Couples of South Pointe Lake

9. Nighttime Dreams

Angie was home, as Steve expected.  She had been home more than an hour and had contemplated going out to look for her husband or kill time by making dinner and watch something on Netflix, knowing he would return in no time.  She did call his buddies, starting with Shep, but that turned out nothing.  Then she struck gold when she contacted Ollie, who mentioned that Steve had left his place a while ago.  So how come he was taking time to return home?  And why did he forget taking his damn phone with him?

She was upset, but nothing to get serious about.  He had likely stopped at another friends’ place, presumably Larry; no way in hell was she going to give that jerk a ring.  Angie poured herself a glass of red wine then continued the movie series they had stopped watching last time.

Angie was engrossed in the movie when she heard the front door open.  Steve entered the room; Angie didn’t move from her chair or indicate pleasure seeing him as he came over and kissed her cheek.

“Hi, honey,” he said after kissing her.  “Didn’t think you’d be home by now.”

“Like you didn’t think I would be?  Where have you been, Steve?  Or rather, where did you go?  I called Ollie, and he told me you left his place an hour ago.”

“Hold it right there, darling,” he rushed into the kitchen and returned with a beer in hand and came and settled beside her, chugging his drink.  It took a nudge from Angie to get his attention back.

“I’m waiting,” she said.

“We’re gonna be getting new neighbors here in South Pointe soon.”

“What new neighbors?”

“The Alvarezes’ home, someone’s bought it.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know exactly, but I ran into the wife this evening while on my way home from Ollie’s.”  

He drank more of his beer before sharing his encounter with the black woman named Yemi. 

“That’s quite a name,” Angie remarked after he had finished.  “Did she look American?”

“That’s racist, Ang; she’s about as American as you and I.  Ollie said he saw a moving truck pull into the compound earlier in the day.  Likely they’ll be moving in soon.”

“She didn’t tell you when?”

“No.  It’s weird that they’ll be our first black couple in this neighborhood.  There’s never been any here before, unless I’m missing something.”

“No, I don’t think you’re missing anything.  How was she?  Middle-aged or old?”

“She was young-looking and pretty.”

“You sure about that?” Angie looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Don’t worry, no woman is ever as pretty as you, honey.  You know how much I mean that.”  He kissed her cheek for emphasis.  “You got anything ready for supper?”

 “Not tonight, darling.  Since I didn’t know where you were, and you left your phone behind.  I was wondering if maybe you’d found yourself a girlfriend and went to spend time with her.  I did order us some pizza from Denny’s; should be here soon.”

“What could possibly get me enticed to want a girlfriend in this neighborhood?”

“My mistake,” she said.  “It’s a he, and his name starts with an L.  Care to take a guess?”

“Larry?”

Angie nodded.  “So, what was it that he wanted to talk with you about this morning?”

Steve was about to reply when the sound of their doorbell ringing interrupted him.  

“Must be the pizza,” said Angie.

She was correct.  Steve went and answered the door and gave the delivery guy a generous tip before returning with the pizza box in hand.  Angie switched off the TV and carried her glass of wine with Steve’s beer, and together they went into the kitchen.  Steve frowned when he heard loud music coming from outside.  He looked at Angie, and she shared a similar look to which they both knew who was responsible for the music.  He went and opened the backdoor and looked to his right. 

The loud music came from past the fence that separated his compound from his neighbors, Mike and Alicia Lasson.  The couple owned a swimming pool in their yard, which was where the music was coming from.  From his back porch, Steve made out the couple frolicking shamelessly in their pool; they might as well have been on a deserted island by themselves.  They were newlyweds in their mid-twenties, and they smelled of new money, having been spawned from an upper-class WASP background.  Neither of them worked.  They were loaded with trust fund money and had all the time in the world to spend it.  Steve bore some envy toward the star-crossed lovers, which was how he considered them.  They were yet to experience the pitfalls of marriage life.  Only a matter of time before they got themselves a wake-up call on that, he thought.

Mike and his wife continued splashing in the water while their music blasted from a playable device beside the pool.  Steve was double-irritated as this wasn’t the first time their music had intruded on his sensibility.  He had complained numerous times, yet the newlyweds seemed impervious to the disturbance. 

Alicia stopped when she saw Steve waving at them, and she, in turn, waved back before her husband caught on.  

“Hiya, neighbor,” Mike hollered. 

“How’s everything, Mike.  You mind turning the volume down a little notch?  I’d really appreciate it.”

