Nellie smiled at Wally as she surveyed the laundry room. The smile turned her lips up a bit, probably from so many years of scowling at kids, and it wrinkled her nose. “Up early, ain’t ‘ya, Mr. Wally?”
Wally nodded his head yes.
Nellie went on, “I used to make ‘em write sentences for me when they used ain’t. Now that I’m retired, I use it myself. I love that little word. So much character. It lets people know where I’m from. Sure does.”
Wally changed the subject. “Are you doing OK, Mrs. Walters? I heard you’ve been sick.”
Nellie stretched out both her hands. Wally held them. Nellie spoke. “Naw, I ain’t doing no good. I think I’m about near dead. Lordy, I’m blind in one eye, did you know? The doc won’t do surgery. Says it’s ‘cause of my blood pressure.” Nellie changed the subject. “Heavens, young man. Your hands are so warm. You must have a lot of life in ‘ya”
Wally smiled, “Well, I don’t know about all that, but your hair is absolutely stunning. It looks like you just stepped out of the beauty parlor.”
Nellie’s whole face was covered with a smile. “Lordy, lordy. Thank you, my dear. I do have the best beautician in town, mind you.”
When Nellie had finished her grand tour, she turned and smiled again, “Make sure you go to church in the morning, dear. I would invite you to mine, but I know you play the organ where you go. I am proud of you, sonny. It was only yesterday that you were one of my little darlings. Look at you now.” Nellie seemed to take full responsibility for her former students when they made a good name for themselves. Let one of them end up on the wrong side of the law, however, and she was quick to blame that “no-count drunken daddy that never was there for them.” In many cases she was right.
Laundry done, his apartment straightened a bit, Wally was off for another Saturday necessity. In good weather–today was perfect–Wally would take his car to the other side of town to the Sparkle and Shine Carwash. This was no do-it-yourself place where you ran out of quarters before you got all the soap off the car. This place had a real person who washed cars by hand and did it to perfection. People could leave their cars and come back later, or they could watch through the windows of a comfortable waiting area and see an expert at work.
This thriving enterprise was run by a short man with slicked-down hair who often came across as rude and even uncultured. On the other hand, the result of his work showed him to be skilled at bringing out more shine for your buck than any other such place within thirty miles. The artisan’s name was Terrence. He was proud of that name. It had belonged to his father and his grandfather. He was quick to point out that it wasn’t pronounced as it was spelled. “My folks always spoke it as Tairnts, and that is what it is. Tairnts Roosevelt McCloud, the Third, car washer and expert waxer. He would smile to make sure everybody had heard him and understood the import of what he said. Then, he would turn and resume rubbing on the car he was waxing. Here was a man in love with painted steel, gleaming chrome, squeaky-clean windows, and spotless upholstery.
Sad to say, but Terrence didn’t have a friend in town, except maybe Calvin, the exterminator, and then only when Calvin was drunk and needed money to buy more booze. For a man who could rub a car, the right way, until it shined like the noonday sun, Terrence could rub people the wrong way until he was obliged to stay off the streets after dark. Even the mayor had said to a gossipy confidant, “The only hope for this town is to move Terrence to Brockton after he gets counted in the next census. I’m a patient, God-fearing man, but Terrence McCloud can cause me to lose my religion as quick as a fruit fly can go after a ripe banana.”
With clothes all clean and his car gleaming in the setting sun, Wally stopped by Wendy’s for a burger, fries, and a shake. Saturday was the only day he allowed himself the luxury–or decadence, depending upon your lifestyle–of sinking his tooth into the luscious, juicy fare that is fast food.
Wally stopped by Central Presbyterian Church to make sure all the music for tomorrow’s service was in its proper place at the organ. He would forego a long practice session. He had been pushing thoughts of Tony to the back of his mind all day. Now, the thoughts were beginning to demand a place near the front of the line.
Chapter 3
Wally decided to spend the evening at home. He wanted to be there if Tony phoned. He popped some corn and opened a can of cold diet cola. He would settle in to watch some TV.
