Dennis Larsen - With Cruel Intent

The hood took a couple steps backwards, threw half of the remaining board at Jasper who brushed it aside like a mosquito, before turning and running at full speed across the space and over the same fence his friends had used as an avenue of escape. A moment later a defiant finger raised in belligerent triumph appeared above the top of the fence.

“Punks” Jasper spewed, then turning his attention to the quivering librarian he said, “You okay?”

“Just about peed myself but I’m okay, lucky you showed up when you did,” Blanche replied, still shaking from the ordeal.

“I was just on my way out to the job site and saw you was in trouble,” he said compassionately, putting both of his strong hands on her shoulders to help steady her. “Been meaning to drop by your place anyway to give you the details on that competition I was telling you about.”

He provided the information which Blanche put into her phone, promising to attend, after all he had been her rescuer on two separate occasions and he was really, really buff and quite sweet for a ‘gorilla’. Jasper promised to stay with Blanche until her ride showed up so they sat on the bench and enjoyed a minute or two of small talk before Blanche saw a BMW turn the corner and accelerate toward them.

“Looks like my ride,” Blanche said, tilting her head in the direction of the oncoming car.

“Too bad, I'd have enjoyed some more time with my damsel in distress,” Jasper said, as he stood and took her hand to help her up. She was still trembling from the fright she’d received at the hands of Mikey and crew. “You sure you’ll be okay?”

“Yeah, but thanks, you are just so sweet.” She wrapped her arms around his thick neck and pulled him down so she could kiss his cheek. “Thanks again, don’t know what I would have done without your help.”

The BMW skidded to a stop at the curb and Bev’s head popped out of the sunroof, “Blanche, you need me to call the cops, this guy bothering you?”

“No, no, nothing like that, he just saved me from a bunch of thugs.” Once again, Blanche committed to attending the upcoming competition. They hugged and Blanche was on her way comfortably seated in the front of Bev’s B’mer.

“That’s quite a hunk of man you’ve found yourself there?” Beverly’s voice suggested more of a question than a statement.

“Jasper? Yeah he’s been my hero on more than one occasion since I hit town. Lucky for me he was close by this morning. Don’t know how long I could have held off three horny teenagers with an umbrella,” Blanche said, trying to laugh, her voice still quivering.

It was obvious to Beverly that her client was in no condition or state of mind to do any house hunting so she suggested a quiet location with hot coffee, padded seats and delicious donuts. After finishing her first cup of white-hot chocolate and glazed donut, Blanche began to feel somewhat better. The tremor in her hands had ceased and her voice was much less shaky but her anxiety level was still elevated as Beverly tried to console her.

“Men, and boys for that matter, walk around with their brains in their penis with no thought for anyone but themselves,” Beverly suggested, polishing off her third donut, this one covered in white frosting drizzled with maple. “Believe me, I’ve known my share and most are idiots through and through. Even the ones that you think are semi-normal turn into some sort of sex crazed alien the minute they get a hard on. Take my deceased husband, the one I was telling you about with the spoiled rotten son, he was a genius when it came to money and real estate. I learned so much from him about the markets, when to buy, when to sell, that sort of stuff, but the minute I’d show him these.” Taking her covered breasts in both hands, making sure not to get any icing on either one, she bounced them slightly; drawing stares from some of the locals seated a few tables over. “He’d turn into a babbling fool, unable to make a coherent sentence until he’d gotten his rocks off, pardon my French.”

Bev was enjoying having someone she could spout off too. Her favorite subject as of late was the abuse she’d received at the hands of men in general but more specifically from the son of her dearly departed.

“Did I tell you the latest? Did I?” she asked, not waiting for a reply she pressed on. “Well, I’ll tell you what darlin’, that little son of a bitch is still screwing with me even after the courts awarded me my fair share. My stepson, some kind of aid to a high falootin’ congressmen up there in Washington, has got it in his head that I’m just gonna roll over and let him push me around and give up my millions,” she continued in her over the top Southern accent. “That pompous piece of shit really gets me going. First it was momma this and momma that, now that some money is involved he treats me like a two bit whore that was screwing his daddy just for his money. I’ll show that little pipsqueak what this mommas got in store for him,” she said rather loudly, drawing more looks and quiet whispers from customers throughout the shop.

Blanche nodded when she felt it was appropriate and tried to act understanding, but wasn’t it her that was the victim this morning and not Bev? It was sweet that she was trying to take her mind off the skaters but she was kind of ranting and Blanche was not enjoying the additional attention.

“So tell me about the job the oldest one has, he really works for a congressman, a US Congressman?” Blanche politely asked.

“Yeah, little kiss ass that he is, worked his way into this job with the help of his daddy. From what I gather he does all the congressman’s dirty work. Does all the hiring and firing and finds little trollops for the congressman to screw when his wife ain’t around. I ‘spect Jeremy gets his fill of that office poontang as well, takes after his daddy in that respect,” the agitated real estate woman fumed.

“That’s his name, Jeremy?” Blanche asked.

“Yeah, Jeremy ‘Kiss My Ass’ Marshall and the worse thing is he keeps sticking his nose in my business here in Valdosta. Don’t know why he can’t just leave well enough alone and worry about his father’s estate and getting this behind us. Some of my friends in the business tell me he’s prodding around about some land that is soon to be developed just north of here. Probably needs my millions to secure some financing for something he’s got in the works, most likely very underhanded if I know Jeremy and the way he operates.” She paused long enough to fill her mouth with another bite of donut.

“You must be sick of hearing about my troubles, honey. What’s up with you other than fighting off a pack of boys after your goods?” she said, pointing the half eaten donut at Blanche’s front, leaving powdered sugar on her friend.

Blanche didn’t want to get into much with Bev after hearing the realtor go on and on about her woes so she tried to bring the subject back around to her housing needs. After approximately thirty minutes of condo talk and another cup of cocoa, the women left the donut shop, all eyes on them as they hurried through the doors and into the BMW. Beverly was good enough to swing by the library for Blanche then sped off, anxious to meet with her lawyer and cuss for another couple of hours about her stepson. In her mind she’d worked hard for those millions and he was not about to take that away from her. No frickin’ way she was going to let her stepson screw her, that was for sure.

Blanche’s workday began like most once she got to the library. She was relieved to see that there were only a few items in her assorted boxes and no skulking teenage boys prowling among the shelves. She’d had her fill of testosterone driven madness for one day. Mr. Marcus was busy tinkering with some shelving units on the upper floor when she arrived and she had not yet had an opportunity to speak with him, but he was making some incredible ‘worker man’ noises that echoed throughout the library. Thankfully, it wasn’t busy and no one seemed to care that the occasional clang or bang could be heard, followed by a random cuss spoken harshly by the maintenance man. Two hours into the racket and just before Blanche was to take a break to get some lunch the little custodian ambled down the steps from the second floor. Sweat ran down his cheeks and a white, stretchy headband ran around his forehead in an effort to keep the salty solution out of his eyes.