Monté’s Inferno

Mrs. Lawson stomped down the steps in front of her hilltop mansion. “I ain’t going!”

It had been so long since I’d heard that voice. I was reminded of the last time I had, almost a decade ago, when Mrs. Lawson had called to tell me, “Your services are no longer needed.” Having worked for Mr. Lawson for almost twenty years, I was shocked when I was let go, but not as much as I was shocked to hear that the Lawsons were suddenly in need of my services, now.

“Come along, dear,” the familiar, yet noticeably wispier, voice of Mr. Lawson replied. “This is business that can’t be avoided.”

“I just don’t understand why we’re not taking the jet,” came the shrill cry of Mrs. Lawson.

“It’ll be like the good old days. Remember the first time we took a road trip in a limo? We were so —”

“We were so broke.”

“We had hopes. Dreams. Good friends.”

“We don’t need any of those things, especially the friends. I mean, look at everything we have now.” Mrs. Lawson spun around and stretched her arms out at the property, as I exited the vehicle to help them gather their bags and walked up behind them. “You’ve got me scared of this little walk down memory lane that you’re wanting to take. I half expect I’ll turn around and it’ll be that old stooge, Monté, whose come to take us —”

“Ahem, ma’am,” I muttered, sauntering up behind Mrs. Lawson. I tipped my cap as she turned to me, wide-eyed, and I continued, “Been some time.”

“Oh, great. This is just great. I fired this bozo years ago. Can’t we call Reginald? He knows his place and doesn’t blabber, unlike some people.”

“Leah, behave,” Mr. Lawson said, shaking his head. “Don’t mind her. She’s having a bad day.”

I nodded, taking their bags from him and putting them in the trunk.

Mrs. Lawson waved us away and wheeled around on her heel, taking one last look at the house, “So long, my little piece of heaven.” She pouted and plodded her way over to the car door I held open for her.

Mr. Lawson nodded at me solemnly, patted my shoulder, and got into the stretch limousine. I closed the door behind them and sighed, then walked around to the driver’s seat and started the engine.

I lowered the partition between the Lawsons and me, just in time to hear Mr. Lawson say, “Don’t you feel it coming back to you, sweetheart? That youthfulness. That innocent naivety that we had so long ago. The warm summer breeze we let carry us, wherever it may, on that first excursion of ours.”

“All I feel is sick.” Mrs. Lawson retched the words. “It’s disgustingly humid. Monté, please. Do something about it. Quickly!”

“I’ll see right to it,” I said, cranking the air conditioner to the max.

“Don’t you remember, my dear? We went for a nice romantic dinner. It was like we were the only two in the whole world that night,” Mr. Lawson said.

“You mean the three of us? Everywhere we went back then, this piece of wood had to drive us. I don’t miss those days, not one bit.” Mrs. Lawson’s face puckered. “I much prefer the nice quiet ride on the jet.”

As it so happened, we were just turning onto the exact street where the Lawson’s had had that “nice romantic dinner.” Mr. Lawson pointed, and waved with his other hand at his wife.

“Oh hush, darling,” said Mr. Lawson. “Here’s the place, now! What a coincidence. But, oh my, it sure looks different. There used to be seats outside, remember? That night was hot but my date was hotter. Thinking about it’s got me sweating all over again.”

“Yeah, me too,” said Mrs. Lawson, arms folded and face pulled tight, her hair and makeup melting down her face.

“And is that… oh my goodness, it really is Aldo!” said Mr. Lawson.

A lanky man with a moustache sitting on a face as floppy as a hound’s stood on the sidewalk behind a cart. He shouted out into the street. He shouted to himself. People walked past and didn’t seem to be buying whatever it was he was selling.

Mr. Lawson yelled, “Stop here, Monté!” and leaned out of the window, shouting, “Aldo, Aldo! We were just talking about your beautiful restaurant, but…”

Aldo’s old restaurant stood, not two store fronts down. It had been converted. Where there were once curtains of fine lace and painted signs, there were now cold glass panes and electric neon lights. Where once stood tables, linens, chairs, and piping hot pastas there were now angular counters and displays with phones on them, and youngsters sitting on stools.

“This place never had much class,” Mrs. Lawson huffed.

“Come, my dear,” Mr. Lawson said, jumping out of the car.

Mrs. Lawson sat, fanning herself with her hand. “I don’t understand why we have to do all of this today. You haven’t even told me where it is that we’re going.” Mrs. Lawson sat like a stubborn old rock. The car behind me honked.

“Aldo has shaved ice here,” Mr. Lawson yelled back to her.

Mrs. Lawson groaned. “I suppose I could go for something cold. Maybe this fool will finally be of some use.” Mrs. Lawson made her way out of the vehicle and towards Mr. Lawson who stood in front of the shaved ice stand.

