Cafe Romance

by Curtis Bennett

  As in the dream, Vanessa lived in the lot next to him. Vanessa Santiago was her name. A young, beautiful, and attractive woman in her late twenties, Vanessa had met him a month earlier.

  God, he did not need another woman in his life to complicate matters, he told himself. But sometimes you just could not escape being a good neighbor.

  A faulty water valve in Vanessa’s motorhome, a month earlier, precipitated her first visit. Not knowing where or whom she could turn to she ventured over to his motorhome and introduced herself to him and asked him if she could use his shower that evening, and the following morning, just until she could get her water valve problem fixed the following day. And like an understanding neighbor, he obliged her. It wasn’t easy for him, though, hearing the sound of running water filter through the bedroom door, knowing that a warm and young chiseled female body was inside of his most private and personal space.

  Later that day, the two talked and even wound up having dinner together at his place. She was as impressed with his motorhome as he was of hers, and she told him so.

  During their quiet dinner, he learned that she was a widow who had once been married to an older and wealthy investment banker. Her husband, who was twenty-five years her senior, died from a heart attack a year earlier. He had no surviving children. Fortunately, Vanessa, who was twenty-seven, at the time, had a good head on her.

  Being a financially savvy woman, she had managed to invest $400,000 of her husband’s $600,000 life insurance in high-tech stocks and bonds, along with a few blue chip stocks. The remainder of the money was invested in a business venture. She used some of the money she received from the sale of their $400,000 home to purchase the luxury motorhome she now lived in. She even had the benevolent mindset to donate fifty grand to local charities.

  Vanessa had always been a free spirited person, very independent, and did not mind living out of her dainty wide-bodied palace on wheels. After all, it boasted many of the amenities one would find in a site-built home, and it was just as cozy and relaxing. Low maintenance too. It suited her and her short hair cat Diamond, very well.

  “It’s 50/50,” she had told Kurt, a month earlier, about her Vanity Boutique Shoppe business venture with a friend. She said her longtime dream was to open a chain of lingerie boutiques throughout Florida. Naturally, he was impressed with this woman's ambition, intellect, and beauty and he told her so. In addition, the woman was a knockout - full bodied and well endowed. If it weren’t for the way he felt about Yvette, he would, no doubt, have given Vanessa a run for his money.

  The two wasted no time entering the cool cavity of his motorhome. Within seconds, they lowered themselves onto a nearby sofa. Vanessa flashed him a teasing smile, crossed one long leg over the other, and made herself comfortable. As they talked, he gave Vanessa the look over. Along with her pleasant smile, she was wearing a long blue denim dress with a button-front bodice, and a wide brown leather belt that wrapped around her waist. He offered her a cold drink. She readily accepted. He returned with two cold glasses of freshly squeezed lemonade. The two began to talk with the familiarity of old friends.

  "It looks as if you have quite a music collection, here," she smiled, regarding Kurt's CD collection on the cabinet next to her. Out of curiosity, she took one of the gold discs out of its plastic jacket to inspect.

  Kurt grumbled playfully, saying, "Thank you, but it doesn't compare to my MP3 collection. My song collection number well over eight hundred. My music CD collection top out somewhere around sixty."

  "Eight hundred plus. That’s impressive," she said, replacing the disc inside its protective container.

  "I prefer MP3’s over CD’s. But I really loved reel to reel, back in the day. But no one plays reel to reel anymore. I miss the old days of music, especially the way they used to play music on the radio. As you probably know, in the old days they told you the name of the song and the artist playing on the radio, then you’d go out and buy it. Of course, the version you bought was the same version you heard on the radio. The only exception was when the recording was made live, and usually, in big bold print, on the album cover was the word...LIVE! So you knew what you were getting back then.

