The design of the Madison Inn was distinctly southern colonial--a red brick exterior, a portico on the front, colonial-style windows that could be raised in comfortable weather, dormers on the roof, and a veranda along most of the rear of the building. Inside, the parquet floor, the round wooden tables covered with linen tablecloths, and the oak chairs, lent a country elegance surpassed only by the food.
The owner, Fred Jamison, was a quiet and reserved man in his fifties. He had opened the restaurant to bring authentic, down-home, affordable, southern-style cuisine to people weary of cheeseburgers, french fries, and pizza. The success of this venture was measured in numbers, big numbers with dollar signs.
His wife was known by the clientele as Mama Annette. She was the know-how behind the delectable entrées that came from her kitchen. She had gathered recipes from her mother and her grandmother, from her aunts and her great-aunts. Among the favorites were pan-fried chicken, country steak with gravy, stuffed pork chops, pecan pie, and her prized meat loaf.
A fast-growing food company owed part of its success to the meat loaf recipe. They offered it as one of their frozen dinners. Mama Annette’s name and picture were on the box, along with the words, tooth-ticklin’ good, in bold orange letters on a banner across the carton. All that seemed to be missing was an airplane to pull the words from one side to the other. Mama Annette and Fred couldn’t complain. They made a pile of money from the frozen dinner. The Madison had become famous for its meat loaf. It followed that everything else on the menu was good, too.
People went to the Madison for an outstanding dining experience. They also went to show off. Did somebody have a new boyfriend or girlfriend? The Madison was the proper place to let all the proper folks of Charlotte know about it. New hairdos? Facelifts? Suntans? Nose jobs? Wardrobe items? Revamped waistlines? These, too, could be introduced the Madison way. Then, there were the new cars and boats. Obviously, automobiles could be driven onto the parking lot while diners watched enviously from the veranda. Ladies lusted after luxury cars. Gentlemen drooled over sports cars. Everybody went loony over flashy trucks. But boats? There wasn’t a marina within thirty-five miles. However, some of the spaces along the sides of the lot had been reserved for boats. These spaces were long enough for a fancy boat hitched to a powerful truck. Once the boat had been properly introduced, the owner would take advantage of the long summer evenings to drive up to Lake Nansemond to have it docked.
It surprised no one when Mercedes Brubaker rolled up in a Lamborghini with her latest dude, Gianni Pomodoro, at the wheel. Most of her boyfriends had sporty cars among their attributes. Only a few did not. There had been one guy on a motorcycle with a sidecar, but he didn’t stay the required three nights. Another notable exception was the dandy who drove an old Volkswagen. Though he was a Rolls-Royce of a man, Mercedes would not allow herself to be seen in Charlotte in that doodle-bug contraption. So, they got food in Westfield at Jimbo’s Take-Out and Video.
Just as the Lamborghini had attracted the attention of diners having an after-dinner cigarette on the veranda, the appearance of Mercedes and Gianni was a head-turner in the dining room. She, in her low-cut dress with full skirt, and he, in his tailored pin-stripe suit, evoked images of an Italian actress and her gangster beau.
The headwaiter ushered them to a large round table with place settings for four persons. As the waiter handed them menus, Mercedes said, “We’ll order our drinks now, but we need to wait a while for the two others in our party.” Mercedes ordered sweet tea. Gianni ordered red wine. The waiter left. Mercedes looked around to see who was looking at her. She was satisfied that she had been noticed. In a few minutes, the waiter returned with the drinks. Mercedes was still looking around, generating a big smile and using her hand to fluff the back of her hairdo. She imagined herself an actress or a princess, and Gianni, a rich bozo, willing to part with a small fortune merely to enjoy her company. God, if only the world were really that simple.
Gianni excused himself to go to the men’s room. Mercedes sipped tea and continued her glamour activities. Shortly, the waiter appeared at the edge of the decorative folding screen next to the table. “Madam,” he said, “the other members of your party are here.”
Kirby was first to come around the screen. Mercedes manufactured her most motherly smile and extended her hand. Kirby smiled, also. Mercedes said, “Kirby, honey, so glad you could . . . ” She stopped short, her smile evolving into a distorted groan, as she saw Tony. “Kirby, so glad you could come, dear. Kindly introduce your friend to me.” Those were the words, but the thoughts were different, Oh, my Lord! Where did you meet him? This had better be good!
