Blackhumouristpress's Blog

March 9, 2010

The Wifeswappers

Filed under: Uncategorized — blackhumouristpress @ 8:58 am
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Daphne moved to Los Angeles from Detroit ten years earlier, married a doctor and had two children.  Ironically, Daphne lived just blocks away from where the whole O.J. Simpson drama had taken place in the Brentwood section of Los Angeles. 

            Anna had stayed in suburban Detroit her whole life and was married and living in Royal Oak, Michigan.  Anna had two young children and a dog and a house, two cars and a time share in Cancun.  Both women, who had been childhood friends, had comfortable middle class lives.

            After graduating from Southfield High School, Daphne and Anna both attended the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor and rented an apartment together.  It was shortly after graduation from college that Daphne decided to move blindly to Los Angeles without knowing anyone.  Daphne and Anna remained friends over the years and with cell phones and email, they stayed in near constant contact.

            Daphne sent a text message to Anna just a few days before arriving in Detroit.

WILL BE COMING INTO TOWN WITH MY FRIEND FOR A FEW DAYS.  WILL BE STAYING AT THE GREEKTOWN CASINO.  CAN YOU MEET FOR DINNER AND DRINKS ON SATURDAY NIGHT?  LOVE YOU.  CAN’T WAIT TO CATCH UP.

            Anna was the epitome of whiteness in that she was fairly pale and covered with freckles.  Her nearly platinum hair hung limply and rested on her shoulders.  In the thirty years that both women had been alive, very little changed for Anna.  Daphne on the other hand was black and was vibrant, the take charge type and was very secure in the fact that she was attractive to all types of men.  Daphne landed a black doctor and knew that she more or less a trophy for her husband but she didn’t mind because she had all she wanted and needed and more.

            “Hey girl!  It is so good to see you!  Look at you all pale, hiding indoors during the Midwest winter.  Girl, I gotta get you out to Cali.  I live ten minutes from the ocean in Santa Monica.  You gotta come out this year without excuses,” said Daphne, while hugging Anna.

            Anna noticed that Daphne’s friend was a suave looking mixed race young man with a razor sharp beard and moustache.  He reeked of cologne and wore heavy gold jewelry around his neck, wrist and fingers.  He had a smirk on his face as he watched the two women embrace.  Daphne picked up on the fact that Anna was staring at Javier with a perplexed look on her face.

            “Anna this is my friend Javier.  Javier, this is Anna…  This is the sister I never had.  There are sistahs but this girl would have been my sister.  We were inseparable during junior high, high school and college.  Every weekend I was at her place or she was at mine.  We played volleyball and softball for our high school together…  I love this girl more than I can say.”

            The three of them had dinner in Greektown at the Pegasus Restaurant in downtown Detroit.  Javier marveled at how overweight and dowdy the men looked with their feathered, mullet hair cuts and Detroit Red Wing jerseys.  The women were really nothing to look at either.  Javier did study Anna closely and found her plain look to be intriguing.  Usually he liked a woman of color with a small waist and large ass or a thin, hairless Asian woman who resembled a twelve year old boy but rarely a thin white woman with straight blond hair and freckles. 

            “Eh…  You ever seen that one movie with that chick who be fucking people up with her mind and shit?  Damn…  What was that movie called?  It was an old ass movie too.  She had hair like you and them dots all over like you too.  She was like in high school and people made fun of her ass and she was having a period or some shit and didn’t go to the prom or some shit and then she just started wasting muthah fuckers with her mind…” said Javier.

            “Um Carrie…  Are you referring to the movie Carrie with Sissy Spacek?”  Asked Anna.

            Javier snapped his fingers and pointed at Anna while laughing.

            “Yup, yup.  Carrie… Old girl, she was fucking them all up with her mind.  That was a good ass movie too.  You look like her.  I mean you really pretty but something bout you remind me of that woman.  So I don’t wanna mess with you case you start sending shit flying round the room or some-fing.  I can tell you got that innocence bout you and I really like that in a woman.  You like reserved and stuff.  I aint’t saying prude or nothing but you ain’t like buck wild… Am I right?”

