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Solomon leaned back in his chair and took a long, deep breath. Damn, that woman could cook! He drummed his fingers on the battered tabletop as he let the expectation of an excellent meal both relax and fill him with anticipation. Whoever said that the surest way to a man’s heart was through his stomach must’ve known a thing or two after all. He’d have scoffed at such an idea just a few years ago, defaulting to his reductionist outlook of physical prowess and material success. Maybe it was just age, but perhaps for the first time, Solomon began to kind of see why so many of his fellow men sought solace and security in the simple pleasures of hearth and home.
Maybe it really was an inevitable by-product of the ageing process, as inescapable as greying hair, or an increased world-weariness. After all, Solomon had never imagined himself settling down, yet here he was engaged to be married. Okay, so the fact that he was in another woman’s kitchen still marked him out as a serious player, but he could no longer deny at least a small measure of empathy for family men.
He smiled as his mistress bustled in with a basket of bread. “Smells good, what’s cooking?”
Yasmina smiled back. “Something special; after all, it’s a special evening.”
Solomon watched appreciatively as she sashayed back into the kitchen. He couldn’t think of any particular reason why it should be a special meal. It wasn’t anyone’s birthday or anniversary, at least that he was aware of. All the same, Yaz did seem different somehow. He couldn’t put his finger on exactly what it was, but his often-needy mistress seemed more composed, more together, more...present than he’d ever seen her. For a moment his blood ran cold as he wondered if she might be pregnant. After all, pregnancy often had that kind of ill-defined effect on a woman as her systems geared up to fulfil their most fundamental biological role.
However, after thinking for a minute or two, Solomon dismissed the idea as both of them were always very careful in that department. All the same, that thought had left a nagging doubt that something was definitely up.
The door to the little private parlour swung open again and in she floated once more, accompanied by a plume of good-smelling steam as she placed two dishes of hot vegetables on the table.
Solomon instantly recognised them as the same solid yet tasty offerings that Yaz and her sister knocked up for the Green Lizard’s patrons. It was all good though, and he wasn’t about to turn down a fine meal with a sexy lady. Of course, it meant that Ermina was running the place for the evening, and would no doubt be running her mouth for the rest of the week.
With candles lit, Yaz bustled out again, leaving Solomon to wonder why Sarah never questioned him more closely about his evenings with Yasmina. Maybe she never asked because she didn’t want to hear the answer, or maybe she just understood that he was the kind of guy who needed more than one woman in his life. Deep down he knew he’d have to break it off with Yaz, and sooner rather than later. After all, he was looking to get married and he knew that he should at least make some effort to be faithful. He’d miss her of course; Yasmina was simple and free and uncomplicated, even though she was a little clingy from time to time.
At last, the food arrived, and Solomon felt his mouth water as Yasmina reappeared with a perfectly cooked steak sizzling on a hot plate, the steam from some fresh pepper sauce quickly filling the room with its hunger-inducing fragrance.
“That smells really good.” Solomon playfully slapped her on the rump as she turned to place her own grilled chicken on the table and take her seat.
Yaz giggled as she slid seductively into her chair and picked up her wine glass. “Here’s to a bright future, built on a solid past.”
“Sure.” Solomon raised his glass at her somewhat cryptic toast before unrolling his napkin and picking up his cutlery. “You planning on building something bright on something solid?” He knew Yasmina well enough to realise that she had something to say, but it was different this time. More than once, he’d had to untangle himself from her desire for them to be a public and permanent item, although that didn’t seem to be what she was thinking as she took a small mouthful of grilled chicken.
Yaz waited a few minutes before she spoke again. “You know, despite all the time we’ve shared together, there’s one thing I’ve never asked you before. Do you believe in anything?”
Solomon swallowed a large chunk of steak, surprised by the strange question. “You mean like God or something?”
“Sure, if you want to put it that way. I guess what I’m asking is, do you think there’s more to this world, this life, than what we can see and hear, and maybe even just think about?”
“Never really thought about it.” Solomon didn’t want to get into a lengthy conversation about strange and supernatural things. It was weird enough when Seth went off on one from time to time.
Yaz fell silent again as she chewed her chicken, then she changed tack. “You know you mean all the world to me, Solomon Vaughan; but your world is just too small.”
Solomon wondered if this was a lead into some kind of breakup speech. He hadn’t seen anything like that coming and he knew he was pretty good at reading women. All the same, Yaz had been acting strange of late so nothing would surprise him. In fact, the only unexpected turn of events was that his mistress might dump him, which was something he’d never envisaged happening. “Something wrong; what happened?”
