February Sucs - Satanic Majesties

Intermezzo/Interlude (Flowers):

I placed the fresh flowers in the cemetery vase near my mother's grave. Then stood silently, eyes closed, trying to bring an image, a visual memory of her, close enough to feel her here. At least in my mind.

She was way too young to have died, and if things had been different, I'm certain she would have had the strength to beat the cancer. Yes, I know she made a very bad decision a long time ago that may have indirectly led to this. But she more than paid the price.

What wasn't fair was that the instigator, the real villain of the piece, was living long and prospering. With eyes still shut, I made a promise, a vow, to my mother, my mother who could no longer hear me. That man who caused all this was not going to get off scot-free. I was going to make him pay for what he did.

FEBRUARY SUCKS - SATANIC MAJESTIES

I was perfectly positioned to execute my mission. After all, Marc LaValliere and I were colleagues. Sort of. Though I'm pretty sure I wasn't one of his favorite people.

Of course, he'd had a long and storied football career. It was only after his retirement that he entered the announcers' booth. Although he would never have the same impact behind a microphone that he'd enjoyed on the gridiron, nevertheless he did become an on-air fixture, his on-field exploits having given him the credibility to back up his color commentary,

My situation was different, as you probably know. When my high school baseball success got me a free ride to LMU, my dad and I liked to talk about going all the way to the show. Neither of us really believed it. We were both realists. But it was a fun dream.

So I started off following that fun dream. I took a variety of classes, not sure of what I wanted for a major. My main focus that first year was baseball. The playing season began in the winter quarter, and I quickly made the starting lineup. Dad and Mom came down to see me play, and it was great to hang out together. Different from when I lived at home, but the same, too. If you know what I mean.

The spring term came after that, and that's when I discovered the campus TV program. And found my major, and what would become my destiny.

LMU has a first-rate media department, equipped with a top-of-the-line broadcasting studio. Like my dad, I've always been a Plan B kind of guy. I still wanted to play. But I also loved the idea that if it didn't work out, if there was no big league chew in my future, I would still have something equally exciting to fall back on.

Then, in my sophomore year, both worlds came together. It started with me spending most of my free time at the production studio during the fall. I learned how all the equipment worked, and a lot about mic technique. Having acquired this new skill set, I now believed that I could become a sports announcer if my playing career hit a wall. And even if I went all the way, there'd still be a great career waiting for me after retirement.

When the baseball season started up again in the winter quarter, I wanted both - to play and announce. And came up with a crazy thought. Why not do both at once?

I ran this idea by Dad, and he thought it was genius. I was getting to see him a lot by then, because he'd left his longtime job to go into business with an art dealer in Nashville who he and Mom had run into when they visited the previous year. This meant that he was in the area from time to time. I also got to meet his business partner, Jeanie Masters, who apparently had been his secretary years before when she lived in our hometown. She's an enthusiastic and boisterous personality, and also encouraged me to try this new concept out. She was even more positive about it than Dad.

So I went for it. My teachers and the department head thought it was worth a try, so I got outfitted with a wireless wrap-around mic like singers use. That way I could broadcast live while I was playing! The sound could get a little funky if it was windy when I was out on the field, but was almost always clear as a bell when I was in the dugout. And the immediacy of it made up for any sonic shortcomings.

I quickly became a campus sensation. The player/broadcaster. Straight A's in my production classes. Starting lineup every day. Success in one fed success in the other. The best of both worlds.

By the time I was in my third year, what I was doing had gotten written up in the local papers. I started getting offers from minor league teams in the area. They wanted me to play and announce for them like I was doing at school. Dad and I agreed that I should only do this when I wasn't otherwise occupied with college. It still made sense to finish and get that degree. There'd be plenty of time for professional baseball and sportscasting later.

While all this good stuff was happening, though, the family I grew up in split apart. Dad and Jeanie got drunk one night after signing the world's greatest painter, had sex, and Jeanie got knocked up from that one night. They'd become close friends already, and Dad decided to divorce Mom and marry Jeanie.

