Fly the Rain by Robert Burton Robinson Page B

his
Oxford dress shirts.
    “ Let’s play a little game,”
she said.
    “ Okay.” The way she looked,
he would have done anything she asked. Even if it was something
crazy, like: walk down to the truck stop and get me the shoe of a
truck driver. Hopefully it wouldn’t be that. But Greg could already
picture the big guy chasing him down the hotel hallway wearing only
one shoe.
    “ You can be the student, and
I’ll be the teacher.”
    “ Yes, Ma’am.” It sounded
much easier than going after that shoe.
    “ Greg, you’ve been a very
bad boy.” She pulled a chair away from the table and slid it to a
corner of the room. “So, you must be punished.”
    “ I understand, Miss
Cynthia.”
    “ You’re going to have to sit
here in the corner for a while.”
    “ For how long, Miss
Cynthia?”
    “ I’ll let you know when your
time is up. Now come over here.”
    Greg walked to the chair and sat down. “I
really like your shirt, Miss Cynthia.”
    “ Thanks. Would you like to
see it up close?”
    “ Yes, Ma’ma. Very
much.”
    Cynthia sat down on Greg’s lap, facing him.
“It’s a nice fabric isn’t it?”
    “ I think so. It’s a little hard to
see in here.”
    “ Yes. It is kinda dark. Tell
me if you can see this.” She unbuttoned the shirt and opened
it.
    “ Oh, Miss Cynthia. I really like this fabric.” Greg
kissed her on the neck and began to work his way
downward.
    Then they heard another woman’s voice. It
almost sounded like she was in the room with them. They suddenly
realized they were close to the door that opened into the adjoining
room.
    It was a young woman voice, speaking in
perfect monotone. “Oh, Baby, you’re so good. Keep going. Yeah,
Baby. That’s right.”
    “ Would you buy that?”
whispered Cynthia.
    “ She needs acting lessons,”
said Greg.
    They both wanted to laugh out loud, but they
knew they’d be heard, so they fought it. Then the man groaned
loudly, followed by dead silence.
    “ I guess he bought it,” said
Cynthia.
    They started snickering and nearly fell off
the chair.
    “ Let’s get away from this
door,” whispered Greg.
    They ran to the bed and jumped in. It would
be their best night of lovemaking since the honeymoon.
    And it wouldn’t be until the
next morning that they would wonder if anyone had heard them .

    Chapter 14

    Any time Herman Mayberly walked into the
restaurant, the wait staff scattered. At 76, Herman was like an
older John Wayne—but without the charm. Occasionally patrons would
hear him in the kitchen clanging pots and pans, yelling at the top
of his voice over something that wasn’t cooked according to his
standards. He was a bull to work for.
    It was wonder he’d ever been able to hold
onto staff people. Mostly they stayed around because of Angie. She
always had a knack for making people feel good about themselves—in
spite of their lousy situation.
    Angie liked to think that her father had
once been a kind, caring man. But that was before she was born. She
attributed his perpetual grouchiness to the loss of his 38-year-old
wife while giving birth to their only child. He often said he could
see Wanda every time he looked at Angie. And instead of bringing a
smile to his face, it seemed to make him angry.
    “ Where’s Angie?” he barked
at a young waitresses.
    “ I think she’s in her
office.”
    Her office. Until a year ago, it
had always been his office. He had begged Angie
to divorce Clifford, promising her full control of the restaurant
if she did. It was time for him to retire anyway. And when his
daughter finally filed for divorce, Herman begrudgingly kept his
promise. At least he tried to—unless he saw something
that wasn’t being done right.
    “ A couple of your waitresses
look like teenagers.”
    Angie looked up from her
computer. “They are teenagers, Dad.”
    “ Well, that’s too young. You
need mature women who know how to treat your customers—not some
wise-cracking kids. In all my days of running this place I