Weaver

"Bob, I don't know how I'll ever thank you," stuttered Weaver.

"Don't thank me, pal," he replied. "See this woman here?" he said nodding to Arlene. "Unlike the rest of us, she actually CAN see the future in a whiskey glass. She's the one who found Kristyna for you; she's the one to thank."

The first thing Weaver thought of was the way he acted the first time they had met.

"I never did apologize for being so rude to you in Jerry's that night, did I," he said sheepishly.

"No need to apologize, Weaver," she told him. "I'm just glad it worked out...for both of us," she said, looking over at Bob.

"So what's on the agenda?" Bob asked.

"I...I don't know," Weaver responded. "I want to see my son. Kris says she brought him with; he's HERE." His voice was full of excitement as he emphasized the last word.

Arlene glanced at her watch. "Yeah, but it's after midnight. I know you're anxious but he's probably asleep already. He's staying at Jeanie's, my neighbor's. I'm sure she has him safely tucked into bed by now, so if I were you, I'd want some time alone with my wife to rekindle my marriage," she said with a grin.

Neither Kristyna nor Weaver could hide the mix of nervous excitement they both felt.

"That's a good idea," replied Weaver looking at his long lost wife. "My apartment's not much," he told her, "but..."

Kristyna never gave him a chance to finish his statement. Her lips pressing tightly against his told him she didn't care about his apartment.

Arlene called her neighbor to make sure everything was okay with Charlie. She confirmed he was peacefully sleeping on her couch and she was about to go to bed herself.

Before leaving the bar they all arranged to meet at Arlene's apartment the following morning.

As the newly re-united couple left, Bob turned to the sexy woman sitting across the table. "It would probably be easier for me just stay at your place tonight. What do you think?"

A little later that night, a very nervous Chuck Adams watched as his wife disrobed just like she had so many times in his dreams. He became instantly aroused at the mere touch of her naked flesh. The subtle fragrance of her womanly scent flooded his memory with visions of forlorn passions. He was captivated by her nudity. She hadn't changed a bit in ten years.

Wrapped in an erogenous fog, he felt his cock freed from its confines before being surrounded by the warmth of his wife's moist lips. An incoherent sound of pleasure escaping from deep in his throat served as his only communique of approval.

It had been so long. Weaver knew he wouldn't last long. He bent down and raised Kristyna up by her arms. "I want to be inside of you, honey," he whispered.

She replied, "I'm nervous, darling. I don't think I'm ready yet. It's been so...so long, I...I'm not even sure I can still get wet anymore."

He just smiled and helped her onto the bed. He remembered! It was all coming back to him, every sensual area of her body that drove her wild.

She moaned, her body writhed under his tender touch.

"I love you," he breathed quietly, while lightly kissing behind her ear. "I have never stopped loving you."

She gasped as her nipples responded to the gentleness of his fingertips. As he moved into place, there was no problem. Her love juices flowed lavishly, making his entry, glide with ease.

A few miles away, a similar scene was taking place in Arlene's apartment. Bob took her in his arms. Their eyes closed as his lips met hers. Arlene felt her pulse quicken as he tenderly caressed her neck. Their tongues battled for supremacy as the fire in their loins grew hotter.

"God, I want you so bad," whispered Arlene as she tugged on his earlobe with her teeth. "Take me, Bob."

He didn't need to be told twice. Feverishly they tore at each other's clothes and within seconds their naked flesh pressed together in unbridled passions. Arlene's fingernails dug deeply into the skin of Bob's back as he drove his hard cock into her again and again. It didn't take either of them long to climax with the intensity of a title wave.

Within minutes they were both ready for round two, only this time Bob took his time. He explored Arlene's body and relished in rediscovering every sexy, sultry, and sensuous inch of feminine perfection.

After going for a third time, they were physically and emotionally drained. Arlene snuggled into Bob's arm and silently gave thanks. She knew what her mistake almost cost her and vowed never to take another chance like that again.

Arlene was up first. She quietly slipped out of bed without waking up her man. After the night they had, she was sure he needed his rest. The thought brought a smile to her face.

She glanced at the clock on her way to the kitchen; it was seven o'clock on a glorious Saturday morning. The bright sun bathed her apartment with a cheerful, carefree atmosphere. As she measured out the coffee grounds, Arlene hummed along with music provided by her fine feathered friends outside the window.

