With Cruel Intent (43 page)

area above her left breast to give him a

better shot.

He held the flowers in his left,

angling in for just the right location and

directed, holding the long, thick pin with

the other. Seymour had never pinned a

corsage before, so he felt somewhat out of

place, especially with the older women

watching. He made several attempts, his

fingers lightly touching the top of her

breast and bra, causing him to pull back

and come at it from a different direction.

After about the sixth try Mrs. Muir

piped up, “My heavens this is painful,

give me that.” And she took the corsage

and pin from Seymour as he backed away

giving her room. With a swift and adept

couple of movements the corsage sat

beautifully pinned atop Blanche’s chest.

“Doesn’t she just look stunning,

the way that flower highlights her hair?”

Caroline said.

“Yes, she sure does,” Seymour

was quick to answer.

With the awkwardness behind

them, they headed for the door, “Thanks

ladies.”

“You’re

welcome,

have

fun

tonight,” Mrs. Muir said.

“Have her home early young man,”

the stricter Caroline chimed in.

“Don’t wait up for me,” Blanche

said, over her shoulder with a careful

wink and nod in their direction.

“Seymour, you didn’t have to buy

me flowers, I know things are tight for you

and your family.”

“I’ll just go without lunch for a

few days,” he joked.

“Well it was very sweet of you,

thanks again.”

“It was my pleasure, was worth it

just to see the look on your face. I’ll have

that etched on my mind for awhile,” he

said, pulling the door open of the 1996

Ford Pickup. “Hope you don’t mind, my

mom’s car is in the shop and it was either

the work truck or my old motorcycle.”

“It’s fine, you forget I’m originally

from Utah.”

“I tried my best to clean it up but

there are still some seeds and small stuff I

couldn’t manage to get out, but at least it

shouldn’t get your clothes dirty,” he

apologetically said.

“So, where we headed? This is all

just a mystery to me tonight,” she excitedly

inquired, enjoying the time together more

than she had thought she might.

“Strange that you should use that

word, ‘mystery’, thought that could be

kind of the theme of this first date,” he

said, looking for approval from his date.

“You’re driving. Sounds like fun.”

They drove for a few minutes

down some of the streets of Valdosta that

she was not familiar with. She thought she

recognized a few places from her condo

hunting expeditions with Bev, but by the

time they pulled into the parking lot of a

restaurant, she was quite lost and

directionally confused.

“The Passage to India,” Seymour

said, pointing to a sign over a very well lit

and sparkling frontage area. “Hope you

like Indian food, this is the best in town.”

“Well I don’t know if I do or not,

never had it, but I’m up for the adventure.

Lead the way.”

The restaurant was tastefully

decorated and quite busy with every table

occupied and people waiting in the

entryway. Seymour approached the young

lady working the small, chest high desk in

the foyer, leaned over and whispered

something in her ear. Blanche couldn’t

make out what was said but the girl

nodded, obviously understanding what he

was talking about, and motioned for one of

the hostesses to come to the front area.

“This is the couple that I was

telling you about before we opened

tonight, remember?” the young lady said to

the even younger hostess. “Are we ready

for them?”

“They are just finishing up with the

table, so give me a minute and I’ll come

and get them.”

Addressing Seymour and Blanche

the girl said, “Please just stand aside for a

minute and the hostess will be back and

take you to your table.”

“Thanks,” Seymour said, taking

Blanche by the arm and leading her out of

the way of the other customers.

“What have you got up your

sleeve, you sly dog?” she asked.

“Nothing, just a little dinner with

my favorite boss.”

A moment later, the same young

hostess returned and ushered the couple to

an area toward the back of the

establishment. Multi-colored veils of

fabric were draped from the center of a

private room, reaching to the corners,

creating a tent like effect. On the floor was

a knee high table with two dozen pillows

of different shapes, sizes and textures

scattered about on the floor, a Persian

carpet underlying the comfortable setting.

The atmosphere was instantly warm and

inviting, soft Indian music playing in the

background and a personal waiter stood at

attention, with a linen napkin over his arm,

and a tray holding chilled water glasses in

his hand. An amazing gold centerpiece

provided the only light to the room, as

several candles flickered and danced,

projecting shadows against the tented

backdrop. The scent of curry tantalized

their palates.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“I think you’re crazy,” she replied,

waving her hand around and pointing at

the unexpected surroundings. “How did

you manage all this?”

“Let’s just say I’m not without

connections,” he whispered, as if the

information was top secret.

The

dinner

was

incredible.

Blanche had never enjoyed a meal or a

'first date' conversation so much in her

entire life. The service from each of the

staff had been top notch, taking care of

their every need, almost anticipating what

they wanted before they asked. The only

down side to the evening, thus far, was the

tightness in her waistline. The couple

talked about all kinds of things, from their

youth, to the things they had in common,

and their jobs at the library.

