Charley (3 page)

I took another drink of the cold water and began pacing in front of the antique bar.

“He must have had a good reason, don’t you think?” Ronnie offered. “Charley you usually don’t get this upset about things. There must have been something else.”

I knew Ronnie was trying to be calm and bring me down a little, but I didn’t want to be calmed down. I stopped pacing and snapped back. “You know what the son of a bitch said to me? He said, and I quote. ‘
Charlotte, HONEY, I can’t loan you any money right now, maybe next year.’
The ass called me ‘
HONEY
’. Can you believe that?”

Now I was on a roll. Ronnie just stood there and let me vent.

“I go to church with the man and sit on the board of the Boys and Girls Club with him, and he treats me like a child. Honey, my ass! I’ve run this bar for five and a half years going on six and, except for last year, we increased profits every year. And we can’t have a lousy $500,000 loan? I’ve got three times as much, no four times, sitting in those vaults of his. He’s using my money to make money and I can’t get a loan?”

“You didn’t offer the insurance money as collateral did you?”

“No, you know I didn’t.”

“Did you explain … about our franchise opportunity?”

“No. It was in the proposal, but he didn’t read the damn thing. He ignored it. He just saw me there and said, ‘
No,’
because it was me.”

“Sounds like he underestimated you.”

“He sure as hell did! He thinks because I have boobs and I’m younger than his perky daughter … OK I admit I like Teresa … nevertheless, he thinks because I’m a young woman that I’m stupid. He’ll see … he’ll see.”

“So what are you going to do? The investor group will be here next week. They are expecting to see some plans to expand and develop the bakery concept.”

“I don’t know, Ronnie. I’ll figure something out before they get here. It’s too important for us. I’ll have to see Loomis again, I guess.”

I laughed at a sudden image that crossed my mind. “I guess I’ll have to wear my sexy dress instead of a business suit for our next meeting. What do you think?”

“His heart couldn’t stand it, honey; he’s old enough to be your father.”

“There
you
go, calling me honey. What is this? National Honey Week? First Loomis and now you!”

I grinned at the thought of flaunting myself in front of the sixty-plus old man.

“Relax Charlotte. Can I fix you a drink? Might help …”

Ronnie’s calm manner was infectious. With a few more paces around the lounge, my body started to relax. I couldn’t help flashing a smile to Ronnie, “No, thanks for letting me vent. It’s good to get it off my chest.”

I put my portfolio down and flopped into one of the plush leather chairs in the lounge area and took a deep breath. “Maybe I will have a Mick Light. Just a small taste.”

As Ronnie stepped behind the bar to draw the draft, I couldn’t let it go. “Ronnie, this is so frustrating. Jimmy’s has so much potential and with the possibility we could expand, it could be huge. Why can’t Loomis see that?”

Ronnie didn’t say anything as he came back with my beer. I was so irritated with the situation.

“Ronnie, tell me honestly, do you think I can handle an expansion of Jimmy’s? We’ve done pretty well, but can I take it any further?”

My friend smiled and just shook his head. I knew what he was going to say, but my confidence needed to hear it again.

 “I’ve never seen anyone else take on a challenge like you. If anyone can, you can.” 

I appreciate Ronnie; he has always got my back. I sometimes wish he and my Mom had gotten together. Nevertheless, this whole situation left me doubting myself. What makes me think I can handle this business? Maybe Loomis is right! It’s just like my life, I guess. I’m in a real funk and can’t get my stuff going again. Why do I think I can handle a business if I can’t handle my life?

Damn you Randle, why did you have to die? I didn’t marry you for this! I married you for babies and a home in the suburbs, not running a bar!

I covered my thoughts with a smile, “I hope you’re right,”

Ronnie’s normally animated face turned serious. Hoping to cheer him up, I said. “You going to have something to drink?”

“No, you know I can’t … been sober too long to slip now, but I do need to talk to you about tonight.”

Ronnie paused and I knew what he really wanted. We started talking about it at the beginning of the week. “Go ahead Ronnie. I know what you’re going to say, but go ahead.”