That sounds pretty bad. But here's the rest of the story. Twenty-three years earlier, Dad and Mom had been out one night with friends, and Mom had gone off with a famous football player (Marc LaValliere) for a night of sex. Dad was shattered, but in the end decided to stay in the marriage for the sake of my older sister, Emma, and my older brother, Tom, who were just 6 and 4 at the time. And because of that decision, I exist.

So the idyllic childhood family I enjoyed, as did Emma and Tom, was not all that it appeared. Mom and Dad never told any of us about this incident, so we had no idea. Until this thing with Jeanie came up, and Dad told me the entire story, and later did the same for Tom and Emma.

Mom was pretty unhappy about all this when it went down, as you'd expect. But she had little choice but to accept that her life with Dad was done. She probably always felt guilty about that one night out of time, and so came to believe this was her just punishment. It wouldn't be the last time she accepted a bad fate as her due.

Anyway, Jeanie became part of my life, and at least I got to see Dad full time, since he now lived in Nashville with Jeanie and their baby boy, Jason. She'll never be Mom, but she is a warm person, who loves Dad's kids unconditionally, just as she loves him. She also had a son from her first marriage, Bobby, who was 27 when I met him. Bobby and I have grown to be real good friends.

One other thing. Jeanie has a lot of connections. She's decorated the homes of several famous musicians with artwork, and representing the world's most famous artist keeps Dad and her in some pretty elite circles. So by the time I graduated, she and Dad were able to get me to the right people. The result being that I actually made it to the show within a couple years, as a player/broadcaster. I don't know that I would have gotten there if it had been solely for my baseball abilities. But the combination of player and announcer live from the game was compelling enough that I landed with the Braves to do both.

And this made me the absolute hottest thing in sports broadcasting. In my mid-twenties, making the biggest of bucks. And I was not alone in this. Jeanie was already loaded when Dad and Mom met her, and that was before she and Dad landed Amanda and Rafe. So they were soaring higher and higher.

My big brother Tom was up there, too. He and his wife Grace had moved out to California after he got his masters, to start up an apps company with a couple of friends from school. They struggled for a few years, but payday had come in. The company was a success, and they were making some pretty big tech money.

The only family members who weren't living in the stratosphere were Mom and Emma. And neither was poor. Dad had been more than generous to Mom when he divorced her. Although he loved Jeanie more, he still had some love left for Mom, despite what she had done to him earlier. And I think he probably also felt some guilt about dumping her. Anyway, he gave her our family home and a shitload of money upfront, so she would be financially independent the rest of her life. As for Emma, she and her husband Chase were dual income. He's an engineer, and she's a freelance management consultant. She has to be freelance because they have two children. But they weren't hurting, either.

And then Mom got sick. Uterine cancer isn't always immediately fatal, but it was in her case. Within a year, she was gone. Most of us didn't even know how bad it was until right before the end.

The only family members she took into her confidence were Emma and Chase, who still lived in the city we grew up in. They were a great comfort to Mom after Dad left her, and I know she loved spending time with Nancy and Brian as they grew. Sadly, Nancy was only 9 when Mom passed. Brian was just 4.

Emma told me that Mom didn't want to burden Tom and me as we were trying to make our way, and especially since we lived so far away. Similarly, she knew that Dad was busy with young Jason, and didn't want to bother him. Emma also said that Mom didn't really believe or acknowledge how sick she was until it was too late.

Tom, Grace and I were devastated. Dad and Jeanie were pissed. Jeanie was especially angry, saying "why the fuck didn't she say something? We have the resources, we could have flown in the best specialists in the world. They could have saved her!" Dad wasn't quite so vehement, but he pretty much agreed that they could have prevented her death if they'd been told more about what was really going on.

For my part, I have to admit to feeling guilty because after they split, I spent a lot more time with Dad (and Jeanie) then with Mom. Sure, they lived close, and Mom didn't. But still. Yes, I was always closer to Dad, we spent all that time playing catch and stuff when I was a kid. But I loved Mom, too. And I wonder how much of Dad and Jeanie's anger about what happened was fueled by their own guilty consciences. I've never asked, and never will. Some stones are best left unturned.