Before leaving Zale's the night before, they made plans for Charlie to meet his father. Weaver and Kristyna would be at Arlene's apartment about eight in the morning. Jeanie would have the boy up and dressed by eight-thirty, at which time his mother would come and get him.

Shortly after the coffee started to perk, it started calling to Bob. His nose twitched and breathed in the aroma. What a glorious way to wake up, he thought. He looked around the bedroom. It had been a while since he had awakened in that room...too long. It was good to be back.

"Well good morning, sleepy-head."

Bob's attention was diverted to the loving woman who stood in the doorway holding two cups of morning joe.

"Good morning, gorgeous," he replied with big grin. He wasn't sure if she'd notice the tented sheet or not so he consciously twitched his cock to make sure.

The jumping sheet definitely caught her interest. "Was that for my benefit?" she asked with a laugh.

"Oh yeah," he replied. "Why don't you set those cups down and hop on. I'll take you for a ride."

She knew she shouldn't. Weaver and Kris would be there in forty-five minutes and they hadn't even showered yet, but she still had his love juice in her from that night so she didn't have to worry about getting wet. Oh what the hell, she told herself.

Arlene set the two cups of coffee down on the dresser. "Waaaa-hoooo," she yelled running to the bed. She ripped the sheet down and swung her leg over him. Propping herself up on her knees, she straddled Bob's hips, then reached down and guided his stiff shaft into her love canal. Slowly she lowered herself until she was completely impaled. Arlene closed her eyes and enjoyed the full feeling as she rocked back and forth. She felt his fingers caress her nipples.

Within a few minutes both were breathing hard. Arlene kept a steady rhythm as she got closer and closer. "Oh God," she moaned. "I...I'm going to cum baby, I...I'm going to..."

"Oh, co...come on," he replied. "Cum for me, honey; me too...I'm, ah..."

"AAAYYYYYYEEEE," she screamed.

Together their bodies tensed as every nerve ending exploded like fireworks in ecstasy.

Arlene collapsed onto Bob's chest, gasping for a breath. Wrapped in each other's arms and lost in lust, they just started to cuddle...

"Oh shit," cursed Arlene as she jumped up.

"What, what's the matter?"

"They'll be here in twenty minutes," she replied. "Hurry up, we still have to grab a shower." She saw the grin on his face. "No, I don't mean one of those showers. Come on, Bob. Weaver's going to meet his son for the first time this morning; I want to have everything ready for them."

Bob felt a flash of guilt. He was so enthralled with his own reconciliation, he had forgotten about his friend's. He quickly hopped from the bed. Twenty minutes later, Arlene was still drying her hair when the doorbell rang.

"Right on time," Bob commented.

"Did you think they would be late? I'm actually surprised they weren't here an hour ago. Can you let them in, honey? I'll be out in just a few minutes; coffee is all ready."

As Bob opened the door, he almost didn't recognize the cheerful looking man on the other side. Sure, over the past few months Weaver had smiled and joked around, but there was always that ever present sadness just below the surface. You could see it in his eyes. The man that now stood before him was not the same man. This man's eyes sparkled brilliantly. The lady on his arm also looked as if someone had just freed her soul.

"Hi guys. Arlene is still drying her hair but she'll be out in a minute or so; coffee's fresh. Come on in the kitchen," he said turning and leading the way.

As Arlene joined the group, the conversation reflected the nervousness in the room. Thirty-eight times in his professional career, Weaver stepped into the ring with someone hell-bent on beating him to a pulp but never did he feel fear; it was an emotion with which he was unfamiliar...until that morning when he was about to meet his son for the first time.

Kristyna looked at him and reached over to take his hand. "Are you ready?"

"What...ah, what have you told him; about me, I mean?" With everything going on, he never thought to ask her before.

"I didn't lie to him, Chuck. I told him pretty much what I told you, without all the details of course. I told him you disappeared just days before the fight and I hadn't seen or heard from you since."

"Does he...hate me?"

"He's never really said anything. He's asked questions, what you looked like, things like that, but he's never expressed feelings for you one way or another. How could he? He only knows of you what I've told him."

"Well," said Weaver in a shaky voice, "I guess we'll soon find out, won't we."

