Cul De Sac Diaries - Discovery Part I
Cul De Sac Diaries - Discovery Part 1
Part I
“Ugh. This piece of crap car is going to be the life of me. Look, you clunker, I’m ready to go home. Maxine worked the slop out of me today, cleaning in the afternoon and serving at her party in the evening. I need a raise. It’s about time I asked my mother again. These rich folks pay her a contracted $1,500 a week for sending someone to clean their house. The measly $20 an hour she pays me isn’t enough to buy a new car. I can’t even afford to look at used cars.”
Aggravated, Kenda got out of the car and marched up the sidewalk to the front door of Maxine Cain’s Radnor, Pennsylvania, home with the little energy she had left after working a 12-hour shift. The 2019 gold Rolls Royce parked in front of the three-car garage house was a sign that not everyone had left the party.
Weary, Kenda didn’t care. Her feet ached. She wanted to shower, crawl in bed, and sleep until noon tomorrow. She heard the doorbell from inside the house. The loud, melodic, chime-like sound was pleasing to her ears for once.
Steady, heavy footsteps came toward the door. The strong, determined footsteps couldn’t have been Maxine. A five foot, one hundred thirty pound woman was incapable of producing such a sound.
A well-proportioned, attractive man sporting a thick but neatly trimmed beard, approximately six feet, two hundred pounds, answered the door. Kenda had to tilt her head back to look into his eyes. Her heart fluttered after looking into his face. She didn’t recall seeing him at the party. She surely would’ve remembered that face.
“Hello. Is Maxine available, Please?”
“Is there a problem?” He grinned, displaying a chipped tooth in the top-left front of his mouth.
“I’m her housekeeper, and my car won’t start.” He struck a nerve immediately.
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Are you a mechanic?” Kenda responded with an attitude, perhaps too much.
“No. Can’t help you there. Hey, Maxine. Come here for a minute,” he yelled out, agitated.
Maxine stepped out of the bedroom adjacent to her kitchen, wearing a laced sheer sky-blue nightie. “What is it, honey lover? I’m waiting . . .” She stopped abruptly when the man stepped aside to allow Kenda into the foyer.
“Your maid’s car won’t start.”
“I’m not a maid.” Kenda twisted her face. “Ugh!”
“Goodness, Jup. Why didn’t you tell me what you wanted before I came out of the room dressed inappropriately?” It was too late to hide her embarrassment and shame.
“What’s going on, Kenda?”
“My car won’t start. Can I sleep here tonight and have my car towed in the morning?”
“It’s after 11 p.m. I have a better idea. Stay right there. I’ll be right back. Jup, can you shut the front door? Wait for me in the room while I attend to Kenda’s problem.”
Jupiter strolled away. “Hurry up, will you?” Angry, his evening was interrupted, he stared at Kenda with evil eyes and flipped his hand at her. Jupiter scratched his private area before he left the room.
Maxine rushed upstairs to the six-bedroom, five-bathroom house, returning with a set of car keys minutes later. Handing them to Kenda, she was happy to help the twenty-two-year-old woman who’s been her housekeeper for three years. She was fond of the woman and trusted her with every fiber of her being.
“These keys belong to the car in the garage that’s shielded under the black waterproof cover. Take it. Bring it back tomorrow after twelve. Then we can have your car towed to my mechanic.”
“You’re very sweet, Maxine. I appreciate you.”
“See you tomorrow. Lock the door behind you. I’ll open the garage. Press the button on the key ring to close it. Good night.” She rushed back to the bedroom, where Jupiter waited impatiently for her.
It took Kenda fifteen minutes to remove the cover, start the car, and pull out of the driveway. The dusty, two-year-old Mercedes was in excellent condition. Kenda marveled at the interior and smoothness of the ride as she drove home.
Grooving to a Stevie Wonder song on the radio while drumming to the song's beat on the steering wheel, she didn’t realize her right hand slightly tapped a button on the steering wheel. This motion accidentally popped the trunk.