“Oh, yeah, sure thing.  Sorry about that, Steve.”  Mike swam to the pool’s edge and reduced the music’s volume.

“Steve, you wanna come join in,” Alicia gestured; she was naked in the water, looking like a mermaid in a Disney picture. 

“Maybe next time.  Good night.” Steve turned and returned to his home.

The pizza box was open and Angie had dropped two slices on his plate and the same for hers.  She saw the frustrated look on his face and smiled.

“Those two still driving you insane?”

Steve sat across from her with his plate and beer in front of him.  Snuggles sprang upon the table and sat there staring at him.  Steve stared back at the cat as though wanting to strangle it.

“They haven’t driven me insane yet, but they’re getting there.  They sure know how to have fun, I’ll give them that.”

“Didn’t we use to have fun like them before?” Angie sighed while munching on her pizza.  “I wonder where it all went.”

Steve ate his pizza slice before changing the subject back to his chatter with Ollie.

“Have you ever stumbled upon the word ‘cuckold’ before?”

“You mean to call somebody a cuckold?  Yeah, of course.  Why do you ask?”

Steve looked surprised.  “You know what it means?”

“Yes, I do.  Don’t tell me you’re just finding out now.”

“I never knew such a word existed until today.”

“This is what happens when you don’t bother keeping up with what’s happening out in the world,” she laughed.  “I thought you’d know about it?  Or don’t you once love to watch porn?”

“That was ages ago before I married you.”

“In other words, you haven’t been keeping up?”

“No, I guess I haven’t.”

“What did you find out about it then?”

*          *          *

Bobby ‘Red’ Van Houten parked his truck in front of his home then killed the engine, but continued to sit behind the wheel, not feeling any urgency to climb down and enter his house.  He was exhausted, and his back hurt from all the heavy furniture lifting he had carried out at the shop.  His house was dark—there didn’t appear to be a light inside, which meant Bella hadn’t returned from work.  That was weird.  The b***h seldom stayed this late until recently.  He was of the mind to drive to the bar and confront her.  It won’t be the first time he speculated that the b***h was two-timing him with some bastard.  But then again, what the hell.  Who would want to f**k a fat pig like her anyway?  Good luck to the fool; hope he don’t forget to wear a rubber or catch a clap from the fat b***h!

That last thought raised a mischievous grin to his lips.  He needed a smoke as bad as he needed to fall asleep in bed.  He had finished the weed stash he bundled to the shop during his afternoon break.  A good thing he had some left at home.  

Red came down from his truck, taking with him his knapsack bag that contained his work tools.  He stopped to stretch his limbs and make his backbone pop in their socket, groaning with satisfaction when that happened.  He dug his keys out of his pocket as he came to his door and let himself into his house.

Bobby turned on the lights as he plodded inside and let his knapsack crash to the floor as he made for the bedroom.  The room had a peculiar smell like some creature had snuck in and taken a dump on the bed.  He didn’t like it—Bella ought to have done something about that before taking her ugly ass out of the house.  He would have a firm talk with her about it.  Red clumsily took off his clothes and discarded them on the floor, wearing nothing but his stockings and boxers. 

He went into the bathroom, where he then lifted his arms and sniffed his armpits, and wrinkled his nose at the odor that hit him.  Nothing would make him feel better than a shower, he thought.  But first things’ first.  Bobby lifted the toilet’s tank lid and rescued a polythene bag that contained his remaining stash of Mary Jane.  He frowned as he held the polythene bag to the light, appraising the amount of weed inside.  It felt to him as like the stash had gotten smaller than the last time he sampled it.  Either that or eyes were playing tricks on him. 

Oh well, as long as there’s enough to last him a few days before he gave Charles a call.

Red took the polythene bag with him and left the room; he picked his knapsack bag where he had left it and carried it into the kitchen.  He dropped his knapsack on the table and rummaged inside until he unearthed his leftover Rizla rolling paper.  He sprinkled a handful of potent grass onto a slip of rolling paper and made himself a fat blunt.  He wore his slippers, then opened his back door and stepped out into his back porch. 

Bobby Red sat down on his rocking chair, lit his joint, and took a big drag.  The tip burned bright with each toke he took.  Red felt the tension of the day gradually ease off his body after inhaling the fifth toke.  He could feel the shackles coming loose from his limbs, supplanted by buoyant weightlessness that made him sink further into his rocking chair.  His ears listened to the creaking noise the chair produced as he rocked back and forth while his mind luxuriated in his joint’s aftermath.  That f*****g weasel DeGrasse hadn’t been lying after all—this was some good s**t!  He had shared a few tots with several of the fellas he worked with at the shop, and they too had concurred.  One of them inquired where he could obtain some for himself, but Red kept mum on that.  Won’t be good letting the world in on this s**t.  

