by Nancy Kelly
This thought made me look down at my own chest. Adequate. Just.
“Come on in,” Will invited.
Deliberately I removed my shoes and socks, worrying that my body wouldn’t measure up. And what if I crashed and burned during sex? What if he remembered me in the same way I remembered Charlie?
Fear coursed through my veins. I’m rarely plagued by serious doubts about my sexual ability, but apart from Nate and what had become a kind of rote lovemaking, it had been awhile. Will was someone I really didn’t want to disappoint.
I managed to take off my tee-shirt and cargo pants, but I had an attack of shyness I couldn’t quite get over, so I slipped into the water wearing a matching black bra and panties, glad I had purged from my closet all manner of holey underwear about two weeks earlier. That would have been too embarrassing. If I happen to throw on some holey underwear and catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror, I even embarrass myself.
Will didn’t waste a lot of time. He drew me to him. We began kissing and I have to say it was really nice. I don’t know about other people but a hot tub, even if chlorinated correctly, is really not a venue for me to get all worked up and lusting for sex. Too much noise and heat and worry. Water’s great, but sorry, I’m a traditionalist: I like a bed. Still, I relaxed enough to enjoy the foreplay. And somewhere in our make-out session I managed, with Will’s help, to slip out of bra and panties. Unfortunately, both pieces kept bobbing around just outside my peripheral vision and for the life of me I couldn’t get in the mood. My mouth kept curving into a smile. Again, Will didn’t seem to mind even though he was sort of all business.
The next thing I knew he’d grabbed a condom and we were engaged in actual sex. One moment we were making out, the next he was feeling around between my legs and attempting entry. I could feel the jets of water rushing around the outside of my thighs. God help me, I suddenly heard this imaginary air traffic controller’s litany inside my head. “Approaching for landing ... runway clear ... you’re right on target. . . no, veer to the left ... left ... left! ... That’s right ... easy, easy ... touchdown!”
Okay, maybe that’s not exactly how they talk, but it worked for me. Next thing we were bumping and grinding and I was worried I might scrape my back against one of the jets or the rough tile edge of the hot tub. I certainly was going to have a bruise somewhere around my shoulder blades as the upper part of my body kept flinging upward, half out of the water, only to be hauled back down.
My discomfort didn’t last long. We were about to launch skyward again when Will gave a shudder and a short, bitten off howl, then collapsed against me. “Sorry,” he gasped softly. “It just came over me.”
“No problem,” I answered lightly. Actually, there was a niggling worry running around inside my brain. This encounter had shades of Charlie’s wham, bam, thank you, ma’am. On the other hand, I try very hard not to let my own high expectations run amok and ruin something before it’s got a chance to start.
But ... but ...
I snatched up my gaily bobbing undergarments and dragged them on, wet, which wasn’t exactly an exercise in grace itself. Will managed to climb out of the water, shrug into his bathrobe and head inside, dripping water, undoubtedly to peel off the used condom and dispose of it. This left me to scramble into my clothes. Of course my wet underwear soaked through immediately but I didn’t care. I was just glad to be covered and have my armor on. I wasn’t sure how to feel. It might have been a first union of body but it sure wasn’t a union of spirit. I sometimes wonder if there’s something wrong with me. I worry too much. I know I do. Something to take up with Dr. Dick, I guess.
“Hey,” Will called from somewhere inside the depths of his house. “Come in here and listen to this.”
I carried my shoes and socks and found him in the recesses of a den that was through an archway off the initial living room. The walls and ceiling were formed from wood. It looked like fir. Having come from Oregon I know a thing or two about wood. Not much. Just enough to impress guys. I mentioned the fir but Will wasn’t one of those types who pay any attention to anything that isn’t in their immediate vision. And in his immediate vision was a music system to end all music systems: amps, speakers, tuners, etc. He hit a few switches and we were blasted with sound. I feigned an interested expression. Now, I like a good rock song, but that’s about where my taste begins and ends. This was something jazzy and cool, I guess. The only thing about it I liked was that it reminded me of martinis.
