Cougars (9 page)

“At this point, honey, I'm not even willing to give you a smoke signal.” Jasmine walked away.

“Why do the pretty ones always have to be coldhearted bitches?” Alex asked.

“You're lucky that you have a friend like me because any other guy would have disowned your ass.”

“Hey, man. She wasn't worth it any motherfucking way.” The alcohol allowed Alex to make statements that would lead to an ass kicking if he were alone.

“Have a seat,” Travis told Alex, who sat on the bar stool and slumped over. Travis got the attention of the bartender once again and ordered a cup of coffee for his friend.

Travis awoke to the sound of heavy rainfall from a thunderstorm system passing through the Bay Area. He turned over in his bed and hugged the pillow tighter, hoping to get a few more minutes of sleep before getting up to start his day. Just as he was about to drift back to sleep, his alarm clock began buzzing and playing loud music.

“Damn!” Travis griped as he opened his eyes. His immediate thought was to hit the off button and go back to sleep. However, that wasn't an option, because if he had, he'd most certainly over- sleep, especially with the lulling melody of raindrops present. He willed himself to sit upright in his bed. After taking a long stretch, he rose to his feet and lazily moved over to the balcony window in his bedroom. He drew back the chocolate drapes, slid the glass door open and stepped outside. He took a deep breath and inhaled the scent of the morning rain.

“Come on, Travis. You need to shake off the damn jetlag and get your ass in gear,” he spoke to himself. He stretched his body out some more before heading back inside. He went into the basement where the workout room was located, flipped on the light switch, and plugged his iPod into his bookshelf stereo system. Travis selected his favorite workout songs, turned up the volume, then began running on the treadmill. Afterward he did a chest and back weightlifting routine using his Bowflex Home Gym.

After a great workout, a long shower, and face time in front of the mirror, Travis got dressed, then went to the kitchen to eat breakfast. He cooked himself some egg whites, two slices of turkey bacon, and an English muffin. Once his food was ready, he grabbed the television remote and turned on the small television situated on the granite countertop. The weatherman said the storm would be gone, but later in the afternoon the temperature would rise into the nineties.

“Another hot and sticky one,” Travis mumbled as he sat at the small table in the kitchen. He glanced out of a nearby window and noticed a few tree branches floating in the pool. He made a mental note to remove them before he left for work.

Travis loved his house. It was actually his parents' house, but they'd moved a while ago to a retirement home in Hawaii. The house had four bedrooms, a formal dining room, two large family rooms, three bathrooms and a large backyard with an in-ground swimming pool. The house was paid for and his parents allowed him to stay as long as he maintained it. Although the arrangement was excellent, the thought of purchasing the house from his parents had crossed his mind several times.

After he finished with breakfast, Travis checked all of the windows and doors to make sure they were locked and headed off to work at the university. As he was driving he received a phone call.

“What's up, fool?” Travis said to Alex.

“Nothing, ass wipe, what are you doing?” Alex fired back with an equal amount of sarcasm.

“Just heading to work. Where are you? Back home or in another city?”

“I'm still in Chicago, but I'm headed to the airport now. By this afternoon I'll be in Omaha, Nebraska.”

“Omaha sounds like a fun place.” Travis laughed with an air of cynicism.

“Omaha is actually a great town.”

“Well, one thing is for sure. Out here in Berkeley we don't ever hear anything good or bad about Nebraska.” Travis was surprised by Alex's apparent fondness for the city. “Look, I know you didn't call me up to make small talk about Omaha. So what's up?”

“That chick, Jasmine. Are you sure you didn't get her phone number?” Alex asked yet again.

“Dude, I don't believe you just asked me that question. This is like the hundredth time already.”

“I'm just making sure.” Alex acted as if he didn't understand what the problem was.

“That lady is gone. She wasn't interested in you. Now get over it and move on.”

“How do you know? Did she say she wasn't interested?”

“If I didn't know any better, I'd swear you were turning into some deranged stalker. The whacked-out part is, you're stalking a person you hardly even know.”