Tony was equally uncomfortable. Oh, heavens, he thought. Now, she probably knows I swing any way I have to. How did I get in this mess? I wonder if she has other relatives that I’ve slept with?
Kirby made a gesture for Tony to come closer. “Mom,” he said, “this is my friend, Tony. He comes from West Virginia. He has been staying at the cabin with me.”
Tony made a slight bow. “Pleased to meet you, Ms. Brubaker.”
Kirby interjected, “How did you know her last name was not Camden, like mine?”
Tony fumbled for words, “I thought . . . maybe it’s just . . . I don’t really know. Did I use the wrong name?”
Mercedes eased the situation. “It really doesn’t matter, dear. You probably heard Kirby say that name, didn’t you Tony?”
Tony nodded yes and relaxed a bit.
Mercedes continued. “Do sit down boys. Excuse me, that’s just a figure of speech. You are both dashing young men.”
Turning to Kirby, she asked, “Kirby, where on earth did you find such a handsome friend. Tony has Hollywood written all over his face. He has been blessed with the most excellent features all over his body . . . I mean, he is so charming.” She thought, I guess Kirby is familiar with that feature by now. Oh, how I wish. But, no, I had to play mom.
Mercedes regained her composure. She figured that smiling and saying nothing might be safer for now, especially since Gianni had just come around the folding screen. And Gianni . . . whatever did Gianni do when he got a glimpse of Tony? He rolled his eyes and reached for his handkerchief to mop the sweat from his brow. “Mamma mia! I think it’s hot in here,” he gasped. He sat down immediately.
Mercedes had a look of concern on her face, “Gianni, it’s comfortable in here. You must be ill, or perhaps you’re having hot flashes. I hear men do have them.”
“No, it was just a momentary spell.” replied Gianni.
Turning to Tony, he went on, “Nice to see you, Tony. What brings you to these parts?”
Mercedes raised her brows. “My, my, we know things in a hurry around here, don’t we? I haven’t introduced anyone yet.” Pointing to her son, she said, “Gianni, this is Kirby, my son. And over there is Tony, Kirby’s friend. Of course, for some reason you already know his name.”
Gianni stumbled over his words, “We are both from Brockton, West Virginia. I have a house there. I don’t always live in it, but I do have one.”
“Yes, it’s really nice,” said Tony. Huge yard, swimming pool, six bedrooms, hot tub, and sauna . . . ”
The pitch of Gianni’s voice went two or three notes up the scale. “And of course, you feel the need to tell everyone about the house, and in great detail?”
Mercedes leaned forward with a twinkle in her eyes. “Yes, Tony, you described it like you have been there.”
Tony replied with enthusiasm, “Well, I have. Many times.”
Gianni looked at the folding screen, then his shoes, then into space. He wiped his brow again.
Tony continued, “I went to one of Gianni’s parties. All the nice young men of Brockton were there. He let me stay over because I had too much to drink.”
Gianni continued to stare just about everywhere, but not at Tony. Mercedes could see he was uncomfortable for some reason. She thought she knew why, but she would let Kirby handle that.
Mercedes had mischief in her
smile as she turned to Kirby. “You have been so silent, Kirby dear. Let’s hear something from you.”
Gianni wanted to get the conversation away from Tony. He interrupted. “Yes, Kirby. A handsome young man like you must be honored to have a beautiful lady friend somewhere.”
“Well, I don’t have a girlfriend,” said Kirby. “I mean, I know some really nice girls. We often run around together. But, I’m gay. All of my dates are men.”
Gianni turned pale. His chin trembled. Tony looked away and gulped air. Kirby’s mouth flew open. He realized he had probably given too much information.
Mercedes batted her twinkling eyes and smiled. She knew that nothing of any value could be added to what had already been said. The three men had dug themselves into a hole they could never climb out of. Wasn’t it entertaining to have a time of confession just before dinner? Perhaps, I should have invited a priest, also, she thought.
