“I didn't get any sleep last night. Betty and I were up all night talking. We had our first fight and I sure as hell didn't win. Look, I have the crew working on equipment in the shed. We're not going to see any golfers today and the guys certainly can't work on the courses. I thought you might want to send them home and save a few nickels. I'll make the rounds and see if everything was done properly yesterday,” he concluded as he stood up and stretched.
“Hold your horses, youngster. You can't drop something like that on me and then just walk away. What happened?"
“Betty wasn't the only one who won last night. You did too.” Bo walked to the coffeepot and automatically filled Big Willie's cup as well as his own.
“What did I win?” Big Willie asked, taking a sip of the steaming black liquid.
“Betty fell in love with the stupid town and was offered a great job with the advertising agency, but it's an in-house job. She'll have to move to Dot to take it, and she said she was going to take it, whether I went with her or not. So I'm going."
“Hell, son. You have a great opportunity in Dot too. I don't see the problem."
“Bullshit."
“Spit it out, boy."
Bo collapsed in the wooden chair and replied sullenly. “There is no way two men can do all the physical work they want done in one year's time, and I have to take a nineteen thousand dollar salary cut for the privilege of trying."
“How do you figure that?"
“Simple math. With overtime, I am now making forty-four thousand. They offered me twenty-five."
“I didn't realize you were making that kind of money, Bo. You do put in a hell of a lot of overtime. I think you are wrong about the work in Dot, though. They don't expect us to do the physical work. They want us to oversee the work—see to it that it's done properly and quickly."
“That's not the way I heard it, Big Willie.” Bo stood up, put on a yellow poncho issued by the park, and headed for the door. “I'll be back in a couple of hours."
Big Willie refilled his cup and checked to see if there was any e-mail. There were four messages. He read the last one first. It was from Matt Dilson.
It was good to see you again yesterday and to meet Mr. Nading. We hope to receive an affirmative answer from you both by the end of the day.
He moved the mouse to the reply icon and clicked it.
Your offer to Bo Nading was an insult—$19,000 less than he is making at Tanglewood. Bo understands that you expect us to personally perform all the work you want completed in the next twelve months. That is absolutely impossible. I must rethink the whole proposal.
The remaining three messages were from Sarasue. The first two were the usual sex fantasies. Big Willie read them quickly before deleting them. He thought long and hard about her final message before picking up the telephone and dialing the number she provided.
“Hello."
“Sarasue?"
She began to cry. “Big Willie, is it really you?"
“It's me. You're a damned good storyteller, Sarasue. If that last message you sent me was another of your fantasies..."
“It isn't,” she interrupted. “Big Willie, I'm desperate. I don't know what to do."
“I don't know if I can help, but I'll at least listen."
“We've swapped a bunch of lies, big man. It kept me from going insane I think. It was fun. You know more about me than you think you do, hidden in the fantasies. Let me tell you about the real Sarasue."
“I'm still listening."
“I'm 34 years old. Black as a Halloween cat, not white like I told you. I have only a high school education. My husband was the computer programmer, not me. I never worked a day in my life until he died four years ago. We used to have friends, but after his death, they all dropped me. I have no children. My parents are dead. You are the only friend I have in the world."
“Your message said you lost your job."
She blew her nose several times before continuing. “After Lester died I lived on his insurance for a few months. I started looking for work. After being turned down more times than I can remember, I settled for a job as a housekeeper for a snot-nosed white bitch and looked after her kids. The kids were great but I never could seem to please their mother. Big Willie, I did a damn good job, but she was on my ass every day about something or other. She'd have fired me a long time ago, but her husband wouldn't let her. Housekeepers are hard to find in this little community. Anyway, the other day she had me arrested. She claimed I stole a diamond ring out of her bedroom. Big Willie, I didn't do it. The police searched my house and let me go, but the bitch fired me anyway. Big Man, this is a small town. Word gets around. Nobody will hire me now, and the lady that owns the house I rent says she won't renew the contract when the lease expires at the end of September. What am I gonna do?” She started crying again.
“What do you want to do?"
“You told me your wife is in a wheelchair now and needs care during the day while you are at work. Let me come take care of her."
“I don't think that's a good idea. How the hell would I explain you to Louise?"
“You can think of something. Tell her you answered an ad in the newspaper."
“I don't think it would work out, Sarasue, but I will help you the best I can. Give me your mailing address and I'll send you some money."
“I don't need money, right now, Big Willie. I need a friend. I have a few dollars saved up. Help me get out of this place. Help me to come to Winston-Salem where nobody knows me and I can start a new life."
“You keep your chin up. I'll try to think of something. Maybe I should tell you I may be leaving Winston-Salem for a new job."
“What the...” Panic crept into her voice. “Where are you going? What's this all about?"
“It's not definite. I'll tell you more later."
“Are you sure I can count on you, Big Willie?"
“Yeah,” he replied. “You can count on me to at least try to help you out of this jam."
Big Willie leaned back in his chair, folded his hands across his bulging stomach and stared out the dingy office window at the raging storm. He chuckled halfheartedly when the often-repeated line from a sitcom he used to watch in the fifties popped into his mind. “What a revoltin’ development this is."