“Oh, he has cherry. That was always your favorite,” Mr. Lawson said, smiling with a far off look in his eye. “This reminds me of that delicious cherry pie you ordered that night. It’s like everything is coming full circle.”

“The pie was awful and the service was even worse. I don’t regret calling the health department after we left that night.” Mrs. Lawson shook her head.

“I knew it was you!” said Aldo, coming from around the cart, waving a serving spoon.

“You’re damn right it was. And I’d do it again! As a matter of fact, let me take a look at those freezers of yours.”

Then, the last thing I think any of us thought would happen, happened. Aldo wept. Aldo went to his knees, waved his fists at the sky, and cried.

“Why?” Aldo asked the sky. “Why would you bring this woman back to me? Why would you test me like this?”

Mrs. Lawson winced and grimaced, “Alright, man. Enough. Get up, get up! You’re making me look bad. Robert, get Aldo up. He’s making a scene.”

When Mr. Lawson proved himself too feeble to help Aldo, Mrs. Lawson pointed, pulled, pushed, and ushered for me to assist. Between Mr. Lawson and myself, we barely managed it.

Aldo, on his feet, through rapid gasps said, “You… you ruined me!”

“Get over it,” said Mrs. Lawson, and went on, “My husband, my valet, and I will each have a cone and we’ll call it all even. Alright?”

“Dear, we’d have to buy the whole cart to even begin to call it even,” said Mr. Lawson.

Mrs. Lawson said, “You know what. Nevermind. I’d rather us all die from heatstroke than be so disrespected like this, by all of you!” She got back in the hot, moist, back seat and stuck to it.

Mr. Lawson handed money to Aldo. They exchanged a few words that I couldn’t make out before Mr. Lawson strode back to the car. If he was upset, his face never betrayed him.

“Please tell me that that’ll be the last detour we take down memory lane.” Mrs. Lawson shook her head. “I can’t wait to get away from this miserable, outdated, piece of garbage.”

“I don’t anticipate anything else standing in the way of us getting to our destination,” Mr. Lawson said, as he nodded at me.

I tipped my hat and had us on the road again. Three shaved ices were dripping onto Mr. Lawson’s hands. He put a lemon one through the hole between us, handing it to me, and held yet another lemon and a cherry.

“You sure you don’t want it, dear?” Mr. Lawson asked, offering the bright red one to Mrs. Lawson. He took a lick of his own and continued, “It’s quite refreshing, I assure you!”

Mrs. Lawson glared at him and pursed her lips. “And how much did you pay him to be… refreshed?”

Mr. Lawson said, “Oh darling, you’ve never shown much of an interest in my business dealings before.”

“Anyway.” Mrs. Lawson rolled her eyes and they settled on me. “Could you please turn the air up some more? It feels like it’s doing nothing at all.”

“It’s as high as it goes, Mrs. Lawson,” I told her.

“Then I suppose I’ll break my own rule. We need to make one more stop,” Mrs. Lawson said.

“And where would that be, madame?” I asked.

“Somewhere we can get the A/C fixed!”

“I know just the spot,” I said, and changed course ever so slightly. “It’ll take us the other way out of town, but there’s a whiz that just started working at Baldwin’s —”

“No way are we going through that neighborhood,” cried Mrs. Lawson. “That is the worst —”

“Baldwin’s. Dear. Come on! It’s fate. After our romantic dinner, we thought we were all good to get on the road, don’t you remember? Then we caught a flat and had to stop there to get it fixed,” Mr. Lawson chimed in.

“Honestly, I’d rather not remember,” Mrs. Lawson responded. “And it was a lousy area then and it’s only gotten worse. It’s not a safe place to be.”

“We’ll only be in and out. It really shouldn’t take too long,” I said, trying to reassure Mrs. Lawson.

“Hush, Monté, there you go babbling again. I can’t wait till this cursed limo ride is over. You know it’s days like today that reassure me I did the right thing in getting rid of you and this old thing.” Mrs. Lawson banged her fist on the roof of the limo. “All it does is clink and clank. I thought I’d seen the last of it,” Mrs. Lawson said. She tried to roll the windows down, but found they no longer worked. “Alright. Well, that’s the last straw. I suppose if Baldwin’s is my only hope, then that’s where your ‘warm breeze’ is blowing us, dear.”

Mr. Lawson grabbed Mrs. Lawson’s hand. “That’s the spirit, darling. That’s the girl I remember from all those summers ago. Ready to try new things!”

“Well,” said Mrs. Lawson, looking out the window. “If I’m being forced to relive the past, maybe I can at least endure it with a new perspective.”

“I suppose that’s half-way there, sweetheart. To Baldwin’s, Monté!”

I drove a good twenty minutes. Sat in traffic a good forty. Mr. Lawson pointed in all directions, feverishly, as we went along and said “remember this, darling,” or “oh wow, I can’t believe that’s still there,” the whole way to Baldwin’s. When we got there, he jumped up so quickly, I thought I’d put on the brakes too suddenly and had sent him flying.

