A Father's Love & Dedication

By Larry Gonzales

This is a story based on true life events. What is the price tag you can put on your children? We all know the answer is priceless...except for one conniving woman, and her husband, who she dragged into a life of deceit and lies! Follow Rick Martinez, from his carefree lif

• Language: English
• Publisher: Authors' Tranquility Press
• Release date: Oct 16, 2023
• ISBN: 9781962492409

Book preview

Chapter 1

There are only a handful of people in this world who are lucky enough to be granted a second chance at succeeding in life. Yet somehow, a remorseless lothario named Rick Martinez was given yet another chance—a third, to be exact. Why did he get more chances when so many other people have to make it through life without even a single helping hand? Did Rick deserve such a fortunate bounty?

Of course, his loving family and dearest friends would exuberantly answer that last question with a resounding yes. However, Rick left behind plenty of scorned women who would more than likely scream out, No way!

Not surprisingly, Rachel Porter, Rick’s embittered former wife of fourteen years (and the one most responsible for his double downfalls), would place her allegiances in the latter category.

Rachel’s first encounter was rather uneventful, except for its unique timing, occurring only hours before each experienced a disastrous event that would put them on a collision course with destiny.

It was a typically sweltering August day in Los Angeles, and the 18-year-old Rachel was enjoying a mid-week beach excursion, offering a brief recess from the city’s harsh triple-digit heat. She spotted Rick among a rowdy group of late afternoon arrivals, who had set up camp on the overcrowded shore in a recently vacated area a few yards from where Rachel was relaxing with her three closest friends.

Closest being a strictly relative term, they were Rachel’s regular acquaintances who lived nearest to her: Sandee, the next-door neighbor—a bubble-headed, bleached blonde with dazzling emerald, green eyes who didn’t mind holding the reputation for being easy; and, living across the street from Rachel, the fraternal twins—Vicky and Veronica—as well as good suppliers of weed and other pharmaceutical drugs.

While all four girls grew up together in the affluent Los Angeles area of Thousand Oaks, California, and attended the same schools, Rachel struggled constantly to mask her sense of inferiority, as her family existed on a much lower income than the rest of the community’s residents.

As Rachel sat in her folding chair like a queen, lording over her friends who were sprawled out in front of her on their own monogrammed towels, she wistfully cocked her head at the hard-partying crowd. She wanted to join in on their constant, playful chatter, which often drowned out the soft rock music blasting from their portable radio. Rachel admired their free-spirited confidence and didn’t seem to care what the surrounding beachgoers thought of them.

Rick easily stuck out among the spirited group of eight in their early twenties. He was handsome—though not strikingly so—and projected a natural, easygoing manner, aided by a wickedly delicious smile encircled by a jet-black goatee. Standing just a hair over six feet in height and displaying an athletically toned physique, he frequently let loose a boisterous laugh. His mom used to say to him, One of these days, your laugh is going to get you in trouble.

Rachel’s heart was set further aflutter when Rick picked up his weather-beaten longboard and headed toward the Pacific Ocean’s cool, inviting water. Alone.

Reflexively, Rachel tilted forward in her chair and blurted out, Let’s go swimming!

The startling comment caused Sandee and the twins to swirl their heads in unison toward Rachel, wondering if their bubble-headed friend had completely lost her mind.

Just the thought of dipping anything more than a toe into the seaweed-infested saltwater was undignified! Rachel didn’t share the group’s way of thinking that the only reason to go to the beach was to be stared at and stare at others. Sandee stared the hardest at Rachel, flashing a fierce expression that could only be interpreted as, Don’t be such an embarrassment!

Rachel thought to herself, "How in the hell did I end up having such a long-term relationship with these bitches, thinking that the rich should always compose themselves by being civilized and avoiding all recreational activities like splashing about on a public beach?"

Following a few seconds of silence, the trio returned to the business of flipping through the pages of their latest fashion magazine. Rachel shook her head before quickly scanning the surf. She discovered that Rick had already paddled beyond the breakwater and was preparing to ride his first wave. Easing back into her beach chair, Rachel enviously watched the golden-tanned surfer for about thirty minutes and let out an audible sigh when he returned to shore, running his fingers through his wet, wavy, dark brown hair that danced down to the top of his shoulders.

Who are you gawking at? Sandee asked in a very loud, rude way that jolted Rachel out of her trance. Rachel pointed to Rick, who was making his way back to his sun-worshiping friends stationed a couple of towels over, pausing numerous times to check out the beach babies in string bikinis on display.

Are you kidding me!? Sandee blurted. He’s a wetback!