Chapter Fifteen
“Where did you get into all that mud, Bo? You are a nasty mess,” Big Willie laughed as Bo sloshed into his office.
“There were drainage pipes clogged on four and fifteen on the white course and nine on the blue. I didn't have much choice but to dig them out.” He looked down at his soiled jeans. “You should have seen me before I pulled off my boots."
“Everything okay now?"
“Yeah. I checked all the ditches while I was at it."
“You have clean pants in your locker?"
Bo nodded. “I'll change in a minute. I thought you ought to know that the fairways are so soaked that we have standing water in places where drainage isn't too good. A golf cart would get bogged down and tear up the turf."
“I know. I've already closed the courses for the day. I sent the rest of the crew home an hour ago. There's nothing more you can do here today. You may as well go and get some sleep. You need it."
“Thanks. May I use your phone?” Bo asked as he picked up the receiver.
“Betty, this is Bo. Big Willie's closed the courses due to the rain. I have the rest of the day off. It's almost eleven. I thought maybe you could pick me up on your lunch hour, we'd grab a burger and you could drop me off at home on your way back to work."
When he hung up, Big Willie said, “Go on and get some dry britches on, but come back by here before you leave. I have something to show you that may help you have pleasant dreams."
When Bo left the office Big Willie picked up the hardcopy of the e-mail he just received from Victor Kimel.
Mr. Donaldson,
Matt Dilson forwarded your e-mail to me. I have given the matter a good deal of thought and discussed it with Mr.
Dollar and Matt Dilson. To avoid further confusion, our attorney, Susan Honneycutt, is drawing up formal proposals for both you and Mr. Nading, outlining in detail our salary offer, job descriptions and our specific expectations for the first twenty-four months of employment. I will forward these to you no later than noon tomorrow.
In brief, your understanding of our expectations is correct. While certainly the two of you will want to do some of the physical work yourselves, your primary responsibility is to supervise. We expect you to begin building a staff as need arises.
My first thought concerning Mr. Nading's salary is that perhaps he should stay at Tanglewood. Forty-four thousand dollars is, in my judgement, an excessive salary for an eighteen-year-old man with no formal education beyond high school and only two months of experience. However, I have discussed the matter with both Mr. Dilson and Mr. Dollar. Based on our strong desire to have you become our golf course superintendent, and on your high recommendation of Mr. Nading, we have amended our salary offer to forty-five thousand and the benefits previously discussed.
Mr. Nading should be aware that I feel this salary is excessive. His work will be under careful and constant scrutiny. He has nothing to fear as long as his work is acceptable, but I will not keep anyone on the payroll who does not legitimately earn his paycheck.
Regards,
Victor Kimel
* * * *
“How are you holding up?” Bo asked after swallowing his first bite of hamburger.
“We haven't been busy, of course,” Betty answered. “I've spent most of the morning dozing. In fact, I was sound asleep when you called."
He smiled and pushed the folded e-mail copy across the table without introductory comment.
She opened and read the message. “Bo, this is great. Big Willie went to bat for you and hit one out of the park."
“Something like that."
“You don't sound very excited."
“Betty, how do I know what is acceptable work to this Victor Kimel character? I have things going well here at Tanglewood, and I have a good relationship with Mr. Hathaway. I believe he would have matched this salary as interim greens-keeper, and I think there was a good chance he might have given me the job permanently. It's hard to get excited about moving into the unknown when there are no clear-cut advantages. And surely you can't expect me to be excited about sharing you with this Rita person."
“I thought you were okay with that."
“It's going to take some getting used to.” He washed down the last of the hamburger with a big gulp of Pepsi-Cola.
“Then stay here, Bo. Nobody is forcing you to move to Dot."
“You'd like that wouldn't you? You think you don't need me anymore and would be glad to get me out of your life."
“I didn't say that, Bo. Be fair. I don't want you to be miserable. We could be together on weekends."
“If I stay at Tanglewood, I'll be working on weekends. Remember?"
“True, but we could work something out."
“I promised you last night I would move for your sake, and I will. The decision is made."
“I called Rita this morning and told her I would take the job,” Betty said. “I gave my supervisor at Tanglewood a two-week notice when he came to relieve me for lunch. Rita wants me to come down Monday to look over some projects and decide on furnishings for my office."
He nodded. “Two weeks, huh? Big Willie says we might get away with a two-week notice, but Mr. Hathaway could require a full month."
You haven't turned in a resignation yet have you, Bo?"
“No. I'll do that tomorrow."
“Don't."
“What?"
She sucked heavily on her straw, stopping only when the slurping sound began. “Bo, I know this is crazy, but I think I may be in love with Rita. I've never felt this way about anyone before. It's all so strange to me."
“Are you dumping me, Betty?” He tried unsuccessfully to hide his watering eyes from her.
“I want you both, Bo. Is that possible?"
“I don't know if it's possible to love two people at the same time, Betty. But when you think about it, why not?"
“Are you willing to give it a try, Bo?"
