Tears on a Sunday Afternoon - Michael Presley [61]
“Not very often. I like cooking and, if I don’t cook, I order something in Manhattan. Sometimes I don’t feel like coming over the bridge. When you met me the last time, it was because my friends wanted to come and eat here. I think they were more interested in the free meal. Now let’s not change the conversation. Are we going to forget about Puerto Rico?”
“There seems to be an ultimatum in there somewhere,” I said.
“Well, you haven’t called me and, even though we had a great time at the Seaport, you seem distant. Now I could wait and hope to see you again sometime or you can tell me to fuck off. I’m a big girl. I can take it. I thought what we had was special and I hope you thought the same, but only you can answer that. I’m never the pursuer in a relationship, yet I feel compelled to be with you. There, you have it; we are either going or we can thank God for the memories.” Brenda looked at me for a reply.
“Brenda, you are a beautiful woman, but…”
“Donald, fuck that shit.” Brenda got up. “I don’t need you.”
She slammed the napkin down on the table and walked out.
I remained seated. A few minutes went by before the waitress returned to my table.
“Do you still want your order?” she asked.
“Yeah, but let me have it to go,” I said.
“I’m getting off in an hour if you want some company,” she said, that “holler” smile on her face.
“No, I’ll take a rain check on that. But I could do with another Hurricane.”
“Well, this one is on me and my offer still stands.”
I reached out and grabbed her hand. “You don’t want any part of this.”
She squeezed my hand. “Yeah, I do. I’m sure you live a very interesting life. Look at you; not too many men are able to walk away from a woman as beautiful as Brenda. She has had men breaking down in tears over her, but you didn’t hear that from me.” She slipped her hand out of mine.
“Brenda is special,” I said.
“But so are you. I’ve got to go before I get fired. I’ll be back with your drink.”
“Thanks,” I said as she walked away.
Chapter 16
5TH DAY
“Damn.” I got out of the bed with a slight headache. The persistent ringing of the doorbell was driving me nuts. I knew the reptile was somewhere in the house and I wondered why she hadn’t gone to the fucking door. She hadn’t worked a day since she had moved into this house. I went into the bathroom, washed my face and brushed my teeth. There it went again. I looked at the clock radio as I walked out of the room. It was 10:00 a.m. Maybe the reptile had gone out. I snatched a shirt out of the drawer and put on the same jeans I had worn the day before. I was about to open the door when I heard her voice.
“Donald, the cops are downstairs waiting for you,” Annette said.
“The cops?” I asked, startled.
“Yeah, the cops,” she replied. “Maybe they’ll put your ass away for the rest of your sorry life.”
I swear I’m going to kill that bitch. Fuck Oprah and what she said about not calling women bitches. That reptile outside is a bitch.
I nervously buttoned up my pants and headed downstairs. “Where are they?” I shouted.
“Downstairs having donuts. Where the fuck you think they’re gonna be?” Annette answered for everyone in the house to hear.
I walked downstairs and saw two white men in the informal dining room. They were standing up, their hats in their hands. “Good morning, Officers,” I said, extending my hand.
The older man, maybe in his late fifties, shook my hand. “I’m Officer Summers from Ketonya County and this is Officer Sindrel.”
I reached out and shook Officer Sindrel’s hand. I was hoping that they wouldn’t notice that I was nervous. I offered the officers a seat on the sofa.
“Thank you, but this shouldn’t take too long.” Officer Summers took out a small notepad. “You own a 2005 Hummer, New York license plate DRC7689.”
“Yes, it’s one of the family cars,” I said, sitting down.
“Family cars? Does that mean other people in the household drive it?” he asked.
“Yes, my wife drives it on occasion,” I answered.
“Can you recall who drove it approximately three weeks ago to upstate New York?” Officer Summers looked