“How’s that?” he screamed above the noise.
“Wow,” I yelled back.
What is it about guys and electronics? I swear, ninety percent of them have a hard-on for anything that sends radio, television, or cyber messages across space. Ear-bleeding, penetrating volume is the mark of a good sound system.
Because of the noise we didn’t hear anything else. But I must have felt a change in the air pressure, because I turned from inspection of the knobs, dials, and pulsating lines of light to see Rhianna standing in the archway. Her face was white with shock.
“You fucker!” she screamed, but because she was a few paces away it came out small, tinny, and fake. But the fury exploding across her face was real enough.
She suddenly turned and bolted. I looked at Will, whose head was cocked as if he were waiting to hear an explosion. His hand reached for a dial on his system and the volume decreased slightly.
Then Rhianna was back in the archway. In her fist was the Fargo snow globe. Her hand was cocked back, ready to throw.
I stood there in disbelief. I thought, She won’t do it. Then, She’s probably a terrible shot. And all of a sudden, she wound up and hurled the damn thing at ME! I ducked instinctively, self-preservation taking over in the nick of time. The snow globe smashed into the wall of electronic equipment behind me. Metal and glass and water and fake snow and tiny plastic figures and a teensy police car scattered and splashed. Will roared in fury and went for her in a rush. I pressed myself to the wall, heart accelerating madly. He grabbed Rhianna’s arms. She glared at him, unrepentant. I felt like I was witnessing a scene from a movie. I could only see the back of his head, but her face was illuminated. Her eyes snapped with fury.
“Bitch.”
“Fucker.”
“Whore.”
“Asshole.”
Suddenly her face crumpled, her lips turning into an ugly crying mess. If I’d had any idea how I would have turned down the noise some more, but there were too many buttons. Besides, I didn’t dare take my eyes off Will and the Rocket. Another missile could sail my way.
Note to self: Remember to ask about girlfriend status before lovemaking next time.
Now she was pointing at me and wailing. I would have eased out of the room but she blocked my exit.
Will, apparently realizing my dilemma, led her away. I took the cue and scurried through the archway across the living room and out the front door. I wanted to run, run, run. As soon as I jumped in the Explorer and jabbed the key in the ignition I was revving the engine. My wheels cried out a little eech as I tore away.
Good ... God.
There was a lot of traffic on the road and I was only about halfway home when my cell phone sang. I glanced at the caller ID. Will.
Coward that I am, I almost didn’t answer it. Swearing softly beneath my breath, I pressed the green button. “Hello?”
“Sorry about that. Rhianna and I are long over, but she knows the code to get into my house. I’m changing it tonight.”
“Good idea.”
“Can I see you tomorrow?”
“We’re still on the job. Our last day together,” I reminded.
“Not if you don’t want it to be.”
This sort of warmed me inside. I glanced out at the sea of red taillights ahead of me. LA. The Lonely City. I did want to see him, didn’t I? I did want to be with him.
“Okay,” I said.
He sounded relieved. “See you tomorrow.”
I dressed with extra care the next day: good jea
ns, fresh red T-shirt. I even worked on my hair some. I actually used hair products and blew it dry into some kind of style. Barb remarked on my appearance.
“You look ... different.”
“Better?” I asked, pushing the envelope.
“Yeah ...”
Her affirmation, reluctantly given as it was, buoyed my spirits. It was a good start, and the day actually kept going pretty well. Will was in good humor, too, which both baffled and touched me, as I credited his mood to myself. It was over with Rhianna. The girlfriend was now an ex-girlfriend—a necessary distinction. And though I didn’t appreciate having anything tossed at me, I did like moving into first place. Maybe, from this shaky beginning, something good could develop.
“Where’s Holly?” I asked Barb. She’d been on the job when I arrived but I’d hardly seen her.
“Hiding from Will, I suppose,” Barb answered with a sniff.
“Will?” My antennae lifted.