As Wally munched popcorn, his thoughts kept flashing back to something that happened three weeks ago, soon after Tony came back to town. It was on the twelfth of April, a date that had always been special--his grandmother’s birthday. If she were still living, she would be 105. When Wally was a child, his family would pick the weekend closest to her birthday and drive south to Roanoke. Things were always in full bloom in Roanoke at that time, not like the sparse blossoms in Poplar Hill. April was a month packed with memories. Now, there would be one more to pack on top of that. As Wally gazed out of the window, his eyes wide open, yet not really seeing anything, his mind began a recollection of Tony, so real that Tony could have been in the room sitting beside him.
**********
On that April morning, three weeks back, Wally had just gotten out of bed and started the coffee brewing. He cherished this time as much as he savored the aroma of coffee. Everything was quiet; no one bothered him. It was a world at peace, nothing like the frenzied world of the workday.
Sipping coffee, feeling the surge of caffeine, keeping up with news on the Internet–these were the customary things for Wally at five in the morning. His body was an early riser, but his mind was often slow and foggy at this hour. He had never been one to jump out of bed and into the shower. For him, it took some quiet time. So, he was startled as the phone pierced the silence. It’s only five fifteen. Something must be wrong with Mom. She doesn’t usually call until six, thought Wally. He made his way to the phone. “Good morning.”
“Hey, it’s Tony. I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“No, you didn’t wake me. I am always up this early on workdays. What’s up?”
“Well,” said Tony, “I’ve got this job interview in Greensboro, at a place where they sell all kinds of off-road sports vehicles and motorcycles. It’s later this afternoon. I’m going to leave before six if I can get some money from you to buy gas. I have a little saved, but this trip is going to cost more than I have. Could you let me borrow fifty dollars?”
“I’ve got forty. I can’t get any more right now. Will that help?”
“Sure. I’ll stop by in about ten minutes.”
Wally could only imagine where Tony must have spent the night. Ten minutes away? That could be Sarah or Clark. Or, it could be somebody Wally didn’t know about. He was certain Tony knew the size and style of many beds, whether the mattress was soft or firm, and what color the sheets were. He was convinced that Tony had at least half a dozen gals, and maybe a few guys, who cherished the nights that Tony chose to sleep with them. Wally knew he shouldn’t think about these things. He ought to control his thoughts. He detested gossip. However, these were juicy thoughts, and they were certainly more fun than reading news stories.
Wally was just coming out of the bathroom when Tony rang the bell. Wally went to the door and opened it. He was surprised at how good Tony looked, and he apologized for his own appearance. It took a shower and a shave before Wally felt worthy to greet the world. Bed head and day-old whiskers might have been the style for younger guys, but not for Wally.
“I like your hair,” Tony said as he stepped into the apartment. “You have that wild, slept-on look. I am sorry to call so early, but I can’t miss the chance for this job. I wish I could stay a while and we could . . . you know . . . but I’ve got to get on the road. Please understand.”
“Sure,” mumbled Wally as he handed Tony the money. “Sorry, I can’t give you the whole fifty. I hope this helps.”
Tony stuffed the money into his pocket. He looked straight into Wally’s eyes as if trying to read them. He wrap
ped his arms around him. “Thank you!” he said. He moved his face closer and pressed his mouth against Wally’s. His tongue sliced along the seam of Wally’s lips. Wally didn’t appear surprised. In fact, he relaxed his jaw. Tony tested the opening. He tightened the grip of his arms around Wally. His lips were energized. The tip of his tongue found Wally’s tongue and began to keep it company. Wally responded with fervor, perhaps more than Tony had anticipated.
Tony wondered, maybe this kiss is lasting a bit too long to be casual. Wally’s tongue is as frisky as a puppy kept in the house all day. No, it’s really OK. This is something I have to do. I need that money and more if he offers it. I’m not loving on Wally; I’m conning him. It doesn’t matter how he sees it. Isn’t Wally the most gullible man in the world? This is worth it. My Lord, Wally’s really getting into this kiss. And me, too. I’m getting kind of turned on. This is almost as good as a girl. I have to be careful. I can’t let emotions take the place of my needs.
For Wally, there was an exciting mixture of feelings bumping around in his morning brain. The awe of being kissed by another man gave way to playfulness. Wally became aware of a fruity taste. Watermelon? Ah! Tony’s been chewing watermelon gum. My favorite gum --my favorite man. For Wally, this was lollipop heaven. He tightened his lips around Tony’s tongue. He strained to take in every drop of the watermelon flavor.
