In Search of High Ground: The Amorous Antics of Alex Perez

In Search Of High Ground

The Amorous Antics of Alex Perez

Written by

Alberto Arcia

Copyright © 2012 Alberto Arcia

Smashwords Edition

This novel is dedicated to my mother, Colombia Perez de Arcia (Bela) who has left my side – I miss you everyday.

Special Thanks go to my wife, Betsy for hanging in there, and to Belle, for mentoring me. Also to Kurt for Kermit - To Al for Alfred - To Roger for Ronson – And to Fred for Paco. These wonderful characters have managed to worm their way into most of my stories. And to the rest who shared in the adventures, but rather remain anonymous.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Synopsis

About the Author

Alex is kicked out of the house by his wife. Destitute, he finds employment with an investigative agency in Houston. The job takes him to France, Switzerland, and Germany. While working, he gets shot twice. Knowing that God is pointing out his immorality through vivid dreams, Alex decides it’s time to find high ground. Along the way, he meets an assortment of odd male characters who chastise his behavior, and willing women. He spends time in brothels, real and imagined. Gets arrested for immoral behavior, indecent exposure, and resisting arrest. In the end, Alex, in spite of himself, becomes a national hero.

Chapter One

Farewell My Love—Houston 1992

Ramona divorced me because I refused to grow up, and here I am today fixing to lose Julia due to the same problem. Blatant immaturity.

Normally you’d expect a man of thirty-two years to be more in tune to what is required of him, as far as matrimonial behavior is concerned. But not me; the only thing I had a really good handle on was being a dumb ass.

The plane finally landed at Houston’s Intercontinental Airport. I grabbed my suitcase, flagged down a taxi, and began to sweat the ride home. Would Julia be upset and refuse me entry to the house, or would she forgive my despicable behavior and give me another chance? Hell, I was in big trouble; getting out of this mess was not going to be easy.

I couldn’t believe my stupidity. We flew to Miami to attend a Perez family reunion sponsored by my brother, Salvador. On the third night, while Julia was taking a nap, Sal talks me into leaving the house with him. He wanted to go to the Hurricane Bar in Miami Beach for a before dinner drink. We drank a few mojitos and ran across a couple of young, oversexed Cuban girls who wanted to show us their tits. We ended the party in Tampa, two days later.

The drive home was long, so I tried to work on a plan of entry. In order for Julia to forgive me, some humility would be required. Sincere remorse wouldn’t hurt either. Finally, I would have to get down on my knees and beg for another chance. No sweat. Been there, done that. I paid the driver, walked to the door, held my breath, crossed my fingers, and rang the bell.

Julia opened it. Well, what do we have here? The cheating husband has returned.

Come on, sweetie, don’t be saying that, you know I love you.

You can’t come in, Alex. You’re no longer welcomed here. This is not your home anymore. Go and get lost.

Come on, dear, don’t do me this way, you know I love you. I didn’t leave you alone at my brother’s house on purpose. You have to believe me. Salvador couldn’t take a nap and he talked me into going to a bar for a glass of rum. We ran into more family there. Before I knew it, we were off on a drunken binge. There weren’t any girls involved. You can call Sal and ask him, he’ll verify the story.

Your brother has been divorced twice because he’s a liar and a cheat, just like you. I’m tired of it, Alex. I’m up to here with everything. I’m done with your lies, your flimsy excuses, your escapades, and your immoral relatives. I need more from a relationship than your overactive sexual appetite.

Sweetie, you know you’re the only one. Please don’t be behaving this way.

She placed both hands on her hips and stared me down. The stance implied she wasn’t buying my argument.

Listen, Alex, I know you think you’re being loyal to me, but I know you have been screwing whores. You should never use a credit card in a brothel. I’m worried sick every time you return from a trip. I’m afraid your behavior is going to give me some incurable disease. It’s time for me to get the hell out of Dodge. You’re not good for me. I need calm and some semblance of order in my life. You’re like a wild stallion. If you’re not jumping the fence, you’re knocking it down. I never know if you are going to be there when I wake up. You’re more trouble than you are worth. Go away before I call the sheriff. Father has the key to your storage facility. All your stuff is there. Go by and get it.

Good Lord, that was a mouthful. If Julia thought she could get rid of me that easy, she had another thing coming. I had survived verbal assaults by meaner women before. Chalk one up for having a thick skin. I had all the intentions of camping on her front door until she relented. Hell, this was my home, I wasn’t about to give it up without a fight. My name is Alejandro Perez, and this is not my first rodeo.

Julia shifted her weight from one leg to the other, promoting the beauty of her hips. There was movement in my shorts. John Henry was showing some interest, she looked really good. All I needed to do now was get my hands on her sweet body, do a bit of rubbing and she’d let me back into her life. Julia loved me, I was sure of that if I was sure of anything.

