by James Ross
“There’s nothing that he can’t do,” Raul crowed. “I’ve never seen a better baseball player.”
“See if he can get us tickets.” Shari suddenly turned inquisitive. “How do you know each other so well?”
“We grew up together.”
“Where?”
“Puerto Rico.”
“How did you get here?”
“Didn’t I tell you before?”
Shari shook her head negatively. “Not that I remember.”
“Basilio and I played baseball together. Day and night. We were pretty good. He got signed.”
“By the Cardinals?”
Raul nodded. “Yep. They told him to come to Florida but he didn’t want to go to a strange country all by himself.”
“I can’t blame him.”
“We didn’t know the language and we had no dinero.” Raul rubbed his index finger and thumb together. “So Rico and me came along with him.”
“How?”
“We hopped a boat.”
“And came in illegally?”
Raul smiled and then put his index fingers to his lips. “Some things you never tell. Shhhh.”
“Basilio too?”
“No, he’s legit.” Raul paused. “Thanks to baseball anyway.” Raul flashed a smile. “You know I’m a good amigo with Basilio. We go back together to three years old.”
Shari stopped to think (something she didn’t do too much before her mouth opened.) “I thought you were thirty-seven.”
Raul was confused. “I am.”
A puzzled look crossed Shari’s face. “We was talking about that the other day.”
“Who? What?”
“Me and the girls at the golf course.” Shari stopped. “Because it’s in the news.”
“What are you talking about, Bombon?”
“Basilio. It’s everywhere.”
“What’s everywhere?”
“About how he’s going to become the highest priced free agent in baseball history.” Shari stopped. “One of the girls said that he’s only thirty-two. She goes down to the games and looks at his tush every night.” She laughed. “She salivates all over him. I think she wants to be the next home wrecker.”
“Basilio gets all the women.”
“I thought he was married.”
“He is. He’s got five muchachos.”
“He shouldn’t be doing that if he’s married.”
“Doing what?”
“Sleeping with other women.”
Raul was puzzled. “You’re married, Bombon.”
Shari laughed. “That’s different.”
Raul roared heartily. “We love you Americanos. You have a true double standard.”
“I guess we do,” Shari said with a chuckle. “I’m even Catholic!”
“And so am I.”
“I guess that means we’re going to rot in hell.” Shari brushed her hand through Raul’s hair and then kissed him on the lips. “So how does he get all of these women?”
“He’s a professional baseball player!” Raul howled. “They have their groupies in every town, just like a rock star.”
“How does he get away with it?”
Raul grinned. “That’s where Rico comes in.” Shari turned her palms toward the ceiling and shook her head as if she didn’t understand. “He lines up the dates.”
Shari thought for a second. Then a thought hit her. “Oh, I get it. He’s his pimp.”
“Yep. For Basilio and the whole team.” Raul backed off that statement. “Or at least whoever wants a date.”
“Now I understand.” Shari let her hand brush across Raul’s crotch. “I bet you don’t need to use Rico’s services.”
“No way,” Raul said. “Rico’s turned into a little whore for the dinero. He’ll do anything for it. I try not to do too much with him anymore.”
Shari went off on another tangent. “That’s interesting.”
“What is, Bombon?”
“That you grew up with Basilio since you were three and now you’re thirty-seven and he’s thirty-two.”
“Well…”
“Well what?”
“He fudged his age to be younger for the Cardinals.”
Shari stopped. “By five years?”
Raul grinned. “Shhh. There’s no need for you to tell. I guess he’ll do anything for some dinero too.”
“The news says he wants a ten-year contract to stay with the Cardinals, doesn’t he?”
Raul nodded.
“That will make him forty-seven when the contract expires. That’s old for a baseball player, isn’t it?” Shari knew her baseball, her golf, her fellow Catholics, and her men.
“You can’t look at it like that. It’s all about de guitas with him now.”
“But if he lied about his age and misrepresented himself then that is fraud.”
“How do you know all about this stuff?”
“I’ve been hanging around lawyers a lot lately.”
Raul understood. He had lived in the US long enough to form an opinion. “That’s not good.”
“But I do know what is.”
“What’s that?”
“That thirty-seven year old pene of yours. There’s no need for you to lie about your age.” Shari patted the stack of bills, grabbed his hand, and led him back to the bedroom. “You can stay as long as you’d like.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Tyler Cy hobbled into the offices of Truman Stewart. It was time to act on their game plan or at least progress further along to satisfy the divorce judge. Some would classify it as a necessary evil while others would claim that it was time for him to start saving his backside from an overzealous opponent.
“What the heck happened to you?” Truman asked as Tyler Cy appeared wrapped from mid-thigh to his ankle.
“My wife thought it was a sprain.”
“Obviously that was misdiagnosed.”
“I had a total knee replacement—ligaments, cartilage, and a titanium knee.”
“How did it happen?” Truman was exploring an angle. “Was it domestic abuse?”
“She threw a pillow; I ducked and fell down half of a flight of stairs.”