At last, Mercedes remarked with a bit of sarcasm, “Well, well, Tony. It seems that you’ve had the honor of sleeping with my boyfriend and my son. If I hadn’t been busy playing mom to nurse you back to health, well . . . if I hadn’t been so busy, somebody could ask, ‘Who slept with Tony?’ and we could all raise our hands and show everybody our big smiles and our pretty teeth. It would be unanimous . . . Oh, darn. I should have tried harder.”
Tony chuckled, then Kirby, then Gianni. Mercedes went on, “Now that we have all been properly introduced and hung our laundry out to dry, let’s order some food. Nothing can be said to undo this mess, and we needn’t try.”
Chapter 22
The evening get-together, that could have been a jealous face-off, turned out, instead, to be a blast. Almost half an hour after they had finished dessert, the four were still talking and laughing. Gianni looked at his watch, “It’s nearly nine o’clock,” he said. “We all have quite a distance to drive. I guess we need to be on our way.”
Gianni and Mercedes led the way out of the dining room. Kirby and Tony followed close behind. They delayed going outside because Kirby had to make a stop at the men’s room. Tony waited in the lobby. He noticed some of the restaurant employees coming out of the doorway from the kitchen. He assumed that these might be ones who had been working since early afternoon and were finishing their shifts.
Tony heard the voice of a lady calling his name. “Tony?” It sounded like she didn’t know if the person she saw was really the Tony she remembered. She just thought he might be. And Tony thought that maybe it was another Tony, so he shouldn’t be so quick to answer. But the voice persisted, “Tony?” The lady came closer.
Tony turned to see someone he knew. “Juliana! Juliana Méndez. You haven’t changed. Still as dazzling as ever.” He smiled and threw his arms out to give her a hug. She did the same. They kissed each other on the cheeks. “Oh, Juliana. I never dreamed I would see you here.”
“Neither did I,” said Juliana as she hugged Tony once more. “That day in the hospital when Miguel was born . . . you signed the birth certificate and left. I haven’t seen you since. Miguel is three years old, now. He looks so much like you. He is such a darling . . . Oh, Tony, my Tony. I have missed you so much. But, I still have part of you to love–it’s Miguel, my sweet Miguel.”
Tony asked, “Why didn’t you go after me for child support? I didn’t want to stay here, but I expected to pay. I could have brought you and Miguel to West Virginia. But, I never heard from you after that day.”
“It was Papa’s idea. He didn’t have the proper papers to be living in the United States. He did not want to attract attention. He was afraid the authorities would send him back to Mexico. So, he said we would raise Miguel ourselves. People could ask questions later. Besides, we had a birth certificate to prove that Miguel’s father was an American, just in case.”
“Are you still living with your father?” quizzed Tony.
“No. Papa died last year. My brother, Pablo, is staying in Papa’s old house with Miguel and me. Pablo works in a furniture factory near Jeffersonville. Our Aunt María lives right next to us. She looks after Miguel when we both have to work. Life is good.”
While Tony and Juliana were still talking, Kirby came out of the men’s room. Tony introduced him to Juliana and told him about Miguel.
Kirby looked at Tony and asked, “Do you think you might like to go see your son? I mean, if it’s all right with Juliana.”
Juliana’s smile indicated that Kirby’s plan was fine with her. Looking at Tony, she said. “Why not tonight? You can ride over to Jeffersonville with me. You can stay over. You’ll get to see your son, tomorrow. Miguel will be so glad to see his daddy.”
Tony looked happy and a little puzzled. “Well, OK. I guess we can do this. But, my car is parked at Kirby’s cabin beside Lake Nansemond. How will I get back there tomorrow? I have to go to West Virginia to see about a job.”
Juliana shook her head. “My Tony, always worrying about things. I’ve got a plan for you to get back to the lake. I’ll tell you in the morning. It will be fine.”
The three walked out onto the veranda. It seemed to be a perfect summer evening. The humidity was uncomfortable, at first, but a slight breeze made things tolerable. Off in the distance, heat lightning flashed. It must have been far, far away, for the thunder never came. There was simply another flash.
