TREVOR MEETS ROY LEE
In time of test, family is best.
Burmese Proverb
Caroline (Cheetah) and Sloane Simba were having another honeymoon phase. Having discovered she was pregnant with a most wanted litter, the couple had settled into a period comparatively free of sniping at one another. It isn’t that Caroline and Sloane are lacking the necessary passions and devotion, but being sharp witted, razor tongued animals, they are prone to battle it out on the fields of hot-headed verbiage. For the time being they were like a pair of cooing doves. She had resigned her job as the presidential press secretary, fearing a miscarriage. Every evening she would greet her hubby with a splendidly carried out menu, sundowners and young Sunny, fresh and whippet sharp from his kindergarten class. When Sloane’s daughter, Georgy, would arrive for her weekend visits, Caroline would throw out the red carpet despite the young cub’s rather sullen demeanor since she found out that there was the certain threat to her ‘only child’ status in her beloved dad’s life. She didn’t mind the existence of her step brother, Sunny Leoparde, since Georgy knew innately that he was not of her father’s direct lineage although a nephew. However, Georgy wasn’t really aware of the ‘nephew’ status since she knew nothing of the fact that he was her cousin, being Shane Simba’s out of wedlock cub. These facts of intimacy were not fit for Georgy Simba’s innocent ears at this point in time. The coming litter was her father’s and as such, Georgy viewed them as a peril and went her spoiled way, prissily fawning over her father at the sight of Caroline entering the room. Secretly, the acerbic Caroline dubbed her stepdaughter the ‘Shirley Temple of cubs’. She absolutely minces when she is around Sloane…. a peewee feline geisha, thought Caroline in the kitchen resurrecting an elaborate dish from her defunct cooking show with their chef.
At the State House where Shane’s new press secretary, Amy Chui, tried diligently to get his personal attentions, Shane had other fish to fry. Aside from his full plate governing Kenya, he felt guilty about having cuffed Betty this past weekend in their bush home. He had seen her bruised cheek and tried to warm things up a bit, but she was having none of it. He made a mental note to book a private dining room at the romantic Klip ‘n Dodi’s restaurant. There he would wine and dine his wife, hopefully soothing her hurt after the unfortunate episode of his knocking her to the floor.
He walked the path to the mansion to find Betty already in the library with the twins and their son, Solly. Solly ran to greet his father and tell him of today’s soccer events. Solomon Figan Simba showed great promise, this early on, as being a potential champion soccer player. Sean came in the room to ask his father’s advice on colleges. This next term would be his senior year in high school. Sean Simba, Shane’s son by the late Catherine Cheetah Simba, was also hooked on the foremost sport in Kenya. It was the very devil for Shane to try and direct his eldest son toward some other source of university studies than concentrated ball playing. After dispatching Sean with suggestions, Shane turned to Betty. They were sitting on the overstuffed couch with Solly, the twins were playing around their feet.
“Fifi, you and I have a dinner date this evening. I have booked a private dining room at Klip ‘n Dodi’s so we can have some alone time,” he said, lifting one of the twins to his knee and proceeding to bounce him.
“No thanks, Shane. I am going to begin a new book after Jilal and Tarek are in bed and Solly is tucked in,” she declared, her voice as brittle as a bed of dried bones.
“I’m sorry about Saturday, Betty,” he began only to have her rise and leave the room. He called the nanny to attend the cubs and followed Betty to their bedroom. There she was sitting on the couch before a newly lit fire that dispelled the late afternoon chill.
“Betty, I know you are a talented author and need that outlet. I only meant to remind you that when you start a project, that’s all you’re about.”
“It’s not merely an outlet, Shane. It’s who I am,” she said, lighting a cigarette.
“Oh excuse me then for thinking that you are my wife and a mother to my kids,” he roared. “AND THE FIRST LADY OF KENYA.”
“I am that too…..and other things.”
“If you want to separate, Betty, so you can lead your author’s life exclusively, I will bow to that wish and let you do so,” he growled.
“How utterly decent of you, Shane, but I want to remain in your life, just having a role other than blood nanny to your cubs.”
“You are not even that,” he reminded harshly. “You are no blood relation to those cubs in there -purely a uterus that held them by your own design.”
“Fuck you, Shane Simba,” she shouted at his retreating form.
“In your wildest dreams,” he snarled, slamming the boudoir door behind him.
He was due in Mombasa early the next morning to consult with and advise on a development venture headed by the local bigwigs. He also needed to inspect the Japanese project for the port expansion. He decided to go early. He asked his personal butler to pack his bags and summoned the helicopter pilot for an immediate departure.
Roy Lee and Janice in their home after the dinner with Trevor and Leah.........
“I don’t trust him, Jan,” announced Roy Lee Simba after a very prickly meal with Leah and her new love, Dr. Trevor Tau.
“Roy Lee, he is a fine animal. Dedicated to his field and obviously in love with our daughter,” gently argued Janice Jaguar Simba.
Leah Simba Lyon had managed to finagle her lover into attending a dinner with her parent’s at their estate on Leoparde Drive. Trevor had been reluctant, telling Leah that it was far too premature for family assemblies. Only Roy Lee, Janice, Leah and Trevor were present at the banquet sized table made of mahogany and glass. The Simba cubs had been sent to their nursery and Leah’s children were engaged in other activities for the evening. Imani, of course, was absent due to her sudden and ardent devotion to her father, Ashley Lyon. She had taken up residence in his safari club bungalow while he temporarily resided with Tookie Simba in Mombasa.
