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PAMELA
Posted On 02/25/2015 23:22:56 by JBMorrisAuthor

February 26, 2015

CHAPTER 5

PAMELA


FROM THE PREVIOUS PAGE

Dusty’s face was grim.

“Honey, I promise we will talk every day. What you think is important to me.”

“Even though I don’t want him here.”

“Everyday day, sweetheart. And remember, you are a young lady who has manners. I will not accept you being rude to him when you meet him. Promise me.”

Dusty paused, as she reflected on her answer. Deflated, she said, “I promise I won’t be rude when I meet him. But I won’t like him and I sure don’t want him in the house.”

Suddenly, Dusty jumped off the bed and ran into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

****

Sleep.

Impossible.

Pamela kept walking in and out of the door of Seth’s mind while the curtain did little to shield the red and white lights from dancing on the ceiling. Investigating, Seth had seen three police cars parked in front of the Canal Bar across 3rd Avenue from his Super 8 Motel. Hands pressed against the rolling steel door next to the bar, feet spread-eagled, were five men and two women. Having spent the last two years as a police office in Hillsdale, Ohio, the scene quickly bored him and he returned to bed. 

Two minutes later he was sitting on the bed and five minutes later he was dressed and walking north on 3rd Avenue in Brooklyn at eleven at night. Three Blood gang members, wearing Chicago Bulls jerseys, eyed him and began to stalk him. Getting closer, they saw Seth’s thick-powerful muscles. And his blond high and tight haircut must have announced to them that he was a warrior who walked with the best the world had to offer.

Eyeing them with amusement, Seth said simply, “Bring it on.” The gang members hastily ran across 3rd Avenue dodging cars and disappeared into the darkness of the block-sized Thomas Greene Playground.

Walking past the Triple Diamond Tattoo parlor and Margie’s Beauty Salon, Seth crossed Baltic Street and Atlantic Avenue before stepping onto Flatbush Avenue. Ahead was a watering hole at the Sheraton Brooklyn New York Hotel. Pamela never left him during his walk and she filled his mind later while he nursed a beer in the sleekly-designed lounge in the center of the lobby.

Pamela.

Unable to congeal into any logical order or decision, his mind exploded with her memory as it raced from one remembrance to another. Her wealth had staggered him, leaving him unable to comprehend she was worth untold millions. Taking another swallow, he shook his head in disbelief. He once had twelve hundred and forty-three dollars in his pocket. He thought he was rich. Twelve hours later, he was broke. How could he live in such a place, a penthouse? He’d have to take his shoes off before entering to avoid damaging the floor and change clothes so the dirt of the city didn’t soil the furniture. Could he avoid breaking Bernardaud “Naxos” china dinnerware? Doubtful. Could he adjust to Pamela’s wealth? Unknown. Could she relate that his home for the night had often been a wadi, a dry streambed in Afghanistan? Unimaginable. 

And then there was Victoria. Her strong resistance to his visit surprised him. He had thought accepting Pamela’s wealth would have been his biggest hurtle. Maybe instead, it was Victoria. The Hollywood image of a New York City matron, she was trim for her sixty plus years with silver hair immaculately coiffured into a tapered bob. She was obviously a lady steeped in the wealth of privilege and saw herself as the matriarch of the family. Her decisions were final and dissent was a foreign experience. 

Questions. So many questions. Why was Victoria living with Pamela? Was Pamela strong enough to say no to her mother? And how did Dusty fit in? Would she reject him too? If there was any hope for them, they needed to get away, if only for dinner. Then the puzzle that was Pamela may begin to fit in place.

Seth left the lounge conflicted. His growing affection for Pamela had overwhelmed him. Equally so, the fear that there was no hope for them loomed large in his mind. 

TO BE CONTINUED




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