“Nothing’s wrong, my dear, gorgeous, troublesome lover. Things have been wrong for a very long time, but now everything’s been made right.”
Solomon raised his eyebrows, maybe she really was about to dump him after all.
Yaz reached for her glass of wine and took a long sip. “You remember when we first met?”
“Sure, it was the best midnight swim I’ve ever had.” Solomon couldn’t help but smile at the memory of their impromptu liaison in the ocean. It seemed like a very long time ago.
Yaz smiled coyly as she carefully placed her wine glass on the table. “So, I guess you must remember what you did after that night.”
So, there it was, it looked like Yasmina was mad because he never came back for more. That was pretty standard for the women he’d known, but still he wondered if this was just a warmup for some sort of explosion. It wouldn’t be the first time. “Hey, listen, I’d already made a whole bunch of plans and there was a whole bunch of people relying on me. Anyway, you know what happened. I took my diving school to Sharm el-Sheikh and came back to Barcelona when my visa ran out. I’ve told you that before, so what gives?”
A half-smile played on Yasmina’s lips as she daintily chewed on another small piece of chicken, taking her time before she finally answered. “Same old Solomon, that’s just typical of you.”
“What’s typical?”
She leaned back in her chair, gently swinging the long stem of her wine glass like a pendulum. “Solomon Vaughan; so handsome, so confident. What it must be like to walk in those Italian shoes, to know that men admire you and women adore you; well, most of them anyway. You have everything a man could desire, a beautiful home, a loving fiancé, plus a devoted and discreet mistress. Always pushing forward, wanting more, knowing that you deserve it; always looking ahead and never looking back. Well, you can’t can you? One glance over your shoulder and you may catch sight of the wreckage, despair and destruction you’ve left in your wake.”
“Just wait...”
Yasmina’s tone hardened as the muscles in her face stiffened. “Kiss the girls and make them cry, because you just know they’ll come running right after you. I suppose I can’t blame you really. That kind of power would be enough to turn anyone’s head, but all the same I’d hoped you’d at least have thrown a word of curiosity my way.”
Solomon closed his eyes as he realised his mistake. She had a point, even though she strangely seemed to think he owed her something. All the same, it would be a shame to split up over something so trivial, especially with Sarah acting so strange lately. No way did he love Yasmina, but he couldn’t deny he’d be sad if she broke it off. “Okay, so you got me, guilty as charged.”
“All this time and you never once thought to ask. You’re not a bad man, Solomon Vaughan, but boy are you shallow.”
“If you want depth, go date a philosopher.”
Yasmina clasped her hands together beneath her chin as a muffled burst of laughter erupted from the distant bar. “I care for you deeply, Solomon, you know that. I wish that just once, you’d have been interested in my story.”
So, the mistress was feeling unloved and unappreciated. It was understandable and also easy to fix. “Well, I guess I should’ve listened to your story long before now, but it’s never too late.”
Yaz shook her head sadly, although her expression was a peculiar blend of curiosity and certainty. “It’s far too late for some things, like your son, for example.”
Solomon tried not to spit out his steak. He knew Yaz was a bit of a dreamer, but he’d never figured her for that kind of by-the-numbers scheme. “So, let’s hear it then.”
“I’ll never forget how strong and handsome you were, like a Greek God from an ancient tale of love, betrayal and heroism. I wanted you that night like nothing else I’ve ever wanted, and I’ve never regretted my decision.”
Here it comes, thought Solomon. “But...”
“There is no but, at least there wasn’t straight away. Okay, so a part of me always knew you would take me and then leave me behind as you have with so many other girls. I’m not mad about that as I can make my own choices and I always knew who you really were. But when I found out I was carrying your child it became a very different situation.”
Solomon opened his mouth to demand proof of Yasmina’s earth-shattering claim, then closed it again. Better to let her spin the whole unlikely yarn before he decided what to do. He was surprised to find that what bothered him most was saying goodbye to Yaz’s steaks, and she cooked a mean steak. Hell, maybe she was right, maybe he really was shallow after all.
Yasmina stared at her philandering lover intently. “Wow, you really didn’t know that, did you? I thought maybe you would’ve found out, as I know how keen you are on doing your homework. You know, I was about to say how sorry I am to just drop it on you like this, but that’s not true. Sure, it might be a surprise to you, but this is something I’ve lived every day for years now, so my empathy is in pretty short supply.”
“So where is this child then? Haven’t seen any kids around here.” Solomon folded his arms defiantly and leaned back in his chair.
“Samuel! His name was Samuel!” Yasmina spat out her son’s name, her voice quivering with barely controlled fury.
Solomon tilted his head. “Was?”
