Road Trip Rogue Ch. 03

Ch. 3: Friendships Endangered

A good while passed and our three couples did not manage to get together again. We had been good friends for a couple of years and it was unusual for us to go even a couple of weeks without a gathering of some kind. It was beginning to look like our group would fragment. I knew it was no coincidence, but I sure as hell wasn't going to say anything.

However I eventually ran into Sharon and then Paula on separate occasions. The first was a bank social event—an employee appreciation afternoon— that included all banks in our area. Our management seemed to think the networking was good for business. It included free hors d'oeuvres and wine in a large hall with some piped in music. Since Sharon was in the banking business like me, and I felt sure she would be there.

I spotted Sharon as soon as I entered the room. Her short platinum-blonde hair made her stand out in any crowd. She wore a black dress that hugged her curves and made my groin tighten. Sharon was talking to a mutual friend of ours, a good looking black woman named Tasheera. They saw me and waved, but I noticed that Sharon dropped eye contact immediately.

As I approached Sharon and Tasheera, I admired Sharon's sexy appearance. This was the first time I had seen her since our coffee shop meeting and I became a little breathless as I got closer to her. I stopped to shake hands with a colleague and when I turned back, only Tasheera was there.

"Hello, Dave; it's good to see you." She greeted me with a body wiggle and a knowing smile. We shared a quick hug which felt pretty good, but my thoughts were on Sharon.

"Hey Tasheera, what happened to Sharon?"

"She said it was time to go home," she answered with a half smile and seemed to be watching me very closely.

I was in stunned disbelief at Sharon avoiding me, "Oh... I'm sorry I missed her."

My face felt burning hot and there was a long period of silence as I coped with the idea that a longtime friend and recent lover had just snubbed me. But another thought elbowed into my consciousness like a freezing winter wind. With my impulsive behavior, I may have done enough damage to lose my closest friends and I could even be in danger of losing my wife.

I lifted my gaze to make meaningful eye contact with Tasheera and her sympathetic smile. In a show of understanding she gently placed her hand on my shoulder.

"I wondered when you two would finally get together," she said jovially, "but I was beginning to think neither of you had it in you."

"What did Sharon tell you?" I demanded.

Tasheera patted my shoulder and said calmly, "Nothing, but you just told me a lot." She was being an understanding friend but at the same time her evil little smile indicated she enjoyed this sexy development. "It wasn't anything y'all said; it was the way you acted toward each other. In other words, I figure the pussycat wouldn't run out of the room like that unless the pussy has been restless."

Tasheera chuckled at her bawdy little joke but I just gaped at her. It terrified me to think she knew our secret. Tasheera looked at my stunned expression thoughtfully and added, "You white people are always so serious."

I was rattled and left as soon as I could.

Over the next week or so I did some soul-searching, asking myself what kind of person would fuck the wife of his best friend. Of course, I had a few lame excuses: I was drunk, she made me do it, it was an accident, and so forth. Eventually, an incident occurred with my father that helped me understand myself a little better.

When my divorced father reached his mid-60's he decided he would not age gracefully. He wanted young pussy, and he reasoned the way to find it was to buy illegal drugs for young women. I figured he was crazy, but he was right. However, he did not anticipate that these drug-addicted young women would want him to participate as they ingested crack cocaine. He transformed from a moderately respectable businessman to the oldest crack addict in our city. He lost every remaining friend and no family member would speak with him.

As dear old crazy Dad ran out of money he finally agreed to drug rehab. It was during my personal soul-searching week that the family nominated me to drive him to the drug rehab center and check him in.

Nothing was easy concerning Dad. When I arrived at his shack of a house, a 19-year-old crack whore was there with him. He made sure to pat her on the bottom in my presence and she turned to grin at me, showing missing teeth.

No one had called the rehab center ahead of time to let them know we were coming. But the workers there were very professional. They led us through the locked facility to meet the Center's Director. Two huge men each weighing easily 300 pounds positioned themselves at the door as the polite Director had us sit across the desk from him. There was a short silence and it dawned on me that the Director had no idea why we were there. Dad noticed the same thing and he managed to speak first.

"Sir, my son has a crack cocaine problem!"

In a panic I rose halfway out of my chair. The two brutes edged over to block the doorway in case I decided to make a run for it. I suddenly realized it could take me a couple of days to talk my way out of the place.

But that was a good enough practical joke for Dad, who laughed gleefully. "I just wanted to see if ya'll would believe me."

