by Mary Tribbey
Chapter 8
Joan rode up to the second floor and then pushed the down button. When she got back out in the lobby, she peered cautiously outside. Dave’s car was gone. Since her boss used to live in the building, Joan knew the building’s lay out. She went down the hallway to the pay phone. She called a cab and waited by the door until it pulled up in front. Carrying the roses and the stuffed bear and still wearing the Rams jacket, she dashed out and climbed into the cab. She gave the cabbie her address and sank back into the cushions for the ride home.
In spite of the jacket’s thickness, she didn't feel as warm as she had felt in Dave’s car with his arm draped loosely around her shoulder. She remembered the light way his lips had covered hers and sighed. It had been a perfect evening, one she would never forget. She was honest enough with herself to admit that she found Dave very attractive and that she thoroughly enjoyed his kisses. She also knew getting involved with him or with any man was too risky. Because of curious people, she had been forced to pull up stakes and move on. She didn't want to leave now that she had been promoted, but Dave was definitely too attractive and too dangerous to see again.
Joan smiled when she thought about Cindy. It would be wonderful to have her for a friend. Her time with Cindy made her realize how much she had missed out on by not having a close female friend. Cindy was such a bubbly, fun person; Joan decided she would call Cindy. A female friend would not complicate her life. It would only make her life better.
Once inside the safety of her small apartment, Joan carefully placed the roses in a large vase. The beauty of the flowers brightened up the drab interior and the sweet fragrance filled the room. Joan reached out and touched the delicate petals before sitting down on the sofa. She closed her eyes and breathed in the intoxicating aroma. She hugged the stuffed bear, and she trembled as she remembered how warm and inviting Dave’s arms had felt and the feeling of desire that his kisses had aroused. She shook her head in wonder.
After Larry's death and all the turmoil, she thought all feelings of desire were dead inside her. She realized now those emotions had only been lying dormant. Dave’s touch and his gentle kisses had awakened her feelings. Like a sleeping giant, they were coming awake, demanding to be released.
Realizing those feelings could never be expressed or fulfilled, she choked back a sob. She pulled off her clothes and sank down into her bed. A feeling of loneliness and sorrow filled her as she tossed and turned. It took a long time for sleep to finally overtake her. By the time she fell asleep, she decided that she must keep way from Dave. He was much too attractive and aroused feelings in her that were best left buried. Getting involved with any man was dangerous, but being around Dave was impossible. Joan knew Dave’s feelings of respect for her were very important to her. She could not face the thought of seeing disgust or horror in his eyes when he looked at her. Joan realized if she was not careful, she could easily fall in love with Dave, and that would destroy everything she’d worked for since moving to Los Angeles. “I’d better be careful. Getting close to Dave is too dangerous,” she sighed.
As Dave was driving home, he cursed angrily. “I forgot to get her phone number. How can I get her to go out with me, if I can't even talk to her on the phone? I guess I can always go back to her apartment, since I know what building she lives in.”
He sighed thinking how deeply her kisses had affected him. She had come alive in his arms and seemed to become part of his body. He could still remember the feel of her body pressed against his when they danced and kissed on the dance floor. She fitted perfectly against him, almost as if she were a missing part of him that had finally been reunited. He wanted her, of that he was sure. By her response to his kisses, she seemed to want him, too, but her lack of openness about her past bothered him.
“Joan, you and I have some unfinished business. I'm going to solve the mystery about you. I don't know how I know it, but you and I were meant to be together. You just don’t know it yet,” he vowed.
After Dave got home, he hung up his jacket in the hall closet. He began digging through the heavily stacked shelves on the bookcase in the library. After some searching, he managed to find the last 12 issues of Sunset magazine. He had never taken the time to read them completely, although he had glanced through them when they arrived in the mail. Now he opened them, quickly scanned the table of contents in each one and looked for the articles Joan had written. They were not there. He began going through them again. There was an article about Santa Barbara in the June issue. Weekend trips in San Diego County was in the September issue. One about Napa Valley wineries was in the January issue. They were exactly as Joan had described them. The only problem was they had been written by a man named George Adkinson. There was even a picture of the author. He appeared to be about thirty with a dark beard and dark eyes.
“What’s going on here?” he asked himself. “Why would she lie to me about writing these? Who is George Adkinson, and what is he to Joan?” Dave muttered.
The next day Dave decided to take the bull by the horns, so to speak, and try to locate George Adkinson. He looked in the phone book. There was no George Adkinson or Joan Marshall listed anywhere near the Lincoln Arms Apartment complex. His next call was to the publishing office of Sunset Magazine. Without identifying himself, he mentioned how much he had enjoyed the articles written by George Adkinson. “I think he might be an old college friend that I’ve lost contact with. I would love to get in touch with him.” Dave turned on the charm, and, with a little sweet talk and flattery, he got the phone number of George Adkinson from the receptionist.
“I shouldn't be giving this out,” the receptionist said hesitantly.
“You don't need to worry. I won't tell him how I got it. If it is my old buddy, he won't mind. If it turns out to be a different George Adkinson, he'll never know where I got the number. Either way, what could it hurt? I really do want to talk to him. It would mean a lot to me,” he coaxed.
“Well, I guess it can't cause any trouble. I hope that you find your friend,” she said as she gave him George's unlisted phone number. After he hung up, he was amazed by how easily he had fooled the receptionist. He knew talking to George Adkinson would be a different story. He tried to think how to approach the subject of Joan with George, but he decided, for now, all he would do is call and ask about the article on Santa Barbara. Maybe hearing his voice would give him a clue. Perhaps he might even mention her.