She stopped at an all-night convenience store on Ridge Avenue in Roxborough. She felt awful. Her head throbbed so badly that she was on the brink of vomiting in the car. The store should have Excedrine or Tylenol for the pain.
Once she pulled into the well-lit parking lot and exited the vehicle, the popped trunk startled and surprised her.
“Wow. How did that happen?” Kenda approached the rear of the car apprehensively, full of curiosity. Maxine never explained why the car was covered, who it belonged to, and how long it had been sitting.
It suddenly occurred to Kenda that she could be driving a hot car. People in her neighborhood were sure to wag their tongues when they saw her in it. She inched closer to the trunk to peek inside. It was full of men’s clothing, shoe boxes, and other insignificant male paraphernalia.
She spotted a worn, black leather briefcase shoved tightly down in the corner above the rear tire, between some expensive-looking suits and mail thrown about. Maybe it has papers that will give her an idea of the owner.
She ignored the mail and reached for the briefcase's handle. The briefcase appeared more mysterious than some overdue bills. Kenda giggled, feeling silly like a child finding a secret treasure. What if the bag was full of money? Kenda yanked the bag loose from the pile of suits, sat it on the edge of the trunk. At first try on a push of the button, the lock clicked.
Opening it slowly, a stale odor escaped. Luckily, that was all that escaped. The briefcase contained five journals. She took one out. Neighbors was written on the front. She placed the journal on top of the pile of clothes and took another one from the bag. This one was labeled Neighbors 2.
The next journal she grabbed had Wife marked on the cover. The last two books read: Me 1 and Me 2. She opened the book labeled Me 2 and began to read. Her mouth dropped as she read the first paragraph.
The throbbing headache was long forgotten. Kenda hurried to put the journals back in the briefcase, slammed the trunk shut, hopped back in the car with the briefcase, and sped out the parking lot at lightning speed. She couldn’t wait to get home to discover what else was between the pages of the hidden books.
(C) VM Roberts 2024
Edited by: Michael A. Robinson Jr
Part I
“Ugh. This piece of crap car is going to be the life of me. Look, you clunker, I’m ready to go home. Maxine worked the slop out of me today, cleaning in the afternoon and serving at her party in the evening. I need a raise. It’s about time I asked my mother again. These rich folks pay her a contracted $1,500 a week for sending someone to clean their house. The measly $20 an hour she pays me isn’t enough to buy a new car. I can’t even afford to look at used cars.”
Aggravated, Kenda got out of the car and marched up the sidewalk to the front door of Maxine Cain’s Radnor, Pennsylvania, home with the little energy she had left after working a 12-hour shift. The 2019 gold Rolls Royce parked in front of the three-car garage house was a sign that not everyone had left the party.
Weary, Kenda didn’t care. Her feet ached. She wanted to shower, crawl in bed, and sleep until noon tomorrow. She heard the doorbell from inside the house. The loud, melodic, chime-like sound was pleasing to her ears for once.
Steady, heavy footsteps came toward the door. The strong, determined footsteps couldn’t have been Maxine. A five foot, one hundred thirty pound woman was incapable of producing such a sound.
A well-proportioned, attractive man sporting a thick but neatly trimmed beard, approximately six feet, two hundred pounds, answered the door. Kenda had to tilt her head back to look into his eyes. Her heart fluttered after looking into his face. She didn’t recall seeing him at the party. She surely would’ve remembered that face.
“Hello. Is Maxine available, Please?”
“Is there a problem?” He grinned, displaying a chipped tooth in the top-left front of his mouth.
“I’m her housekeeper, and my car won’t start.” He struck a nerve immediately.
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Are you a mechanic?” Kenda responded with an attitude, perhaps too much.
“No. Can’t help you there. Hey, Maxine. Come here for a minute,” he yelled out, agitated.
Maxine stepped out of the bedroom adjacent to her kitchen, wearing a laced sheer sky-blue nightie. “What is it, honey lover? I’m waiting . . .” She stopped abruptly when the man stepped aside to allow Kenda into the foyer.
