THE TAINTED TRUST (Volume 2 of The King Trilogy)

CHAPTER 37

          Long Island. Friday, March 16, 1990.

Brian parked his black Eldorado, then hurried inside Runway Thirty-eight. He was hurt and angry. No, betrayed. His pain and suffering had never been fully appreciated by Kerri. Worse, she had the audacity to enlist the support of that prick, Vincent. Pushed beyond the limits of tolerance, he had once again escaped to his refuge. There he was appreciated, adored, free from interference.

Pausing only to watch Tina DeSouza's performances, he spent the evening drinking excessively and re-living glory days with adoring fans who paid for his drinks. Shortly after one A.M. he folded his forearms on the table, lowered his head and fell into a deep sleep.

He opened his eyes the following morning to see Tina's smiling face. "What happened?" he groaned, closing his eyes to shield them from sunlight.

Tina moved closer, pressing her naked body against Brian's. "We poured you into a cab last night. How do you feel?"

He kept his eyes shut and swallowed, tasting foul saliva. "Like I've been hit by a freight train... What time is it?"

"It's ten thirty and I want you," Tina whispered, nibbling at his ear.

Unable and unwilling to respond, Brian lay motionless, trying to remember the events of the previous day. Guilt invaded his mind and caused him to bolt upright. He covered his face with his hands and rubbed his eyes with his fingers. "Do you have any tooth paste?" he asked.

"On the sink in the bathroom," she replied, staring at his naked athletic body.

Brian felt filthy and ashamed as he looked at the bathroom mirror. Once again he had wasted the purity of his marriage. Remorse obsessed him as squeezed a half inch of toothpaste onto his index finger, then used it as a toothbrush. After urinating, he marched directly to the chair beside Tina's bed, gathered his clothes and started to dress.

"What are you doing?" Tina asked.

"Gotta go," Brian replied, focusing on his task.

"Back to your wife?"

Brian shook his head. "I'm already late for my physical therapy. It's part of my contract."

He had told the truth about his destination, but not about his reason for leaving.

"Will I see you later?"

"I'll call," Brian promised, then left.

Miles Dennis approached Kerri's desk, staring at the swelling and bruising on her left cheek. "What happened to you?" he asked.

Kerri covered her cheek with her hand. "It's really bad, Miles. I followed your advice and asked one of Brian's teammates to talk to him."

"So he resented the interference and hit you?"

Kerri nodded, tears flowing. "He was drinking again. After he hit me, he left and stayed out all night."

Dennis shook his head in disgust. "So our football hero hits his wife. If there's one ounce of decency in his body, he'll come home and beg for your forgiveness...If he doesn't, will you hang in there?"

"I don't think I have any alternative," Kerri replied, wiping the tears with her fingers. She was well aware that she did, but that choice was still totally unpalatable.

Dennis changed the subject. He handed Kerri a large manilla envelope. "I have an errand for you. I would like you to deliver this to Louis Visconti. I told him I would get it to him this morning."