"It's going to be fine," Arlene told him.

"Of course it is, Weaver," chimed in Bob.

Kristyna rose from her chair and leaned over to kiss her husband. "Don't worry, honey. We're a family now." She turned toward the door. I'll be right back," she said.

Weaver looked at his friend. "Bob, I've never been so scared in my life," he confessed.

"Weaver, I've met him. He's a fine boy. Kristyna did a great job of bringing him up. You're going to be extremely proud of him and I'm sure it'll be mutual."

Before another word was spoken, they all looked up as they heard the front door. They watched intently as Kris walked in with Charlie close behind. He started to greet the two people he already knew.

"Good morning, Ms. Reynolds, good morning, Mr. Rawl..." he stopped in mid-sentence when the man sitting on the far end of the table caught his eye. Charlie took a moment to study him. "Mom, who is that man?"

"Charlie, when you've had questions about..."

"No, no," he said, cutting his mother off. His voice became excited. "Who is he? I think I know. He looks like the picture on your dresser."

Silence filled the room as the young man cautiously approached the mysterious figure.

"Are...are you my father?" he asked.

"Yes," answered Weaver with tears streaming down his face.

"WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?" screamed Charlie as he flung his fists in a frustrated rage.

For the first time in his life, Weaver made no attempt to defend himself. The furious, tiny fists struck his arms and chest, again and again. With every blow that landed Weaver felt his son's torment and accepted each inflicted wound with a sense of absolution for his own guilt.

"Charlie!" his mother yelled, but before she could grab him, the firestorm that had erupted within her son burned out as quickly as it began. The initial shock from seeing his dad for the first time and the anger that ensued had vanished with his assault; left in its wake came flooding the love of boy for his father. Now, out of breath, he stood and stared at the subject of so many dreams...and nightmares.

"Dad! Dad! Where have you been?" he cried. "I knew it! I knew someday you would come back to us, I KNEW it!" Tears burst from the boy's eyes as the ecstatic young man threw himself into his father's open arms.

"I'm sorry, son. I'm sorry, but I'll never leave you again, I promise...never again."

There wasn't a dry eye in the place as everyone watched the two clutching onto each other. No one talked; everyone was too choked up to put two syllables together. They just simply watched the remarkable bonding between father and son.

It was too much for Kristyna. It was really happening; her family was together for the first time. Her legs turned to rubber and she collapsed onto a chair. She buried her face in her hands and bawled.

Arlene looked over at her man. She raised her hand, and with a tender smile, wiped away the moisture from his eyes, then with a small chuckle, wiped her own.

"Okay," Arlene was the first to finally speak. "Who's all for breakfast. Charlie, how do you like your eggs?"

"Here," Kristyna spoke up while drying her eyes. "Let me help."

That morning turned out to be, not only memorable for Weaver and Charlie, but for everyone. Life-long friendships were forged that day; friendships that would never be broken.

For the rest of Saturday and all day Sunday, Weaver, Kristyna, and Charlie spent time together as a family. Later Sunday evening, everyone was growing uneasy. Even though it would be temporary, they would have to separate again. They both had jobs they had to be at the next morning. There were tears all around when it came time for Kris and Charlie to head back to Peoria. It was a scene that would be played out several times over the next several months.

"Bob, it's getting harder and harder to say goodbye, but there's so many things that we have to take care of before she can move up here permanently," Weaver explained to his friend, one night at Zale's after closing the gym.

"Kris still has six months to go on her apartment lease. I have four months on mine. School will be starting in another week and Kris hates the idea of Charlie having to change schools in the middle of the year but neither one of us have the money to pay off both leases."

"Weaver, what happened to all the money you made in the ring? Hell, with all your wins, you must have made a million, at least," Bob said.

"That's one of the first things I checked into after finding out I had a family again. I hired a lawyer hoping I was still worth some bucks. Actually I had won almost four million in prize money, but it wasn't all mine. I was incorporated when I was fighting. I had investors that held stock."

"Boy, I'll bet they were pissed when you quit," Bob said.

"Ah huh," chuckled Weaver, "and they weren't the only ones. The World Boxing Association pulled my million dollar guaranty for the fight and fined me another million for not fulfilling my contract. The corporation was also sued by just about everyone who was linked with the fight, including the champ himself. There's nothing left, not a penny. Of course I didn't know anything about all the law suits until last week."

