---
Brew composed herself, clearly upset but not to the point of tears. Her demeanor was one of stress rather than grief.
"What do you mean 'an accident'?" Gambo asked. "We had it all planned out. You told me that you wanted to call the whole thing off, that you never wanted to see me again, then last week you're off together in Dallas and then Uncle Stoney's obituary shows up in the paper. And here you are without a word about what happened?"
Brew moved from the doorway to the one easy chair furnishing the otherwise-empty living room and sat down, intently studying her folded hands in her lap. "We fought," she started, simply. "We always fought, but we were out at dinner and he was making me so angry, criticizing me. We were downtown at the Renaissance having dinner." She looked up at Gambo and gave a weak smile. "I was wearing that blue dress that you bought me."
Gambo smiled back as memories of a special spring evening flooded back. Brew shook away the smile and continued. "He told me that he hated it, and that it was too low-cut and made me look like a whoar." She grew more animated and clenched her fists, continuing through clenched teeth. "He saw that it was making me angry and he just kept on. Kept prodding me with it. So, I just blurted it out. 'Gambo loves this dress on me.'"
She paused and let the silence fill the room as she put her hands to her face. Gambo was stunned. Brew just looked up at him and he filled in the rest.
"So he knew?" he asked.
Brew nodded, bouncing her auburn pony tail tied behind the handkerchief in her hair. "He was furious. He stood up and started screaming at me. He was turning over tables and throwing chairs as he moved toward the door cursing your name, and mine too. He looked for Nuke to get the car, but we had just come in and he had already left, so he called the valet to bring the car around."
Gambo leaned his back to the wall and stared into space. "He'd have killed me for sure," he thought out loud.
"I tried to call you, Gambo. I even sent Nuke back here to try and find you. To warn you! But you know Stoney... he never drove! I don't know what happened, but a few hours later a policeman came to our room and told me there had been an accident.
"Oh, Gambo, it was just awful. I had to go down in the middle of the night and identify his body. They said he had been in a car accident. That he might have been drunk. They kept me there for questioning for half the night." A tear finally formed in her eye before it was blinked and wiped away.
"We were both lucky, Gambo. He would have killed us both for sure."
Gambo cocked his head and half-smiled at her. He moved toward her, crouched down and grabbed her hands. "It wasn't luck, Brew!" he said, smile widening. "It was fate!
"Our hands are clean now! We can start over here, you and me. With Uncle Stoney gone, I can finally run the show and take care of you!"
A wave of disgust swept over Brew and she pulled her hands away from Gambo's. "No!" she yelled, startling him. "This doesn't change anything between us." She stood up, again on the offensive. "I'm tired of being mixed up with the like of you and your uncle. You're gonna end up broken and ruined like Daddy and I'm not gonna end up like Mama."
Brew's moment of reflection was gone and she had rediscovered her disdain for the man in front of her. She manuevered him, speechless, back toward the door. "That's why I came back here to Mama's house instead of to the house in town. That's why I didn't tell you when I got back. It's none of your damn business."
His back was to the open door, now, and she shoved him once in the chest for good measure. He stepped backwards on to the porch, confused, and then enraged. "Who the hell do you think you are talkin to me like that?!" he began.
Brew looked over his right shoulder, drawing his stare to the same direction.
"Something wrong?!" came the call from the neighbor's yard, where old Mr. Aggiebame was standing next to his mailbox, shoeless and in his undershirt. Unlikely as it was that he was getting mail on a Sunday night, he had obviously hear the commotion and come outside to investigate. His darling wife AMAggie, his younger by 35 years, had her head sticking out the front door, the rest of her upper half wrapped in a shawl from under which was peeking enough skin to guess that the couple hadn't been engaged in their evening prayers before being interrupted.
"Heya there, Brew! Glad to have y'all home!," she said, waving and thereby displacing enough of her wrap to eliminate any doubt of her state of dress just moments before. "We were so sorry to hear bout Stoney," she called across the yards. "You too, Gambo," she said somewhat less enthusiastically.
Gambo looked back at Brew and shook his head. "It's late. We'll talk later," he said as he walked down the front steps.
"I have business to take care of anyway," he muttered to himself.
Brew stood like a stone and watched him get in his car and drive out of sight before she finally waved again to the Aggiebames and closed the door behind her.
---
It was full-on dark when Gambo pulled up to his late uncle's house across town. The door was unlocked and the front lights were off as he hung his hat and coat behind the door, but he could see by the shadows moving through the lighted crack under the parlor door that at least one of the others had already arrived.
As his heavy footfalls resounded on the hardwood floors in the hall, the shadow under the door ceased to move. "Just me, boys," Gambo said as he pushed the swinging door open. Inside stood Officer AgCT with Stoney's lawyer, Jeff01, sitting on the sofa with a cigar in hand, ready to light.
Jeff01 looked to AgCT and then Gambo before opening his face into a smirk. "I was just telling AgCT here that I'm sure you wouldn't mind if we had a few to celebrate. After all, you're about to be a rich man."
[This message has been edited by AliasMan02 (edited 9/27/2007 7:43a).]
