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Seems like "The Last Episode" was only the beginning
Josie Jones was at the church office, looking for a box of staples. Sometimes she became so infuriated with folks who worked at Carlyle Avenue Day Care that she felt like putting a "Beware of Animated Pit Bull" sign on the desk.
Even though she was a bible-believing water-immersed-Holy Spirit filled follower of Jesus, when you took the last of the office supplies, Sister Josephina Marcella Lucia Mercado-Jones would chew you out in the most rapid-fire creative mix of Ebonic Spanglish that would pop an unprepared set of eardrums.
"Forgeeve me Jesus but deez peeples iz ''bout to maykah me peempa-salap zumbody up a side deh loco cabeza! Whatah next?!"
In the middle of her whispering chastisement for the unworthy, the phone rang. . . and rang. . . . and rang. . .
Josie reared back waving her palms and the ceiling. “Ah, por el Amor dulce de Dios” what is it nobody can answer the telephono except por La Esposa de Predicador! Ah mi calidad! She put on her signature voice of virtue:
“Ga-REET-tings een da name of Jeezus! Tanka you for call-ink Car-a-lyle Commooneetee Worsheep Centor. Howa may I help?”
“Josie, is Daniella there.”
“Ex-skoosa me sir, " Josie semi-mocked. She knew exactly that Dani''s slick lizard husband was breathing fire on the other end of the receiver.
"Please, I deed not get you’re a-name?”
“Look Josie I don’t have time for your ghoddam friendly church on the hill mannerisms, get Dani on the . . .
“Please-a hold por uno momento!” Josie knew something was not right. Stan, whom she nicknamed Pretty Boy Godzilla, never called the church. Never went to church. And she had just put the devil’s pride and joy on hold. She couldn’t let on that had Daniella had not contacted her. Her “Seestah Dani” must be in way over her head this time!
She thought “What in de world do I say to Godzilla on the other end of da line?” She canceled the hold command.
“Ohhhh, so sorry, Brothah Donovan. We had a leetle nekid bottom baby running around, new girl was trying to change heem. Heh heh, oh you what a handfool deez keedz can be.”
“Well” Stan huffed sarcastically, on the contrary, Josie, I have not yet had the pleasure of filling this magnificent home I purchased for my wife with the pitter patter of little Donovans. But dammit woman, I didn’t call to chit chat about the results of my sperm and my wife’s eggs. Where is she? Figured you oughta know.”
Josie made the sign of the cross in the air mouthing out the words Forgeeve me Loard.
“Oh, you know, she had an appointment.”
“Appointment!?”
“Ahhh, jhess!. . . wid de regional ah, director of, ah, de peeples who um, help to fund de church day care, . . . yeah! Totally sleeped my mind, so very beezy, ju know! Oops, little bare butt baby steel running ‘round, I leave Seestah Dani message you call, yes?”
“Yeah yeah” Stan said impatiently. “Whatever.” She better bring her sweet ass home before this evening. Her mother’s goin’ nuts and I can’t handle this woman when she looses it.”
“Si Si Brothah Donovan. Tienen un día agradable.”
Josie was dazed beyond words. “Oh my God Dani, where in the heavens could you be?!”
* * * *
It had been four hours since the airliner departed JFK. Dani had traveled to England many times before as a child with her father. "Mommy Dearest Eileen" was always too self absorbed with her own plans that she couldn’t take a vacation with her only child and long-suffering patient husband. Looking out into the cloudless blue it was almost as if the Atlantic and the sky were one. It was a fantasy feeling, not much different than the feeling she had knowing would spend at least four more hours next to a man she admired now more than the man she’s wasted nearly two decades of her life.
For better or for worse Dani thought. She was nervous about looking over and starting a conversation.
Simon Rose, I can’t believe I’m shoulder to shoulder with THE Simon Rose!
To Daniella, this handsome, single and free technology mogul was both intimidating and inviting, not to mention one of the top three benefactors in the Fox Brook area next to Lennox Securities. No one knew anything much about him. Indeed, this man whom the community nicknamed “The Invisible Rose” was a man of extreme discretion. And here she ends up sitting next to him in the middle of the wild blue yonder on an unplanned by very necessary escape enroute to England.
How could coincidence be timed so precisely? Is God testing her faith to her marriage vows? Simon was single, unhitched—as far as she knew. Maybe he had a mistress in England. Maybe he was reserve on the surface but wild and freaky behind closed doors. Maybe he. . .
“Champaign for the two of you?” The whispy voice Brittish accent of the petite red-haired flight attendant dashed Daniella’s meditative fantasy to shards.
“Why yes, I think I will, thank you” as Simon looked up from studying his Wall Street Journal, taking the crystal stem of the Waterford goblet holding the gold vintage potion.
Having neatly folded the paper in half and laying the paper across his lap must have been a way for God to keep Daniella from sneaking peeks at the man’s ample crotch. She couldn’t help it. Rose was endowed and well packed even in a business suit. She asked why she was so tempted to sneak peak the form of his masculine design. Why did he have to take off his jacket when she slid into the seat when they met at yet another change meeting? And when Simon stood up, Dani’s eyes naturally glanced downward.
Having succumbed with her husband the night before did something to stir her beyond anything she could have ordered from The Blowfish online catalog.
“Daniella, would you like to join me in a toast. . . to the future?
Continued after Thanks-In-Giving holiday . . . . Gotta trade the keyboard for the kitchen this week
Next piece will be entitled, “Landings.” Your comments and suggestions always appreciated! C.
© 2005 cynth’ya lewis reed, all rights reserv’d
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Web Site:
Exhibitions. . .where it all began
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Hugs, Birgit and Roger
Hugs,
Tami