To Sleep... Perchance to Die Page 12
“No,” Bret shouted into the phone. “I want one woman. No whips or other gadgets. Just one” . . . it was uncomfortable for him to say . . . “Gorgeous woman.”
“Any color preference, or to be more p.c., ethnic group?” He made p.c. sound like profanity.
The question raised disturbing possibilities he hadn’t thought of. He didn’t want anyone who would remind him of Mai.
“C’mon, I ain’t got all night.”
Bret chose plain vanilla, “White.” He corrected, “Caucasian,” as if proper English was required when negotiating with a pimp.
“You’re going to thank me after you see the one I’m sending. Beautiful . . . twenty-one . . . but, it’s gonna cost you.”
To his surprise, Bret felt himself becoming erect. “How much?”
“Five C-notes for an hour. In cash.”
Horrified, Bret repeated, “Five hundred dollars?”
“Yeah, and in cash. You give it to her first thing, see. And don’t force her to do nuthin she doesn’t want, capisce? Remember, we know where you live, and I’m not talking Vegas.”
Bret became nervous. Sal’s words implied he had dangerous associates and access to hotel records. Am I involved with the infamous Las Vegas Mafia and getting in over my head? Was it an empty threat meant to intimidate me or a serious warning about what would happen if I cross them? In spite of his misgivings, Bret answered, “Five hundred . . . okay, I’ll give it to her up front.”
“Your room bout an hour.” The call was terminated before Bret had time to reply.
As he closed the cover of his phone, there was a knock on the door. She can’t be here this quick unless I’ve entered the Twilight Zone. He had forgotten about his scotch order.
There was an ATM in the hotel lobby. Bret withdrew a thousand. It was another example of the difference between Las Vegas and the rest of the country. At home the most he could get in one day from an ATM was five hundred dollars.
He’d tell Mai the withdrawal was to cover gambling losses. She would be angry, but he could deal with that. If she discovered the true reason for the withdrawal, Mai wouldn’t accept his excuse of being horny because she wasn’t giving him sex. His marriage would be in jeopardy.
Under the category of wishful thinking, he purchased half a dozen condoms from the vending machine in the men’s room. In the bar he was overcharged for a bottle of Johnny Walker Black. He needed the courage.
Bret was in his room thirty minutes before the anticipated arrival of his companion. He sat on the couch and poured himself a scotch. Guilt pangs poked at him. He would have preferred to be waiting for his wife instead of some low-life stranger who was, in all likelihood, carrying a suitcase full of diseases. He had the condoms for protection. The last thing he wanted was to bring Mai a surprise gift from Las Vegas.
Time slowed as if he was in a spaceship approaching the speed of light. He made another drink, turned the TV on and off several times, and had a thousand second thoughts about what he was planning to do.
The knock was soft. He went to the door intent on cancelling the deal. He’d have to pay her, but his record of never having been with a prostitute would remain intact. Bret froze when he saw her. Instead of the vamp with wig and painted lips he was expecting, in the doorway was daddy’s little girl returning from church choir practice.
“Hi, I’m Lila.” Breezing by him, she went to the bed and plunked on it. The woman, who looked younger than the twenty-one Sal had advertised, was pretty and radiated wholesomeness. Her ski slope nose and lips not pumped with silicone were pleasing as was her ponytailed auburn hair tied with a green ribbon. She wore a short Scottish plaid skirt with a beige-colored sweater and mid-calf boots. No tattoos, decorative rings, dumbbells, or pins adorned her. Bret had heard some college girls pay their tuition by taking the profitable path of prostitution and assumed she was one.
“What’s your name?” she said.
“Bret . . . Name’s Bret.” He closed the door.
“So come and sit, Bret.” She patted a hand on the bed. “I won’t bite you.” With an impish grin, “At least I don’t think I will.” Lila had a friendly laugh.
Bret sat. It was easy to forget that she and Sal the bellman were being paid for sexual services. “Glad to meet you,” he said, as if they were at a Young Republicans social.