Rachel winced at the crude outburst and said, "Shut the fuck up, you stupid bitch. Things are always coming out of that girl’s mouth. It must be part of being blonde with a bikini body... Ah, fuck it." The struggle to maintain self-control was too much for her.

Sandee, for God’s sake! Rachel growled softly, There are people around us who aren’t white who can hear you! Y’know, one of these days, somebody’s going to get up and beat your ass! So shut up!

Sandee, not the least bit affected by the angry remark, gestured toward the lifeguard station, where a Hollywood Baywatch prototype stood, and said, That’s the hunk you should be drooling over.

Rachel, realizing that there was no use trying to talk to somebody who was never going to listen, shifted her gaze back to Rick, who was contemplating the short journey back to his rambunctious crew. There, he was cheerfully embraced by Shelly, a curvaceous goddess who wouldn’t look out of place on the cover of Sports Illustrated’s Swimsuit Edition, and the two embarked upon a vivid public display of affection.

The fantasy-squelching scene once again thrust Rachel back to reality. She jumped out of her folding chair and announced, to no one in particular, I’ve had enough sun for the day. With that, she proceeded to wrap a short, white cover-up over her two-piece bikini—effectively hiding her own impressive figure—picked up her valuables and marched away from the sea to the adjoining parking lot. Since Rachel was the one in the trio providing transportation, her girlfriends had no choice but to follow. Unaware of the unaccountable tantrum he had unwittingly provoked nearby, Rick removed his tongue from Shelly’s throat, reached down to the radio and turned up the volume even louder as one of his favorite songs was playing: "Don’t Worry Baby by The Beach Boys. He looked over at his buddy, Jerry, a strapping blonde with an impressive body build of his own, and joked, Hey, Hulk, put your shirt back on. You’re making me jealous. Jerry shot back, Utah! Get me two, meaning get me a cold one." The entire group laughed, but no one was louder than Rick. He was the ringleader of this social circle. Jeff and Gary were his beer-guzzling co-workers, alongside, respectively, girlfriend Brenda and fiancée Amy. Pamela completed the ensemble as Jerry’s current flavor of the month.

Rick and Jerry had been best friends since the seventh grade. They were elite soccer teammates in high school, and some of the most popular students in their senior class. When Rick was voted homecoming king, stealing the title generally bestowed upon the football squad’s star quarterback, who unfortunately passed way before his time. Darren, you will be missed by many. God bless you and your family. The two even lived together for a brief time following graduation, when they both pursued promising features in the arena of professional soccer.

Sadly, a career-ending injury sent Jerry off to college, while the ultra- competitive Rick was forced to earn a living while working in his dad’s construction firm. Yet the two remained close confidantes. At no time did Rick notice that Jerry never disclosed any details about his sexual exploits with any of the numerous women he dated—an oversight that would have major outcomes years later.

Still, on that rare sunny Thursday afternoon off from work, Rick leaned back on the warm, coarse sand, cuddling up alongside Shelly and looking at the engagement ring he had placed on her finger the previous evening. He pondered—for what would be the last time in a decade and a half—that his life couldn’t be any better.

Could my life be any worse? Rachel muttered to herself as she maneuvered her run-down Nissan over the fire and mudslide Malibu Canyon hills that separated the beaches’ windswept fresh air from her home in Thousand Oaks—an upper-middle-class suburb of Los Angeles that, on its own, would be the eighth safest city in America.

She tossed a jealous eye toward Sandee, who was deeply involved in yet another idiotic cellphone conversation with her boyfriend, Bill. The two passengers in the back seat quietly listened to a shared iPod.

Why can’t I have the same things that they have? Rachel thoughtfully griped. It wasn’t the first time she had made that query. Though recently, the complaint had bounced around in her head more and more often.

It had been two months since high school commencement, and Rachel still had no solid plans for her future. She enjoyed her part-time job at the convalescent hospital, where she specialized in make-over applications for appreciated elderly patients. However, getting her parents to finance a college education in the field of nursing or cosmetology was out of the question. A self-indulgent stepmother had convinced Rachel’s father that his youngest daughter’s only real prospects lay in the performing arts.

After completing the 45-minute drive home, Rachel mustered an impudent goodbye to her semi-gracious neighborhood friends. She started up the walkway of her parents’ comparably modest home, and Elfrieda, her dad’s second wife with a German accent, said in a condescending voice, Well, it’s about time! What did I tell you about the sun? No respectable ballet company will ever want you if your skin is wrinkled and leathery!

Elfrieda, give it a rest! Rachel said to herself as she passed by her wicked stepmother. Why would any respectable company want me now? I’m a shitty dancer with a big ass nose!