Abruptly, Tony pulled back. “Where did you learn that? My Lord, it’s awesome. You could cause a guy to lose control. Oh, my God!”
Wally raised his shoulders to signal that he didn’t know where he learned it. “It just seemed like the most sensual thing to do. I mean, here I am with this gorgeous man’s tongue in my mouth and I want to make it so he will never forget.” Wally’s eyes searched Tony’s. “Did I get into territory I should stay out of?”
“No, no. I have dreamed of this. It’s OK. It’s more than OK, but I’ve got to get on my way. I won’t forget you. I couldn’t do without you. You’re at the top of my list.”
“One more kiss for the road? Could you do it again, please?” Wally was shivering with excitement. “I love how your goatee feels on my face. It’s not prickly. It is so . . . so soft, yet so masculine. You’re incredible.”
Tony embraced Wally. His tongue touched Wally’s lips and traveled on. I’m beginning to like this, he thought. Wally treats me like I’m the most awesome man in the world. My tongue seems to bring out the tiger in him. I will have to remember that. It could have rewards--maybe on a regular basis.
Wally repeated the lollipop maneuver.
Tony swooned. Man, these feelings go deep down in my soul! Oh, God! It seems that Wally just can’t get enough of me.
Wally’s wildest dreams could not have conjured up a day such as this. It’s incredible, he thought. Tony could have anybody–male or female–to love them or to use them--and he is kissing me. Moi! Oh, man!
“You’re all right, aren’t you?” asked Tony as he gave a gentle tug on Wally’s undershirt. Deciding the kisses would be enough for today, he looked into Wally’s eyes and whispered, “I think you really got into this, like you were getting turned on. I mean, I could get that way really easy--right now. But, I’ve got to go. I’ll call you when I get back. I like you a lot, Wally. Be good.” Tony left.
Wally poured himself another cup of coffee. Sipping it, he sat staring out the window. With deep breaths, he sniffed out remnants of Tony’s cologne. He could still taste the watermelon gum. He closed his eyes. He quivered. He smiled. Life had done a flipflop. He smiled again. Chuckling, he thought, I feel like Mona Lisa in boxer shorts. Nothing is going to get this smile off my face.
Wally wasn’t one to sing in the shower. He did that day. In fact, he got downright operatic, something he had heard in music appreciation class, an Italian piece. Wally didn’t usually hum as he dressed. He did that day. He whistled as he combed his hair. The smile was still glued to his face.
As he left the apartment and headed for his car, there was a zing in his step–a walk-on-air feeling. Wally’s thoughts were defiant. Just try to mow me down or stab me in the back. You won’t get anywhere now. I’ve already been to the top of my ladder. I’m impervious. I’ve been kissed.
Instead of walking around the small flowerbed next to the parking spaces, Wally jumped it. He did a few dance steps as he approached his car. He wanted to shout the news from a housetop or a busy intersection. Oh, God! This is so incredible. I’m in love. I’ve been kissed.
Wally managed to get into his car without floating off the ground. Gravity still worked. Everything was exactly as it should be, except . . . Wally had been kissed.
Chapter 4
Mileah White was only twenty-six years old. She already had a reputation. Was it a fact? Or, was it made up? Mileah wasn’t telling. She preferred the mystery that surrounded her. Most of the staff knew about her child and the failed marriage. Some had heard Mileah speak of the good-for-nothing boyfriend who came on payday and went when the money got low. Why did she allow it? No one knew. Her life was somewhat puzzling. One thing was certain, however. As a worker, she was indefatigable.
Mileah had arrived early that morning three weeks ago. As she waited for the eight-o’clock chimes from the church across the street, Mileah sat at her desk arranging her dark red hair. Often she wore it in a ponytail. That day, she had decided to let it hang to her shoulders. Silky and vibrant, this was hair to be envied. If you were a lady, you wanted that hair hanging from your head. If you were a man, you wanted to run your fingers through it, to let the strands curl around your hands, to breathe in the subtle fragrance. Mileah’s hair wasn’t all that stood out. As she wore it then, it highlighted firm breasts that swelled trying to escape the blouse that imprisoned them. These were breasts that stood at attention and demanded you do the same. The hair also accentuated the curves of hips that filled her tight skirt and wiggled, when she walked, as if set to music. The hair, the breasts, the hips were complemented by firm, stylish legs that tapered to delicate feet. Her open-toed pumps showed painted nails matching her lipstick and her manicured fingernails.
