Part 3

A wave of fear swept through Tito’s body. As the man got closer, the light accentuated his features. The man seemed to be on the wrong side of his 40s, built heavily and had a stony expression. Beads of sweat rolled down Tito’s smooth face. He knew he was an innocent man but he had a gut wrenching feeling he had done something wrong, something salacious. Tito’s worst fears came true. It was Preston. He had a gun!

Back in the heydays, when Tito was a young lothario, he had committed a grave mistake, a mistake that was going to cost him his life.

He had his eye on the town’s school teacher. She was a pretty woman in her early twenties. She lived alone in a small house her father had left for her. It was not uncommon for her when amorous men letched at her lustfully. She tried her best ignoring the snides and passes made by eve-teasers. Rumors were rife about her stormy relation with the mayor’s son. The break up was so bad, that apparently, the mayor’s son killed himself. She never agreed nor denied her relationship with the mayor’s son.

Tito knew she was single and in her prime. He had an irrestible urge for her. Since she was hard to get, it got him excited even more. He always got his ladies, easy or hard to get. He knew his charm would not let him down. On one fine afternoon, he felt the time was right. He carefully adjusted his intentionally tousled hair and did what he could do best with his clothes. He picked up a bunch of neatly cut short stemmed roses. “Roses can never let you down” he thought and headed towards the school with an impish smile.

As she came out of the gate, his heart skipped a beat. She looked very beautiful that day. He knew his mind was playing tricks. She was always beautiful. His testosterone raced and he lost control of his mind. He followed the teacher for a distance, away from the bustling market and to a quiet dark lane. He quickened his pace and grunted an “excuse me” The teacher continued walking. He knew she ignored him. This angered him a little. He ran behind her and said “excuse me” with more gumption. She stopped walking and turned around, facing Tito. Tito’s face flushed into a crimson red. This was the closest he had ever got to her. He did not know what to say, he did not care. He could stand there the whole day staring at her. The teacher broke the ice with a miffled “Yes, can I help you?” “Even her voice is so beautiful” thought Tito and before he could muster up the courage to talk again, the teacher began to walk away. He finally shouted “I really like you” The teacher paused. “I think you are very beautiful and I really like you” Tito never played his women that way. He always waited for them to confess their love for him. He never did. His ego did not let him. Today, however, his ego vanished. His vanity dissipated. He just wanted to talk to the teacher.

and it continues.....

PIECES OF A DREAM - continued....

Part 2:

Tito was a respected and adored man in his town. He had this irrepressible charm that got him anything and everything he wanted. With the features of a Greek God, six feet tall, blue eyed and masculine, he commanded an air of authority and respect. Tito was always the ladies’ man. No matter what he said, what he did, the ladies swooned for him. His charisma was his prerogative. Every man in town wanted to be like him, every young boy wanted to grow up to be him. He was every guy’s secret idol. His taciturn and laconic replies were a little unnerving, but there was nothing reproachful of him. Leading a perfect life was something he did with ease. But not everyone knew his deep dark inner side.

A myriad of emotions was running through Tito’s mind while he was walking back home. He had just lost a considerable amount of money gambling. What was he going to tell his landlady? He owed her two months’ rent and was running out of excuses. The gambling incident was indelible. He could not win back that much again. His sanguine and cheery mood was no more. He lost hope. His penchant for getting out of trouble was something that brought him a lot of optimism, but not this time. Trying to assuage his loss, he headed to the local bar. The dusty, lacklustre bar was a subterfuge to the atmosphere outside. The bartender had a wry smile as he served the usual to Tito; Scotch, on the rocks.

As he downed the drink with profligate haste, enjoying every drop of it, he heard a loud thud. It was the door. He noticed someone get in. The dark and shadowy room made it hard for him to size up the man. His footsteps were hard and heavy. There was a sinister silence in the bar. The noisy crowd at the end of the room became so quiet that the tension in the room could be felt. The man had something in his hand. He was gripping it really tight and had it aimed towards one direction, towards one person: TITO.

More to come.....