            Anna didn’t know what to say or think.  She politely listened to Daphne’s ignorant friend and wondered why Daphne was friends with someone so crude, unintelligible and inarticulate.  Anna wanted to know what the crux of their relationship was and so she asked point blank.  Anna suspected that Daphne may have left her husband for Javier.  It was more twisted than she had expected.

            “Javier is a record producer of Reggaeton artists in Los Angeles.  He is working on a new project with Daddy Yankee actually.”

            Anna looked at Daphne with a blank expression.  She neither knew what Reggaeton was nor of the artist, Daddy Yankee.  Daphne didn’t elaborate.

            “And so Javier lives down the street with his wife and their kids are our kid’s age are the same and we started getting together and stuff.  We started taking vacations together and got to know each other really, really well,” said Daphne.

            Javier’s phone rang.  He excused himself as he walked out of the restaurant to carry on his phone conversation.  It gave the two friends a chance to be direct with one another.

            “What the fuck are you doing?”  Asked Anna.

            “You’ve lived in Detroit too long.  Drab ass Detroit where people exist and die here but don’t really live.  Javier and his wife Benita and me and Rufus do all kinds of stuff together.  It’s so good.  I mean you marry a dude and it’s the same bullshit over and over again but now we get together, put the kids to bed and then we start out husband and wife, then we switch and then sometimes the two men will get with either me or Benita.  I mean, we take films of each other and sometimes the men will want us to put on strap ons and give it to them.  I know it sounds freaky but really it just keeps us all from going crazy.  I’m like helping little girls get to soccer and tap dance classes all week, buying groceries and all that domestic shit and then Imma have the same dude laying on me for what?  The next forty years?  Shhh-damn.  I wanna little something with some flavah.  Javier a skinny little bitch but I kid you not…  His cock is as wide as a wrist and we finish up and I’m watching Rufus pounding away on Benita’s fat ass.  Rufus all sweating and trying to make himself cum.  He one time quit and yelled at us for laughing at them and then later when they left, he all like it ain’t fair cause Benita can only be got with from behind.  Benita a plus sizer.  Ain’t nobody doing Benita cept from behind and then her shit stank.  It ain’t her booty, I mean it’s some fishy ass shit like that one Filipino girl we used play soccer with…  What was her name?  Patty.  That was it…  We called her Salmon Patty because she was so dang fishy smelling.  Anyway, if you can picture Benita’s fat ass in the air all stanky and shit…  I mean it is nasty but Rufus actually likes an audience.  Me and Javier were laughing at Rufus’ stupid looking fuck faces.  He’s all talking and shit.  You hear him asking Benita if she bout to cum.  He’s all like, I want you to cum on my dick.  I never realized how stupid Rufus looked fucking until I got to watch him fucking someone but me,” said Daphne.

            Anna was astounded by this revelation.  Anna had been with other men other than her husband but nothing anywhere close to what Daphne was describing.  Anna had done it on the beach a few years back with her husband while visiting the Indiana Dunes but had to stop because sand was getting in her vagina and made the whole experience less than favorable.

            Javier came back with the same devilish smirk that he had before.  He plopped himself down and never stopped smiling nor taking his eyes off of Anna.  Anna was uncomfortable with the smile and starring that felt like it was burning into her skin with his eyes.  After a two bottles of wine and a couple of shots of Ouzo, Javier got right to the point.

            “Anna…  Daphne has spoken so highly of you and it feel to me like I know you in a certain respect.  I would like to invite you to have a night with us tonight like you’ve never had before.  We got a room at the top of the Greektown Casino Hotel that looks down at the whole downtown and shit.  We kin git a few more bottles of wine, get the music going and just really enjoy this night together…  I know you gonna say no cause you so sweet and innocent.  If I offered to buy you this dinner tonight, you the type that would demand to pay for herself and that is so nice and sweet but really I aks you to put that aside tonight and let the meek in you take a back seat tonight and let the tiger roar.  I know you got a tiger in you, girl.  You gotta let the cat out the bag tonight,” said Javier.

            With that, he reached across the table and caressed Anna’s hand.  Daphne was hoping that Anna would give in.  After all, Anna’s husband would never know and it was just some fun with no strings attached.  Daphne likened it to trying Sushi for the first time; it may look disgusting but it really is tasty.