Before my plan could unfold, a siren went off behind me. I turned to see who else was planning to rain on my parade. A cop in a car with Deputy Sheriff written on the door started flashing the lights. The door opened and a lawman got out. He put his cowboy hat on, and swaggered my way. Shit, John Wayne is going to arrest me.

The pointed cowboy boots were bad enough, but the way he wore his pistol holster worried me. It was slung down, pistolero style. This guy was going to be bad news. And the baton he was handling looked like a baseball bat.

I tried to push my way inside, but Julia held fast, closing the door. She left me alone to face the armed gorilla.

Howdy, partner, I said. I love your gun holster, it looks good on you.

I’m gonna ignore that remark, asshole, and I will fight the urge to shove this here pole up your butthole. We don’t tolerate smart-ass Mes’kins round here. If you don’t clear off right away, I will take pleasure in beating the tar outa yore dumb ass.

Crap, what bad luck, a redneck cop from Magnolia. If I didn’t want to end up spending the night in a Montgomery County jail cell, I had better be careful. Been there, done that too. Not a fun place to hang out.

Listen, mister lawman, I didn’t even kiss her, I don’t want no trouble with you.

Well, whadaya know, a damn Mes’kin trying to audition for some kind of prize. Now ain’t life grand! Listen to me, asshole. That ain’t Linda Lou in there, that’s Blanton Murray’s daughter. And, you can say, if it soothes yore sense of musicality, that I’m a man who cares. He told me you ain’t welcome here, so clear-off or I’ll get rough with you.

A sense of desperation swept over me. I began to plead and bang on the door. Please open up, Julia, Chuck Norris is threatening to kill me!

The door opened and there stood my beautiful wife. She had a smile on her face. My spirits rose. I was going to be saved by the love of my life.

Hi, Deputy, is my ex-husband giving you trouble?

Did she say my ex-husband? Oh no, I’m doomed. I looked into her pretty green eyes and continued to plead and beg for forgiveness. Baby, don’t do me this way. You know I can’t live without you. If you let me in, I’ll promise to stop drinking and misbehaving. I’ll swear to it over my father’s grave.

Yes, ma’am, said the pistol packing brute. He’s trying to piss me off. Can I run him off fer yew?

Please do. I’m done with him. And Tom, please see to it he doesn’t come back to bother me or Claudia.

Yes ma’am. I’ll make darn sure he disappears.

Okay, no need for you to put on a hooded white robe. I get the drift. I’m in Caucasian territory, so I’ll take my Hispanic ass to friendlier lands. No need for the baboon to manhandle me, Julia. I can take a hint. Can I please have the keys to my Jeep?

All your stuff, car included, has been placed in storage. Good-bye, Alex. I can’t say it’s been all bad, but then again … it sure feels like it has.

She closed the door, leaving me alone with Deputy Tom. I smiled at him; he didn’t return the courtesy.

No harm intended, I said. Just having some light fun. In a few minutes I’ll be out of your hair forever.

The huge chimp grinned, and then came at me. He placed one hand on the back of my shirt collar, the other on my pants. The moron picked me up and flung me to the ground.

You need to leave now, Mes’kin, this ain’t no damn game.

Before the lawman could kick me with his pointed boots, the door opened and

Claudia came out with car keys in her hand. It’s okay, Deputy, I will drive him to grandfather’s house. He’s my soon to be ex-stepfather, and I would love to give him a ride out of town.

She looked at me and smiled, leaving me to wonder whether I’d just been insulted. Conan the Barbarian, using his best Arnold Schwarzenegger imitation, grinned and uttered words that cut me to the quick. Hasta la vista, Mes’kin.

I cringed. He laughed. Then he placed his right hand on his pistol, and waited for me to get into the car. I often wondered why it is that being an asshole is a prerequisite for being a cop.

We drove out of Aspirin Acres in the Honda Accord, and headed toward The Woodlands.

I hope you are not going to give us any trouble, Alex, said Claudia. My father is trying to win Mother back. Grandpa and I are pulling for him.

Don’t worry, sweetie, your dad can have all the room he needs. I’m done with your mother. I don’t like to stay where I’m not wanted.

That’s hard to believe but good to hear. Grandpa can be difficult. You think the deputy can be rough? Give us trouble and you’ll end up wearing cement shoes and talking to Jimmy Hoffa.

She looked at me and laughed.

No need to rub salt on an open wound, Claudia, I get the drift. I just wish your mother believed my story. I hate for her to think I lied to her.

Be serious, Alex, you have been lying to her from the very beginning. You’re lucky she didn’t boot you out sooner.

I ignored her remark, stretched my legs, crossed my arms, and drifted in thought. I began to scan the brain cells to see which girlfriend would be willing to put me up. I was still trying to figure that out when the car pulled into the walled compound. Claudia entered the code, the gate opened and we drove to the house. Blanton Murray was standing outside, waiting. Before I got out of the car, Claudia touched my hand and smiled.

