She laughed, saying, "Well, excusseee me!”
“No reason to,” he answered with a wide grin.
Yvette wagged her head. “So, I guess your car is a European make, too?”
“No, it’s American made,” Kurt answered. “When it’s ready, I’ll reveal it to you, okay? It’ll be like seeing it for the first time at the dealership. New! And I’ll make sure you are my very first passenger.”
“I’m sure you will,” she said, beaming.
“I will,” he assured her, as he disarmed her with his boyish smile.
Chapter 12
Yvette knew a chance meeting was always possible. In many ways, it was outright inevitable. But she wasn’t counting on it happening today. She told herself that she could handle this.
Kurt had arrived at the Café and a tad earlier than usual. As a result, he happened upon her and her want to-be-love interest, Antwan, standing outside the restaurant talking.
Dismounting his bike, Kurt chained it to the nearest utility pole and approached the two sporting a warm smile while serving up a friendly greeting.
Feeling a little awkward, she introduced the two men to one another. Other than a slightly sarcastic and antagonistic comment by Antwan about Kurt needing to upgrade to a car, a real means of transportation, the two potential paramours said very little to one another after their introductions. Antwan departed shortly afterwards. And in her car!
What was that all about, Kurt fumed inside.
Now alone with him, she quickly reminded him that Antwan was just a close friend who simply dropped by to pick up her car to take home to perform maintenance work on it. With that understanding, the two went inside the restaurant to enjoy a quiet lunch.
“So you two go way back, huh?” Kurt asked, after cutting a piece of veal.
“You can say that,” she paused to say, then returned to chewing her Sea Bass, which had been cooked Cantonese Style.
“Is he married?”
“Antwan? Some time ago but not now. I don’t think he or his former wife was ready for marriage.”
“Oh,” Kurt nodded.
“Why did you ask?”
“I was just wondering.
Yvette scooped a spoonful of seasoned vegetables and gaze Kurt’s way but said nothing.
“So you two go out occasionally?”
“Only occasionally,” she answered, knowing he was justified in his probing line of questioning.
“What line of work is he into? I mean, is he an auto mechanic?”
“He knows a lot about cars, but he works for the electric company. He’s ambitious and wants to go into business for himself sometime this year.”
“What type of business?”
“He wants to bring back the tailor shops that used to be so prominent in the fifties and sixties.”
“Sounds interesting,” he murmured.
“Interesting that you asked.”
“Just curious, that’s all,” he came back.
“Are you sure that’s all,” Yvette said with a nervous grin.
“I’m sure.”
“Again, he’s just a friend, Kurt. Nothing more.”
“Are you sure that’s all?” he said, using her line of questioning on her.
Though she failed to respond, her lips parted with uncertainty.
Later in the day, she revisited the moment and with great interest, especially the moment the two pursuers shook hands. Though both had been all smiles, there was an air of competitive uneasiness between them, she had sensed. In a way, it felt kind of good, the attention she was getting. Nothing like a little friendly rivalry, she thought.
Whether it was by design or just plain coincidence, she noticed an increase in Antwan's phone calls and in his visits to her condo after his introduction to Kurt a week earlier. There was also an increase in his requests to take her out. “Men! Always competing with one another," she quipped.
As Juanita once told her, “Hell! It’s always about size and who was first with them. They want to see whose arm is bigger and whose penis is longer or who scored first.”
She didn’t bring this up with Kurt, but she noticed that whenever she mentioned Antwan's name, he would become withdrawn and less talkative. Was it envy, insecurity, or just unwarranted concern on his part, she pondered?
Nearly three weeks had passed since their first encounter at the Café and finally Yvette was going to get a chance to visit Kurt’s place, she mused, as she bathed herself then shampooed her hair. If it wasn’t for the fact that he ate lunch at the Café on a regular basis, she doubted they could have sustained a friendship at all, when you add to the mix, her work schedule and evening aerobics classes and doctorate course work on the weekends. Drying herself off, she threw on a robe and began the long arduous process of whipping her hair into shape. Afterwards, she dressed.