Well, a little plastic surgery can fix that. Elfrieda insensitively responded as she followed her spoiled, pouting daughter into the house, completely unaware (or possibly didn’t care) that her statement was not at all consoling and, in fact, implied that it was correct: that Rachel did have a big nose.

Dad! Rachel screamed out in frustration.

Ma! Rick yelled as he walked through the front door. I’m home! What’s for dinner?

Rick was not just blessed physically and socially; he had the world’s greatest cook for a mother. A short, angelic woman with an eternally sunny disposition. Helen Martinez loved to spoil Rick, her youngest child, always making sure he was well-dressed, well-fed, and had plenty of spending money in his pocket. She also protected her brat from the wrath of his older siblings as well as the temper of the younger neighborhood kids. Rick wasn’t that much of a bully. He had been more like an obnoxious big brother to the children on the block, frequently interfering with their street games yet also introducing them to the forbidden pleasures of Playboy magazines and BB guns.

His mother would always ask him, Where have you been? knowing he was at the beach surfing with his buddies, The Penfield Avenue kids, who would exact some revenge on Rick by calling him the Playboy wanna-be.

Calm down, Ma. I’m okay. Nothing bad happened. I’m just running a little late, was Rick’s patronizing response.

Did you pick up the ‘sothas’ like I asked?

Yes, mother, I got the so-DUHS, Rick sassed, exaggerating the last syllable’s regionally proper pronunciation of sodas. Although both parents were first-generation Americans of Mexican descent, Rick, his brother Gilbert, and his sister Beth had been largely influenced by their middle- class surroundings. Thus, they spoke very little Spanish, maintaining only a bit of their ethnic heritage.

I was hoping to grab a quick bite before I meet Shelly’s parents for dinner. Don’t worry, Ma. I promise I’ll eat something at their place, too.

Okay, Mijo.

Helen quietly shrugs her shoulders. She still babied Rick, which was the reason that he, at age twenty-one, had no second thoughts about living at home. He wasn’t asked to pay any rent and could come and go as he pleased without question. If Rick got into any trouble, his mother would always be there to save him.

However, Rick also learned the virtue of a disciplined work ethic, which was taught to him by his dad, whose car horn could be heard suddenly blaring from the driveway outside.

Damn it, Rick! belted a disgruntled Armand Martinez as soon as Rick appeared at the garage door entrance to the house. How many times do I have to tell you to keep your surfing crap out of the way!

Rick had neatly stacked his gear to one side. Sorry Pops, I was checking out the evening’s dinner menu and neglected to store the equipment in its proper, place.

The Martinez family patriarch was a Silver Star recipient of the Korean War—the type of guy who could accomplish any task imaginable and usually did it better than most. An expert fisherman, sharpshooter, and mechanical engineer, the fifty-year-old small-business owner worked harder than almost any three 20-year-olds combined. Rick’s dad was only of medium build, but he boasted disproportionately large biceps—formed over decades of intense physical labor—that made him look much more imposing. Adding to that stern image, Armand was a man of very few words and even fewer smiles. He had been bitterly disappointed that Rick had decided not to follow in his older siblings’ footsteps and go to college. Even though Rick was the most productive employee in the family business, his father frequently belittled him compared to his older siblings.

Rick didn’t mind the back-breaking physical labor, and the pay was good. However, he wasn’t all that enthused about having to get up so early in the morning. Especially on days when he was required to punch in long before the rooster, and even then, Armand would already be on site, waiting impatiently. There were times Rick couldn’t stand his father, but he always held the old man in the utmost respect.

The same couldn’t be said about Rachel’s father. Walter was a tall, lanky man with thinning gray hair, a beard, and a mustache. He walked with a slight hunch that made him appear much older than he really was. Rachel viewed him as a pitiful, emasculated man who did nothing but complain about his first wife’s hypochondriac behavior. Yet his only response to her belittling rant was to have an affair with a woman who was even more domineering—and frankly, uglier.

Rachel wasn’t impressed that her dad earned a decent wage as a night supervisor for a huge janitorial outfit. She might have been proud of him if he wasn’t such a pushover. His staff consistently posted the worst attendance record in the nationwide firm. Instead of firing the lazy employees, Walter would cover for them, working all night to finish their cleaning rounds and rarely climbing into bed before dawn. After sleeping into the afternoon, he would awake to another round of criticism from Elfreida. For more than a decade, Walter graciously bowed to his second wife’s every whim without hearing so much as a single word of thanks in return.

Elfrieda was an overbearing, short, nosey, and opinionated woman, but she did deserve some credit for sticking around to raise and nurture Rachel, her older sister, Lindy, and her little brother, Adam—though in her own vicariously selfish way.