“He really tore into her yesterday. It was gruesome. Someone forgot to put the cream out with the coffee and he ripped into Holly as if she’d personally attacked him. In front of everybody. I mean, it was ugly.”
“You saw this?” A cold feeling developed in the pit of my stomach.
“I heard it,” she said, dropping the file she was looking at and turning toward me, all resentment toward me vanishing in this moment of supreme gossiping. “Ug—ly.”
I recalled Holly’s quiet yesterday. I also recalled how she’d mentioned Will’s temper. And the way she’d mouthed, “Careful.”
I wanted to defend Will. We’d slept together. He was my guy. Before I had a chance to, Holly entered the trailer, all business. I didn’t have a chance to get to personal business as we all dug in to finish the job. We did manage to wrap the shoot around six P.M.—a triumph of sorts—but it was pitch-black outside. Will breezed into the trailer. Holly was absent, but Barb came to spine-straight attention, smiling like an idiot, ingratiating rat that she is. I just sort of waited for whatever would happen next.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said to me. I nodded. Barb’s brows lifted so high they nearly soared right off her forehead. Luckily, Will added, “We need to take Agency out to dinner. Most of them are flying out tomorrow. Let’s meet at Shutters.”
This safely put me back into work-mode. “Want me to tell Holly?” I asked.
“No.” Will was firm.
This was so out of protocol that Barb actually gasped. The producer was always there to schmooze Agency.
But Will was gone. Holly appeared a few moments later. She stated flatly, “Will doesn’t want me around tonight. I’d tell him to fuck off but I’ve got to work with him next month on that cellular phone job. Agency’s going to wonder where I am. Ginny, you need to tell them I had a flight to catch tonight, or something. Make up some excuse.”
“All right.”
“I hate bastards,” she added and slammed out.
That was one the Rocket left out last night.
Barb gave me a long look. I smiled weakly and headed for the Santa Monica waterfront and Shutters Hotel.
The actual dinner was kind of a letdown. The Agency people wanted to talk to Will almost exclusively and once I’d explained Holly’s absence—her imaginary daughter’s car trouble—they let it slide. I managed to get into a fairly decent conversation with the agency art director, but I spent a majority of my time stealing glances at my wristwatch.
“What’s up?” Will asked, catching me in the act and frowning. I should have been hanging on every scintillating word from my oh, so boring tablemate.
“I’ve got house guests,” I said, not wanting to go into my mother’s surgery and Don the Devout’s ankle injury. I also didn’t know how to say that I just wanted to leave and go home and think about things.
Will didn’t like the sound of that. I hung around a little bit longer, then excused myself to place a call to Mom. She sounded cheery as a robin in spring. “Don’s doing so much better,” she enthused. “He might have a bone chip, though. They’re still checking. His tendons definitely were stretched.”
“Did you ever learn how it happened?” I questioned.
“What?”
“The accident. How he got his foot stuck in Schematic Man’s gate.”
“What?” she repeated, lost.
“That gate moves so slowly,” I explained. “Did he fall asleep? What?”
“I think he tried to slip through and it just came at him.”
“At snail speed? He couldn’t get out of the way?”
“Did you want to talk to him?”
Before I could say no, she called, “Don! Telephone!”
“Mom?” I waited. “Mom?”
Don picked up. “Hello.”
“Hey ...” I said. “How are you?”
“You really want to know?” He sounded pissed. “That machinery is a menace. I’m surprised there haven’t been more accidents.”
“I just don’t see it, Don. I mean, were your feet superglued down?”
“What does it matter?” he demanded. “It shouldn’t hit like that no matter what you do!”
I heard some kind of guilt in there somewhere. “Oh, come on, tell me.”
“Virginia,” he said through his teeth. I waited, half-expecting him to scream at me. But finally, tightly, he bit out, “I tried to squeeze through as it was closing and it caught my ankle.”
You must be the slowest person on the planet, I thought in disbelief. Aloud, I said, “I’m sorry you got hurt.”
“You’d better report this to your homeowners association. Someone might sue.”