“I may be spinning my wheels, but I’ve got to find out what she's hiding?” he thought as he slowly dialed the number. On the third ring, the phone was answered. In shock he heard a familiar woman's voice on the taped message on the answering machine. “George and I are both busy right now and can’t come to the phone. If you leave your name and number at the tone, one of us will call you back when we are free.” Joan’s voice flowed across the phone lines. When the tone sounded, Dave hung up without saying a word. He stared at the telephone.
“What's going on here?” he thought out loud. “They both obviously live there. “What kind of relationship does she have with him? The way she responded to my kisses last night, I’m sure she's not in love with him, but she must be living with him. That's all I know for sure. If she isn’t in love with him, there’s still a chance for me. I've got to get her to spend more time with me. Maybe, when she knows me better, she'll tell me about George. The thought of her being with another man, any man but me, makes me want to strangle him. I can’t let her know that I know about George. She has to tell me what's going on between them. When she does, then I can tell her how I feel. Maybe by then, she’ll be enough in love with me to leave George. Somehow I’m going to win her away from him,” he vowed.
Remembering the feel of her body pressed against him, of her lips parting eagerly accepting his kiss, and the smell of her hair and skin, Dave felt desire rising in him until he ached with the need to see her and touch her aga
in. Dave cursed angrily as he realized how much he wanted Joan’s love.
“I want you to love me, only me. God knows I want you more than any woman I've ever met. I know we’ve only met, but I know for sure that I want all of you, for always and forever,” he moaned.
On Monday, just as she had promised, Joan called Cindy. Cindy bubbled over the phone about how much fun she’d had at the game and afterwards at the Sand Trap. She asked Joan how things had gone with Dave after everyone left. Softly Joan replied, “We had a very nice talk.”
“Dave’s a real sweetheart. He really seems smitten with you,” Cindy teased.
“He’s just grateful for my saving his life. He is a nice person and was just being polite,” Joan responded.
Cindy laughed, “Dave is polite, but not like the way he was with you. I know you're shy, so I won't say anything more, but I think you liked each other, didn't you?”
“Of course, I liked him. He is very interesting.”
“Very attractive, too.” Cindy kidded.
“I thought you weren’t going to tease me anymore,” Joan chided Cindy.
“Okay, I'll be good. When are you going to come and visit me? I have an idea. How would you like to come and sample some of Lyles famous ‘flaming yawns’?” Cindy asked with a laugh.
“What's a ‘flaming yawn’? I’ve never heard of that,” Joan asked
“That's what little Davey calls a fillet mignon. He loves the meat, but he can't say the word yet. I think it will always be called ‘flaming yawns’ at our house , even when he is older and can say the words correctly,” Cindy giggled.
Joan laughed along with Cindy. “I'd love to try a flaming yawn. Just let me know when you want me to come over? I'm dying to meet your boys,” Joan added.
“How about Saturday afternoon? Lyle has a short practice that day, so he’s home by about three, but why don't you come over about one. We can have a good gab session and play with the boys before he gets home. I love to BBQ and have company over. That’s something I miss since we moved here. We don’t have many people over. Between Lyle’s being on the road so much with the team and me being tied down with two lovable rug rats, we don't entertain much,” she explained.
“That sounds like fun. I'd love to come? What can I bring? How about some wine or ice cream?” Joan asked.
“You don't have to bring anything, but either one sounds great. If you want to bring something, I know the boys will adore you if you bring them ice cream.”
“That settles it. I'll bring some ice cream. I'm not above resorting to a little bribery,” Joan kidded. After getting the directions to Cindy's house in North Hollywood, Joan hung up the phone. She smiled with pleasure at the thought of seeing Lyle and Cindy again. She couldn't help wondering if the boys would look more like a blonde Cindy or have Lyle’s darker coloring. Joan marked the date and time on her calendar, then returned to work on her bike path article.
After the press conference Dave had promised to have on Wednesday, he returned to the dressing room. He slammed his locker door. Lyle looked over at him and shrugged, “Was it that bad?” he asked.
“Worse!” Dave muttered. “Why can't they just leave me alone? They ask such stupid questions, like ‘How did you feel when Rosen sacked you last week for a 10 yard loss?’ Of course, I felt awful about it! What kind of idiot couldn't figure that out? They keep prying and hinting around about my personal life. What I do off the field is none of their business.”
“That's the price you pay for success,” Lyle announced.
“They even had the nerve to suggest that unless I was more open about my personal life, someone was going to start making up stories just to make money off the ‘public's curiosity’,” he ranted.
“They may be right. Some people don't care about the truth, just selling magazines and making money. It isn't right, but what are you going to do about it?” Lyle asked.
“I think I have an idea, but it all depends on Joan. I wish I knew how to get in touch with her. I don’t understand what's going on, but she didn't give me her phone number. I tried to locate her at her apartment building, but the manager says he has never had a Joan Marshall living at the Lincoln Arms Apartment, but that’s where I left her after the night at the Sand Trap. That probably explains why she hurried off and didn't want me to walk her to her apartment. Lyle, she's driving me crazy. I've never met anyone like her before. I keep thinking about her, and I can't even be sure when I'll see her again,” he ranted in frustration.
“You’ve really got it bad,” Lyle laughed. “I don't know much more about her, but I do know how you can see her again. Are you interested? I think it can be arranged.”
“Are you kidding? I’d do almost anything to see her. What's the plan?” Dave asked quickly.
“I should check with Cindy first, but Joan is coming to our house on Saturday for a barbecue. If you happen to come home with me after practice to see the boys, you just might see her, too,” Lyle kidded.
“You’ve got another guest for dinner. I don't know how I can ever thank you, Lyle. Have you ever had trouble sleeping nights because you kept thinking about someone?” Dave asked.
“Yeah, lots of time before I married Cindy; now when I have trouble sleeping, it's a lot more fun,” Lyle added.