  “It’s different now. You can never be certain what you’re buying now is actually what you want to hear. That’s because there's usually a pop version for a wider, more diverse audience and a funk/hip-hop version for the urban hipsters. If you ask me, artist these days are not true to their art when they have to go and distort their music just to make it palatable to another group of people. I just don't have the time or patience for all of that," Kurt said emphatically.

  "I see what you mean," Vanessa replied understandably.

  "Michael Jackson, Seal, Mary J Blige, Shaggy, even Ziggy Marley, have all put out songs I have liked. Songs I heard on the radio and went out and bought, only to discover later that I had unwittingly purchased a different version of it. Now I just buy Jazz. When I hear something other than Jazz that I like and want I just record it directly off of the satellite radio."

  "I can understand your dilemma," she said, with concern in her voice. “I’ve been there, done that, too.”

  "Look, I'm sorry," he anguished. "I didn't mean to go activist on you, Vanessa."

  "There's nothing to apologize for, Kurt." she injected. "Like I said, I feel cheated too, when I purchase a song I like only to end up with a version I don’t care for."

  “Tell me about it,” he uttered. The two continued to chat and eyeball one another for another few minutes then she departed.

  Glancing at his watch, he decided to hit the Internet for an hour or so. He had some time to kill before Roxanne’s visit and the dinner date they had agreed to. He only hoped he had given her good direction to his place. Though she had dropped him off at his motorhome the night they returned from their outing to the club it had been a while back and it was late at night. Since she was still new to the area he was uncertain whether she remembered the way back. He would find out soon enough, though.

  As he glanced over at the wall clock, his line of vision caught a glimpse of Yvette’s picture, which was on the end table. For a long while he stared at it and wondered how things were with her and Antwan. He often wondered if she ever thought of him.

  Chapter 18

  Deciding that the sun was far too bright and intrusive for this time of day Yvette reached into her sling bag and pulled out her shades and placed them protectively over her eyes. Once her eyes were adjusted to the filtered surroundings, she turned and faced Antwan as the two slowly promenade along the beach, the ocean crawling rapidly towards them then retreating in a loud and continuous and endless cycle. Above, a flock of pelicans soared in a tight formation.

  “What is happening to us, Antwan?” she asked in a strained tone, after coming to a stop.

  Antwan shrugged his shoulders.

  “I mean, you don’t come around as much as you once did, and we rarely go out anymore. And when we do your mind seems to be everywhere but here with me. I thought that by giving you that loan, to help with the startup of your business, you would have some of the financial pressure taken off you, meaning you would have more time to spend with me.”

  With his hand nervously scratching the base of his neck, his dark unrevealing eyes prolonged the moment. Finally he spoke. “Yvette, I know I’ve been rather busy lately but it’s not easy starting up a new business. But opening up my own tailor shop has always been a dream of mine. But you know that.

  “About the loan…I really appreciate that. And know that I’m good for it, baby. Look, things will settle down in a short while. Just hang in there for me. For us. Okay?”

  Looking into his dark and powerful, yet persuasive eyes, she asked, through strained lips, “How long Antwan? Tell me, how long will I have to hang in there?”

  Placing his hand under her chin he lifted upward until their eyes locked in a mutual stare. There was still some tangible bond between them. “Not long, honey, I promise.” With that he moved towar
ds her until his mouth covered hers hungrily.

  Withdrawing from his embrace, she stepped away, the ocean breeze caressing her hair gently. Turning to face him she gave a nervous smile, and said, “I’m going to hold you to that promise, okay?”

  Closing the distance between them, Antwan grinned, saying, “Baby, like I’ve said before, it’s all good.” Taking her by the hand they returned to their promenade, the foaming sea now advancing towards their feet.

  Kurt was sitting in a lawn chair outside of Moonbeam reading a magazine when Roxanne pulled up in the driveway. Lowering the window she greeted him enthusiastically with the warmest smile he had seen in a while. There was only one other woman who could match her breathtaking smile, he acknowledged silently.

  Turning the engine off, she climbed out of the leased Lexus and gave Kurt a big hug.