“Your maid’s car won’t start.”
“I’m not a maid.” Kenda twisted her face. “Ugh!”
“Goodness, Jup. Why didn’t you tell me what you wanted before I came out of the room dressed inappropriately?” It was too late to hide her embarrassment and shame.
“What’s going on, Kenda?”
“My car won’t start. Can I sleep here tonight and have my car towed in the morning?”
“It’s after 11 p.m. I have a better idea. Stay right there. I’ll be right back. Jup, can you shut the front door? Wait for me in the room while I attend to Kenda’s problem.”
Jupiter strolled away. “Hurry up, will you?” Angry, his evening was interrupted, he stared at Kenda with evil eyes and flipped his hand at her. Jupiter scratched his private area before he left the room.
Maxine rushed upstairs to the six-bedroom, five-bathroom house, returning with a set of car keys minutes later. Handing them to Kenda, she was happy to help the twenty-two-year-old woman who’s been her housekeeper for three years. She was fond of the woman and trusted her with every fiber of her being.
“These keys belong to the car in the garage that’s shielded under the black waterproof cover. Take it. Bring it back tomorrow after twelve. Then we can have your car towed to my mechanic.”
“You’re very sweet, Maxine. I appreciate you.”
“See you tomorrow. Lock the door behind you. I’ll open the garage. Press the button on the key ring to close it. Good night.” She rushed back to the bedroom, where Jupiter waited impatiently for her.
It took Kenda fifteen minutes to remove the cover, start the car, and pull out of the driveway. The dusty, two-year-old Mercedes was in excellent condition. Kenda marveled at the interior and smoothness of the ride as she drove home.
Grooving to a Stevie Wonder song on the radio while drumming to the song's beat on the steering wheel, she didn’t realize her right hand slightly tapped a button on the steering wheel. This motion accidentally popped the trunk.
She stopped at an all-night convenience store on Ridge Avenue in Roxborough. She felt awful. Her head throbbed so badly that she was on the brink of vomiting in the car. The store should have Excedrine or Tylenol for the pain.
Once she pulled into the well-lit parking lot and exited the vehicle, the popped trunk startled and surprised her.
“Wow. How did that happen?” Kenda approached the rear of the car apprehensively, full of curiosity. Maxine never explained why the car was covered, who it belonged to, and how long it had been sitting.
It suddenly occurred to Kenda that she could be driving a hot car. People in her neighborhood were sure to wag their tongues when they saw her in it. She inched closer to the trunk to peek inside. It was full of men’s clothing, shoe boxes, and other insignificant male paraphernalia.
She spotted a worn, black leather briefcase shoved tightly down in the corner above the rear tire, between some expensive-looking suits and mail thrown about. Maybe it has papers that will give her an idea of the owner.
She ignored the mail and reached for the briefcase's handle. The briefcase appeared more mysterious than some overdue bills. Kenda giggled, feeling silly like a child finding a secret treasure. What if the bag was full of money? Kenda yanked the bag loose from the pile of suits, sat it on the edge of the trunk. At first try on a push of the button, the lock clicked.
Opening it slowly, a stale odor escaped. Luckily, that was all that escaped. The briefcase contained five journals. She took one out. Neighbors was written on the front. She placed the journal on top of the pile of clothes and took another one from the bag. This one was labeled Neighbors 2.
The next journal she grabbed had Wife marked on the cover. The last two books read: Me 1 and Me 2. She opened the book labeled Me 2 and began to read. Her mouth dropped as she read the first paragraph.
The throbbing headache was long forgotten. Kenda hurried to put the journals back in the briefcase, slammed the trunk shut, hopped back in the car with the briefcase, and sped out the parking lot at lightning speed. She couldn’t wait to get home to discover what else was between the pages of the hidden books.
(C) VM Roberts 2024
Edited by: Michael A. Robinson Jr
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