Appearing bashful about broaching the subject, she said, “I hate to bring it up, but I’m supposed to ask for the money now.” Giving a cute wiggle of her nose, “And I should tell you I get my tips in advance.” She shrugged her shoulders, “You know how it is.”
Bret didn’t know how it was, but he had cash. For the services and tip, he handed her seven C-notes, as Sal called them. The financial transaction completed, he relaxed and waited for Lila to lead in their dance.
“Well, Bret, thank you for your generous tip. What is it you want me to do? I’m all yours for, say, an hour and a half. I’m adding a little extra for the tip.” She looked at her watch, “Starting about now.” She winked, “That is, as long as you’re not too perverted.” Lila began to remove her clothes in a natural and unselfconscious manner. No different than if she was at home and decided to take a bath.
Lila’s body was a work of art. Her combination of feigned innocence tempered by a modicum of sophistication inflamed Bret’s desire for her. It took all his willpower to keep from diving on her and carrying out his side of the bargain. Lila reclined on the bed and arranged her legs allowing him a partial view of her primary site of business.
He was Superman. Buttons from his shirt became missiles flying across the room. His belt was a whip cracking the air as it flew from his waist. There was a pounding in his neck and a throbbing at his temples. He was on the cusp of a full-blown frenzy when sanity intervened.
“What am I doing?” he said. Lila gave him a quizzical stare. Thoughts raged, Sure, we’re going through a rough patch .We’ll resolve our problems. I’m not going to sacrifice my marriage for the proverbial romp in the hay. Mai would never find out, but I would know and couldn’t live with the deception.
His arousal passed, and he looked at the woman in his bed. “I can’t do this.” He began to put on his clothes, less a few buttons.
The sweet choir girl soured. She spit words at him. “What the fuck are you doing? No way are you getting your money back.”
He took a deep breath. “Keep it, Lila. Just get out of here.”
She grabbed her clothes and in a fury began to dress. The antithesis of her undressing. Muttering expletives, she hopped about the room on one foot putting her boots on. As she stormed into the hall, her parting shot was, “So long, asshole, don’t call me again.” The door slammed.
He was perplexed, and didn’t understand why Lila was upset. She got her money without having to work for it. Was being rejected a blow to her pride?
Bret endured the remaining two days of the meeting. A few times while passing through the lobby, he noticed Sal shaking his head. Bret ignored him.
He left Vegas the afternoon the meeting ended and arrived in Windham Center at four in the morning. Having slept on the plane and anxious to see if Mai’s depression had lessened, he decided to stay awake. When Mai walked into the kitchen that morning, he was sitting at the table drinking coffee.
“I was expecting you, but wasn’t sure when you’d get here,” she said as she filled a cup and sat across from him.
“I got in at about four. Looked in on you but didn’t want to wake you.”
Before asking about Las Vegas or his course, she said without emotion, “Jake’s mother died. Happened the day you left.”
The news shocked Bret. Sophie Warden was in her fifties and healthy. “She was so young. What did she die of?”
“The flu. Can you imagine that? She had been sick for a few days, but seemed to be recovering. Then, to everybody’s surprise, including her doctor, she died. When Mr. Warden found her unresponsive in bed, he attempted CPR. It was too late. She had been gone for a while.”
Mai’s lower lip began to quiver. “Your coming back wouldn’t have made any difference. You couldn’t have gotten here in time anyway. In the Jewish custom, she was buried the same day. Jake and his dad didn’t want to follow the traditional sitting of Shiva. She was buried and that was the end of it.”
Mai explained, “As I said, no one thought she was going to die. Her doctor feels it was probably the result of years of smoking and not getting a flu shot this year. There was no autopsy. We’ll never know for sure what happened.” As if it justified Mrs. Warden’s death, “Thousands of people in the U.S. die of the flu each year.”
“Yeah, they do,” Bret said shaking his head.” He slammed a fist on the table, “I’ve got to talk to Jake, go see him.” He grabbed his phone.
