THE BRIDGE TO CARACAS (Volume 1 of The King Trilogy)

CHAPTER 56

Phillip pressed his nose and hands against the dark blue airport Lincoln limousine's window. He stared at his father's enormous Palm Beach mansion. "Is this place really yours?" he asked as the vehicle came to a full stop in the circular driveway of the oceanfront home.

"Yup, and someday it'll be yours," Servito replied. He paid the driver from a fat wad of bills—then he and Phillip stepped out into the warm, late afternoon Florida sunshine. Numerous tropical birds chirped and squawked in nearby trees while the constant drone of a lawn mower disturbed the natural tranquility. Servito opened the massive wooden front door, ushering Phillip through the atrium and out toward the ocean. Phillip dashed ahead to stand at the edge of the beautiful, kidney-shaped swimming pool. He stared longingly at the pool's cobalt blue water.

"Why can't we live here, dad?" he asked.

"I told you, son, my new business is in Venezuela. We're going to get a good night's sleep here. Then we'll be fresh for the flight tomorrow."

"Is Venezuela far from here?"

"Hell, well we're almost half-way there. We'll be making just one more stop before we get there."

"Where is Venezuela?"

"It's a beautiful country in the northern region of South America. It's bordered on the west by Columbia, on the east by Guyana, on the south by Brazil, and on the north by the Caribbean Sea. You hungry?"

Phillip nodded.

"Then follow me. We're going to eat our hearts out." Servito led the way to the kitchen. He was about to open the massive refrigerator when the kitchen door was pushed open by a slim, middle-aged black woman. Her graying hair was swept backward to a tight bun and she wore wrinkled gray slacks and a white blouse. A freshly lit Marlboro dangled from her lips. "Mr. Servito!" she declared, and then jerked the cigarette from her lips.

Servito flashed a smile and hurried toward the woman. He hugged her and lifted her from the floor. "It's been a long time, Rose. How the hell are ya?"

"Jus' fine," Rose replied with a deep Georgian drawl. "But I don't keep track of time no more. It don't do no good...who's the boy?"

Servito lowered Rose to the floor and turned to Phillip. "The best thing that's ever happened to me. He's my son."

Rose gave Phillip a critical stare, and then winked at Servito. "He's a whole hell of lot better looking than you."

"Smarter, too." Servito chuckled as he turned again to face Phillip. "Son, this is Rose Jackson, the official queen of this house. She looks after it when I'm not here."

"How old are you, son?" Rose asked.

"Ten."

Rose smiled with pursed lips and shook her head. "You're goin' to be a heart breaker, boy. That's for certain."

"Chip off the old block," Servito said with a wink.

"Where's his mother?" Rose asked.

Servito rolled his eyes skyward. "Uh, she decided not to join us."

Aware that her boss wanted the subject terminated, Rose nodded with a smirk. "Y'all hungry?"

"Starved," Servito replied.

"Then y'all take a swim or whatever. I'll make us dinner. It won't be fancy, but I'll have it ready in a jiffy."