Meanwhile, as I already said, I had become the hottest thing in sports media. Next to me, the old conventional announcers, like Marc LaValliere, looked like dinosaurs. There was no one else doing the thing I'd introduced, though it would probably only be a matter of time. But no one had followed my lead yet, and I was expected to sweep the upcoming ESPN awards. And I was planning to take full advantage of my elevated status, using the after-party and dance to avenge the wrong done to my family in general, and my mother in particular.

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People in our elevated position have the resources to get pretty much whatever we want. So I was able to discretely use my contacts to find the most beautiful escort in the greater Atlanta area to be my date at the awards.

Lana was incredible, with the looks and poise to outshine every other woman there, which is saying something when one considers all the gorgeous on-screen personalities, athletes' wives, trophy wives, etc., who would be present. An appropriate partner for the young man who'd be picking up trophy after trophy that night.

I engaged her for an obscene amount of money. Leave it at that. And the kicker was that she would be my date, but nothing more than that. I wasn't paying her for sex. No, I had bigger fish to fry that night.

In fact, Lana was so extraordinary that the escort work she performed didn't involve sleeping with the client. She actually had a boyfriend, Trent, a good-looking guy in his own right. I got him into the event as a single, because he was to play an important role in my plan for the night.

Me, I'd been playing the field. Which made my decision to bring a professional as my date a sensible one, since none of my girlfriends would be excluded in favor of one of the others. This was a neutral play, so my relationships would not be unduly affected, other than that my taking Lana was a signal that I was far from ready for marriage or exclusivity. Which they all knew, anyway.

So the stage was set. As expected, I was the big winner, picking up athletic awards because of my dual role, as well as some new ESPY's for media work that had been added to the show because of what I was doing. All this made Lana and I the ultimate glamour couple as the celebrities moved into the grand ballroom for the late dinner and dancing.

Ever the gracious winner, I took Lana around to make the requisite rounds, speaking to colleagues in both fields (sports and media). And I made it a point to walk up to Marc's table and give due acknowledgement to one of the top veterans in announcing, there with his third wife, Trixie.

Trixie was obviously a trophy wife. In her early 30's, she was a fine looking lady, whose presence suggested that LaValliere was still a virile stud, even in his 50's. He'd been married twice before, but his wandering eye had sunk both marriages, neither of which produced any children. Maybe that wasn't something he cared about. Certainly, though, he did care about his reputation as a ladies' man. But now that he was so much older, I suspect he believed that such renown was best served by sticking with an attractive wife more than two decades younger than him.

Lana used all her skills, simpering and cooing over getting to meet the famous Marc LaValliere. As I thought would be the case, his ego led him to eat it all up. After several minutes of flirting, he made his move, asking Lana to dance. Knowing the protocol, he turned to me after asking her, saying "you don't mind, do you?" To which I said "it's the lady's choice." Lana then grabbed his arm, saying, "Let's go," and off they went.

Trixie was pissed, as I had also expected. Trophy though she was, she knew that Lana was in a class of her own, and that made Marc's wife both angry and jealous. So she gave me a look, and I politely said "since our partners are otherwise occupied, would you like to dance with me?" Without any hesitation, she took my offered hand, and we walked to the dance floor.

Knowing my script, I concentrated on Trixie as we danced. For her part, though, she kept stealing looks to see what her husband was doing with Lana. Clearly, she was not pleased to see how skillfully their dance moves matched each other's, and when a slow song started, it was even worse. That Marc stayed out on the floor with Lana was bad enough. Though his hands were not doing anything improper, Trixie couldn't help but notice how close-in they were with each other. Not wanting to be one-upped, Trixie more than welcomed my embrace as we gracefully slow-danced around the dance floor. I softly whispered to her, "You are a beautiful woman. This may be out of line, but I have to wonder what you're doing with an old man like him." "Yeah, with the way he's acting tonight, I'm wondering, too." "I'm not too thrilled with my date, either. Why don't we leave them here and see if they even notice we're gone?" "Sounds good, to me. Let's go."