“Don’t bother,” Mai said, “He’s not around. Left yesterday afternoon to spend time with his family in Kent and doesn’t want to be disturbed.”
Bret put the phone in his pocket.
“He got Jack Sweeney over in Manchester to cover for him until you returned. He wants you to keep the office running. Doesn’t know when he’ll be back.” Mai went to him and kissed him on the cheek, “Welcome back.”
The welcome wasn’t enthusiastic, but under the circumstances, it was enough. “Thank you,” he said, “It’s good to be back.”
It was cooking class night and Mai was at Jake’s condo.
She said, “Weatherman says we might get a storm this evening. Bret tried to discourage me from going to class. He said if there was a problem driving, I should call you and ask to stay here tonight. Of course, we both assumed you would say yes.” Rooting like a cheerleader, “Come on, snow.”
“Yeah,” Jake said, “I hope we get covered by six feet of it.”
Mai shivered, “Don’t wish for that. Sounds too much like a grave.”
Jake responded, “I forgot how superstitious you are. Okay, make it five feet, eleven inches.”
“Sorry. Blame my Chinese upbringing,” Mai said. Changing the subject, “By the way, I’m going to join a fitness center in Storrs, not far from here. I like to work out, and it’ll give us an excuse to spend more time together.”
“What’d Bret say about it?”
“He wanted me join the one where he plays tennis. We could go together, he said. I told him I picked the one in Storrs because it was for women. I didn’t want men watching me. He agreed.”
Jake smiled, “Well, you seem to be feeling better and have adjusted to your parents going back to Macao.”
“Yes, finally. Even though I didn’t visit them often, I could have if I wanted. Now, I wonder if I’ll ever see them again. It had me down for a while, but I realized it was for the best. They’d been vacillating about going back. The super-storm was the last straw. As you know, it didn’t do much damage here, but devastated Staten Island. They had prepared and came through it fine with little damage to their building, but it really scared my mom. That’s when they made the decision to go.”
She snickered, “I have to say I felt a little sorry for Bret. He did everything he could to get me out of my depression. Even tried to get me to see a psychologist. Of course, it was for his selfish reasons. He wanted sex, and I wasn’t giving him any. He sure was ecstatic when I got back to being myself again.”
“Good for him,” was Jake’s sarcastic reply.
Mai said, “Don’t be upset. He doesn’t matter a bit.”
Giving a long exhale, Jake said, “Sometimes, easier said than done.”
Mai mused, “Strange how things work out. Part of our original cover story was that I went to New York after my parents had returned to Macao.
“Yeah, I remember,” Jake said.
Mai gave a ‘life’s funny like that’ shrug of her shoulders.
She continued, “My uncles are the only problems left on my side. I hope now that my parents are gone, they’ll pay less attention to what I’m doing. Problem is, we can’t count on it. They’re unpredictable, and you never know what they’re liable to do.”
She seemed unsure about saying it, but added, “Please forgive me, but your mother’s passing removed another negative influence from our relationship. “At the moment, things seem to be going our way.”
“They do.”
Mai exited the Storrs fitness center in high spirits. She enjoyed her routine of working-out with weights followed by a run on the treadmill. That morning she had set a personal record of running for an hour. The release of endorphins left her with a feeling of euphoria. She wasn’t going to Jake’s. He and Bret were in the office. Her day was free. After lunch she might visit Frankie and swap gossip.
A car followed her into her driveway. Not wanting to go to the garage and be isolated from the few automobiles that traveled Lover’s Lane, she stopped in the driveway and reached for her phone. The engine was running in case of the need for a fast getaway. Panic overcame her when she looked into the rearview mirror and saw two men leave their car and walk toward her.
“Oh, my God,” she exclaimed as she recognized her uncles. They must know about her shameful relationship with Jake and were bent on restoring family honor. After signaling her to unlock the doors, one of her uncles sat in the front passenger seat and the other took a back seat. Mai tried to hide her nerves. She turned off the engine.