Ronnie had been family to me ever since my father bailed out on the family when I was twelve. There was just mom and me. Ronnie and mom had been friends in high school and he seemed eager to fill the void my father left. I never really understood why mom didn’t marry Ronnie. He wasn’t married, but I never saw him kiss mom or even hold her hand. Maybe friendship was more important than love to them.

“Charley, you’re expecting to meet that coach tonight, and I’m afraid your expectations are unrealistic about what might happen. You don’t know anything about his personal life or who he really is. In your emotional condition now, I’m just afraid you’re going to get into something that you can’t handle.”

I knew he was dead serious, but I still loved to tease him. “So you and Loomis both think I can’t handle myself; I’m too young and emotional?”

This was a subject I really did not want to discuss. Ronnie and Wilma, our head waitress, had talked me to death about my plan for tonight. But I listened because the old man loved me.

“Ronnie, I love you. I know what you meant and I love you for it. You’re like my mom, always worried about her little girl. Listen, this is like a blind date, only the coach doesn’t know it yet. I don’t know a lot of things, but I do remember dating and, honestly, I can handle this. If it makes you feel any better, I promise to be careful. Besides, you’ll be hovering around I’m sure.”

“Well okay, I guess that’ll have to do.” Ronnie forced a laugh, but I knew his heart wasn’t in it.

I finished the drink, gathered my stuff and stood up. “I’m going upstairs to change.”

I headed toward the kitchen for the stairs to the second floor apartment. Ronnie followed. “Charley, I don’t like you meeting someone you haven’t seen in years. I think you’re making a mistake. You know the doctor wants you to be careful with relationships.”

Ronnie was shouting, and making one last attempt to change my mind.

I laughed and waved over my head, and continued through the swinging doors to the kitchen.  “I love you, too.”

Ronnie might be right; I could be making a mistake. I haven’t seen him in at least six years. So what’s the harm in having dinner with the man? Ronnie is too protective; if something happens after dinner, I can handle it. Heck, I hope something does happen after dinner!

My apartment above the Bar used to be the home of the Bar’s founder, Jimmy Brewster and Sarah his wife. Their son, Randle lived here before going to college at Tennessee. When Randle and I got married, we moved to Memphis and back to a small apartment in town a few years later. After Randle’s death, I adopted the apartment as my work home. I live here during the week though my condo is more spacious. I moved some of my things into the apartment and added a few touches, but basically it looked like it has done for at least twenty-five plus years; dark woodwork and muted brown striped wallpaper in the living room and down the hall. Floor lamps, outdated lights and an overstuffed chair and matching sofa, with worn armrest, completed the picture. I didn’t mind the outdated décor. In a way, it was relaxing. Like a flashback to the simpler time of my youth.

The smell of the apartment foyer as I walked in was scrubbed freshness, the handiwork of the restaurant’s staff. The door closed; I never locked it. Anyone entering the apartment had to go through the kitchen downstairs. The staff would intercept anyone who wasn’t supposed to be there. I was safe in my hideaway.

I walked down the hall to my bedroom. At the door, I kicked off my heels and stripped off my suit. I quickly undressed, and tossed my clothes on the unmade bed. I’m not what you would call a neat and tidy person. As I walked to the shower room, I could still feel the sting of Loomis’ comment. I’ll show you who’s a honey!

At least the shower room wasn’t outdated. The shower room was unique. It had been Randle’s bedroom when he lived here with his parents. When he moved out, Jimmy had the room converted to a combination shower and steam room for his wife. The small steam room in the far corner made life bearable for Sarah Brewster, who suffered from a debilitating muscle disease that eventually took her life. The steam relaxed her muscles, and allowed her a few hours of flexibility, before they began to betray and virtually immobilize her.

It was huge, at least eight by eight or nine. I hadn’t measured it. A pallet of pastel colored tiles covered the floor and the walls, to the top of the ten-foot ceiling. Sarah Brewster often told Jimmy that the room reminded her of a peaceful country scene, with mountains in the background, and an inviting, brilliant wild flower lined bubbling brook running through it. She really had a wonderful imagination. I couldn’t see the mountains or the stream, but the room was bright and cheerful. The overhead rain showerhead was offset to the right. There was also a detachable showerhead which allowed Mama Brewster to sit on the oversized bench and bathe after spending time in the steam room. In this room, taking a shower was an experience not just a way to get clean.