“I'm not a stalker, there was just something about her that…I don't know…I just want to know everything about her.”

“Look, for the last time, Alex. She didn't say anything about you until you brought your drunk-ass over and fucked up my chances with her. We had a good flow going until you gave her the impression that we had some type of secret bet going on.”

“I wasn't that drunk.” Alex downplayed that part of the night.

“The hell if you weren't, Alex. You were only two sips away from being totally wasted and vomiting all over yourself. You're lucky that I'm your boy and took care of your punk ass.”

“Whatever, Travis. It's a good thing I came over when I did because a woman like Jasmine needs a man who'll devote all of his attention and time to her and not to his chemistry set,” Alex joked, but Travis heard an undercurrent of suspicion and jealousy in his voice.

“Well, if she's too much for me, then she's damn sure too much for your ass.” Travis stood firm on his opinion.

“Whatever, man. When you find her phone number, you just make sure you give it to me.”

“I don't understand how you can be this infatuated with someone you barely know. It sounds to me like you're slipping, man. You may be trying to settle down and find true love.”

“You know damn well I don't believe in all of that sappy stuff. I'm a stick-and-move kind of man. I can't be tied down.”

“That's what your mouth says, but your behavior and your constant inquiry about this woman is a little over the top, don't you think?” Travis asked as he stopped at a traffic light.

“Maybe she'll call me. I did give her my phone number,” Alex remembered.

“There you go; she'll call you to tell you to leave her the hell alone because by then I will have had her ankles in my hands and her toes pointed toward the ceiling.” Travis couldn't quell the urge to play a mental mind game with his friend.

“Fuck you, Travis.”

“No, motherfucker, fuck you,” Travis fired back.

“Look, on the serious note, did you get your tenure like you wanted?”

“I haven't heard yet. I thought I'd have something in my mailbox by now, but I don't. I'm sure I got it. I'm not worried about it,” Travis said.

“I can see you now, working in the lab, cloning shit. Just don't get too carried away and re-create Frankenstein, or that acid-bleeding creature from the movie
Aliens
or some other biomedical fuck-up that's highly aggressive and likes to kill.” Alex laughed.

“Dude, I'm not some mad scientist.”

“Sure you're not,” Alex said mockingly. “Well, that's what I was
calling about. Let me know once everything is official so I can come out there and celebrate with you.”

“Will do. Later.” Travis and Alex said their good-byes before ending the call.

After arriving on campus, Travis walked into his office, powered up his computer and began finishing up his PowerPoint presentation “Solving Synthesis Problems in Organic Chemistry.” The class he taught was designed to assist students in developing the essential skills required in problem synthesis problems as well as cover a variety of related issues such as retrosynthesis and other fundamental concepts. He enjoyed teaching, but he was truly much more interested in the lab work he was involved with. He was doing promising research on spinal cord injuries and hoped to develop a formula that stimulated nerve repair.

Travis had just finished up his lecture and was shouting out the reading assignment as students exited.

“Read chapters six and seven on alkenes and alkynes,” he said. Once everyone was gone, he locked up the lecture hall and headed over to the lab.

W
HEN
HE ARRIVED HOME LATER IN THE EVENING, the letter he was waiting on was in his mailbox. Once he was inside he walked over to the sofa table and placed his briefcase and keys there. He then sat down on the sofa and opened the letter and began reading aloud.

Dear Professor Adams,

The Tenure Review Board has completed its deliberations concerning your interest in Permanent Status at the University of California at Berkeley. Several well-qualified candidates applied for the position. Although your credentials are exceptional, the panel has made its selection.
We wish to thank you for your hard work and wish you the very best in your future endeavors.

“I don't believe this bullshit!” Travis crumbled the letter and flung it to the other side of the room. “Those lowdown dirty bastards!” Travis roared like an angry grizzly bear. He was so livid that he squatted down, lifted the sofa and flipped it over.