            At that moment, a large middle aged Jewish man with a cigar in his mouth came in wearing a yarmulke, talking on a cell phone loudly that may have been homosexual. The man was hoping to buy clothes below wholesale from a source in Vietnam.  Daphne’s whole disposition changed suddenly.  She pulled her hand away from Javier, reached into her purse and pulled out a hand gun.  Anna’s nostrils flared and she pursed her lips.

            “Excuse me…  I have to take care of some business here.  I can deal with people being fat and obnoxious but fat and obnoxious and Jewish with that stupid southern belle lilt to their voice, is more than I can take.  I don’t know one woman who talks that way,” said Anna, as she walked towards the loud man talking about buying cheap t shirts, carrying her hand gun.

You may be wondering if Anna went back to the penthouse and allowed herself to be tagged teamed by Javier and Daphne.  You may wonder if Daphne and Anna took turns with strap on penises on Javier and or other power tool like devices.  You might be wondering if Anna had some sort of anti-Semitic leanings, fat phobias and disdain for people who speak way too loud in public places on their cell phones with a distinct feminine manor because of me…   My characters all loved their mothers and their mothers loved them and found value in their children as human beings even though I wasn’t searching for value.  I know this is sort of random but I felt the story needed a little tension at the end.  What better way to divert the sexual tension than having a middle of the road woman, driven to kill or maim over homosexuality, anti-Semitism, obesity and general abrasiveness?

  I have always been one of those kids who like to lift big rocks and watch the pill bugs and other crawly creatures take off running when the light of day is put upon them…

And so they lived happily ever after all.  Or as happy as could be given their circumstances and poor decision making.  The end.

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January 25, 2010

Dwight Eisenhower Ilescu

Filed under: Uncategorized — blackhumouristpress @ 6:52 am
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Now as the phone was ringing, Mort was watching a live broadcast of a fire happening at  a building that he managed that was owned by his boss, Steven Swartz.  On the phone was the janitor to the building by the name Dwight Eisenhower Ilescu. 

            “Boss, you gotta to come down here right now… It’s terrible…  I toll you last week that we gotta to fix the electricity… Come on, I toll you.”

            Dwight almost was given a name that was hard for Americans to say and so his parents chose the name Dwight.  It was during World War II that General Dwight D. Eisenhower, came to the small Romanian village that Dwight’s parents were from.  Dwight Eisenhower stopped with his entourage to have a cup of tea at an insignificant little café that was frequented by nobody but locals.  Dwight’s father ordered his wife to find their cousin who was a wedding photographer when he wasn’t fixing cars and made him stop what he was doing so that he could have a photograph with the famous general.  Up on the wall of that café was a mural sized photograph of Dwight’s father with his left arm around Eisenhower and his right hand shaking hands with the future president.  The picture remains to this day.

  Dwight’s father offered the general a pastry and a cup of coffee.  Eisenhower finished neither.  To this day in a Sub Zero freezer in Chicago,  is the cup of coffee with coffee still in it and a pastry with one bite out of it forever frozen in time.  Dwight Eisenhower Ilescu, made it on national television twice.  Once was to have chemists test the frozen products to ensure the validity of the claim.  The DNA matched.  Dwight D. Eisenhower in fact drank from the cup and took a bite of the pastry.  For this reason Dwight has always voted Republican.  He voted for Ronald Reagan in 1984 after becoming a naturalized citizen.

            Dwight was a dichotomy of sorts.  He hated Jews but realized that the key to his success rested in getting along and depending on them and working for them.  His hate stemmed from the fact that the Jews all seemed to find a way to really make good money without working quite as hard.  Steven Swartz, who owned the building that Dwight worked and lived in, never acknowledged Dwight even though Dwight fixed Steven’s plumbing at his house for free twice.  Both times it took his entire day off which was Sunday and Steven never even said thank you.  Steven did throw a bonus in his checks but Dwight wanted more than anything to have a handshake and a pat on the back.  If the supreme general of the European theater during World War II could wait twenty minutes in a café to have a mechanic take a photograph with a nobody in Romania, surely the president of a small company could take the time from barking at someone on his Bluetooth, to thank the man who made it possible to have his shit flow again down stream.  Into the abyss.

