Saturday morning finally arrived, to Arnold’s delight. He had been tossing and turning for a better part of the previous night just waiting for the D-day, when he would see Rebecca again. He woke up at 7.00 a.m, tidied his room, then went and had a shower. Mrs. Simmons was preparing breakfast while Mr. Simmons was watching the morning news.
He was smartly dressed in a short-sleeved shirt, trousers, and sneakers. He did not go to work on Saturdays but spent them all with his wife, the whole day, until 6.00 p.m. Roxanne, on the other hand, was still asleep. She, too, did not go to work on the weekends, giving her time to catch up on important things she missed during the week, like sleep.
Mrs. Simmons set the breakfast then went to prepare herself, leaving her husband and son to talk.
“Remember, son: Be safe,” Mr. Simmons whispered to Arnold.
“Right. I will,” he replied, also in a whisper, then thanked him for his advice.
Jack Al strolled along the cool, almost deserted streets wondering how he would get to the East Side. His job as a gangster paid well, but his salary went to alcohol. The morning sun shone upon him, making him squint his eyes. He was hungry but had no money for breakfast. Perhaps, he thought, he could go and see a friend of his who worked in a restaurant.
The restaurant’s name was Pleasure Treasure. It was located across the street from a phone booth, adjacent to a strip club that was operational during the night and opposite the best known bar in the area, Genuine Bar, where Jack Al frequented to drink his stresses and cares away.
As he got in, he could smell the waft of freshly toasted waffles and salivated as he sat on an unoccupied bench behind a filthy, shoddily-wiped table. He looked around at the other customers as they enjoyed their meals while he waited for his friend to come and serve—or save—him. A waiter approached him.
“What will you have, sir?” He asked him. Jack Al shook his head quickly.
“I-I haven’t decided yet,” he replied, while pretending to study the board fixed on the wall at the reception area of the hotel, that indicated the foods and drinks available and their prices. His friend was serving customers opposite him. The waiter left.
“Carla!” Jack Al whispered loudly to his friend severally until he got her attention.
She turned to him and smiled, then left her customers with an “Enjoy” and went to where he was.
“Jack. What’s up? It’s been a while,” she said fondly while smiling at him. She was a brunette of medium height, pretty, with a confident almost masculine voice, white skin that was untanned, a long shapely neck, and a curvaceous body with perfect features that would land her a job as a model if ever she was interested. Jack Al eyed her outfit.
“What’s with the revealing top and slinky miniskirt?” He asked.
“They’re for attracting male customers. They add a visual dessert to whichever food they order. Hotel policy. All waitresses wear them. They are uniform,” she replied, and turned to some of her colleagues to prove her point.
“Well, I don’t like it,” Jack Al grumbled. Carla pouted.
“Would you rather I worked as a stripper in the strip joint a distance away?” She asked him.
“Alright. Alright. Have a seat,” he said to her softly.
“Staff are not allowed to sit and chat with customers, but for you I will,” she replied softly and sat lightly on the bench opposite his, then looked into his gray eyes. “I’m all yours,” she added. He cleared his throat.
“I need a favor. I’m hungry and broke. Get me a meal and let it be on your tab,” he asked. She looked at his bushy eyebrows then goatee in thought.
“And what do I get out of it?” She asked him.
“We shall discuss that later. Please hurry up. I’m starving,” Jack Al replied desperately. She winked at him.
“Coming right up,” she said, then stood slowly, turned, and walked towards the counter. Jack Al watched her go. She was nice enough as a friend and probably a bed warmer, he thought, but nothing more. He wasn’t ready for relationships yet.
Carla came back to him with a plate of bacon, eggs, and toast on one hand and a coffee on the other, and set them before him.
“Enjoy,” she said, then left once again.
Jack Al smiled and licked his lips, then began eating. The sweetness of the food made him notice a cockroach that slithered across the table. As he ate, Carla was on standby, waiting to take his dishes after he finished so he would leave without paying. She loved him and was willing to do anything for him, even risking losing her job.
She sprang into action when another waitress was going to clear Jack Al’s dishes after he had eaten. She beat her colleague to Jack Al’s table.
“I got this, Georgia,” she said to her. Georgia was a beautiful African American woman with a tapered cut-hairstyle and light skin. Georgia nodded and left. Jack Al smiled at Carla and looked at her cleavage.
“You can see more of this if you want,” she cooed to him in her exciting voice. He stood up.
“Meet me later on at lunch in my place,” he said, then looked into her ocean blue eyes. She smiled.
“I’ll see to it that I do,” she replied, and hurried away with his empty dishes. She was the type of woman that any man would want as a wife, but not Jack Al. As he walked out of the hotel, he thought of his friend Damian.
“Perhaps he can sort me out. Yeah,” he said to himself with a smile as he remembered the amount of money he took the previous day from the loot he delivered. His next stop was Damian’s place.
Mr. and Mrs. Simmons had finished their breakfast and left for their usual Saturday destination that they themselves knew. Arnold smiled cheekily while rubbing his palms together and looking around the house. It was almost party time with only thirty minutes left. He went and retrieved the items from his room, which were confetti, yogurt, cakes, and chocolate—all selected by Roxanne.
He wanted to include energy-giving drinks, but his sister brought diet colas and sodas. She argued that most girls watch their weight, hence her choices were ideal. It was as if she could read his mind on why he wanted to buy the energy drinks.
After setting the living room with the mouth-watering snacks, Arnold turned up the volume of the stereo, put on the TV, and relaxed on the couch as he sipped a bottle of soda. Everything was perfect. The only touches left to complete the picture were the much-anticipated visitors.
Roxanne came down briefly in the previous night’s outfit, served herself breakfast, and joined her brother on the couch. He reduced the stereo’s volume and stared at her uncomfortably.
“Don’t you have somewhere to go? Something to do? Someone to visit, I don’t know Bree, or what’s-his-name Charlie?” He asked her.
She shook her head while chewing and after swallowing replied, “Nope. I’m totally free today. As I said, I’ll let you have your fun, but it better be PG 13.”
The doorbell rang. Arnold fidgeted. His heart thumped quickly. Roxanne mouthed the last of her toast and looked at her stationary brother.
“Aren’t you going to get that?” She asked him. He mumbled inaudibly while smiling goofily. “If you can’t handle the heat, why light up a fire?” Roxanne said, then went to answer the door. The best Arnold could do was turn to the direction of the door.
“Welcome. Welcome,” Roxanne said to two girls sweetly as she ushered them in.
Arnold studied the girls. They were both of medium height. One of them had long, dark silky flowing hair that reached to her chest, big brown eyes, full pink lips, and a petite figure. She had on a low-cut top, skin-tight jeans tucked into baseball boots, and a trendy mesh cap.
The other looked sophisticated. She was an auburn-haired girl with a straight, powdered face that had makeup on, an athletic feminine body with small features, and lovely green eyes. She was wearing a see-through cardigan on top of a flowing dress and had on pink earrings to complement the eye-catching pink opens she wore.
“Melissa, Cindy, good to see you both. My, you look lovely,” Arnold said with a wide grin as he approached the girls. They shook Roxanne’s hand, then hugged him.