“Those motherfuckers!” He hated losing and abhorred being overlooked. Evil and wicked thoughts entered Travis's mind. He believed that some type of personal retribution was in order. A voice in his head told him to head out to the shed, grab his baseball bat and go bash in the heads of everyone on the review panel for placing an enormous pothole on his road to greatness.

It was Friday evening and Jasmine was in her office working late, still playing catch-up after she'd returned from vacation on Monday. She loathed that no one could do her work in her absence, but she'd come to terms with the fact that, at times, managing her workflow was similar to wrestling a crocodile. Jasmine felt overwhelmed most of the time because there was always some experiment that needed to be monitored, new studies to be analyzed or some meeting she had to attend.

At 11:45 p.m. she decided to call it quits for the night. She'd worked herself near exhaustion and her body kept telling her it was time for her to get some rest. Jasmine was thankful her house was only fifteen minutes away. She shut down her computer, grabbed her purse, and headed out the door. She walked down the brightly lit but desolate corridor toward the security guard station.

“Hello, Sam.” She caught the security guard snoozing with his feet propped on the countertop. When he heard her voice, he nearly tipped over in his seat as he tried to sit upright.

“Hey, Miss Jasmine. I didn't realize that anyone was still here. Almost everyone is gone by this time on Friday,” he said apologetically while sweeping away breadcrumbs from a partially eaten submarine sandwich from his shirt.

“That's because you didn't do your rounds like you were sup
posed to, Sam. A killer could've been back there slicing me up and you wouldn't have heard a thing.”

“I'm sorry about that. It won't happen again, I promise. I was just tired.” Sam was a young guy who'd just turned twenty-years old. He favored the iconic rapper Snoop Dogg and liked to boast of how one day he was going to be a big star.

“Why are you so tired, Sam?” Jasmine asked out of nosiness.

“I was at my family reunion earlier today and I guess I'm just kind of worn out,” he answered honestly.

“I understand how those family reunions can be.” Jasmine smirked at him before walking toward the glass exit doors.

“Make sure you watch me get into my car safely, Sam. Don't let anyone grab me.”

“Shit, you'd better hope that I don't grab your fine, sexy ass,” he muttered.

Jasmine heard every word he'd mumbled. She looked over her shoulder disapprovingly and glared at him. “What did you just say?”

“Nothing. Don't worry. If anyone tries anything, I've got some- thing for them.” Sam removed his nightstick and slapped it in the palm of his hand a few times. “You have a good night and drive safely,” Sam said.

T
HE
FOLLOWING MORNING Jasmine drove to the gym for her yoga class. She was waiting on Lauren to arrive, but as usual she was running late. Jasmine entered the room where the class was held. The space was as large as a dance studio and had floor-to-ceiling mirrors on three of the walls. The usual Saturday morning bunch was there along with a few new faces. In total there were about twenty people in the class. Jasmine began spreading out her yoga mat on the blond wood floor, keeping in mind to save some space for Lauren.

“Okay ladies, we're going to get started in a few minutes,” announced Harrison, the young instructor. Jasmine glanced up at him and admired his body, which was a thing of pure beauty. Harrison had on a pair of black loose-fitting gym shorts and a snug-fitting tank top that accented his muscular shoulders and sizable biceps. The sexual thoughts running freely in Jasmine's mind were simply scandalous. She imagined herself with her legs locked around his waist with her back against one of the mirrored walls. He was fucking her while she looked at their reflection in another mirror. She could see herself biting his neck and clawing her fingernails into his back.

“Girl, you're not saying a word, but I can hear everything your eyes are saying.” Lauren finally showed up.

“How old do you think he is? About thirty, right?” Jasmine asked as Lauren placed her yoga mat next to hers.

“You know damn well that Harrison is nowhere near thirty, Jasmine. I'd say he's twenty-two at best.”

“Are you sure?” Jasmine asked, half wanting him to be a little bit older.

“Look at his face. You can tell he's young.” Lauren was trying to point out the obvious truth.

“It's not his face I'm interested in. Look at his deliciously tight ass. I wonder how his dick hangs.” Jasmine was dying to know.