Mileah dabbed cotton-candy perfume on her scarf and at the base of her neck. She knew what effect she had on the others in the office. The women would want to know what kind it was and where she bought it. The guys would just sniff. Their faces would have a certain dreamy look, like high-school boys with hormones in charge and good sense nowhere in the neighborhood. Any man in that state, if he started moving his feet before he snapped back to reality, might walk into a wall, or entertain the ladies by tripping over a waste basket. Mileah delighted herself in the effect she had on the men. She intended to use that to get to high places in the agency, whether she climbed on her own merit or got hoisted to the top in a bed. Whatever it took.
Mileah had a pleasant smile. She was witty; she was intelligent, though she toned that down unless it was to good advantage. She liked Wally. She had figured, long ago, that she was never going to lure Wally to a bedroom. Putting that aside, she liked him anyway.
Next to Mileah sat Norman Gómez, the office stud, age twenty-eight. He was not just handsome; he was beautiful. He had dark brown hair, cut very short, and a photogenic face that sported a neatly trimmed goatee. His broad shoulders, chiseled torso, and trim waist filled polo shirts to perfection. He had a butt that gals and guys, alike, loved to watch. The gals lusted after it; the guys were jealous. It did not go unnoticed. It was firm and just the right size and . . . it was perfect. Norman also had a nice package that bulged just enough to grab attention and cause people to take a second glance. Norman didn’t mind adjusting it, now and then, especially if he knew some of the guys or gals were watching. There was nothing at all bashful about Norman Gómez.
Norman liked to flirt, but only if it was well received. He had been out with a few of the ladies from the office. No doubt, some of them knew all about the contents of his package, but nobody told. Norman had a soft, gentle voice. He moved smoothly, almost like a cat. His breathing left people wonde
ring if he were somewhere on the edge of arousal. His smile was contagious. His eyes were intense, a deep, radiant blue. He was a hunk. Norman Gómez and sex seemed to go together.
Wally often wondered what it would be like to be with Norman. He would shudder with delight when Norman came to his desk, stood behind him, leaned over a bit, and whispered a question. He was sure Norman knew about his orientation. Norman appeared to be just as sure of his own sexuality, so it was not a problem for Wally to be a work buddy. He was not a threat.
Past Norman’s desk was Wally’s, and then, the desk of Dorinda Jordan. Here was a pleasant and attractive lady in her late forties. She had a flawless complexion, a charming smile. She was the most efficient worker in the room. She was all business most of the time, but she had another side filled with compassion and understanding. Dorinda was a part-time minister of the Gospel at the Apostolic Community Church. She was an expert at making people comfortable with the situations in which they found themselves.
Dorinda was also an expert at tricking her coworkers into saying things they really did not intend to say. When she did this, she would smile with delight as they tried to get themselves out of it. Wally was easier than most to lead into such blunders. She loved it when he got so deeply entangled that he admitted defeat and begged forgiveness. Dorinda would just smile and chuckle. Then, she would say something like, “Wally, I think you were born with a tongue that gets disconnected from your brain!” At this point, Norman and Mileah would join the fun–Norman with an outburst of laughter, and Mileah with a schoolgirl squeal that penetrated every room in the office suite.
Wally and Dorinda would often entertain a mirthful, gossipy conversation about Mileah walking into the office of Jarvis Muncey. Jarvis, the co-supervisor of the State Employment Bureau, could quote rules and regulations like preachers quote the Bible. He was all business except when he encountered Mileah. When she walked into his office, his articulate speech would fumble. His voice would rise several steps in pitch. His face would turn red. He would ruffle papers and drop things. And, he would sweat. Dorinda loved to predict the outcome of a scenario that would involve Mileah walking into Muncey’s office and closing the door behind her. She could see it now. Mileah would unfasten a few buttons, moisten her lips, swirl her hair, bat her eyes, and go after Muncey full force. Most likely, there were only two possible outcomes. Muncey would become mentally unstable and apply for early retirement, or Mileah would get a big promotion. Dorinda and Wally wondered just when that might occur. Everyone would benefit. When Muncey was happy, everybody was happy. When Muncey was out of the office, everybody was happy.
Unexpected Angel Page 2