Brew composed herself, clearly upset but not to the point of tears. Her demeanor was one of stress rather than grief.
"What do you mean 'an accident'?" Gambo asked. "We had it all planned out. You told me that you wanted to call the whole thing off, that you never wanted to see me again, then last week you're off together in Dallas and then Uncle Stoney's obituary shows up in the paper. And here you are without a word about what happened?"
Brew moved from the doorway to the one easy chair furnishing the otherwise-empty living room and sat down, intently studying her folded hands in her lap. "We fought," she started, simply. "We always fought, but we were out at dinner and he was making me so angry, criticizing me. We were downtown at the Renaissance having dinner." She looked up at Gambo and gave a weak smile. "I was wearing that blue dress that you bought me."
Gambo smiled back as memories of a special spring evening flooded back. Brew shook away the smile and continued. "He told me that he hated it, and that it was too low-cut and made me look like a whoar." She grew more animated and clenched her fists, continuing through clenched teeth. "He saw that it was making me angry and he just kept on. Kept prodding me with it. So, I just blurted it out. 'Gambo loves this dress on me.'"
She paused and let the silence fill the room as she put her hands to her face. Gambo was stunned. Brew just looked up at him and he filled in the rest.
"So he knew?" he asked.
Brew nodded, bouncing her auburn pony tail tied behind the handkerchief in her hair. "He was furious. He stood up and started screaming at me. He was turning over tables and throwing chairs as he moved toward the door cursing your name, and mine too. He looked for Nuke to get the car, but we had just come in and he had already left, so he called the valet to bring the car around."
Gambo leaned his back to the wall and stared into space. "He'd have killed me for sure," he thought out loud.
"I tried to call you, Gambo. I even sent Nuke back here to try and find you. To warn you! But you know Stoney... he never drove! I don't know what happened, but a few hours later a policeman came to our room and told me there had been an accident.
"Oh, Gambo, it was just awful. I had to go down in the middle of the night and identify his body. They said he had been in a car accident. That he might have been drunk. They kept me there for questioning for half the night." A tear finally formed in her eye before it was blinked and wiped away.
"We were both lucky, Gambo. He would have killed us both for sure."
Gambo cocked his head and half-smiled at her. He moved toward her, crouched down and grabbed her hands. "It wasn't luck, Brew!" he said, smile widening. "It was fate!
"Our hands are clean now! We can start over here, you and me. With Uncle Stoney gone, I can finally run the show and take care of you!"
A wave of disgust swept over Brew and she pulled her hands away from Gambo's. "No!" she yelled, startling him. "This doesn't change anything between us." She stood up, again on the offensive. "I'm tired of being mixed up with the like of you and your uncle. You're gonna end up broken and ruined like Daddy and I'm not gonna end up like Mama."
Brew's moment of reflection was gone and she had rediscovered her disdain for the man in front of her. She manuevered him, speechless, back toward the door. "That's why I came back here to Mama's house instead of to the house in town. That's why I didn't tell you when I got back. It's none of your damn business."
His back was to the open door, now, and she shoved him once in the chest for good measure. He stepped backwards on to the porch, confused, and then enraged. "Who the hell do you think you are talkin to me like that?!" he began.
Brew looked over his right shoulder, drawing his stare to the same direction.
"Something wrong?!" came the call from the neighbor's yard, where old Mr. Aggiebame was standing next to his mailbox, shoeless and in his undershirt. Unlikely as it was that he was getting mail on a Sunday night, he had obviously hear the commotion and come outside to investigate. His darling wife AMAggie, his younger by 35 years, had her head sticking out the front door, the rest of her upper half wrapped in a shawl from under which was peeking enough skin to guess that the couple hadn't been engaged in their evening prayers before being interrupted.
"Heya there, Brew! Glad to have y'all home!," she said, waving and thereby displacing enough of her wrap to eliminate any doubt of her state of dress just moments before. "We were so sorry to hear bout Stoney," she called across the yards. "You too, Gambo," she said somewhat less enthusiastically.
Gambo looked back at Brew and shook his head. "It's late. We'll talk later," he said as he walked down the front steps.
"I have business to take care of anyway," he muttered to himself.
Brew stood like a stone and watched him get in his car and drive out of sight before she finally waved again to the Aggiebames and closed the door behind her.
---
It was full-on dark when Gambo pulled up to his late uncle's house across town. The door was unlocked and the front lights were off as he hung his hat and coat behind the door, but he could see by the shadows moving through the lighted crack under the parlor door that at least one of the others had already arrived.
As his heavy footfalls resounded on the hardwood floors in the hall, the shadow under the door ceased to move. "Just me, boys," Gambo said as he pushed the swinging door open. Inside stood Officer AgCT with Stoney's lawyer, Jeff01, sitting on the sofa with a cigar in hand, ready to light.
Jeff01 looked to AgCT and then Gambo before opening his face into a smirk. "I was just telling AgCT here that I'm sure you wouldn't mind if we had a few to celebrate. After all, you're about to be a rich man."
[This message has been edited by AliasMan02 (edited 9/27/2007 7:43a).]