December 26, 2009

The Jewish Santa Claus

Filed under: Uncategorized — blackhumouristpress @ 9:43 am
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Eli had been a teenaged boy during World War II and wound up in several different concentration camps. When it came time to declare a trade or become worked to death or disposed of, Eli claimed that he could cut hair. Luckily for Eli, he really could. It was just one of those things like drumming, you either got the hands for it or you don’t. It was just a damn lucky thing for Eli that he could cut hair. His job was to cut the hair of all the German soldiers and officers that were in charge of the concentration camp. For a few moments a day, these monsters would talk to Eli as if he really were human. They’d talk about their wives and kids and how they thought the war was going. Many of the soldiers would tell Eli that they really had nothing against Jews. As clichéd as it still sounds, many were just following orders. They all told the war tribunals this too.
Eli cut thousands of heads that eventually were killed and turned to ashes. The will to survive was strong in Eli. At the age of twenty, Eli had nothing left for him in Europe as his whole family was killed by Germans in camps. Eli moved to the United States. He did a plethora of things to earn money and saved his money until he could afford to buy an apartment building in the city of Chicago. Before long, Eli bought many properties and managed them himself. As time went on, Eli had set up a medium sized property management company and a side business of owning coin operated laundry machines. Eli was swimming in money. By the time he was fifty, Eli could have retired but he didn’t. Instead he oversaw the business he had created. His sons grew up and went to work for him and took over the day to day operations of Eli’s property management company.
At the age of eighty eight, Eli had to take a slew of medicines just to keep him going day to day. Eli had to have angioplasty and angiograms and open heart surgeries. Eli had mild strokes, heart failure and so on. Luckily for Eli, he had the means to pay for the best doctors money could buy. Eli’s money helped talented young doctors prolong the inevitable. Eli suspected that his last holiday season was coming with his family and so he left his Miami Beach condominium to spend the “Christmas” and New Year time with his two sons in Chicago. Now both sons grew up good Jewish boys who went on to marry two gentile women and adopted their ways which included Christmas. All of Eli’s grandchildren celebrated Christmas and none were going to have a bar-mitzvah. Eli thought that was sad. Nobody ever wanted to hear the stories from the days of the concentration camps and how he was nearly killed many times. The kids all wanted gifts or money and wanted to be left alone. His daughters-in-law treated him like an old child and it all really made Eli very sick to his stomach. Eli felt that his last chance to be with the only family he had left had arrived in December 2009. As irritating as they were, they were the only family he had.
Eli still had his office inside the office building that he created way back in 1958. On the wall were pictures of him in good looking suits with dark hair, standing next to new Cadillacs and Lincolns. There were family pictures with his two sons and his young wife and even one of Eli shaking hands with the first Mayor Daley of Chicago. Eli sat at his desk that had not really been used in ten years and really appreciated the feel of the comfortable leather chair. He could hear his eldest son yelling at people on the intercom and yelling at janitors on the phone.
“You tell those goddamn deadbeats that I will have their fucking asses out on the goddamn sidewalk if I don’t have every cent owed on that apartment by January 1st. They can go to Mc Donald’s and get a goddamn job so that they can pay me my rent. Merry fucking Christmas… You tell them that…” Said Norman, Eli’s eldest son.
Norman was about forty years of age with three children. He owned a home in the suburbs with all new appliances, three cars, condos in Miami and Los Angeles, a boat and all the aggravation that goes with running rental buildings.
“Nester! This is the last fucking time I tell you to clean the lobbies. I give you and your family a free apartment. You don’t pay fucking rent and you run around doing painting all over town instead of maintaining my building the way it should be. Your number one responsibility is to me. You keep my building clean and tidy. If I come again and there are eighteen fucking Spanish names written with magic fucking marker on my mailboxes, you can find another job and place to live. You got a beautiful label maker which I bought and I expect you to use it. No dust, no ad papers on the floor, no chirping smoke alarms in the hallways and no bullshit calls from people who want to see vacant units who claim you never call them back. If I have someone call you and I will, you better take the fucking call… Are we clear on all this shit?”
Eli shook his head and closed his eyes as he listened. Eli never operated by yelling or threats. Eli understood what it was like to be dehumanized and never wanted to do that to anyone. He always felt there were other ways.
A young black woman made an appointment on Christmas Eve night to talk to Norman about the rent that she owed on her apartment. Norman was already frazzled but allowed the woman to come into his office and pitch a solution to her rent delinquency. Her six year old daughter sat next to her with braids in her hair with little white beads at the tips. She wore a Sponge Bob sweater and sat in the chair next to her mother with her arms folded. Bringing Trina with to beg Norman not to throw her out, was to play on his human side. It didn’t matter though because Norman was desensitized to poor people’s excuses for not being able to pay rent. They were all drug addicts, whores, and people without direction who were dumb and lazy and that was just the black ones. The Hispanics, Indians, poor eastern European immigrants and so on were almost equally as worthless in Norman’s opinion.
