It was obvious to Beverly that her client was in no condition or state of mind to do any house hunting so she suggested a quiet location with hot coffee, padded seats and delicious donuts. After finishing her first cup of white-hot chocolate and glazed donut, Blanche began to feel somewhat better. The tremor in her hands had ceased and her voice was much less shaky but her anxiety level was still elevated as Beverly tried to console her.
“Men, and boys for that matter, walk around with their brains in their penis with no thought for anyone but themselves,” Beverly suggested, polishing off her third donut, this one covered in white frosting drizzled with maple. “Believe me, I’ve known my share and most are idiots through and through. Even the ones that you think are semi-normal turn into some sort of sex crazed alien the minute they get a hard on. Take my deceased husband, the one I was telling you about with the spoiled rotten son, he was a genius when it came to money and real estate. I learned so much from him about the markets, when to buy, when to sell, that sort of stuff, but the minute I’d show him these.” Taking her covered breasts in both hands, making sure not to get any icing on either one, she bounced them slightly; drawing stares from some of the locals seated a few tables over. “He’d turn into a babbling fool, unable to make a coherent sentence until he’d gotten his rocks off, pardon my French.”
Bev was enjoying having someone she could spout off too. Her favorite subject as of late was the abuse she’d received at the hands of men in general but more specifically from the son of her dearly departed.
“Did I tell you the latest? Did I?” she asked, not waiting for a reply she pressed on. “Well, I’ll tell you what darlin’, that little son of a bitch is still screwing with me even after the courts awarded me my fair share. My stepson, some kind of aid to a high falootin’ congressmen up there in Washington, has got it in his head that I’m just gonna roll over and let him push me around and give up my millions,” she continued in her over the top Southern accent. “That pompous piece of shit really gets me going. First it was momma this and momma that, now that some money is involved he treats me like a two bit whore that was screwing his daddy just for his money. I’ll show that little pipsqueak what this mommas got in store for him,” she said rather loudly, drawing more looks and quiet whispers from customers throughout the shop.
Blanche nodded when she felt it was appropriate and tried to act understanding, but wasn’t it her that was the victim this morning and not Bev? It was sweet that she was trying to take her mind off the skaters but she was kind of ranting and Blanche was not enjoying the additional attention.
“So tell me about the job the oldest one has, he really works for a congressman, a US Congressman?” Blanche politely asked.
“Yeah, little kiss ass that he is, worked his way into this job with the help of his daddy. From what I gather he does all the congressman’s dirty work. Does all the hiring and firing and finds little trollops for the congressman to screw when his wife ain’t around. I ‘spect Jeremy gets his fill of that office poontang as well, takes after his daddy in that respect,” the agitated real estate woman fumed.
“That’s his name, Jeremy?” Blanche asked.
“Yeah, Jeremy ‘Kiss My Ass’ Marshall and the worse thing is he keeps sticking his nose in my business here in Valdosta. Don’t know why he can’t just leave well enough alone and worry about his father’s estate and getting this behind us. Some of my friends in the business tell me he’s prodding around about some land that is soon to be developed just north of here. Probably needs my millions to secure some financing for something he’s got in the works, most likely very underhanded if I know Jeremy and the way he operates.” She paused long enough to fill her mouth with another bite of donut.
“You must be sick of hearing about my troubles, honey. What’s up with you other than fighting off a pack of boys after your goods?” she said, pointing the half eaten donut at Blanche’s front, leaving powdered sugar on her friend.
Blanche didn’t want to get into much with Bev after hearing the realtor go on and on about her woes so she tried to bring the subject back around to her housing needs. After approximately thirty minutes of condo talk and another cup of cocoa, the women left the donut shop, all eyes on them as they hurried through the doors and into the BMW. Beverly was good enough to swing by the library for Blanche then sped off, anxious to meet with her lawyer and cuss for another couple of hours about her stepson. In her mind she’d worked hard for those millions and he was not about to take that away from her. No frickin’ way she was going to let her stepson screw her, that was for sure.
Blanche’s workday began like most once she got to the library. She was relieved to see that there were only a few items in her assorted boxes and no skulking teenage boys prowling among the shelves. She’d had her fill of testosterone driven madness for one day. Mr. Marcus was busy tinkering with some shelving units on the upper floor when she arrived and she had not yet had an opportunity to speak with him, but he was making some incredible ‘worker man’ noises that echoed throughout the library. Thankfully, it wasn’t busy and no one seemed to care that the occasional clang or bang could be heard, followed by a random cuss spoken harshly by the maintenance man. Two hours into the racket and just before Blanche was to take a break to get some lunch the little custodian ambled down the steps from the second floor. Sweat ran down his cheeks and a white, stretchy headband ran around his forehead in an effort to keep the salty solution out of his eyes.
“Sorry about all the commotion up there this afternoon,” he offered. “Those new shelving units they sent for the magazines didn’t quite go together with the ease that the instructions indicated. Never do for some reason, anyway, got them together and they look nice. You’ll have to mosey up there when you get time and take a look.”
She always looked forward to the random interactions she got to have with the personable, little man throughout her day. Kind of reminded her of her dad and brought back some fond memories of her childhood. He was always quick with a compliment and a smile and today was no different.
“That’s quite the outfit you’ve got on there today, really highlights your figure, you’ll have the boys in the back fighting over who gets to help you with the coding this afternoon.”
Blanche knew the remark was intended just as it was given, a sincere observation meant to compliment with no creepy overtones or insinuations.
“Why thank you Marcus, just a little something I haven’t worn since I started here and thought I’d give it a go.” Blanche blushed slightly, making her face glow with appreciation.
“Well, you did good, anybody in particular you ah, um, how do I put this tactfully? You got your sites on a particular target with this?” He gestured with his hands, indicating her figure in the tight, thin sweater stretching a little lower than her usual attire and the slacks a bit tighter in the seat than anything she’d worn to date.
“Now, now Marcus, you know you’re the only man around here that I’ve got an eye for,” she said, with a wink of her striking blue eyes and a pat on his shoulder.
They both laughed but Marcus had his suspicions. Blanche was like the daughter he never had and he enjoyed her personality and the fun banter they exchanged on a regular basis, but he strangely felt a certain obligation to watch out for her best interests as well.
“Marcus, Mr. Marcus, you got that shelving unit up yet? My heavens with all the noise going on up there one would have thought you were putting together a tank or something,” the words arrived almost before the director as she scurried up to the front desk.
“Yes ma'am, was just telling Blanche here how nice they look. You should get up there yourself and have a gander,” Marcus replied.