Eventually I got him checked in but I was still covered in a cold sweat when I left, thinking, No wonder I'm fucked up. On the walk to the car another thought kept nagging at me: That 19 year-old at Dad's house sure had a nice ass.

The whole experience with my father had me so disoriented I almost didn't recognize Paula's voice. It was coming from a construction site next to the center. Paula wore a hard hat and jeans and was arguing with a plumbing subcontractor.

"Once we poured the slab it became a big problem that your plumbing was in the wrong location. I have to reduce your pay by what it's going to cost us and it won't be cheap." Paula informed him.

The plumber was getting frustrated. "What are you talking about? All you have to do is make the wall about nine inches wider than it needs to be and that won't cost much."

Paula matched the plumber's intensity but her voice remained steady, "You're wrong about that. I've already described this problem to the owner. He knows that the extra-wide wall means his useable area will be reduced and so will the value of his building. Someone has to pay and it won't be me."

"Bitch!" the plumber yelled and thrust his flushed face close to Paula, "You didn't have to tell the owner; he never would have known the difference."

Three men in hardhats suddenly appeared beside Paula. The plumber slowly backed up.

Paula became very calm. "These guys will be glad to discuss whether I'm a bitch with you." She paused and then continued, "In any case, I'll give you the price of your mistake by tomorrow. Then you can decide if you'd rather pay, or chip out the concrete and locate the plumbing in the right place."

It was an eye-opening experience to see the way Paula orchestrated that entire interaction. It was not a coincidence that her three men were nearby; she knew she might need them. And she was able to do this while overcoming the fact that she was a female and the youngest person of the group.

The plumber walked away in a huff and the three men returned to work without comment. As if on cue, the Director of the rehab facility came out the front door and talked with Paula. He had obviously handed my father off to someone else and then watched the entire contractor argument from behind the entrance door. Paula had probably arranged that also.

As they talked I hustled to hide behind my car. The Director had already seen me embarrassed once that day and I did not want to repeat the experience.

"Hey, Dave!" Paula enthusiastically waived me over to join them. Shit!

As I approached them I could hear Paula boasting to the Director, "What a great banker we have. Dave had to do some creative calculations for us to get the loan for this project. And here he is on a Saturday just making sure everything is going okay. How many times have you seen a banker do that?"

"Uh, Paula, that's not exactly why I'm here," I mumbled. At that point the Director and I were both clearly embarrassed. With a nod toward me he stepped away and started walking back to the Center.

Paula was curious for an explanation so I told her, "My father has a crack cocaine problem. The Director and I just checked him into this facility."

A look of understanding and humor gradually transformed Paula's expression. "Gee, I figured you fraternity boys didn't have the same family problems that we working classes have."

The three men in hardhats gently snickered and I glanced red-faced in their direction. Paula seemed to understand my embarrassment and said, "If you have 10 minutes, come with me. I have another job site to inspect and it's just around the corner."

Before I knew it we were speeding down the road in Paula's big white extended cab pickup truck with a standard transmission. She seemed to enjoy popping into each gear and accelerating to the next.

"So your old man's a handful, eh Dave?" Paula grinned.

I was a little resentful that Paula seemed to enjoy this. "Yeah, it all started when he left my mother and began chasing women."

"Oh...like father like son."

I sure as hell did not want to talk about similarities between my father and myself. I was nothing like him. Apparently my body language gave me away. "Okay, we don't have to talk about that," Paula said, then asked nonchalantly. "Have you seen Sharon and Robert lately?"

Our eyes met briefly and it was clear we both knew that question was packed with meaning. I considered lying but it would've been useless. "No, I'm pretty sure they're avoiding me."

She responded with genuine concern, "Oh no! We have to do something about that. Good friendships are hard to come by."

Paula drove in silence for a moment and then commented, "You and Sharon were hot as fire crackers in the backseat of that car. I can see why she might be a little afraid of you."

I squirmed and glared at Paula. This girl was way too familiar.

"Okay, okay." she responded, "We don't have to talk about that either. I know how you fraternity and sorority types like to keep your secrets." She mockingly spoke in a hushed voice, "As long as you can keep the secret, it's like it never happened." Paula smiled and again drove in silence a few moments then said, "But I just want to let you know y'all were really, really hot. It's been hard for me to quit thinking about it. And for what it's worth I've kept my mouth shut. I haven't even told Ozzie."

"Thanks."

"Just let me handle this," she said, "I'm good at getting people together. We can't allow our group to break up over a little spillover lust...no matter how white-hot sexy and wet it was."