“So Seymour, tell me about the

suit and shoes. I get the feeling there's a

story there, would you share it with me?”

she said, smiling.

His demeanor suddenly became

very serious and she could tell she had hit

a sensitive area. “I, uh, this is something

that I don’t talk about very much,” he

managed to say, looking down at the

candle and the incandescent light it gave

off.

“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to bring up

anything

painful.

Let’s

talk

about

something else.”

“That’s okay, I think I’d like you to

know; it’s part of who I am. You see, I

guess it’s been about five years ago now,

my dad got sick real fast with what we

thought was a cold. Started out just like

most colds with a sore throat and a bad

cough, but when the cold went away he

didn’t feel much better and the cough just

kept getting worse and worse. My momma

finally convinced him to see a doctor and

by the time he got in, and they did a chest

x-ray, it was too late. He had a cancer that

spread through both lungs and into his

throat. We only had him a short time

before God took him and we were left

with a farm to run on our own. Those

were some tough years,” he said, looking

past her and into space.

“I’m so sorry to hear that,

Seymour,” she said, placing a caring hand

alongside his strong jaw, her thumb lying

over his dimple.

“Anyway, the suit. My mom bought

this for me to attend my dad’s funeral.

Only suit I’ve ever had. Can you tell I’ve

grown a little bit since then? Should have

had it altered but too much going on and

kind of forgot about it till tonight,” he

said, leaning his head a bit closer to the

warmth of her touch.

“It’s fine, you look wonderful in

it.”

“I know the tie looks a little

wonky. My mom’s not very good at tying

them and this is the best I could do after

watching a video on the computer, but it’s

not the same when you’re doing it yourself

and lookin’ into a mirror. Wish my dad

would have had time to teach me to tie one

proper like.” A tear ran from his left eye,

down his face, and trickled over her

fingers.

She used her thumb to wipe the

next tear away as it sailed down his

cheek.

“Come on, let’s not think of sad

things,” he said, taking her by the hand and

leading her into the main portion of the

restaurant.

A live band, with instruments

she’d never seen before, sat at the head of

a small partitioned-off area, with a hard

wooden floor designed for dancing. The

music being played was strange and

unusual, but she could see some of the

regulars enjoying the funky tunes.

“Hey Zorida, show us some

moves,” he said, to one of the young

people dressed in ceremonial Indian

attire, standing near the band.

“You

know

these

people?”

Blanche asked.

“Yeah, the owner and my dad

grew up together and most of the people

working here are his relatives. Zorida

there, is his daughter, goes to school with

me at the U. How else do you think I could

afford an evening like this? I’m a student

don’t you know?”

Zorida moved to the center of the

dance area and began moving her hips to

the sway of the music, increasing the

gyrations as the beat increased. She spun

and dipped, clicking small cymbals with

her fingers, as she danced to the music. At

the completion of the song the restaurant

burst into cheers and applause.

“Come on Seymour, I’ll teach

you,” Zorida said, coaxing him verbally,

then actually dragging him onto the dance

floor, Blanche in tow.

The musicians were easy on the

beginners, providing slow enough beats

that they could copy the movements,

slowly they increased the tempo, making

the trio move and bounce to the enjoyment

of the patrons. A few small children

joined them on the floor, showing off their

own moves, and bringing even more

adults to the stage. At the conclusion of the

hypnotic number Blanche collapsed into

Seymour’s arms and hugged him tightly.

“I have to tell you Seymour, I am

having such a good time.”

“Good, I have one last thing I want

to show you before I take you home.”

“Home? Isn’t the night still

young?” she asked.

“Yes,

but

I

promised

your

landlady I’d get you home at a decent

hour,” he informed her.

The drive seemed to have them

moving away from the city. “Where are

you taking me? You’re not really a serial

killer or something are you, and now

you’re taking me to your private lair?” she

jokingly asked, sliding close to him on the

front seat, wrapping her left arm around

his, as his hand rested on the floor

mounted gear lever.

“Crap, you’ve found me out. That

takes all the fun out of it. Wanted to

surprise you when I pulled out a ball bat

and knocked you senseless. Hoped I could

get you tied up and in my hideaway before

you woke up,” he said, in a sadistic voice.

“Okay, now you’re creeping me

out a little bit, where are we really

going?” she asked, her nails digging into

his arm.

“Ouch, okay, okay, I’ll tell you.

We’re headed to my most favorite place in

Valdosta. Found it as a kid and go there

when I need to think.”

They drove until the lights of the

city were well behind them and a dirt road

led them another couple of miles off the

beaten path. The rattletrap of a pickup

bumped and tossed the pair at times

almost knocking their heads against the

rusted roof, as the shocks gave up trying to

absorb the numerous ruts.