“Is that documented?”
Tyler Cy nodded. “She made a statement to the emergency paramedics as to the cause.”
“Get me the paperwork. The judge needs to see that.” Truman shook his head. “So the living arrangement isn’t working out?”
“Just the opposite,” Tyler Cy answered. “I like it in the lower level. We can come and go as we please. We’re still friends with each other. She just doesn’t want to be married to me anymore.”
“So we protect you.” Truman handed him a list of items. Tyler Cy looked it over. “Let’s go through this one by one.”
“I’ve taken care of most of these.”
Truman started with the first item. “You separated your accounts?”
“Yes. We no longer have joint checking and savings accounts.” He handed over several statements that detailed all of their liquid cash. “She got fifty percent of the checking and savings. She has to have some cash to spend.”
“Great.”
“I’ll pay the mortgage and all utilities since I’m still living in the house.” Tyler Cy winced as pain shot up his leg. “The only item that she’s going to be responsible for is her cell phone. The home phone, cable bill, and computer charges will be mine.”
“Good job.” Truman was relieved that he had a very responsible client that adequately followed his directions.
“I called the stockbroker and put half of the stocks in her name and the other half in mine. She’s free to do what she wants with hers.”
Truman checked off another line item. “This is great. The judge will be happy to see that you’re cooperating.”
“I haven’t done anything with the insurance yet. The cars are still titled jointly so I figured that I better continue with the policies to protect all of us from liability. I can give her the Jaguar
and make her pay her own insurance and maintenance, but what’s the hurry?”
“You’re fine. You’ve done enough of the other things up to now. We don’t want the judge to get spoiled. Otherwise this thing will go too quickly. That’s not in your best interests.”
“No. I’m in no hurry.” Tyler Cy looked at the next item on the list. “I’ve called all of the credit card agencies and have reduced my limits and requested that she be taken off the account. Not all agreed, so I cancelled those cards.” Tyler Cy grimaced again. “This injury has given me plenty of time to get things done. I’ve requested that she fill out an application and establish her own credit. Those have been coming in the mail and as far as I’m concerned she can do what she wants about that.”
“Got it. I’ll explain that to the judge. You can’t be responsible for her establishing her own credit. We simply have to make sure that she has a line of credit open somewhere so she has at least one card to use. The main thing is that we do not want to be responsible for the expenses that she incurs from this point forward.”
Tyler Cy agreed and then went to the next item on the list. “I’m self-employed so I don’t have a pension. The only thing that we had was an IRA and that has been split and she got her half. Then we have the property issue.”
“Of course,” Truman said as he shook his head, “and that is what we can drag out. The judge is going to hold you in good graces since you’ve done all of this. He should rule favorably and give us plenty of time for the appraisals. That’s what we want, right?”
“Absolutely. Drag the rest of this out.” Tyler Cy was satisfied with his decision. “As far as I’m concerned she can have her jewelry, artwork, furniture, and household and personal property items. I could care less about it.”
“I understand,” Truman agreed, “but I think that we need to itemize it, put a value on it and use it for a bargaining chip down the road. The way I look at it is that nothing comes free. If you don’t want it then that’s fine, but let’s get something in return for giving it to her.”
“That’s fine. I understand the rationale.”
“So prepare a list of items.”
“I was hoping you wouldn’t say that.”
“Somebody has to do it.”
“Her shoes alone will take a full weekend.”
Truman laughed. “What is it with women and shoes? Take a picture of the stuff that is hers. We’ll try to itemize off a snapshot.” He got up from his chair and walked to the window. The view was all that St. Louis could offer. It included the Gateway Arch, the Mississippi River, the slums of East St. Louis, and a look into the new Cardinal baseball stadium. “Are you ready for the rest?”
“Give it to me,” Tyler Cy said. “I have to have my own insurance policy.”
Truman continued looking out the window. “This is what my guy has found out. She got a place at Cosmo Lofts.”
“To see Richie? They’ve been friends forever.”
Truman shook his head. “A guy by the name of Raul Mendez.”
“Huh?”
“He’s a waiter at Olde Blueblood. That’s how they met. He owns Raul’s Sports Therapy and works in it as a personal trainer. It’s basically a massage parlor.”
“For hookers?”
“No, no. Nothing like that. He’s legit. It’s a physical therapy shop.”
Tyler Cy nodded. “Whenever she had an injury she would hurry off for a rubdown. That makes sense.”
“She still has her girlfriends. She’s playing golf in Illinois at Prairie Winds Golf Course.”
“She told me about that.” Tyler Cy laughed. “Did you hear about what she won?”
Truman shook his head.
“She twisted off a bottle cap and won a round of golf at The Classic. If she wins, she stands to win a million bucks.”
Truman took note. “Really?” He walked to his desk and jotted something down. “I’m sure the judge will be interested to hear that.” He laughed. “More bargaining power.”
“She can have it. I hope she wins. That would be a positive start for her.”