Lana knew this was the plan, and kept Marc engaged while Trixie and I made our escape. Lana told me later that it wasn't until after a couple more dances, when she suggested to him that they head back to his table that he noticed Trixie wasn't there. And it took him a few beats to realize that neither was I. Embarrassed, LaValliere reached back to his old playbook and put the full-court press on Lana. Who then laughingly told him, "I don't think so, Marc. You're way too old for me." And then accepted a dance with Trent, who had timed his appearance at LaValliere's table perfectly. She then left with Trent after a couple dances, leaving the great Marc LaValliere alone and humiliated. Out in public, for all to see.

Meanwhile, though that bit of revenge might have been sweet enough, I had more tricks up my sleeve. I suggested to Trixie that we could head up to my luxury condo and relax awhile. Since she could easily imagine her husband making a similar offer to my date, she didn't hesitate to say "yes. I'd love to see your place."

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I escorted her into my luxury Tesla, and we took off like a rocket. Since it had gotten a little chilly, I put on the seat warmer for her, reveling in her grateful smile. I also reveled in the fact that I could see how hard her nipples still were even within the warmth of the car.

When we arrived at my building, we were able to bypass the garage. I had a private ramp that could only be accessed by my key code, which I activated from the car. It led directly up to the top floor, where we could park and then walk directly from the one-car parking area to a door that led directly into my penthouse, which took up the entire top floor of the building.

I eased out of the vehicle and went around to the passenger side, opened the door, extended my hand to Trixie, and then gently pulled her out of the car. The passenger side door closed automatically, and we walked hand in hand into my place.

The entry area featured a beautiful marble floor, and the motion sensors immediately provided dim, muted lighting, enough to see where we were going, but not so bright as to break the mood. Trixie's heels clicked on the marble as we walked through the entry, her head swiveling around in delight at all the luxury appointments.

Now, it's not that this level of living was foreign to her. I'm sure that the home she shared with her husband was in the same ballpark. But I also suspected that Marc had been there for a while, perhaps through one or both of his previous marriages. So no matter how much money he was able to pour into it, no matter how beautiful and modern he made it, the fact that it had to be older than what I had would still make mine look exciting to his third wife.

We followed the soft lighting into a large living room area. Comfortable-looking chairs and couches adorned two of the walls, leaving a large central area. Against a third wall was a well-appointed bar. A shelf, closet and coat rack were near the entrance. I removed her wrap, gently placed it on an open branch, and then took her phone and pulled out mine. "Let's mute these for a while," I said to her, she nodded her head, and I powered both of them off. I then quietly said "play." Immediately the muted sounds of soft Latin jazz filled the room. I took her hand, and we danced around the floor, gracefully moving with the sensually romantic music.

After a couple of slow dances, I pulled away from her and asked "would you like something to drink?" "A chardonnay would be nice," she replied, so I walked over to the bar and opened a fresh bottle of Rombauer, then poured us each a glass. I drank mine sparingly, enough to make her feel comfortable and enjoy her full glass. When she'd finished and laid it on the bar counter, I leaned in and gave her a soft kiss on the lips. Trixie responded immediately by slipping her tongue into my mouth, and we dueled tongues for a few minutes before I took her hand to lead us to my master bedroom.

We continued kissing, but before things got too hot and heavy, I led her over to the bed, pulled off the covers, turned to Trixie, and said, "You must be tired after this long night. Why don't you lie down and I'll give you a massage to relax your muscles." She smiled back at me, and said "that would be lovely." I gently removed her slip-on shoes, softly rubbing each foot after its shoe had come off. I then stood up, moved around to her back, and started lowering the zipper of her dress. After there was enough slack, I pulled the dress off her shoulders, lowered the zipper the rest of the way, and let the dress fall of its own accord and pool around her feet. Then bending down again, I removed it, draping it over a chair. Leaving on her bra and panties (she'd worn no hose), I eased her down onto the bed, and excused myself to head into the bathroom, telling her to just relax and I'd be back shortly for her massage.