“I said I would last night. I won't change my mind."
“But what if it doesn't work out? You won't be able to get your Tanglewood job back."
“No, but I'll still have the job in Dot, if I don't screw it up."
Neither knew what to say next. Instinctively they held hands across the table until finally Betty said, “I'll need the car to drive to Dot next Monday."
“Maybe I'll go with you. I want to look over the course again, have a look at the town, which you pointed out I didn't do yesterday, and maybe we could look for an apartment to rent. I want to meet Rita, too, if you will let me."
* * * *
Big Willie dried and put away the last supper dish and joined Louise in the den. She had parked her wheelchair next to his recliner and he sat down heavily in the comfortable chair.
“You into that sitcom?” he asked.
“It's a rerun. Don't tell me you want to talk."
“Yeah, I do."
She clicked off the TV and twisted her body slightly in order to look at him.
“I sent everybody home before noon today and spent the afternoon trying to figure out how to tell you this. There just ain't no good way.” He shifted the ever-present unlit cigar nervously.
She looked at him and the trouble she saw in his eyes frightened her. “The Dot job fell through?” she asked.
“No, nothing like that.” He looked at the darkened TV set. “You see, I met this woman on the Internet."
“Oh, no,” she cried out. “You've gotten Sarasue pregnant."
“Hell, no. I've never even met the woman. Besides, you know I shoot blanks. Wait a minute. How'd you know her name?"
“Do you think you could have that computer in the house all this time and I wouldn't learn how to use it?"
“You've read my e-mail? You couldn't have. I deleted all the messages."
“Willie, you're good at hitting a golf ball and you are good at growing grass, but you've never learned how to use Windows 95. I read the manual. You don't actually delete a file until you ... I'm not going to tell you. Then I couldn't spy on you anymore."
He looked at her carefully. He could hardly believe the twinkle in her eyes.
“You read them and didn't say anything?"
“I haven't been the best bedmate for you in a long time. I know that. If swapping fantasies with that white women meets your needs, why should I complain?"
“I don't believe this. I've been going out of my mind trying to figure out how to tell you about Sarasue and you already knew. By the way, she's not white."
“You called her like she asked in her last message?"
“Yeah. She's a black woman in her thirties and she's in a heap of trouble. I believe she's not far away from killing herself. Until her husband died a few years ago, she never had a job. She went to work as a housekeeper, but the other day the woman she worked for accused her of stealing some jewelry. The police arrested her, but they didn't file charges because they could find no evidence. Of course, the woman fired her and Sarasue says her reputation is ruined. There's no way she can get another job in that town. Oh, her landlady is kicking her out too."
“And she wants you to help her. How much money does she want?” Louise asked.
“She says she has enough money to live on for a while. She wants me to find a job for her in Winston-Salem."
“What kind of job?"
He laughed. “She said something about moving in with us and looking after you while I am at work. I told her there was no way for that to ever happen."
“Why not?"
“You're kidding?"
“I think it would be—what do they call it—poetic justice for your lover to wind up waiting on me hand and foot and wiping my butt every time I sit on the throne."
“She's
not my lover and you can wipe your own butt."
“Yes, but she doesn't know that. I won't tell if you don't."
Big Willie put the remains of his well-chewed cigar in the ashtray, pulled a fresh one from his shirt pocket and stuck it, unlit, into his mouth. “You're really not upset about this, are you?"
“Frankly, I'm relieved that we don't have this secret between us anymore."
“Louise, honey, you know I love you, don't you?"
“I know,” she said softly. She rolled her chair forward, then to the left and then back so that her knees almost touched his. “You know,” she said placing her hands on her knees and pushing them slightly apart, “it's been a year or so since I've spread my legs for you..."
“It's okay,” he said while thinking that it was probably closer to four years.
“Let me finish. It's been a long time since I've spread my legs for you and now I can't..."
“Honey, don't do this. It's okay."
“Damn you, Willie Donaldson. Let me finish. I can't spread them for you anymore, but you can."
“What?” He looked at her eyes. They were still twinkling. “You're kidding me."
“Hey, I'm helpless. You can do anything with me you want to, now."
He pushed the chair backwards, picked her up and gently deposited her on their bed.
“Oh, please don't hurt me, stranger,” she teased as he struggled to remove her clothes.
“Oh, Mr. Stranger,” she said as he pushed down his pants. “It's so big. Please don't put that thing inside me."
Gently he pushed apart her legs and positioned himself over her, being careful to touch no more of her body than necessary. He slowly rubbed the head of his penis between her vaginal lips until he was satisfied she was sufficiently lubricated. He moaned loudly as he entered her.
“Oh, Mr. Stranger, please don't put your hands and mouth on my boobs."
He propped on his elbows and alternately fondled and kissed his wife's soft breasts.
“Mr. Stranger, please don't move that thing inside me any faster."
He pumped faster, doing everything he could think of to delay ejaculation.
“Stranger, oh, Mr. Stranger, Sir, please don't kiss me on the lips."
Sintown Chronicles I: Behind Closed Doors Page 38