Still, it was their long-absent biological mother, Dottie, whom Rachel dysfunctionally idolized. Rachel was four years old when her parents divorced, and though she saw Dottie only a couple times since, Rachel still looked up to her as a role model, simply because she had the guts to leave a timid janitor (conveniently ignoring the fact that the woman also abandoned three children).

Rachel winced as she heard from beyond her locked bedroom door: Elfrieda let loose with another imperious barrage—this time aimed at Adam. Rachel had ample reasons for despising her bitchy stepmother. There was also the forgotten diva’s obsessive need to project an illusion of wealth to others, resulting in a hefty mortgage and overdrawn credit cards. Sure, Rachel always had plenty of great outfits to wear, thanks to Elfrieda’s shallow disposition, but she was required to leave behind her few closest friends each summer to attend ballet classes at San Francisco’s renowned Dance Academy. The school’s instructors believed that Rachel, unlike her clumsy big sister, had the grace and talent to be a major star for New York’s American Ballet Theater, but every year on Labor Day, she complained that the demands were taking a toll on her physically and mentally. However, on her eighteenth birthday, Rachel infuriated Elfrieda by announcing her decision to quit, having lost her enthusiasm for the craft long ago—the annual trips back and forth between California’s two largest cities played havoc on Rachel’s social life, leaving little time for her to have any lasting relationships outside the home.

Rick, on the other hand, was never interested in maintaining a strong romantic attachment to anyone. That is, until he met Shelly at the mall six months earlier. Rick was a fixture at the food court, regularly hunting for female prey on Saturdays. He knew every eating establishment’s proprietor by name and had worked for most of them at one time or another.

On a March afternoon, Rick serendipitously agreed to go shopping with his sister at Robinsons-May, located at the opposite end of the mall.

Just before they reached the entrance to the department store, Rick was stopped dead in his tracks by the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. She worked at a women’s clothing store in one of the shopping mall’s small boutiques.

A thunderstruck Rick waved his sister on, promising to catch up. He’d always remember what Shelly was wearing at that moment, and he’d never forget that aggravated expression on her face twenty minutes later, when he finally built up the courage to make his move.

Did it hurt? Rick had stupidly said, hoping that the crack he heard wasn’t his voice.

Oh, please! Shelly snapped back, Do you really think you’re the first guy to try that unbelievably corny line? Rick still thought she looked like an angel who had dropped from heaven, even as she continued, I’m working on commissions here, and I don’t have time to deal with some shallow dude salivating over my every move!

Rick would later discover that Shelly possessed so much more than remarkable beauty. She was extremely intelligent and quite savvy, immediately pegging Rick—even with his lame opening line—as an expert seducer who never looked beyond the next party or next score and had no time for anyone who desired something substantial.

Rejection wasn’t a familiar concept to Rick. Yet, in those rare instances when he had been shot down, he would simply move on to the next target. However, this time, Rick recalled being troubled that his petite beauty with caramel-colored irises (and midthigh shorts that exposed her perfectly sculpted legs) wouldn’t give him the time of day!

Rick was determined to prove that he was worthy of the clerk’s attention.

You realize that it’s illegal for an employer to pay you only on commission. I’m going to have to talk to your manager about that Rick assuredly stated.

I AM the manager, Shelly responded while cursing her fate that she currently had no other patrons to attend to.

You are? Rick enthused. He was telling the truth. I’ve spent the last three years studying with practically every store owner in this place, learning all the pros and cons of the retail business. Again, Rick was telling the truth.

I’ve been saving up all my money for when the time is just right. Now, Rick was lying, but he could sense that she was starting to become interested in him.

You say you know every store owner in this place? Shelly stared blankly. Absolutely, Rick beamingly responded.

Shelly needed to be convinced. Okay then. Who owns the hobby shop on the floor directly above me?

Randy’s? That would be Randy Phelps. Don’t tell anyone, but he’s got a wooden leg. He lost the one he was born with at the Desert Storm. He’s a sweet guy and very smart.

Shelly smiled slightly. I’m impressed, Mister...?

Rick. Rick Martinez.

Shelly Herndon.

If you don’t mind my asking, Shelly, how we’re you able to get started so soon? I mean, you don’t look like you’re even old enough to drink.

Actually Rick, I’m twenty-one. And I don’t mind admitting that my dad loaned me the seed money because I’m paying it all back with interest. Rick was jealous. My old man would never consider doing something like that for me. He has his own company, and I doubt he would ever consider letting me take it over when he retires, that is, if he retires.

And why is that?

Because I passed on going to college. I mean, I really could use a few business courses. It’s just... all that stuff about taxes and depreciation... anything that has to do with numbers, I just zone out. But I really love dealing with people, and the satisfaction of knowing my services have made a customer happy.

Rick was a bit surprised