Jesus.”
Leo reached into his jacket pocket, withdrew a silver engraved pill box and popped a nitro under his tongue.
Chapter 18
Brenda woke slowly and stretched her body full-length, arms extended over her head, toes to finger tips. On any other morning she would luxuriate in that stretch, muscles tight, body humming. But then she remembered last night. She sat bolt upright and looked to her left. No Bobby, empty bed on his side. Where? The room was in shambles, her clothes were scattered across the floor where she’d dropped them when she’d tried to sneak in last night—no, in the morning. Her nightie dangled over the bed post, its straps in tatters. And she was sore. She never got sore down there, hadn’t since she was a kid. That bastard Bobby. The assault, that’s how she thought of it, and she knew all about assaults—oh yeah. The assault had been rough and lasted for an hour or more. She’d endured it because she had to, because she’d been raised to, because she didn’t have any other choices, not yet. But that would change, and soon. She pounded her fists on the mattress and cursed men in general and Robert Scott Griswold in particular. That’s how men worked out their frustrations, beat up on women.
She took a breath and collected her wits. The residue of stale drinks and sex assailed her. She needed a plan. As soon as she worked the deal with Travis and they’d cashed in, she’d file for divorce and clean Bobby out. She’d see to it he got nothing. She’d take her share and his, too. And alimony…oh yeah, he would pay big time for what he did to her. She shook her head. Her blond hair whipped her face. She needed a shower. She slipped out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom and stood under the hot water until she finally felt clean. She stepped out and toweled off and slipped on her robe.
The worst part of what had to go down in the next couple of weeks? She’d have to be nice to Bobby, the creep, at least until the deal was done. He wasn’t going to be asked to join Mensa anytime soon, the dumb ox, but he could be sneaky, and last night he showed he could be rough, too. He’d have to be kept calm and flexible. That’s the word, like plastic man or something. Bend but don’t break. Hell, she’d been doing that, like, all her life.
Bobby hinted that something new had been added to the mix, something to do with Leo. If Leo was in the game, look out. She’d need to find out what that was all about. She could do it. She knew how. She’d get him to feeling guilty about last night, remind him he owed her from before when he’d had the accident, and then she’d seduce him and when he was turned to mush…oh yeah, she’d find out.
She made a mental list: 1) Call Travis and tell him to cool it for a while. Maybe they could get some time together up in Kasane. Bobby would probably get drunk up there. He always had at least one fall-down most weeks. 2) Call Frankie at the club and see if he would wire the money to her so she could pay off Travis right away. That would lock it up pretty good. It would cost, but what the hell. And 3) She needed a massage and a spa treatment.
She called the front desk to set up that the spa date first.
***
Sanderson met with the village men at the kgotla as the sun cleared the trees in the east. Pako had authorized the use of the old Land Rover. He didn’t waste her time with admonitions about the care and safety of the vehicle, as he would have done in the past. Apparently, his mind focused on his new assignment, probably. She pulled up at the edge of the low wall that defined the kgotla and walked toward the group of men. They were carrying weapons of some sort. One had an old Enfield rifle, contraband, and she should have to report it, but she wouldn’t, not just yet, anyway. The rest had spears or heavy clubs.
“I do not think that you will need those weapons today,” she said. The men shuffled their feet.
Rra Kaleke, as the eldest and, therefore,
Leo reached into his jacket pocket, withdrew a silver engraved pill box and popped a nitro under his tongue.
Chapter 18
Brenda woke slowly and stretched her body full-length, arms extended over her head, toes to finger tips. On any other morning she would luxuriate in that stretch, muscles tight, body humming. But then she remembered last night. She sat bolt upright and looked to her left. No Bobby, empty bed on his side. Where? The room was in shambles, her clothes were scattered across the floor where she’d dropped them when she’d tried to sneak in last night—no, in the morning. Her nightie dangled over the bed post, its straps in tatters. And she was sore. She never got sore down there, hadn’t since she was a kid. That bastard Bobby. The assault, that’s how she thought of it, and she knew all about assaults—oh yeah. The assault had been rough and lasted for an hour or more. She’d endured it because she had to, because she’d been raised to, because she didn’t have any other choices, not yet. But that would change, and soon. She pounded her fists on the mattress and cursed men in general and Robert Scott Griswold in particular. That’s how men worked out their frustrations, beat up on women.
She took a breath and collected her wits. The residue of stale drinks and sex assailed her. She needed a plan. As soon as she worked the deal with Travis and they’d cashed in, she’d file for divorce and clean Bobby out. She’d see to it he got nothing. She’d take her share and his, too. And alimony…oh yeah, he would pay big time for what he did to her. She shook her head. Her blond hair whipped her face. She needed a shower. She slipped out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom and stood under the hot water until she finally felt clean. She stepped out and toweled off and slipped on her robe.
The worst part of what had to go down in the next couple of weeks? She’d have to be nice to Bobby, the creep, at least until the deal was done. He wasn’t going to be asked to join Mensa anytime soon, the dumb ox, but he could be sneaky, and last night he showed he could be rough, too. He’d have to be kept calm and flexible. That’s the word, like plastic man or something. Bend but don’t break. Hell, she’d been doing that, like, all her life.
Bobby hinted that something new had been added to the mix, something to do with Leo. If Leo was in the game, look out. She’d need to find out what that was all about. She could do it. She knew how. She’d get him to feeling guilty about last night, remind him he owed her from before when he’d had the accident, and then she’d seduce him and when he was turned to mush…oh yeah, she’d find out.
She made a mental list: 1) Call Travis and tell him to cool it for a while. Maybe they could get some time together up in Kasane. Bobby would probably get drunk up there. He always had at least one fall-down most weeks. 2) Call Frankie at the club and see if he would wire the money to her so she could pay off Travis right away. That would lock it up pretty good. It would cost, but what the hell. And 3) She needed a massage and a spa treatment.
She called the front desk to set up that the spa date first.
***
Sanderson met with the village men at the kgotla as the sun cleared the trees in the east. Pako had authorized the use of the old Land Rover. He didn’t waste her time with admonitions about the care and safety of the vehicle, as he would have done in the past. Apparently, his mind focused on his new assignment, probably. She pulled up at the edge of the low wall that defined the kgotla and walked toward the group of men. They were carrying weapons of some sort. One had an old Enfield rifle, contraband, and she should have to report it, but she wouldn’t, not just yet, anyway. The rest had spears or heavy clubs.
“I do not think that you will need those weapons today,” she said. The men shuffled their feet.
Rra Kaleke, as the eldest and, therefore,
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