“We’ll worry about it later.” Truman sat back down. “How’s the development coming along?”
“Politics.” Tyler Cy sounded disgusted. “Having to deal with TexArOkLa is like ice fishing.”
“The bigger the risk the better the reward.”
“I’m used to it. That’s my business.” Tyler Cy made a move to get up out of his chair. “Raul Mendez, huh? Anything else about him I need to know?”
“His live-in is a Swedish ex-tennis player named Tindra Svahnstrom. They live in Kirkwood and have two kids together—a boy and girl.”
“That’s innocent. I hope she doesn’t ruin their relationship.” Tyler Cy scratched his chin as he rose and looked out the window. “I always thought she would go after Richie, but she has put a kibosh on that.”
“Maybe she’s trying to make him jealous.”
“Nah. She’s going after what she can’t get from me.” Tyler Cy laughed at his own inadequacy. “She’s always had a weakness for the abs of steel.” He jiggled some flab around his waist. “Anything else?”
“Raul is good friends with Basilio.”
“You’re kidding? With the Cardinals?” Truman shook his head up and down as Tyler Cy shuffled to the door. “Now that’s interesting. Maybe she’s going to rebound with a professional athlete.”
“Nah. They have all the good looking young ones they can handle.”
“She’s in her prime. Her sex drive will rival any of them.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
It was just one day later.
The morning started off innocently enough. The sun was up a little after five and the eastern sky showed pastels of pink and orange. The temperature was already in the low 70s and it was humid and smothering. A person could practically chew the air.
Shari took a walk, showered, and dressed in a fashionable dark blue golf skirt with a sleeveless, cranberry top. After applying makeup she slipped on her visor and made sure every strand of hair was perfectly in place.
The rings had been polished. The bracelets glistened. White hoop earrings—her favorites—completed the look. She literally sparkled after spraying gold flakes on her face and neck. The golf clubs were in the trunk of the Jaguar. Soon thereafter Ashlyn was riding shotgun and the girls were laughing on their way to Prairie Winds.
Crossing the Mississippi early in the morning is usually a visual treat. And it was for Shari and Ashlyn on this morning. From two miles away a layer of fog was visible above the water. A light blue, sun-soaked sky glistened above, but as drivers approach the water at interstate level, the fog intensified, headlights popped on, and visibility deteriorated.
The anxiety lasted for only a few seconds at seventy miles per hour. Then the eastern banks appeared, basking in all their glory. Corn crops on the fertile river bottom promised another bumper crop, and the sunglasses dropped into place.
Shari and Ashlyn were only a few minutes from the river bluffs and Prairie Winds Golf Course.
Shari was excited as the pair pulled into the parking lot. The girls had arrived early for the women’s league play. That was a first. Shari never arrived early for anything. The reason? Shari was going to get a 30-minute lesson from Curt before league play started. She couldn’t forget the moment their eyes locked in place on her last visit.
When Curt appeared on the practice range he didn’t disappoint. He was as attractive and athletic as his brother. His shoulders were developed from weight training. His chest bulged. The trendy golf shirt appeared to be painted on. Up-to-date golf slacks magnified an athletic derriere and runners’ thighs. The beltline promised a tapered waist. Polished golf shoes, compliments of BowTye, completed his impeccable look.
But it was Curt’s crystal blue eyes that Shari was really attracted to. He smiled with them, and she was instantly smitten.
“Are you ready to go to work?” It was a business-like approach and an opening line that Sha
ri could have done without.
“I’m better at playing.” Shari’s smile and eyes suggested that more followed.
“My job is to make sure that you make a million bucks.”
Shari grinned and wished that it included more. “That wouldn’t be a bad return on four hours’ work.”
“At least there is one thing we don’t have to worry about.”
“What’s that?”
“The driver. It’s an executive course and we’ll be playing par threes. We’ll work on fine tuning your short game and spend a lot of time on the practice green.”
Curt pulled out a map of the executive golf course located on the grounds of The Classic in Muscle Shoals, Alabama. “I’m going to have to get a feel for how far you hit your shots. There are several holes that are over 200 yards long but most are between 100 and 175 yards.” He opened it for Shari to view. “There are four lakes and a creek and a couple of well-placed trees that might come into play.”
Golf wasn’t on Shari’s mind. As she had gotten close to view the layout of the course she had picked up his scent. The after-shave made her tingle. She closed her eyes and savored the smell and then shifted her legs and squirmed. As she craned her neck forward she conveniently allowed for her breasts to rub across his forearm.
Curt acted as if nothing had happened. He had charmed the panties off many women in the past. She was just making it obvious that she was interested. He knew his opportunity would come, but right now his main interest was making sure Shari got her golf game in shape and Prairie Winds got a 10 percent cut. A hundred thousand dollar payday all made possible by hefty cable TV dollars and advertising interested him more than what she was flaunting.
“I hear that it is beautiful,” Shari commented.
“There is not a weed on the property. Every blade of grass is manicured to perfection.”
“Have you been there?”
