It was the week after a huge tornado swept through and traumatized middle Tennessee, pushing it's high sixties temperatures down into a dark freezing void where the days fought to reach mid thirty degrees. A depressing drizzle of early December rain descended upon the budding homeless encampment taking form in the wooded area behind a Home Depot in Metro Nashville, tamping out any holiday cheer to the huddling masses below. Dante Meeks shuffled past the four grimy and wilted tents of his neighbors venturing out to the main road in search of hope as the wind cut through his multiple layers of clothing and threatened to turn the rains to ice before the night was over. He looked back to his leaning tent twenty feet from the others tucked safely under the I 40 underpass, questioning his sanity for ever leaving it, doubtful of any kind spirits to be out in such miserable weather. But it was the season of perpetual hope and fervent kindness he told himself, sniffling and wiping snot on the backside of his glove.
He finally reached West End Avenue which was lined with restaurants and boutiques, adjacent to the I 40 on ramp and the busiest Shell gas station on that side of town. Scanning the area with hawk eyes he felt the depression seep into his rational mind as the usually busy street was nearly empty. It was six o'clock after all, the changing of the guard for the working class. Day shift workers were off as the night shift wearily dragged in to their own thankless jobs. The optimal time for traffic and the widest audience for Dante to pander to for a little generosity.
The tornado had decimated a few large structures in the area creating multiple detours, that and the current weather robbing the once bustling street of nearly all signs of life. Dante felt his optimism deflate at the sight until he spotted a blue Chevy Equinox parked out front of the closing bakery across the street. Lights clicked off inside of the store followed by an older woman scurrying to the car with her little yellow umbrella. The garish vulgarity of such a color made the homeless man smile. Maybe she could afford to throw a few dollars his way Dante Meeks reasoned, a car like that and possibly an old kind heart. He quickly pieced together a sob story to lay on her as he watched her frantically checking her pockets for car keys, standing in the road near her driver's side door. Who knows maybe she had enough to spare that could afford him a room at the Budget Inn a few blocks over.
Wiping the icy rain droplets out of his eyes he saw another SUV race down the I 40 off ramp and cut over onto West End Avenue without slowing down. The homeless man quickly shot his glance back over to his mark the old woman who was oblivious to the now speeding car barreling down on her. Dante saw the warm confines of a motel room and the prospect of avoiding battling hypothermia for the night shatter, all because of one reckless asshole not paying attention.
Without a word he shot from the curb sprinting the fifteen yards to the woman in the road, arms outstretched to shove his potential savior to safety. Blinding white light raced to meet them both. The last thing Dante Meeks saw was the old woman recoiling from him before the speeding SUV knocked them both into absolute darkness, leaving their mangled corpses behind in it's wake. That bitch never hit the brakes the vagrant would have thought if he had survived.
***
Kenneth Waters hailed from Fredericksburg, Texas. He enjoyed a sheltered childhood under the care of two strong loving Christian parents who started out with a moderately successful vineyard which afforded them more revenue to expand out into the rental property game. Half a dozen rental homes opened the doors for wine tours and merchandising of their once humble vineyard, skyrocketing them into a higher tax bracket and social standing. Kenneth, desiring to be every bit as successful and respected as his father, accepted a loan from his parents and sought his own fortune in the music city of Nashville, Tennessee. Lacking his father's ingenuity he was swept away by the sweet words and tender exploits of a woman.
His mother had warned him of the dangers of his generous and gullible nature as she danced with him during his first wedding. She outright forbid him to squander the loaned money on financing a music career for his young opportunistic bride. He minded his loving yet stern mother and invested in key rental properties in the metro area of Nashville, against the angry objections of his blushing bride.
Looking around the mugshots littering the walls of his small office he took a sip of his morning coffee and grimaced at it's fungal aftertaste. His third attempt at happiness manifested itself in the form of a thin five foot Korean goddess named Kim. Who was also the culprit behind swapping out his Folgers with some weird organic blend she found online. After a ten year stretch she claimed to notice his high blood pressure and diabetes to be a thief of his virility and overall happiness. Thinking back two nights ago he recalled the flustered look on his Asian wife's face as she vainly stroked his flaccid cock. It was the third time that month he failed to perform. Kenneth recently turned fifty three, furthering the roughly twenty year age gap between him and his lotus flower.
He never had any reason to question her faithfulness but he learned from his two previous marriages that love can indeed sour in the wrong climate. That wasn't anything that currently worried him, not since he bought her an extensive sex toy collection and serviced her with his mouth pretty much on command. Truth be told he secretly cherished the way she stormed in and took the reigns of his life into her dainty manicured hands.
She was the mastermind behind his current predicaments of the bail bonding business. After a month of pleading alongside nightly blowjobs, Kim convinced him to leverage some of the capitol from his booming rental properties and finance her dream business. It didn't take long for her to lose patience with bonding out junkies and perverts before she turned her attention to other ventures, wearily dragging her doting husband in to take over the business so she wouldn't have to admit defeat. It took nearly three full years to make the business profitable which in turn Kim Waters exploited to start up a temp agency which she currently managed.
Kenneth Waters forced down another drink of his coffee before shuffling a stack of files on his cluttered desk and calling out to his secretary. "Hey Robin you hear anything back from Carlos?"
"You weren't listening when you first got here?" Robin shouted back through the open office door, not wanting to get up. "I told you Carlos caught that car thief late last night over in Hermitage."
Before he could reply, the bell over the front entrance chimed as the front door to the business opened and Kenneth heard his wife greet his secretary.
"Hello baby." Kim greeted him warmly as she swept into his office with a brown paper bag in her hand trailing the unmistakable twang of tuna salad. "Silly goose you forgot your lunch."
"Sorry Hun, was in a rush this morning." He grudgingly took the bag, purposefully leaving it on the kitchen counter at home. "Aren't you running late for work too?"
She leaned over his small cluttered desk and pecked his forehead with her crimson lips. "I'm on my way just needed to make sure you ate healthy today."
"Uh yeah, thanks." He said, wiping at the lipstick imprint she left on his face. "Smells good. Tuna again?"
She giggled in her sweet sing song way. "You don't have to pretend for me my love. But you do have to eat it. Oh did the mail come already?"
"Here? I don't think so." Kenneth answered while choking down more of his organic coffee to prove his compliance to her will. "Why, you get something delivered here?"
"No I just ordered something and it didn't show up in the mail at home." She said, fussing over his wrinkled collar. "Thought maybe I put the wrong shipping address down or something."
"Yeah, maybe." He said gently pushing her hands away from his shirt. "What did you order anyway? I'll have Robin keep an eye out for it."
"No!" She objected a little too loudly before cutting her eyes to the open office door. "I can't say right now. It's a little too spicy."
"Oh shit." Kenneth softly exclaimed reaching out and patting his wife's pert athletic ass. "I'll personally keep a look out then."
"No, no don't even worry about it." Kim giggled while dancing away from any further groping. "I'm just being silly. I'm going now before I'm late to work. You eat that sandwich baby, I made it special for you."
Kim Waters was born in Gary, Indiana to two second generation immigrants who slaved away at a constantly burglarized convenience store. Watching her father tense up and subconsciously reach for his hidden pistol he kept beside the cash register every time a large group of teens entered the store, taught Kim all she needed to know about life. Protect yourself because no one else will.
She cursed under breath while stepping back outside of Water Under The Bridge Bail Bonding. A clever business name she had passed on to her husband. Blowing into her hands to warm them she stepped to the icy curb as a Kia Sorento pulled up trailing white exhaust.