“Go ahead, I’m listening to you. What do you want to tell me that you haven’t already told the court?”
“I’m trying really hard to find a new job. I worked at the Subway by the train in Rogers Park and the people who own it, let me go an gave my job to one of they relatives who going to college here from India. I had always pay mah rent on time. I keep all mah things clean and I ain’t never been late befoh. I ain’t nevah complained about my leaking faucets and old appliances with broken knobs and freezer that don’t really freeze. I’m aksing you to please gimme time. Imma git a job soon an I’m willing to pay extra each month til I git caught up,” said Carina.
Carina was young and voluptuous as is the case with many young black women with young children in tow. Rather than taking drugs and sleeping around, Carina had been working at a Subway sandwich shop, taking one class at a time at a local junior college and taking care of her daughter that she had as a teenager. Carina moved from a dangerous neighborhood on Chicago’s west side to live and work among white people. Trina went to a good grade school in a good neighborhood and everything had been fine until Carina lost her job. It was a pervasive problem and she was not the only one under eviction. Others understood the system and worked the system over. They would destroy the apartments and refuse to pay rent for months almost years until the courts forced them out and then they would start over again with a new apartment and new company that may not screen their applicants well. Carina was not in that camp. She was a victim of the times. Carina was one of millions who were living check to check and the last check stopped coming.
“I’ve heard a million stories like yours. Here’s my bottom line; I have to pay a mortgage each month on that building. I pay for the water and the heat. I pay for the janitor and the insurance and if I don’t get rent, I have to pay out of my own pocket. If I have to do this everywhere at every building, how am I going to live? I should just do charity work for all those who can’t or won’t pay? I can’t do that. I have a family and bills to pay and this is how it all works. The court gave you until January 3rd. Pound the pavement to find a job. If you can come up with some money, I’ll work with you otherwise you’ll need to make some other arrangements… I’m sorry, that’s it.”
Carina left stoic, holding the hand of her young daughter who wanted to see Charlie Brown’s Christmas, ice skate downtown and look at the lights and displays at the stores that her mother could not shop at. Trina didn’t understand that she was about to be put out of her apartment with her mother and that there would be not one present or a tree for her. Instead they would have to find boxes and pack up what they needed and prepare to go to a shelter. Little children never understand things like that.
“Momma we gotta git home an git ready foh Santa Claus. He coming tonight aftah we go to sleep,” said Trina, while being almost dragged out of the office by the hand by Carina.
“I already done told you they ain’t no Santa Claus and nobody coming to our place. Hush up and lits go,” said Carina.
Eli rather than lecture his son about his tactics, went to his son’s doorway and told him he might or might not see him later at his house for dinner and presents. Norman was taken back.
“Pop… Jill and the kids are expecting you. You have to come,” said Norman.
“I have to do something tonight… We’ll see how it all plays out,” said Eli.
Eli had his driver take him around to stores at the shopping malls packed with last minute shoppers. It was angry chaos in the parking lots. Impatient shoppers ripping around the parking lot hunting for a vacant space for their cars, rushing around while talking on cell phones, clogging up the lines in front of registers. It was magnificent if you like humans milling about like ants on an ant farm. Eli joined in on the fast paced mess until he bought all he needed.
It was about eight in the evening when a knock came to the door of Carina’s apartment. Carina was in the shower and Trina knew better than to answer the door but she suspected it was Santa Claus and she was right. Trina ran up and hugged the large white man in a red suit that carried a bag full of things. Santa’s helper, a chauffeur in a black suit, set up a small fir tree and strung lights around as Trina giggled and opened several presents of clothes and dolls and chocolates. Carina came out of the bathroom with a towel around her head and one around her mid section. She stood in disbelief as her daughter sat on the floor next to a lit tree that had not existed just fifteen minutes earlier, opening presents and telling Santa just how good she had been that year.
“Tommy… He a little punk and all but I didn’t hit him even though he pulled on ma braids. I said I was gonna sock him in his jaw but I didn’t do it cause I wanted you to know that I been good all year… Foh the most part. I do all my homework and I help my mom clean up the apartment and I don’t cuss none and I go to church with momma. She said you wasn’t coming and you wasn’t real but I knew you would come… I just knew it. Thank you for all the gifts, Santa. You the best…”
And with that Trina hugged Santa as hard as she had ever hugged anyone before. Santa stood and handed Carina a money order to cover the back rent and much more. Santa also handed Carina a business card that had a number to contact someone for a job in the office of the coin operated laundry company still owned by Eli. Carina began to cry. Santa hugged her, patted her on the head and left with his chauffeur. Santa would probably not be showing up again in person but both Carina and Trina believed in the miracle that is Christmas. It can really be a magical time.