He took a swig of beer and continued.

"The lawyer said it was a good thing I stayed under the radar. There's a statute of limitations for the period of time they could come after me, but up till three years ago, they could have sued me, personally. They wouldn't have gotten much but they might have been able to attach what meager earnings I made and I think some of those people would have done it just for revenge."

"Damn," said Bob shaking his head. "Weaver, if you need a loan I can help. I'm not rich but I can spare a few..."

"Thanks, Bob," Weaver interjected, "but I'll work it out. I haven't been exactly living high on the hog all these years. I have a few bucks stashed away. It's just...with so much to do it's a little overwhelming I guess."

The two men took a sip of their beer before Weaver continued.

"You know what still bothers me about this whole thing? Why would Eric lie to me like that? We were close, Bob. We were a lot more than just boxer and manager; he was almost like a dad to me. Why the hell would he tell me something like that, knowing it would ruin my life? I just don't get it."

With everything going on, Bob had forgotten about Eric. "I know where he is, if you want to ask him," he told his shocked friend.

"You know where he is?" Weaver's expression turned to a scowl. "All this time you've know where to find Eric and you didn't tell me?"

"I'm sorry. Like you, I've been so overwhelmed with everything I just didn't think about it until you just mentioned him."

"Well...where? Where the hell is he? Is he here in Chicago?"

"No," Bob responded. "He lives in a flop house in Grand Rapids. It's one of those places that has a switchboard. You call the number and they connect you with the room. Arlene probably still has the number. If she doesn't have it, I know Derick does. He's guy who tracked down you wife."

Weaver's chest tightened as the anger at his former manager festered with the thought of confronting him. "I want that number," he growled. "I want to know why."

"He may not talk to you over the phone," said Bob.

"Then I'll go up there and beat it out him if I have to," snarled Weaver.

Bob was sorry he'd said anything. For the first time in months, he saw the pain and anger returning to his friend's face. Me and my big mouth; I should have just left well-enough alone, he told himself.

"Come on, Weaver, you don't really mean that. By the way the guy lives, I think he's been punishing himself all these years." Bob thought back to when he and Arlene had gone up to see Eric. Before leaving, the old man said to tell Weaver he was sorry. Arlene wanted to ask him what he meant by that, but he pulled her out of there thinking she was prying into bad memories. Now he wished he would have let her pry.

"Look," Bob continued. "I really think somebody should be with you when you make that call. Why don't you come to my place Saturday morning. By then I'll have the number and you can take some time to kind of rehearse what you're going to say.

Weaver agreed it was a good idea. He needed some time to calm himself. He knew if he just started yelling and cussing Eric out, he'd more than likely, not get the answers to his questions.

Bob had the coffee all made by the time Weaver showed up that following Saturday.

"Sit down. Relax a few minutes and have a cup of coffee," he told the nervous ex-fighter. Grand Rapids is an hour ahead of us but I'm not even sure Eric would be up yet."

Bob started talking about the gym to get Weaver's mind off of Eric for a little while. When he seemed more at ease, Bob asked the question. "Well, are you ready? Do you want to do this?"

"Yeah, let's get it over with," he responded with a slight nod.

Bob placed the call with his cell. When the switchboard connected him to Eric's room, Bob handed Weaver the phone.

"Hello."

Weaver was startled to hear a woman's voice answer.

"Ah, hel...hello. Is Eric there, please?"

"May I ask who's calling?"

"My name is Chuck Adams. I, ah, I used to be a fighter. Eric was my manager."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Adams. I'm Tara, his daughter."

"Daughter?" he replied with surprise. "I didn't even know he had a daughter."

"I don't think anybody knew," she commented. "My mother left him when they were both very young and took me with. I've been searching for him for years and just found him myself, a couple weeks ago."

She made an audible sigh before continuing.

"I'm sorry, though, you can't talk to him; he's in the hospital. I'm afraid he only has a few days left. He's dying of cirrhosis of the liver."

"Dying," he repeated in shock. "I...I'm sorry," he told her.

"Thank you. Listen, maybe you could help me. You said you were a fighter? Do you know how I can get in touch with a fighter by the name of Weaver?"

"That's me," he answered. "It's a nickname the sports writers gave me."