Bobby lazily surveyed his unkempt yard.  The wild grasses were weeks old with reeds sprouting amid the pile of discarded junk that littered the yard, all the way to the chain-linked fence that barricaded him from the backwoods road that led toward Vinewood Drive.  Even the encroaching trees that divided his yard from his next-door neighbors were infesting out of control.  Bella had complained about when he intended hauling his ass out of bed to trim the grass.  Like everything coming from her, Red ignored her plight but knew he wouldn’t be able to justify that soon enough.  The grass would reach knee-length if he left it longer for another week.

But that was for another day, not tonight.  Tonight he wanted to chill out here, catch himself some warm breeze and get stoned out of his head.  He didn’t want to worry about Bella’s whereabouts or any other s**t that’s been building in his head.  Red listened to the myriad chirpings of crickets while gazing across his fence.  That was when he saw something that made him sit upright.

“What the—” Red squinted his eyes as he sighted a dark figure racing across the bushy outgrowth of a yard across the backwoods road.  The figure flitted from the compound into the next with a wraith-like precision.  Bobby would never have noticed the figure were it not for the cowl shielding its head, whoever it was; he couldn’t tell if the bearer was a male or female.

Bobby’s first inclination was to not think about it—probably some snotty kid playing hide-and-seek with whoever was out there . . . or likely lost in the bushes.

He took a long drag of his joint then tossed it into the grass.  He grunted as he struggled to pull himself off the rocking chair, then trundled through the grassy field to the small gate that was the only entry through the chain-linked fence.  He winced at the feel of wet grass and brambles scratching his leg.  Shoving the lock aside, Bobby pushed the gate open and ventured across the backwoods road.  

Bobby Red cursed his clumsiness as he stumbled while negotiating his climb from the asphalt onto the rugged grassland of whichever person’s property he was infringing upon.  He gasped as he lumbered through the bush, swiping shrubbery from his face while fighting to maintain sight of the cowl’s movement that was ahead of him.  He could hear the person’s profile wading through the bush.  Bobby had the aid of house lights in the near distance to show him where he was heading.  He could have stumbled into a sinkhole for all he cared, and he won’t have known where he was.  He heard what sounded like people laughing but had no idea where it was coming from.  His feet crunched on leaves and tree branches.  The further he trampled into the bush, the more everything got dark that he had no idea what direction he was heading.  

“Hey!” he hollered as he trudged through the shrubbery, gasping and cursing as he pushed forward into the gloom.  “Hey . . . f*****g slow the f**k down!”

He broke into a backyard compound but still hadn’t a clue where he was.  He looked at the house that stood forty yards in front of him and had no idea whose home it was.  The house looked deserted, but it’s back French door was open.  Red took some time catching his breath and swipe strands of cobwebs and dirt from his face.  He was sweating down to his boxers; dead leaves and mud were stuck to his stockings. 

The French door stood halfway open like an entryway to a tomb.  Bobby hadn’t seen the cloaked figure enter the house, nor could he assume if the person deliberately left the door open for him to notice.  Whatever the situation, Bobby fell for the bait and cautiously approached the house.

There was light coming from distant houses that aided his sight as he went up the short flight of steps leading to the doorway.  Nothing happened to him as he entered the dark interior.  Everywhere was as quiet as a graveyard.  Bobby Red made out a ray of light coming from beyond what appeared to be an empty kitchen.  A large, empty kitchen.  The light was meager, but it seemed to come from beyond the room.  Red touched his face with his hands as if to reassure himself he wasn’t passed out on his rocking chair, and this wasn’t a weird dream he was having.

He stopped when he heard voices.  It sounded like two people speaking in a hush tone.  Red couldn’t comprehend what was being said—it sounded like gibberish chatter to him.  He leaned in the dark where the light wouldn’t cast a shadow upon him and gazed beyond the kitchen doorway to where the light was coming from.  It turned out to be candlelight, two of which stood at opposite ends.  Two people stood amid the candles, one being the cowl-wearing figure.  The other was a muscle-bound black man wearing a face mask and nothing else.  The figure took off the cowl, and Bobby gasped when he saw it was a white woman.  The woman was naked under her robe, and she too wore a face mask.  Red could only make out her brunette hair, slim figure.  The black man was muttering some weird incantation to which the woman repeated every word.  