  “Any problem finding my place?’ he asked, stepping back.

  “Not at all,” she answered, as she reached out, lacing his fingers with her own. “I used the car’s GSP system and it guided me straight to your house.”

  “Great,” he said.

  With his wait over he escorted his guest into the motorhome. He offered her a choice of drinks. “A cold glass of water, please,” she returned, scanning the magnificent interior of his motorhome. “Man, this is quite some mini-palace you have in here. I love it, Kurt! I had no idea RV’s could look so elegant.” Taking a seat on the sofa she awaited Kurt’s return from the kitchen area.

  “Here you are. One cold bottle of water,” he smiled, handing her the plastic container.

  Taking a seat beside her he complimented her hair, which was in a French roll. Up front a strand of dark hair curled loosely above her left eye. “You know, you almost look Latin with that cute bang and those dark piercing eyes of yours.”

  “Thank you! But please, don’t stop now,” she jested, setting the bottle down on the coffee table. It had been quite some years since she’s heard him utter such a colorful compliment as this. But he was not taking the bait. He was just being polite.

  “So, you and Don have decided to prolong your stay in Florida,” he continued, changing the subject.

  “Well, he has little choice in the matter,” Roxanne added, as her voice broke lightly.

  “What about you?”

  Regarding him with searching gravity, she sighed, “I’ll stay and only because you are here.”

  “It’s that bad, huh?” Kurt pondered aloud. “So much that you’re not staying on behalf of your husband but because of me.”

  “Kurt, you don’t know the half of it,” she returned, clasping her hands together, and staring at them.

  There was a pause.

  That’s when he noticed something peculiar. “What’s that just below your ear?” he asked, taking a closer look. “A bruise?”

  Casting her gaze downward, she decided to be truthful. “Don. He slapped me pretty hard the other night after I got off the phone talking with you. I turned away, but not fast enough.”

  Alarmed, Kurt probed deeper.

  “What an asshole,” he murmured. “Is this an isolated case or is this something ongoing?”

  With anxiety in her voice she shared with Kurt, for the first time, her abuse-filled relationship with The Beast. It was not a pretty story to tell but she felt relieved just to have shared her grief and pain with another.

  “Of course I have to ask why you just don’t leave him?”

  “He is a very influential and powerful man, Kurt. He would see to it that I couldn’t get a job mopping floors in a homeless shelter, if he had his way. Besides, everything I have I owe it to him. My wardrobe, my car, my expense account, my lifestyle. I owe it all to that bastard, Kurt.”

  “That’s probably true. But what do you really have, Roxanne to show for it? Misery. That’s all,” he emphasized. “Are you happy? No, I think not.”

  “You’re right, Kurt. But what can I do?” She asked, as a flicker of apprehension coursed through her. “I feel like I sold my soul to the devil.”

  Gazing upon her, for the first time, with compassion, he asked her what she wanted to do with her life. As she thought about it, he could see she was struggling with the uncertainty that he had aroused.

  “Right now, I just want out of my marriage. I am tired of the arguments and the beatings,” she replied.

  “Do you need a place to stay temporarily?”

  “I have nowhere to go. Can you help me?”

  “If you are serious about leaving Don, and for good. Yes, I can help you,” he answered, giving her a reassuring touch on the arm, then warned, “But there can be no going back Roxanne. No thought of it at all. Now about that temporary place to stay.”

  “If it is alright with you, can I stay here for the night? Don’s gone for at least another week. I need to get some things in order.”

  “Sure, you can stay here tonight and on until I can find you a decent place to hold up in. But I’ll be here, if you need me. We’ll have to find something for you to do jobwise, as well.”

  “Thanks Kurt. I appreciate that.”

  “No problem, Roxanne.”

  A thought later she asked, “Out of curiosity, can I ask what it is you have in mind?”

  “Have in mind? What I have in mind is your best of interest. If need be, I’ll put you up for a while until you decide what it is you want to do career wise.”