The two were scheduled to have lunch at his place first, and then visit the local outlet mall. There was a book-signing scheduled there involving one of her favorite authors and she had invited Kurt to come along.
Busy too, Kurt could not wait to impress Yvette with his newly discovered cooking skills. He wanted everything to be just right. After all, lunch had become an important ritual for them. Both had made it a point to meet for lunch at least three days out of the week at the Café, other times at neighboring eateries. Though the two were not seriously involved, according to them, their lunch dates were with such frequency that one could easily conclude, erroneously, that they were indeed just that - seriously involved. Only on two occasions did she cancel out due to other arrangements she had made with Antwan. As a matter of prudence, she had made it a point to tell him that Antwan often invited her out for lunch. This did not seem to bother Kurt. Not at first.
It was a warm and pleasant day to visit a new friend and bond, Yvette felt. It was a day filled with the promise of great expectation. And she couldn’t wait to get that rare glimpse inside the world Kurt lived in. Her mother had told her on numerous occasions that there was much that could be learned about a man, not necessarily in the type of house he lived in, but in his upkeep of it. A slob was a slob, whether the slob was a pauper or royalty, man or woman, mother always said.
Yvette drove the outer city route, according to the directions Kurt had provided her with, and was thankful for his preciseness and detailed annotations. The people she knew were not usually known for giving good directions. Her guy was an exception.
Pulling up into the RV resort, and in less time than she thought it would take, she drove around slowly until she came upon the lot she was looking for, parked her Corvette, and removed herself gracefully from it. Scanning the area, she took into view the long bus-style motorhome parked before her, which had the word Moonbeam scripted across the side in large blue print, just as he had told her. A small satellite dish sat on top. It was not what she had expected, which was the typical 26-foot travel-camper with the overhead cabin extension. And this was not your typical run-of-the-mill RV Park she thought she'd find, either.
To her surprise, the lots at this resort were immaculately cut and beautifully landscaped, just like the landscaping you’d find at an upscale vacation resort. There were tall oak and magnolia trees, tropical foliage, and sago and pigmy date palms about the area. Less than a hundred feet from the enclave of sleek looking motorhomes was a thick forest of eldarica and eastern white pine on several slopping hills. It was a splendid and scenic sight. Even the air seemed refreshing and charged, just like the atmosphere after an electrical storm.
Walking over to the door, she rang the buzzer and awaited Kurt's appearance. The door opened wide and the two greeted each other as if they were long lost friends and had not seen one another in years.
Sporting a radiant smile, Kurt invited her inside of his house on wheels. Once inside her mouth dropped, as she stopped in her tracks. “Oh man, this is awesome, Kurt!” she exclaimed.
She had never ventured inside a modern day RV before. As she could see, Kurt’s motorhome was mo
re spacious and luxurious and modern than she could have ever imagined. The place was definitely built for comfort and pleasure. Stepping aboard a luxury yacht for the very first time would produce the same elation she was feeling. No, this was no seagoing yacht but its quality and luxury was in no way diminished.
Kurt noticed her wonderment and offered her a grand tour. She jumped at the chance to see the rest of the RV.
There was the built-in 28" flat-screen color television at the front, above and to the right of the driver’s cockpit area, modern kitchen appliances, including a microwave oven and coffee maker, oak grain cabinets, a luxurious and spacious ceramic-tiled bathroom, with a combination bathtub and shower, a combination washer/dryer, a 15" Sony hi-definition television in the bedroom with a combination DVD/VCR player, and a 60 watt stereo system in the master bedroom. A built-in computer station was positioned nearby.
Taking her outside the RV, he showed her a pull out, top-of-the-line 80 watts audio/video entertainment system that featured a 22" HD television, which had been custom-built inside one of the storage compartments beneath the motorhome. It was used for picnics and other outdoor entertainment. This marvel on wheels also featured the latest Garmin global satellite positioning technology that was available on the market.