Red made sure his position behind the doorway couldn’t be spotted.  Sweat rolled down his face, but he barely heard himself breathe as he observed the couple.  He looked back at the dark corridor where he had come from, wondering if he would be capable of fleeing the scene if it came to that.  This sure as f**k wasn’t a dream. 

The woman knelt before the man and was stroking the man’s erection with both hands.  The man stood over her as she began sucking his c**k.  Red’s eyes expanded as he watched from inside the dark room.  No way was he capable of making sense of what he was watching.  His eyes didn’t stray from the couple.  Either this was the weed he had smoked was so potent, or he was losing his head.    

The woman’s lips went on smacking against the black man’s c**k as she choked on his hard-on.  Whatever crazy sort of ritual was this, Red asked himself, and how come they were performing it here in this empty house?  

The woman halted her foreplay action then laid herself on the floor.  The black man came down to his knees and rubbed his hand between the woman’s legs.  Bobby Red stared at the man’s enormous erection.  It looked so huge, he couldn’t help fearing for the woman as the man then fell on top of her.

Bobby heard her gasp.  Before he could stop himself, he let off a sharp cry as the woman moaned aloud from the black man’s brute injection.

“Did you hear that?” the black man inquired.

Alarm exploded in Bobby’s head, and he leaned back into the shadow, realizing that the couple was staring in his direction toward the kitchen.

“Who the f**k’s in there?” the masked man barked.

That was the impetus Bobby needed to flee from the house.  He bumped into a cabinet drawer and nearly stumbled as he fumbled his way in the dark.  He was grateful when he found the doorway and bounded down the steps into the yard.  Bobby gasped as he ran clumsily into the shrubbery from where he reckoned he had come from.  He ran blindly, unconcerned about what direction he was heading, just the notion that he needed to be farther from the deserted house.  His fright overpowered and compelled him forward.  Random tree branches scratched his head and arms, and a myriad of bugs danced around his head.  He fell forward several times and eventually stumbled onto the backwoods road where he then sighted the chain-linked fence leading into his compound.  

Red limped toward the small gate and let himself into his yard.  He slammed the gate shut and shoved the lock back into place.  He checked to make sure he wasn’t being chased after before approaching his house.  The backdoor opened, and Bella came out onto the porch looking pissed and unconcerned of his plight.  Red was breathing heavily like he just ran a marathon. 

“Where the f**k have you been?” 

Bobby made it to the porch gasping and immediately felt tired; every pair of his body hurt like he had received a thousand knife cuts.  He examined himself and cursed his damn luck when he realized he had ripped a hole in his boxers.

“Where the hell did you get all of that?” Bella indicated at the wet grass and strands of cobwebs stuck to his body. 

“You’re not gonna f*****g believe me if I told you,” he muttered.

Bella made way for him to walk past into the house.  Whatever disease he had caught, the last thing she wanted was a part of it.  Bobby left a trail of grass and mud behind in his wake.

“f*****g pig,” she said under her breath before following him.

*          *          *

Angie was asleep.  She turned over from her side and rested against her husband’s shoulder while draping her arm across his torso.  Steve’s eyes remained shut, but he was far from falling asleep.  He listened to his wife’s breathing against his cheek, taking comfort from her body heat.  Snuggles lay between their thighs, acting like some unconditional guard intended to bar Steve from attempting any midnight romp with his wife.  His ears caught the whirring noise emanating from the fan blowing down on them, including night creatures’ sibilant noise outside their window.  Everything was conspiring to keep him awake.

Steve knew the culprit responsible for keeping him from slipping into dreamland.  The figure magically appeared behind his closed eyelids as though he had summoned her telepathically. 

Yemi.

Steve replayed his brief meeting with her.  He recalled the feel of her skin during their handshake.  The thoughtful, deliberate manner she responded to his questions.  Steve looked forward to meeting the lucky man that was her husband.  Like with any worthy neighbor, he looked forward to learning more about them.  Especially about Yemi.  What sort of woman was she?  And how come since first laying eyes on her, he couldn’t shake her off his thoughts.

Sleep did come for him.  It hadn’t been his making, but somewhere between crafting imaginary scenarios of Yemi and her husband, his thoughts fell into a vague cloud of dreaming that then dispatched him into dreamland.  In a way, he was grateful when it happened.