“Where did he get that outlandish scar on his nose?” puzzled Roy Lee.
Janice threw back her head and laughed. “I believe you had a few of those, darling, before you decided they didn’t become a film star and had them removed cosmetically.”
“I got mine in bar room brawls. I wonder where Trevor got his.”
“I want to meet your pride in Botswana,” announced Leah Lyon, straddling Trevor Tau’s naked loins on his king size bed with the linen safari covers.
“Leah, for crying out loud; dispense with the family high jinks. It’s too damn early. We are just beginning our quest to be together.”
Leah was in one of her teasing moods – all coquetry and flashing green eyes.
“Would they like me?” asked Leah, putting a gentle squeeze to his erect willy and stroking it.
Trevor removed her paw. “I have no idea. My pride is as primitive as they come. I’ve already told you this.”
“Don’t get so rattled, Trev,” she crooned, sticking her tongue halfway down his throat in a sensual kiss.
The lion physician let his nervousness fall by the wayside and gave Leah another grand and thoroughly satisfying sexual romp.
In a bungalow assigned him in a remote AIDS stricken village, Staci Simba was having a come to Jesus talk with her lover, Dr. Juma Mnyama. They had never spoken in depth regarding her pregnancy and abortion. Now it was time to rip the sacred veils that shrouded the subject and get to the skinny of the matter.
“Why did you leave it to your father to announce your pregnancy to me in a round about and most unpleasant way?” inquired Juma, taking a gulp of his Scotch in the tin cup.
“I thought you would insist that I have them and put an end to my schooling, Juma.”
“Well guess what? That wouldn’t have been the case. I would have performed the abortion myself and spared you the agony of telling your powerful daddy. I know that must have been an excruciating ordeal, judging from what he said to me later.”
“I suppose I was very wrong, Juma. I apologize. I know now that Daddy threatened you with your job.”
“Yes, he did, but that is not what concerns me. It’s how little you really know me, Staci,” he said, pulling her onto his lap and removing her clothing slowly and sensually, dropping one piece at a time to the barren floor of the hut. They fell in a soft heap at his feet and almost tripped their progress to the rough bedding. The subject was forgotten for a while.
Ashley Lyon returned to his safari club bungalow in the Masai Mara to find the stench of burned cookery lingering about the rooms. He wrinkled his nose and instinctively made for the kitchen. There stood his daughter, Imani, holding a skillet that held something chunky and foul – a charred mess.
“I burned this roast,” she wailed. “Where have you been, Dad? We’ve been expecting you all week.”
“I have safaris to conduct, Imani. Some are in Mombasa,” he replied, opening a window over the sink to discharge the acrid reek which consumed the kitchen area and stung his eyes.
“The thing to do then,” declared Imani, placing the skillet in the sink and crossing her arms in a gesture of authority. “Is to open the beach place and I’ll keep house there. I still have a good bit left of my school vacation.”
“Imani, I appreciate your wanting to care for me but the best thing is for you to return to your mother and help her. I’m sure she needs direction these days,” declared Ashley unable to resist the barb.
“You are the one who needs me, Dad. You look like you’ve been hitting the bottle.”
“Imani, it is absolutely none of your business how much I drink. You are overstepping your boundaries.”
“You and Mom have fallen to pieces these days,” insisted Imani, switching her paws to her hips and actually tapping an extended foot rhythmically on the tile floor.
Ashley watched the moving foot as a cobra will a mongoose. He had planned an evening at the Watering Hole Pub with his son, Arlon, who would soon be returning to London and the university. No need to rile Imani any further this night. He left the kitchen and headed for the forehead. She pulled another roast from the fridge and placed it in a roasting pan, slamming it in the oven. She moved an errant bang from her face in exasperation. Imani Janice Lyon felt the weight of the world was on her young soldiers where her out-of-control parents were concerned.
President Shane Simba sat studying his notes at a long table in the main conference room of the Mombasa Simba Resort Hotel. Several city dignitaries were already present when another entered the room. Shane looked up to greet the newcomer and almost dropped his jaw. Standing with a notebook in hand and glasses on was Johanna Delacroix, his former human lover. She greeted him formally and took her place across from him at the table. Shane was so taken aback that he presented me with the wrong papers when I requested a written summary from his notebook. I was sitting to his right and knew the history with Johanna. I paid close attention to her introduction and presentation during the three hour meeting. She was dressed in a belted business suit of perfect cut and fabric. She presented her material well, the whirling ceiling fans lightly blowing her hair about. It seems that she has become acutely interested in the preservation of the old city (where she has a home) and has joined the task force that handles these matters. Her colleagues seemed to respect her and paid close attention to her twenty minute discourse. She is running for Mombassa’s equivalent of a city counselor. Her colleagues’ attentions weren’t the only ones focused on Johanna – Shane Simba was riveted. I had to say that she looked drop-dead gorgeous.
The gorgeous Johanna Delacroix rises to make her presentation.....
The meeting ended with a reception in one of the more intimate dining rooms gracing the extensive resort. I saw Shane approach Johanna. I don’t know what was said. He was to stay for two more days. I left Mombasa that evening on a small government bush hopping plane that I thought would disperse my stomach contents thoughout the cramped cabin so rough was the flight. I regretted the chicken salad I had eaten during the reception. I breathed a sigh of relief as we landed and taxied to the small airport in the Mara.