July 30, 2009

Midlife Chrysler

Filed under: Auto Industry,Chrysler Deathwatch,Short Story — blackhumouristpress @ 2:27 am
Tags: , , , , , , ,

Midlife Chrysler
Joe pulled into the lot of the beach front night club in Malibu, California at such a fast speed that the carhops jumped out of the way. Joe slammed on the breaks of his jet black Dodge Viper as the car screeched to a stop.

“You fucking kids… What you think, you fucking kids? I’m gonna hurt you? Eh? Take care my prize… I love that fucking car more than life.”
Joe’s name was actually Shlomo and Joe was Jewish not Italian. Joe never told anyone that he was Italian but it was implied. He walked in the club with a cigar in his mouth, wearing a burnt orange suit and shiny black shoes with his hair greased back. Joe was bird’s nest bald in the back but hid it well by combing his hair straight back. The bangs rarely get cut. Joe hugged the owner of the club an Italian man from New York who went by the name of Willy. Willy escorted Joe arm in arm to a table near the dance floor that had a VIP card on it and a velvet rope had a reserved sign in front of it. Joe pretended to talk on his cell20phone to a business associate as he panned around the room. A pretty raven haired girl with pouting hips, sat at the bar with a few other girls that were just days over the age of twenty one. Joe sent over a bottle of champaign to the girls as a few regulars stopped by his table to chat with him. Joe sent over another bottle to the girls and told the waiter to have them join him at his booth. The young women giggled at first but mustered up the bravery since there were four of them in all. Joe kissed all of their hands as they individually extended their hands. They got a good look at Joe’s expensive Cartier watch, gold bracelet and pinky ring. The girls all thought Joe was a gangster and he played it up to the hilt.
“So where you girls from?”
“We are all students from Spain,” said the stunningly beautiful raven haired young woman, in a heavy accent.
“Spain… I love Spain. Seville, Barcelona, Madrid… Love it there,” said Joe.
The other girls had difficulty speaking English the way the raven haired Marina could. Marina worked in a hotel in Spain where mostly British tourists would come for holiday. Joe was totally smitten with the angel faced young woman with a perfect body. Her silver dress contoured her body li ke a glove. It was nearly impossible for Joe to pull his eyes off of Marina. Joe sipped his scotch slowly as marina drank down the champaign at nearly a glass every fifteen minutes. Marina got bold and sent her friends home without her. Joe had no way of knowing since Marina commanded her friends in Spanish. Joe was hers and there was no disputing this. After four generous glasses of champaign, Marina sat close to Joe and listened to his every word intently.
“Tell me all about you, Joey… I want to know everything about such a handsome specimen of man,” said Marina, into Joe’s ear while brushing her lips gently against his earlobe.
“Well I was married once and now I’m happy… That was a little joke there,”
“So what do you do, Joey? You must be an important man.”
“I don’t like to discuss what I do so much, babe. I do what I do and I do it well and it makes me rich and that’s all you gotta know.”
Marina kissed Joe on the lips. Her soft lips and thin neck smelled of a light flowery perfume. Joe kissed Marina on the neck and posed a question he had posed nearly every time he found himself in a similar situation with a young impressionable woman.