At the end of the porch, was a different flash--not deadly at all–lightning bugs. Tony could recall catching one of them in his hands when he was a child. He could remember opening his hands slightly to take a peek. He loved to watch the firefly blink off and on. He was always concerned that the bug might get away, and he would have to find another.
Tony’s thoughts flashed back to one time when his attention had quickly shifted from the lightning bug to a tree frog hanging from a branch that dipped down, almost touching the roof of the porch. He could remember how the lightning bug got away when he opened his hand to catch the frog. He recollected how he examined the frog and became fascinated by its toes. They looked like they had tiny suction cups on them. This had delighted Tony so much that he stuffed the frog into his pants pocket, then forgot about it, because his attention flitted somewhere else. He couldn’t remember, now, what that attraction was.
Later, the frog had come back to mind, with a jolt, because his mother yelled when she found it. She wasn’t afraid of frogs. She was doing some laundry while Tony bathed. It was her custom to search pockets. She wanted to make certain that the clothing and her beloved appliances were protected from things that would punch holes or fade or melt. How could Tony know that the soft skin of her fingers touching the clammy skin of the frog would result in the pants flying in one direction, the frog hopping in another, and his mother disturbing the neighbors with a terrifying shriek?
Having his mind wander from one thought to another was exactly what had bothered Tony all too often. Only a few moments ago he had been concerned about going to visit his son. The next moment he was reminiscing about lightning bugs and tree frogs.
It took great effort for Tony to bring himself back to reality, but he did. He motioned for Kirby to go with him to see something at the end of the porch. They jumped off the edge like two children, giggling and carrying on, disappearing around the corner of the building, out of Juliana’s sight. Tony embraced Kirby. He gave him a passionate kiss. He held onto his newfound friend like they would never see each other again, this side of heaven. In a few seconds, they were back on the veranda.
Kirby got into his car. Tony and Juliana got into hers. They were off.
Chapter 23
It was after ten o’clock when Juliana pulled into the driveway at her house in Jeffersonville. She and Tony agreed that they would not attempt to wake Miguel. He might not be able to fall asleep again. They both knew if Miguel didn’t sleep, nobody would sleep.
Juliana was very tired and soon went to her room on the ground floor. Juliana’s brother, Pablo, led Tony to the second floor where the guestroom was. They were careful not to make any noise as Miguel’s
room was just down the hall, next to Pablo’s.
Once in the extra room, Tony got undressed, slipped under the covers, and used his cell phone to call Wally’s landline. That way he could be sure Wally was at home and not running around.
Wally picked up on the second ring. “Hello.”
“Hey, Wally, it’s Tony. How are you?”
Wally remarked that work was wearing him out. He told Tony how much he missed him.
“I miss you, too, Wally. Hey, I am coming home tomorrow or the next day. I want to check on a job. Can I stay with you a few days?”
“Sure,” said Wally. “I would love to have you around the apartment in the evening, and at night. My, my, I would certainly like that.”
Tony chuckled. “So you’re hungry for a man, huh?”
Wally giggled. “It sure beats peanut butter crackers and diet cola.”
Tony changed the subject. “Wait till you see the pictures of me and my son.”
“Your son?”
“Yeah, it’s a long story . . . I’ll have to tell you all about it, one of these days, but not right now.” Tony paused. “I don’t have the pictures yet, but I’m sure his mother will take some tomorrow.”
Wally sighed, “Tony, you’re always so full of mystery. I didn’t even know you had a son.”
“Well, his mother and I had a thing going, a while back. Miguel, that’s my son, was born about three years ago. I lost touch with Juliana–that’s the mother’s name–so I didn’t talk much about them.”
Tony and Wally were both exhausted, so they ended the call after a short time. Tony promised to call when he was on his way back to West Virginia.
**********
Early the next morning, Tony awoke to the sound of a child giggling. He heard the bedroom door open, and the sound of padded footsteps dancing impatiently on the carpet. Pablo came through the door, a big smile on his face. Looking at the child, he said playfully, “There you are. You keep getting away from me this morning.” The child giggled some more. Pablo bent down, picked him up and placed him atop the blanket at the foot of Tony’s bed. Before Tony could move, Miguel had climbed upon his chest and was staring him in the face.
Unexpected Angel Page 11
