The
Black Knight Squash Fiction League Match #2
The Handouts versus The Tin Ringers
EAST
SIDE A
Collaborative Novel
Chapter 3-B Unless Wealth Do Us Part by David Smith
Margaret
was not atypical of the residents of Long Island. She had
worked years to perfect that unfounded sense of entitlement which
proliferates in the bedroom communities east of Manhattan. While
attractive, most of her appeal was minimized by her attitude and that
insipid, whiney voice. Rarely did her presence shine light into
the world; most often she sucked the air out of the room.
She pulled her GMC Denali up to Starbucks and parked in the fire
lane. On entering the store, she let out a loud sigh when
she saw two other people in line in front of her. “You need
more help here,” she snapped at the 19-year-old college student before
she placed her order.
“Yeah, whatever,” the $8.00-an-hour barista said, summarily dismissing Margaret by matching her bad attitude.
In fairness, Margaret’s mood had been darkened by the phone message
she had received the night before from her ex-husband.
However, her distemper generally needed no provocation. It was,
in fact, part of the reason Hank left her to begin with, though her
proclivity to “bond” with the other males around the club could have
been a factor as well. The divorce papers were not too
specific.
Margaret knew that she should call Hank back, but she really did not
want to get into the whole mess about Kate.
Kate had given her enough grief the last time they had talked and it
had not ended well. Margaret was not going to take
direction on her life from a 23 year-old, even if she was probably
right.
Kate’s anger over her parents’ divorce had simmered for
years. Once she had finished college, her sudden
independence had given birth to a profound disdain for her
parents. Margaret knew she would mellow in time, but in fact, she
really wasn’t too bothered about it. Perhaps if she spent
any time in self-reflection she might have realized the pain that her
selfishness had caused her daughter. Not to mention her
ex-husband.
Margaret may have thought she loved Hank at one time. Truth
was that she only loved money and herself. And money was
probably at the top of that particular list. God knows she
had sold her soul, and her family, in the chase for it.
Margaret spied a cop eyeing her car as she came out of
Starbucks. He appeared to be weighing a ticket for the
illegally parked Denali when he saw Margaret, her 4” heels and short
skirt, head to the car. He hesitated as Margaret climbed up
into the monster SUV, gifting the cop with a long slow
look. The cop smiled, nodded, and wished her a good
day. Margaret drove off without comment to her appointment.
She hadn’t driven far when her phone rang.
Hank. “Damn it,” she swore to herself.
Resigned to this inevitable call, she answered.
“What is it, Hank?”
“Nice greeting. Have you heard from Kate, lately?”
“No. Not since she moved out months ago. She doesn’t call and I don’t know how to reach her. Why? Don’t you know where she is?”
“No, I haven’t heard from her either, and I have no freaking idea what
I did to piss her off. I could understand her cutting you off,
but I didn’t do anything to hurt her.
“Shut up! This call is over if you start dumping that crap
on me. You are as much to blame as I am. If you
had a real job and had taken care of us better….oh, enough. Is
that all you wanted?”
As Hank started to respond to the insult, Margaret ended the call
without a word, and focused on getting into her happy-happy mood for
her 12:00 “client.” The guy was paying a lot of money
and he wouldn’t want to deal with her problems. Her
job was to focus totally on him for the day. Not the greatest
life, but it beat the hell out of running around a squash court with
some sweaty 70 year old guy. At least her hourly rate was a
lot higher.
___________________
“Do you even care about…” Hank was interrupted by the sudden
change in ambient noise indicating that his ex-wife had hung
up. “Well, that went well,” he mumbled to
himself.
Hank was not completely shocked that Kate had not been in contact with
his ex-wife, but he still found that fact disconcerting. He
became more determined to find his daughter and make sure she was
OK. Margaret might be able to abandon her child, but he
would not.
Hank began the morning trek from his apartment back to the club.
He had some extra time before his first lesson so he detoured to Eataly
and grabbed a cappuccino and a croissant from the coffee bar in the
giant food emporium. The smells, the sounds and the bustle
of the morning shoppers served to wake up his senses as much the
caffeine did.
As Hank continued his stroll toward the Upper East Side his mind worked
through his options for finding his daughter. He had
previously tried to find her several times without success, and had now
reached the point of seeking professional help. He closed
in on several options before he arrived at the club about 30 minutes
before his lesson. He headed straight for the restaurant on
the upper level which overlooked the “show” courts.
He first sighted Yvette sitting with a couple of other members
watching two of the club’s better players going at it on Court
2. He headed in her direction and managed to catch her
eye. She excused herself and met him over by the bar.
“Hey, Hank. This is a nice surprise. Looking for
company tonight?” Yvette prodded Hank with a hopeful twinkle in her
smile.
“Oh, Yvette, you tease. Actually, maybe that’s an
idea. I wanted to ask you for advice and help. A
drink sounds like a great idea. Can you meet me when I am
done today? Around 7?”
“Are you serious? Of course, I will. How about
the Carnegie Club on 56th? We can share a cigar there.”
Hank cringed inwardly at the thought of the Carnegie Club’s intimate
atmosphere. Though Yvette was on completely different page, he
was determined to get her help. “Great! See you at 7
o’clock.”
Hank gave Yvette a perfunctory kiss on the cheek, and headed to the
check-in desk. He grabbed the court reservation book and
scanned the day’s bookings. Jerry had a court booked at 5
PM. He left a note in the book for Jerry that he needed to
see him when he was done playing and headed to the locker room to
change.
He was putting his shoes on when a sudden idea struck him. He raced back to find Yvette.
“Change of plans,” he told her. “Let’s meet at
McKeown's on 75th and 3rd. Killer Shepherd’s Pie.
We’ll go to the Carnegie Club after,” Hank promised, making it more of
a night than he originally planned.
“Perfect,” Yvette beamed, her smile leaving no doubt that she was looking forward to more than the Shepherd’s Pie.
David Smith
is a Long Island-exiled Medical Device executive of questionable humor
and talent, whose unrestrained passion for Chardonnay and San Francisco
is only surpassed by his love of the Michigan State Spartans.
__________
This is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, places and incidents are either products of the author's
imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events
or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