With a semblance of a smile, the uncle in the front seat said, “Good morning lovely niece. Happy to see you. It appears you have settled well in Windham.” The one in back bowed toward her showing agreement with his brother.
Caught off guard and fearful of their intentions, Mai looked at each and said, “Glad to see you too, uncles. Please come in for tea.”
“No time,” said front seat uncle.
“Why have you come, then?” she asked him.
“Before she left for Macao, Jia asked us to visit you. To insure all is well.”
Mai gathered her courage, and said, “You can see yourself that my husband and I live in this fine house. In my next letter to mother I will remind her.”
“Please do,” said front seat uncle. It was an order.
Back seat uncle said, “We have associates here in your village and have informed them about you.”
Was it a threat? A warning of dire consequences if she was caught doing something wrong? “Why are you telling me this?”
“If you should require our help,” back seat uncle continued, “you can contact them. They know how to get in touch with us.”
“I won’t need any…”
“Shhh,” he interrupted. “We promised Jia, and it is our duty to protect you.”
Mai knew not to argue.
He handed her a slip of paper, “Here is the number. Place it in your phone contacts under a fictitious name where it can be easily retrieved.” When he saw Mai hesitate, he demanded, “Do it now, so I can destroy the paper.”
“I will, uncle.” Mai took out her cell and did as told.
The uncles said their goodbyes and left. Mai had to sit in her car until she stopped shaking and was able to drive to her garage.
No longer mourn for me when I am dead...
Windham, Connecticut: Spring brought astounding beauty to Windham Center. Warm weather melted the last dregs of soot covered snow enticing crocuses to poke their heads from winter hiding places. Forsythia followed, its yellow blaze scorching the earth. Grass, chameleon-like, went from dull brown to lush green, and trees began to don their summer coats.
New greenery decorated the pathway between the Manley and Grimaldi yards. Snow and ice had made winter use impossible. With the arrival of the new season, it became the main route of travel between the two houses. Frankie used the path to walk to the Manley back door on a Saturday morning in May.
Mai was sleeping, but Bret was awake and heard the rapping at the door. It had to be Frankie. On weekends she came to their ho
use for morning coffee. Frankie’s habit was to enter with the key Mai gave her and brew a pot of the special French roast that she ground at home and brought with her. The pungent aroma of coffee wafting throughout the house acted like giant elastic tentacles pulling the couple from their bed to the breakfast nook adjacent to the kitchen.
Bret put on his robe and went to the kitchen. Confirming it was Frankie, he opened the door. About to ask why she hadn’t used the key, he realized she was distraught. Frankie was shifting from one foot to the other, unable to stand in one place on the porch, and tears welled in her eyes.
“Sorry to bother you,” she said, “But I’m at my wits end.” Her palm was cradling the left side of her cheek.
Bret approached, placed a supporting arm around her shoulder, and said in a reassuring voice, “Come in and have a seat. I’ll take a look at you. The way you’re holding your cheek, I’d say you’ve got an infected tooth.”
Frankie’s eyes were wide and sweat beaded her forehead, “I’ve had one heck of a toothache since last evening. And I woke up with this swollen face.” She removed her palm from her cheek and turned the puffy area to Bret.
He used his hands to control her head as he did a visual examination. When finished, he said, “You should have called, or better, come over when it first started, no matter what time it was. The side of your face is all red and you’re beginning to swell under your jaw.” The latter was a serious problem. Bret wanted to examine her in detail. “Can I put pressure on the area that hurts?”
“Do whatever you have to do to get me out of pain.”
He began to palpate Frankie’s face and neck. At one point, she flinched from what she described as a feeling like a fiery jolt of electricity. When he finished his examination, Bret assured, “Don’t worry, I can help you. You’ll be fine soon.”
“Oh, good. I can’t begin to tell you how lucky I consider myself having an oral surgeon as a neighbor. Especially, one who’s such a nice guy.”
Although grateful, Bret let the compliment slide and continued his examination. “Just relax and let me take a look inside your mouth.”