Let me say this to you, Alex. I asked mother once what was it that glued her to a man like you, and she told me there were several things that endeared her to you. But if she had to put her finger on one in particular, it would be the fact you loved her for who she was, and didn’t care about her money.

I smiled. Fooled her, didn’t I. She hit the door button. I climbed out of the car. She said good-bye and sped off. My father-in-law extended his hand.

Listen, Alex, you do understand that you can’t work for me anymore.

I stared at him. He handed me a large manila envelope and proceeded to dismiss me from his life.

Everything you own has been placed in storage, he said. The car keys are in the packet, along with your severance pay. Be a good man and keep your distance. Don’t make me mad. If you need a job reference, call my son at the office.

I clutched the enveloped, thanked him, and then asked for a ride to the storage place. As if on cue, the grey Cadillac appeared.

Peter will take you there. Good luck with your life.

With that short statement, the man turned and left. What an asshole. Good riddance. I climbed in back of the car.

Hello, Peter, how’s it hanging these days?

Fine, thank you. Good to see you again. Where to this time, Mister Perez?

Take me to the You Store It facility located on FM1488.

Chapter Two

Down and Out

"Come on, Margie, give me some. Your sweet body is driving me crazy."

No way, Alex, I’m a married woman. Keep your distance.

Married to whom? Rudy went out for beer a year ago and never came back.

No matter, we’re still married. I’m not giving you any until I get divorced, and I’m not sure I’d give you some then.

Why not, for God’s sake? Have I not shown you proper appreciation?

Just because you show up with two bottles of wine, a packet of meat and cheese, and a French baguette does not give you the right to expect me to put out.

Me cago en Judas, esta mujer esta difícil. Why are you being difficult? Can’t you see that I want your sweet body, bad?

Alex, you’ll screw any girl that would stand still long enough for you to unbutton your fly. I’ll pass, but thanks for the offer.

Can I stay here with you for a couple of days?

No way, you’re not worming your way into my life. Get real, Alex. We had a fling before I met Rudy, but that was a long time ago. We made love and had some laughs together. That does not warrant a room in my house.

She got up and opened the door. Feeling distraught, I stopped my pleading and left. Screw her. I can do better than her without trying. I looked at my black book. Shit, she was the last one. What am I going to do now?

To say things weren’t going good for me lately wouldn’t be an exaggeration. I had lost my job, home, and second wife in record time. The rapidness of my demise surprised even me. I wondered why it is that when you have a woman, you can get many more. But, when you’re without one, they tend to avoid you like you had the plague. Likewise for employment. I had been unable to land a suitable job, and my meager savings were all but gone.

A friend had offered me a room in his house, but his wife had strict draconian rules: No drinking before five. No smoking inside the house. No parading around in your underwear. Plus, you had to have a shirt on all the time. Not wanting to mess-up the friendship, I passed on the offer. I tried to tap another friend, but he told me his marriage couldn’t handle my presence in his house. I understood why; his wife had a thing for me.

My brother told me I could stay with him for a while, but he lived in Florida. Being down and out in Texas was way better than living there. I preferred heat and tornados to rain and hurricanes. Hispanic Floridians eat black beans, white rice, and plantain. I preferred refried beans, tacos, and enchiladas. Besides, I was mad at him, so I declined his offer. He was part of the reason I’d lost Julia. It was his idea to leave his house while Julia slept. And he was the one who picked up the two horny Cuban girls.

I went back to my place. Hell, it wasn’t really an apartment. It was more like a Hobbit hole with cockroaches fighting the rats for the left over McDonald’s fries. This so-called studio apartment was costing me four hundred fifty bucks a month. Normally I wouldn’t pay that much for a one room place, but it was located in Montrose, an area of Houston resembling New York’s Greenwich Village.

Even though I hadn’t written anything in years, and even though I was still unpublished, the bohemian and gay flavor of the community suited my sense of artistry. In Montrose, you could wear homo clothing without actually being one.

Love of neighborhood aside, if I intended to continue living there, my expenditures had to be controlled. If I stayed out of exotic bars, and didn’t leave my apartment except to go look for a job, God willing I could last another month. I had already hocked anything of value I owned, and was down to my last five hundred bucks. I wondered if my dear sweet mother would lend me money without making me go back to Panama.

Two weeks later, despondent, I broke down and went to see my ex-wife. Maybe enough water had gone under the bridge and she’d be receptive to a little amorous company. Her car was in the garage. Good, Ramona’s home alone. I parked on the sidewalk, opened the fence door and looked for Poppy. As usual, the stupid guard dog was nowhere around. I knocked, and Ramona opened the door. She had a shotgun in her hand.

What in hell do you want, Alex?

Nothing that warrants this type of reception, I said, trying not to show