Like a little boy showing off his new toys, Kurt was happy to have her browse around and ask question upon question about his motorhome and its operation. After the tour they settled on the soft leather sofa.
“Man, this place is beyond what I’d ever imagined,” she said with a broad smile. “So, what are you? A former rock star or what?”
“Naah...just managed my money well and made a few good investments that’s all.”
“That’s right, you did tell me that you sold your home.”
“That’s right,” he answered, though not quite 100% true. He and Leslie had sold the house, but it was with his lotto winnings that he bought his RV.
“Man, I think I could live out of something like this.”
“It has its advantages, I must say,” Kurt replied.
“Whose photo is that?” she asked walking over to a coffee table.
“That’s my beloved grandmother. She lives up in Jersey. Over here is a photo of my deceased mother and father. It’s the only photo I have of them together.”
“And who are these cute little girls and whom I presume is their father?” she asked about the next 10” by 12” photo. “You know, he looks familiar.”
“They’re my nieces and that’s their father, my brother Arthur Davenport,” he answered. “He may look familiar if you watch the news shows. He’s a United States Senator out of Pennsylvania. He’s always on the political talk shows.”
“You’re kidding me!” she exclaimed. “You have a brother who is a US Senator.”
“Yes, I do,” he smiled. “Matter-of-fact, many high ranking government officials have ordinary brothers and sisters like myself.”
“I never think of it that way.”
Turning on the stereo to some soft jazz, he treated her to the delicious lunch he had prepared. She loved it and told him so.
After placing the dishes in the dishwasher, it was off to the mall to attend the book signing. On the way back, they stopped in a major video store to rent a movie. They also picked up two soft frozen Icees and a bag of microwave popcorn at a local convenient store. After all, what’s a movie without freshly cooked popcorn?
The two watched a romantic comedy called “Serendipity” starring John Cusack. It was about two people engaged to other people who have a chance encounter in New York, part ways late that evening, then spend the next ten years trying to find one another.
After a late evening buttered popcorn snack and refreshing soda, Yvette stood up and said she was ready to head home. “As the saying goes, all good things must come to an end,” she chuckled, as she reached for her purse.
She turned and started to walk towards the door but Kurt stepped in front of her, presenting himself a sizable barrier between her and the door.
“They don’t have to come to an end, Yvette,” he said softly, leaning in towards her in an impromptu attempt to kiss her. Her perfume was mild but intoxicating to him.
Turning at the very last second, she managed to escape his lips but only partially. With her eyes averted, she said nothing.
Undaunted, he made a second attempt to kiss her, and again, she turned away, this time biting her lip.
He paused to stare at her, confused, baffled, and dismayed at her hesitation.
“What’s wrong Yvette?” he asked, his brown eyes darkened with emotion, and belying a sadness about them that touched her when she finally looked his way.
“Kurt, I’ve had a really great time this evening,” she began, even as a war of emotions raged within her.
“I’m glad to hear that,” he injected, as his eyes searched her face, reaching into her thoughts.
“Please, let me finish,” she cut him off gently, her heart throbbing wildly from his mesmerizing gaze and quick wit. “I’ve enjoyed my visit today. I had a truly wonderful time, matter-of-fact, a blast! I just need a little more time to absorb all of the extraordinary things I’ve been feeling lately. That’s all.”
“Is that why you wouldn’t let me kiss you?”
“Yes, that and the fact that you are still a married man.”
Feeling slightly rebuffed, he lowered his eyelids and turned his head aside. The woman had a valid point. This was one fact he could not argue away. No doubt she was playing for keeps and if he wanted to play, it would have to be for keeps as well.
He watched silently as she walked by him, paused, and kissed him on the cheek, then left out the door. Standing at the entrance of his motorhome, he watched her car fade from view. All was not lost. In his hand he held a wallet size photo of her, which she had just given to him. He looked at it and smiled. In the studio photo she was seated sideways on one of those director's type chairs. She was wearing an inviting smile and a seductive short black dress to match. Her shapely legs, clad in black nylon, were crossed at the knees. It instantly became one of his favorite photos, so much that he immediately scanned it and made it the main wallpaper on his computer screen.