“Do you believe in fate?”

“Fate? What is fate?”
“Do you believe that gawd meant for us to meet tonight? I tell you why… I was going to go home and go to bed. I stepped out on the balcony of my place and watched the moon shine on the waves and said to myself, there’s got to be something special waiting for me on such a beautiful night. I found myself coming here for a reason I did not know… I know now though. After seeing you, talking to you, I now know that gawd had a purpose for me tonight. It was to meet someone really special… This is like winning the lottery…”
“Tell me one thing Joey; Do you have good insurance?”
Marina was visiting on student visa and was attending Pepperdine University. Her goal was to find an American man who really wanted to be married. She then would get her citizenship and vanish to some other area of the country like possibly Miami.
Marina woke up to the sound of seagulls screaming over head and waves crashing on the beach. A note on the table from Joe. This is what it said:
Swee t Marina,
A lot was said last night and I meant all of what came out of my mouth. I look forward to getting to know you and sharing my life with you. I believe in fate and feel that you do too. You have my cell number now. Call me later. We can meet for dinner.
Love Joey
During the day, Joe was Shlomo and his job was to manage a shopping center in the San Fernando Valley that was owned by his wife who was a trust fund baby. Yerhuda inherited money and property from her father who bought land all over the country. Yerhuda’s job was to collect checks from companies that managed her properties in various cities. Shlomo’s job once a year was to visit all the holdings and give his wife a report. The rest of the time, Shlomo worked out with a personal trainer, played golf and tennis and ran around in his various sports cars.
Yerhuda was known as a Jewish ten; a five with money. Lots of money. Shlomo was able to convince Yerhuda that what he felt was true love. Yerhuda bought it and they went on to have five children over the course of eighteen years. All the children were stout, chubby and spoiled rotten. Shlomo hated to come home most days when the children were home. They yelled, cried, fought with one another and whined for things that they didn’t need but received anyway.
When Shlomo was not at the country club, he could be found sleeping in office inside the mall which was owned by his wife. Shlomo had a Murphy Bed installed in his office. A Murphy Bed is one that comes out of the wall and is disguised as a book shelf. Shlomo would usually be hung over from running around all night. Yerhuda took sleeping pills to sleep and rarely knew that Shlomo was out carousing.
“Honey, the agency sent over the new au pair,” said Yerhuda, while eating a bowl of blueberries in her jogging suit in their spotless kitchen.
“Well she seems nice enough… A student and all just like the others… Okay, Captain Bill will bring the yacht to the marina at three, don’t be late… Huh… I just had a thought. Sort of coincidence… Well whatever. Hurry home. Love you.”
Shlomo joe parked his Dodge Viper in the large circular driveway. His eldest son was playing basketball in their tennis court with a neighbor and never acknowledged his father’s presence. Joe opened the front door and set his keys down on the antique table just inside the foyer. Yerhuda was in the sunroom giving instructions to the au pair.
“Ariel cannot drink milk. He is lactose intolerant. Rebecca will not eat pasta with sauce. It has to be butter. Ziv can stay up until ten and then he must go to sleep. We’re just going to our place in Cabo for a few days but you can reach us on my husband’s cell phone anytime… Oh here he is now. Marina, this is my husband Shlomo.”
Shlomo was as stiff as a soldier and pushed his wife to get her things and leave forthwith. Yerhuda asked Shlomo what was wrong and why it was that he looked so pale. Shlomo blamed it on the lox from the deli in Santa Monica. Shlomo kept waiting for the young girl to do what young girls do; get angry and drop the dime. It never happened. Shlomo was intrigued as to what was going through Marina’s mind. After a half day passed, Shlomo sent Marina a text message.
“I don’t know what to say other than I’m sorry.”
Marina responded ten minutes later.
“Call it fate… Don’t worry, Joey. We’re going to work out the terms… It’s like a gift from god. Just like winning the lottery. Kiss her for me 🙂 ____ Marina”

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