Unexpected Angel (13 page)

Chapter 20

The next morning, in the cabin by the lake, Kirby Camden was still in bed when his cell phone rang.  He had to scramble over Tony who was sprawled all over the mattress, just barely under the covers, without a stitch of clothing on his body.  Kirby picked up the phone on the fourth ring and pushed the talk button.  “Hello,” he said.

“Hi, sweetie,” came the cheerful voice of the caller.

“Mom?”

“Yes, Mom!   Who else would call you sweetie?  You don’t have a girlfriend.  You don’t even have a job.”

“Yeah, Mom, what’s up?  You hardly ever call.” Kirby yawned.

“I’ve got some great news for you.”

Tony was now awake and watching, so Kirby pretended to gag like he was going to throw up.

“OK, Mom.  Spill it.  I mean, tell me what’s going on.”

“Well, I have a new boyfriend.  I’ve had him a few weeks, except for two nights when he was away on business.  But, we won’t go there, right now.  He’s the owner of a trucking company and some warehouses in Charlotte.  His name is Gianni, spelled with a ‘G.’ That’s Italian.  Anyway, we’ve decided to go down there for dinner this evening.”

“Down where?” quizzed Kirby, a mirthful twinkle in his eyes.

“Down to Charlotte.  Haven’t you been listening?”

“Sure, Mom, just trying to be funny,” remarked Kirby.

“Well, if you’re going to try anything, why don’t you try earning some money to help pay for that cabin?”

“Sorry, Mom.  I didn’t mean to act smart.”

“OK, let me go on with what I was telling you. Gianni and I, we’ve been comparing notes about our families.  I’ve talked a lot about you.  He wants to meet you.  Can you come?”

Without hesitating, Kirby answered, “Sure, I’d like that.”

“We’re going to meet at the Madison Inn, on Bradley Street, about seven.”

“Hey Mom, I’ve got this friend spending a few days with me.  Could I bring him along?”

“Sure.  He said you could bring your girlfriend if, you had one.  Well, I guess a buddy would be all right, too. . . . This buddy of yours–is he gay?”

Kirby’s eyes twinkled.  “Well, after last night, I would say he is.  Either that, or he’s a good actor.”

“OK, honey.  Do you think you could be careful how you say things at dinner?  I mean, I don’t have too much of a problem with your gay friends–just a problem with the way you spend money.  But Gianni is Catholic.  You know they don’t approve of the gay life, or abortions, and lots of other stuff.  I don’t want to ruin a nice dinner, in a fine restaurant, by having some kind of a scene.”

“Sure, Mom.  I understand.  It will be cool.”

“I’m trusting you, son.  See you at seven.  Don’t be late.”

“OK, Mom. Love you.”

“Bye, dumpling.  I’m blowing you a kiss.”

“I got it. Bye.”  Kirby pushed the button to disconnect the call.  He gave a repeat of his gag-and-throw-up act.

Tony chuckled. “OK, just what have you obligated me for?”

“Dinner at a nice restaurant.  No fast food or pizza tonight.”

Tony had crawled out of bed, by that time, and was in the kitchen, still unclothed, foraging in the fridge.  “And what’s the occasion?”

“Oh,” said Kirby, “Mom’s got a new boyfriend.  They’re going to dinner in Charlotte.  He wants to meet me.  I get to bring you because you are my guest.  It’s really no big deal.  Everything will be pleasant and the food will be great.”

“Well, I guess I could use a good meal.  Haven’t had one of those in a
long
time.”

“Hey, Tony,” exclaimed Kirby, “could you go put some clothes on?  My hormones are starting to rise.  I see that gorgeous body of yours, and I could care less about refrigerators or breakfast.  Just give me Tony.  Dude, go cover up your equipment.  Please!”

Tony chuckled, “I do have an effect on people’s hormones.  But it’s really not fair. ”

“Huh?” muttered Kirby.

“Yeah, I’m standing here starving, trying to find some food to put in my belly, and you’re having sex with me in your mind. It’s outrageous!”

“Oh, the poor, little, handsome stud,” whined Kirby.  “It’s getting all upset ‘cause people want to fondle its pitiful body.”

Tony blurted out, “Don’t make fun of me.  I can’t help it if I’m endowed with things that folks like to put their hands on, and whatever. That’s the nice part, you know . . . the whatever.  Mmm.”

“Well, if you are such a delight, don’t blame me for wanting you. I’ve given you a bed to sleep in and food to eat.  I think I am entitled to some preferential treatment, and I think
you
deserve some special handling.”

Tony moved away from the refrigerator, walked up behind Kirby, and placed his arm around Kirby’s chest.  “How about giving me some of that special handling you’re talking about, little buddy.”

Kirby spun around and kissed Tony.  “I was hoping you would see it my way.”  They had a playful exchange, pushing and shoving each other.  The floor creaked as the two landed hard on the mattress.

Chapter 21

Whenever Mercedes Brubaker had a new boyfriend, and he stayed more than three nights, she would get him to take her to Charlotte, to the Madison Inn, for dinner.  Though Charlotte was quite a piece from Westfield, many of the locals knew Mercedes. She had become a frequent visitor at the Madison.  It seemed that she was always arm in arm with a new man.  Her dates appeared to have no visible similarities. Some were tall, some short, and some in-between.   A few were chunky, most of them thin or athletic. She dated blond heads, dark heads, red heads, and bald heads. They wore everything from denim to dinner jackets. There was such a variety in her escorts that one might fancy comparing them and the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade, minus the helium, of course.

Mercedes could have stayed at home, if she wanted, and treated her fellows to her succulent fried chicken.  However, there would have been no burnt-out married ladies to go bugged-eyed over the guy who ate it.  There would have been no one to spread the word in beauty parlors and club meetings. She wanted the world, at least the North Carolina part of it, to see how well she was doing without Silas Camden in her life. The Madison appeared to be a fitting place for that.

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.”