Yasmina drained her wineglass in two large gulps. “Yeah, he died.”
“I guess that means you don’t have to prove he ever existed.”
Yasmina’s knuckles whitened for a few seconds before she breathed out and pushed her shaking hands hard onto the table. For a moment there was a tense silence before she stood up and crossed to a small sideboard next to the kitchen door. She quickly extracted an old candy tin and dumped it on the table, scratching the surface and rattling cutlery.
Solomon swallowed nervously. “What’s this?”
Yasmina’s response was calm, cold, flat. “It’s your son.”
Deciding to play along, Solomon opened the box and peered inside. To his surprise it was virtually empty, save for two folded pieces of paper. He took them out and laid them side-by-side on the table, his steak all but forgotten. His frown deepened as his eyes flicked first from a Spanish birth certificate and then to a Barcelona police report.
The room was silent, save for the muffled conversation from the distant bar and the nervous tapping of Yasmina’s fingernails on the stem of her wineglass.
At length Solomon re-folded the papers and tossed them back into the box. He ran his hands over his face before he spoke again. “So, let me see if I’ve got this right. You’re telling me that the kid in that birth certificate and the police report are the same. You’re telling me we had a son together, but you never bothered to mention it until now. Not only that, but this so-called son was kidnapped while he was still a toddler. Then you’re telling me the police couldn’t track down any significant suspects, save for some hapless schmuck they ruled out early on.”
For a moment Yasmina continued tapping on the stem of her glass. “You know, they say love is blind, and it must be true because I’ve only just realised how much of a callous bastard you really are, Solomon Vaughan.”
Solomon bristled. “Yeah well, this wouldn’t be the first time someone’s tried to gouge me one way or another. I thought maybe you were different, but I guess I was wrong about that.”
“You mean different from your fiancé?”
He shook his head sadly and stood up. “I’m outta here but call me if this non-existent son of mine ever shows up. I’d be curious to meet him.”
The tapping suddenly stopped. “Don’t worry, Samuel won’t be turning up to cramp your style. He’s dead, so I guess that gets you off the hook.”
Solomon frowned. “No death certificate in that there box. I’m pretty sure you need to have one of those if someone’s died.”
“There is no death certificate, and there’s not going to be a death certificate. Ever!”
“Why is that, because he’s not really dead, or because he was never really alive in the first place?” Solomon recoiled as Yasmina’s wine glass shattered against his forehead. “Jesus Christ, woman! You could’ve taken my eye out! Damn, I’m bleeding!” He pulled out his handkerchief and dabbed at the blood pooling above his right eye.
Yasmina’s tone was scornful as she picked up her plate of chicken and salad to launch it at her lover. “I guess now you’ll have to think up another new lie to tell your wonderful, devoted fiancé.” She threw the plate as hard as she could.
Solomon ducked and quickly glanced behind him as the plate shattered against the wall. “You’re crazy! You’re out of your mind!”
Yaz snatched up the bottle of wine. “I must’ve been crazy to think you’d ever give a damn about anyone but yourself.”
The door opened and Ermina poked her head in. “Hey what’s all...”
“Get out!” Yasmina screamed at her sister.
Ermina didn’t need telling twice and hurriedly closed the door, leaving the two of them alone again.
Yasmina pointed a shaking finger at the door. “Now I have to apologise to my sister, the only person to have stood by me through this whole sorry mess.” She slumped back into her chair as though all her energy had suddenly been expelled via her outburst. She looked for her wine glass and laughed bitterly when she realised it was in a thousand pieces. “And to think I followed you here, hoping for...actually, you know what, I don’t know what an earth I was hoping for. They say that losing a child is a traumatic thing and women tend to go a bit crazy. Well, I guess I went plenty crazy, but now I can see clearly again.” She stared hard at her lover. “Your son, our son, lived and died without ever seeing his father’s face. You’re no man, you’re nothing. You’re just a horny teenager who got lucky, and that’s all you’ll ever be, Solomon Vaughan. Well, you might have a shiny car and that concrete cube you call a house, but the Green Lizard is my place and you’re not welcome. Get the hell out of here, and don’t you ever think of coming back. And by the way, you can tell that trained gorilla of yours not to come sniffing around either. Not one of you empty people will ever frighten or impress me again!”
Solomon looked at the blood on his handkerchief and pressed it back to his forehead. “You’re crazy! You’re fucking insane!” He made quickly for the door lest another piece of crockery should fly in his direction.
Yasmina listened to Solomon’s receding footsteps as the tears finally welled up. “Damn you, Solomon Vaughan! Damn you for making me love you!”