Southern Justice, Part 13

I’m Fixin’ To present part 13 of Southern Justice:

The luncheon invitation extended by Rick to his son and the other two musketeers turned out not to be socially gratifying or family unifying, but rather to be a most uncomfortable event.

When the boys arrived at the restaurant the host and hostess were already there and occupied the table nearest the bar where Rick was chain smoking and sipping on his second glass of whiskey. Jackie held a glass of sparkling water in her right hand with the big gleaming diamond sparkling on it. Rick spotted the boys and waved them over. Once they were all seated, beginning with his new bride, he made the introductions all around.

“Well,” Jackie said, “it’s nice to finally meet the three of you, however, it seems like I already know you since my husband often speaks of you.”

She could feel the tension as each of them returned her greeting. The tall and very handsome one, Chris Adams, gave her a fake smile. The one they referred to as only ‘Jones’ simply nodded and stared at her as if he suspected her of some wrongdoing. The son, Rick Junior, attempted to be cordial, but she could sense his resentment and insincerity when he said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you and I suppose congratulations are in order.”

Rick Senior, who was already slightly affected by the whiskey, made a feeble attempt to excuse the unannounced and suddenness of the marriage when he said, “Uh, fellows, I know we always shared everything through the years, but getting married was something Jackie and I decided to do quietly and just on our own. The bottom line is that I’m happy and I hope all of you will be happy for us.”

Rick Junior replied, “Of-of course we are, pop. Uh, is everyone ready to order?”

Chris was seated in the seat on Jackie’s left. While she was leaning over the table engaged in a meaningless conversation with Rick Junior, he glanced over his right shoulder into her low cut blouse and was shocked to see there was nothing underneath it but her. When he looked up Jones was staring directly at him. He rolled his eyes as he watched Jones bite his lip. Glancing over at Rick Junior he could see a pained expression on his face. Mercifully, the salads arrived and they all three buried their faces in them.

During the boy’s ride back to work, after the embarrassing affair had concluded, no one said a word for the first five minutes. Chris broke the silence when he put his hand on Rick Junior’s shoulder and said, “How you feeling, buddy?”

“How would you feel if you dad had just married some voluptuous bimbo half his age?”

Jones answered for Chris: “She may seem like a bimbo, but I suspect she is a very smart and conniving one. In fact, I think we can look for trouble from her.”

Rick Junior ignored Jones, looked at Chris and asked, “How old do you think she is?”

“I would guess around thirty. How old is your pop?”

“He’s sixty-two,” Rick Junior snapped. Did you smell that stifling perfume she was wearing?”

Once again Jones answered for Chris: “Yeah, it smelled like TROUBLE Number Five to me.”

Suddenly Chris said, “Hey, you know what? I’ve seen her before! I can’t remember exactly where, but I know I have!”

“Probably on stage at the Gentleman’s Club,” Rick Junior said dejectedly.

“No—not there, but it’ll come to me,” Chris stated.

On the Monday following the regrettable luncheon Jackie and B. Wendell were in the mist of their latest strategy meeting when Jackie spat out, “Those arrogant, uppity, yuppie young devils!”

Lawyer Hormel hadn’t been present at the luncheon so he asked, Why do you say that, Jackie?”

“Because I could feel their resentment. They wouldn’t talk to me unless they had to, or even look at me; that is except the one to my left who kept looking down my blouse.”

“Which one was he?”

“Chris Adams. He’s the one who is in charge of the sales department at Pic-Ric.”

“What about the other two?” B. Wendell pushed.

“Junior appeared to be uncomfortable and embarrassed. I thought he was going to fall face-first into the salad. Then the one named Jones—nobody ever called him by a first name—just sat there looking slick and poker-face as if he were analyzing some kind of financial situation.”

“Listen, Jackie, I suspect that they were a little intimidated by you. I’ll bet they’ll be a little more receptive when you become their boss,” B. Wendell surmised with a wicked grin.