Mrs. Lawson looked out of the window and made faces like someone getting a needle at the doctor’s office. She took Mr. Lawson’s hand and, for the first time all day, smiled. It was crooked and filled with more artificial brightness than her melted shaved iced, but it was there. And for a moment I felt there was some hope for Mrs. Lawson.

Mr. and Mrs. Lawson walked inside the old, ragged, building. There was a rusted metal sign that sat inside the window.

I ran to catch up with them. For a couple of their age, they moved fairly quickly.

Mrs. Lawson rang the bell, before placing her hands on her hips. “Hello!” The urgency was back in her voice. Mrs. Lawson was one of the most impatient people I’d ever known.

“This is taking forever!” Mrs. Lawson said, throwing her hands up in the air.

A few moments later, an older gentleman, about our age, came from the garage and approached the counter.

“George?” Mrs. Lawson spat.

“Leah?” George staggered a moment. “Is that really you?”

“Who else could I possibly be, George?”

“Well, you look like hell!” George said, laughing.

“What did you say to me?” Mrs. Lawson went around the counter and got up in George’s face. “Say that again.”

“Let it go, darling,” said Mr. Lawson. He walked around the counter and grabbed his wife’s hand. He looked at her for a moment and she straightened herself up.

“How unbecoming of me. To act so unladylike,” she said. She walked around, to the front of the desk, with her husband.

“We need our A/C looked at,” I said.

“There you go again, blabbing on and on,” said Mrs. Lawson. “Mr. Lawson and I can handle things, thank you kindly.”

“Handle things? Same way you handled our relationship?” George asked.

“Oh, drop it. It wasn’t a big deal. Our relationship was over, for years before I left. I did us both a favor.”

“You left me high and dry. I gave you everything I could and it wasn’t enough. You needed the diamonds, the gold, the stretch limo, and the private jet. You left me for that. And now I’m supposed to help you?”

“What’s wrong with that?” Mrs. Lawson said, shrugging.

“After you left I lost the house, the cars. I had to start all over.” George clenched his fist.

“And, what does that have to do with me?”

“What it has to do with you is this,” George said, a smile quivering on his face. “I’ll work on your car. No charge, in fact — consider it charity. All you have to do… is say you’re sorry.”

“Come again.” Mrs. Lawson cupped her ear with her hand. “You were mumbling.”

“You heard the price. Now, are you willing to pay it?”

Mrs. Lawson’s cupped hand came down in front of her and she extended her middle finger toward George. She turned on her heel and walked out of the shop. Mr. Lawson shook his head and went to George to have a conversation I never heard. I followed behind Mrs. Lawson to make sure she wasn’t trying to take her anger out on the limo.

“This day has been the worst day of my life,” Mrs. Lawson said, kicking the back passenger tire. “I just want to get this over with. Tell Robert to hurry up. It’s scalding hot out here.”

“Mr. Lawson —“ I shouted before Mrs. Lawson interrupted me.

“Robert. Robert, come on. We don’t owe that man anything. I paid enough, being married to him for as long as I was!”

Mr. Lawson marched out, quietly got into the limo and Mrs. Lawson followed. I got back behind the wheel and got us out of there.

I drove us out of town. I got on the highway and took us only a few exits down the road before getting off, once more. Around a loop and onward. Everyone in the vehicle knew where we were but Mrs. Lawson was, unsurprisingly, the one to say it.

“The airport! Darling. I knew you were up to something!” She squealed and threw her arms around her husband.

As we approached, a massive, miles-long fence came into view. A giant gate sat at the center and separated us from the Lawson’s private jet, where it sat on the runway.

“What’s all this?” asked Mrs. Lawson.

“A choice, dear,” said Mr. Lawson. “I want us to recapture what we had all those summers ago. I want you to come on this road trip with me. Or… you can get on that plane and —”

“Don’t be ridiculous, dear,” Mrs. Lawson said, getting out of the limo. She looked at the gate and said, “I don’t know what sort of prank this is, but enough is enough, dear. We’ll have the pilot take us wherever it is you wanted to go.”

Mrs. Lawson approached the gate and it creaked open. She got aboard the plane, with the help of the crew, and waved for her husband to come — but the door was already being shut behind her. Mrs. Lawson banged on the window.

The plane began to move and then took off. It got just about to the clouds when it burst into flames.

But it flew on.

And on.

“I was rooting for her, sir,” I said.

“As was I, Monté. I thought, given the opportunities, that she’d right some of her wrongdoings. When she ordered our pilot to fly through that storm, I was sure she hadn’t meant to get us killed… get me killed. But even given a second chance —”

“I know, sir. It was always going to be her way or the highway.” I sighed and adjusted my cap. “So. Where to now, sir?”

“Back to my little piece of heaven, I suppose.”