On the left wall was a full length fogless mirror. Close at hand were shelves containing a colorful array of shampoos, conditioners, rinses and lotions. I didn’t need any spa membership, I had one right here.

Even though it was the hottest part of July outside, and I was already sweating, I filled the room with the kind of refreshing heat that comes from steaming water. The relaxing steam cleanses the pores of my body, while the soothing mist seemed to penetrate all my muscles and massage them into relaxation. I turned the shower knobs to hot, real hot, and stepped back to give the room time to fill up.

As the effects of the hot relaxing steam wrapped around my body and pulled out the impurities, I loosened my hair and let it fall down my back. I needed to get it cut, it was a bit long.  I reached for the big comb and stepped in front of the fogless floor length mirror to get the tangles out before I washed it.

I couldn’t help admiring my body for a few minutes. I had to admit, I may have let my personal life go to hell, but my body was still pretty damn sexy. Posing like a model, I viewed my body from every possible angle. I had been fortunate to inherit my mom’s tall, slender and well-proportioned figure. Randle always liked my breasts, not tiny by any means, but not huge either. The light smattering of freckles on my chest was the only blemish to my skin.  Randle always told me the freckles made me look young and tempting.

A lot of good this body has done me! I’m still alone. If I could exchange this body for a family and a normal life, I’d do it in a heartbeat! Oh well, can’t change what’s been done.

I reached in the shower to turn the water down and stepped into the warm soothing water, letting it cascade over my head. I don’t know why, but this was my favorite part of showering; just feeling the warm water fall onto the top of my head, wash over my face and head and flow evenly over my body. I put my hands out and leaned against the wall, did a few toe rises, and took a deep breath.

God, this is relaxing!

It seemed as if all the cares in my world washed to the drain, twirled around with the water and disappeared. The Awapuhi shampoo was on the edge of the shelf. The Paul Mitchell product is gentle, and adds volume and it smells like a large bouquet of summer flowers. I almost hated to rinse the smell away, but the soapy feel of the shampoo, as it washed over my shoulders, felt like a perfume soaked wrap.

Randle always waited until I was rinsing my hair and would sneak up behind me. I never knew for sure if he would come to me, but I always hoped. He would finger walk his way up my back and around my waist and over my breasts with his soft hands. There was something magical about the way he pulled me back to him and nibbled on my shoulder while slowly massaging my tender breasts. The warm water smelled like fresh summer rain drops on our bodies. Randle would whisper, ‘
I love you’
in my ear, and I would melt back into his wet body. He would ease back on Mama Webster’s bench and pull me to him. I straddled his lap as the warm shower washed over our passionate bodies. Afterwards, we would slowly and gently wash each other and towel one another off. 

But there’s only me now dammit! Just me!

As quickly as the image of my lover came, it faded away. I have to get over this incessant memory of the way it was with Randle. It was great, but … it’ll never be again!

I opened my eyes, gave a deep sigh of acceptance and lathered the washcloth to wipe away the afternoon’s coating of perspiration. I worked the soap over my body in an absent minded routine; face, arms, stomach, breasts. But that delicious memory of our lovemaking in the shower refused to be washed away.

When I began lathering my breasts, a melancholy swept over me and I stopped. I had no control over my hand, as it began a slow sweeping motion over first one breast and then the other, stopping at each to squeeze and massage as Randle had done. The soap laden cloth was soft and slick, like the smoothness of Randle’s hands. I closed my eyes and gave in to the memory. I could feel the softness of his body pressing against my back. I felt him reach around my back to grasp my eager breasts. As one hand continued to tease the passion from my breasts, the other hand would slip slowly down my abdomen A smile eased over my face and I slowly began to move in rhythm with him as if we were one body.

This roller coaster of emotions haunted me. One moment I am in the grip of a distant memory and just as quickly it would gave way to a deep depression, and eventually back to some degree of normality. I dropped the wash cloth and slowly slid down the soapy tiles to the floor of the shower, pulled my knees to my chest and sobbed uncontrollably.