  “I couldn’t ask you to take on that kind of responsibility Kurt, even though I know you’re quite capable. If it were alright with you, I’d love to stay here with you, not some hotel. I wouldn’t mind and I wouldn’t be a bother.”

  “Trust me when I say you may not intend to be a bother but having a lovely woman as yourself around here in these tight quarters would be every bit of a bother.”

  For the first time since her arrival, she blushed.

  “Okay, Kurt. I won’t argue that one with you,” she chuckled, then more seriously, “but I want you to know that I intend on paying you back for everything, okay?”

  Leaning forward, he assured her that any such repayment was unnecessary. “Look, can I get you something for your bruise?” he offered.

  “Sure, what do you have?”

  Rising up, he spoke as he walked away, “I have an Aloe Vera based ointment that’s perfect for bruises.” Returning with a cotton swab and the ointment in hand, he moved back her hair gently and applied the ointment carefully. The soothing treatment and his close proximity brought immediate relief to her injury. As for Kurt, he thought it was a good idea that she move, and soon, just as long as it wasn’t here with him. Their passionate lovemaking sessions of years gone by were still fresh on his mind and growing fresher with each encounter he had with her. No way was he going to let her back into his bedroom. She had caused enough trouble already, especially between Yvette and himself, though unknowingly.

  After dinner, she thanked him for his southern hospitality and conversation, and reluctantly departed. Her visit was not quite the fantaisie d'extraordinaire he had experienced in past dreams but she still had that look of promise in her eyes and it made him more than nervous.

  With arms crossed, Yvette pressed her face against the glass then waved. Juanita had just parked her luxury SUV on the carport and was heading towards the door, her sister, Nola a step behind her. Opening the door she greeted both with open arms. “Come on in, y’all. It’s so good to see you.”

  The three hugged.

  Leading them up the stairs into the condo they settled at the kitchen table. Yvette offered them some wine and told them to go ahead and help themselves to the Honey-Blue Cheese Fondue she had made for them. Walking over to the refrigerator she withdrew a chilled bowl of blueberries and added some chopped nuts to the selection and sat both alongside of the fondue pot. The two quickly began to dip.

  “Boy this is good,” Juanita commented, as she dipped a berry into the fondue and tasted it.

  “Delicious!” Nola added, both eating and sipping at her wine. “Where did you buy thi
s from?”

  “Buy? Hey, remember Yvette’s a bona-fide Chef, little sister,” Juanita injected.

  “That I am, and long before I got my MBA,” Yvette chuckled. Seating herself, she crossed her hands and blew at her bangs, as though exhausted.

  “What’s the matter?” Juanita asked.

  “Just tire,” she replied, regarding her friend. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Well, I’ve got some great news. Nola finally left Gus.”

  “That’s great!” Yvette exclaimed. “I’m so happy for you Nola. What happened this time around?”

  “Hell, we got into another fight and I just told him that I had had enough,” Nola explained. “I told him I wasn’t going to be his doormat anymore.”

  “You go girl!” Yvette sighed, squeezing Nola’s hand. “Again, I’m so happy for you. I was so afraid for you in the past. I hope things work out for you.”

  “Thank you,” Nola replied.

  “No one should have to put up with an asshole,” Juanita added, “No one!”

  “That’s right,” Yvette remarked, caressing a curl near her left ear, and appearing slightly distant from the conversation.

  There was a pause.

  “So, how are things with you and Antwan?” Nola asked.

  “Alright,” she began, then admitted, “Well, to be honest, we’re having some problems. But it’s nothing major. Nothing we can’t work out.”

  “Like what?” Juanita queried.

  “Well, since you ask. For one thing, the other day I mistakenly called Antwan, Kurt. It’s the third time in just as many weeks that I’ve done that.”

  Juanita’s eyes widen, upon hearing this. “I can see how that could cause problems,” she replied, her lips parted in surprise.