us and the information that we gathered, it’s starting to make sense and come together. I thought I’d give you the heads-up on it.”

  “Thanks,” Char said, still scathingly. She decided she wasn’t going to trust him just yet. More twists and turns could be made in the case, and he could turn around and come back at her again.

  Char had been debating all day about whether to go to the casino to hear Vincent and the band play. She really did want to hear them, and she wanted some time with Vincent. It wasn’t like she hadn’t been in a casino before. She had gone into one with a former boyfriend once, but she hated the feeling she had when she was in it. She saw rows and rows of senior citizens dropping their pennies and nickels in the machines, and the machines just eating it all up. She saw high rollers spending ten thousand dollars at the drop of a hat. Everywhere she looked all she saw were people addicted or becoming addicted to gambling and the owners of the casinos walking off with millions, if not billions of dollars. She didn’t get any enjoyment out of going there and came out disgusted with her boyfriend at the time b
ecause he lost five hundred dollars.

  She also thought a lot about what Vincent had said last Wednesday night, about her possibly being a lot like her dad, and that maybe the realtor business was her ‘addiction’ and her ‘gambling.’ As much as she hated to admit it, she thought he did have a point. It seemed she was too busy to make friends. Just as her father was too busy gambling to think of family. In many ways, it seemed as if their lives were parallel.

  By the time she got to her apartment, she had decided she would go and listen to the band play, even though she dreaded hearing the cha-ching of the slot machines.

  She changed her clothes and put on a pair of tight-fitting black jeans, with a black tank top that had round, silver-colored rings going in and out of the material around the neckline. She put on a pair of stiletto boots that also had the silver-colored chain and rings around them. She left her hair cascading down her back and fastened a pair of large hoop earrings on her ears.

  She drove to the casino, and when she parked her car and got out, she felt a knot in the pit of her stomach. She wasn’t sure she was going to like this. She took a deep breath and walked inside the building. The noise was almost deafening from the bells going off and constant ringing.

  She walked up to the porter standing near the entranceway and asked, “Where is the southern alcove?”

  The porter pointed her in the direction and said, “See where it says Southside Bar?”

  “Yes, I see it.”

  “It’s right next to that bar.”

  “Okay, thank you.” Char meandered her way to the bar, watching people as she went. One could get a headache after being in here for a while.

  When she got to the bar she saw the alcove. There was a sign there that said that the band White Sands would be playing at eight o’clock. She looked at her watch and saw that it was seven-thirty. She found a place at the bar where she could sit down and wait.