The following week, the two headed over to Bush Gardens Amusement Park in Tampa Bay, Florida and crossed the bridge over into St Petersburg, Florida, a day later. The forecast that weekend was for a slight chance of afternoon showers. To their pleasant surprise, the weekend turned out to be clear and summer. It was a wonderful outing to spend with someone special, someone dear.
As they traveled from one tourist site to another, they often promenaded, hand-in-hand, pausing occasionally to flash each other a searching gaze. The highlight of their outing came when they bought ice cream cones. She bought a single scoop of cherry vanilla flavored ice cream while Kurt bought a double scoop waffle cone, one flavor butter-almond, the other butter-pecan.
As they sat quietly on a park bench, partaking of this delightful cold treat, and the balmy breeze, she could not help but marvel at the skillful manner in which he lapped at his ice cream, never letting the fast melting treat run down the cone too far from his caressing tongue. It was one of the most sensuous moments her gleaming eyes had ever witnessed, and she told him so. The impression was such that in her dreams that night she imagined herself being a large scoop of melting ice cream and Kurt the most skillful ice cream eater in the world.
Though they never mentioned the topic, or would ever admit it to the other, they were falling in love. Each passing day the deep feelings cultivating between them continued to flourish like wild flowers rooted in rich fertile soil. At one point, they were dining together at least four times a week. It was a delightful ritual and treat both looked forward to. In time, they became almost inseparable, it seemed, between the hours of noon and one. And occasionally, they would meet after work for dinner, usually on Fridays.
"Please forgive me, but I am so tired," she said, stifling a quick yawn. "It's been a lo
ng week and just as long a day on the job."
"Hey, I feel the same way," he said, looking around to see if the server was bringing their order. They were seated at one of Yvette's favorite seafood restaurants. This was his second visit here with her. Looking around, he spied the waiter carrying a large serving tray loaded with food and walking towards them. He immediately stopped fiddling around with his spoon and sat erect in his chair. Yvette's relief was visible, too. When the server arrived, she apologized for the long wait but quickly added that Kurt's trout dinner had been freshly prepared and cooked, as every item on the menu was. His just took a little longer.
Leaning over them, the server placed Yvette's grilled shrimp and lobster meal before her, along with a small dish of melted butter sauce. Next she placed his ocean trout platter on the cloth table, along with a small dish of island herb tomato sauce. The server whirled off and returned shortly with a bottle of wine, and poured it gingerly into the two wine goblets on the cloth-covered table. Then she vanished again.
"Oh my, this is so delicious, Kurt," she said, savoring another bite of the broiled shrimp, which she had lightly coated in the seasoned butter sauce. "You care to try one?" she asked him thoughtfully.
"Sure, why not," he smiled. "Care to try my trout?"
"As you just said, why not?Just a small piece, please."
The two lifted their forks to the other's mouth and fed each other a sampling of their savory seafood. Locked in a deep searching gaze they broke free long enough to nod in agreement that the food was as delectable to the palate as it looked and the Mediterranean cooked aroma it gave off.
After dessert they left the restaurant and drove over to Yvette's place where the two attempted to watch a Dorothy Dandridge classic movie, Carmen Jones, starring Dorothy, a young handsome Harry Belafonte, the singer turned actress Pearl Bailey, and a young and beautiful rising star named Diahann Carroll. Earlier in the day, a more energetic Yvette had planned on hosting a Dorothy Dandridge movie marathon, once she discovered that Kurt was a devoted fan, too. In addition to Carmen Jones she rented Samuel Goldwyn's Porgy and Bess, starring Dorothy, Sidney Portier, Sammy Davis, Jr., Pearl Bailey, and Diahann Carroll; Island in the Sun, starring Dorothy, James Mason, Harry Belafonte, Joan Fontaine, and the British born actor John Justin. The marathon was a great idea, at the time, but both were beyond tired and barely managed to make it through Carmen Jones.
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