I didn’t feel I needed to point out that even Mrs. Farley, she of the poor eyesight and slow steps, had never been remotely threatened by Schematic Man’s gate. “Someone like yourself?” I suggested.
“I should,” he agreed eagerly, as if he’d just been waiting for an opening. “The gate company should know.”
“I know a good personal injury lawyer,” I said, playing along.
“You do?”
I gazed through the doorway into the private dining room I’d just vacated. Will was in deep conversation with one of the agency men. I said, thinking maybe I shouldn’t have baited Don after all, “Brad Knowles.” Ex-File Number Seven. Knowles-It-All.
“Maybe I’ll give him a call,” Don said. “I’ll get the number from you later.”
“Oh, I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”
“You’re the one who brought it up,” he said, then hung up with a sharp click.
I slowly clicked off my cell phone, feeling bone weary. What had I been thinking?
Sometimes I really piss myself off.
Chapter 16
I met my friends for our usual Saturday morning breakfast at Sammy’s full of new information, only to learn I couldn’t get a word in edgewise. Jill brought Ian again, which I’d determined would not quell my tongue, but I didn’t get a chance to say anything anyway because Daphne was a-bubble over Dr. Dick and blathering on about her self-professed “new best friend” in a way that made me want to pound my head against a wall. I chose instead to clamp my jaw shut like a vise. Once in a while I would wedge my teeth open with some ice from my water glass and crunch down hard and loud. This was less than effective as Daphne had the floor. I couldn’t even comment on the big surprise of the morning, which was CeeCee’s mode of dress. She was back to her cargo pants with chains and a wrinkled red T-shirt that said simply, “NO.” Her hair was still sans pink tips, but I sensed it was only a matter of time until they, or something equally interesting, returned. I managed to mouth, “What happened?” to her around my ice chips, but she merely shrugged. No more role playing, apparently. Maybe Gerald, the boss, went back to his ex permanently.
Daphne leaned forward as the waiter brought our orders and said in a conspiratorial tone, “It’s all set. Thursday’s the night we’re going to ‘Getting Able With Kane.’ I bought us all tickets.”
“Jesus,” I murmured.
“What?” Ian asked. He gazed at Daphne as if she were speaking Martian.
I couldn’t contain my snort of derision. Ian gave me a look. I explained, “Kane’s one of my Ex-Files. He’s a motivational speaker now.” His lips parted in query, but I said, “Don’t ask. Really.”
He closed his mouth and looked amused. I smiled. Ian and I shared a rare moment of understanding. Maybe it would be okay if he married Jill, I thought. He was actually tolerable when he wasn’t being an asshole.
“I didn’t actually get a ticket for you,” Daphne admitted. “But I can get another, I’m pretty sure.”
“No. It’s okay,” he said immediately. “Jill, honey, I think this is one of those events where you can represent both of us.”
Jill-honey gave him a long-suffering look that was nevertheless full of love. I suddenly wanted to tell them both—and everyone else—about my evening with Will. I opened my mouth to commandeer the conversation, but Daphne barreled on.
“It starts at seven and I think we should get there a few minutes early. That’ll give Blue enough time to reconnect before the program starts.”
“Oh, whoa.” I held up my hands. “I don’t want to talk to Kane ’till afterwards. Actually, I don’t want to talk to him at all, but I can see I’m doomed.”
Jill pointed out, “You said you would.”
“I know what I said,” I answered testily. “And I will. But not till afterwards. Hey, I’m going to see Black Mark as soon as breakfast is over. Rome wasn’t built in a day, as far as I know. Give me a break.”
“Black Mark?” Ian questioned.
“Again, don’t ask.” I glared at all my friends, then turned to Ian, relenting. “My friends feel the need to torture me about my past mistakes. Why I agreed to this, I can’t remember.”
“So Jill would eat, Daphne would stop picking losers, and I would straighten things out at work,” CeeCee reminded in that distant way she sometimes had that members of the opposite sex seemed to find so attractive. CeeCee had the attitude down. I often tried for it, but I couldn’t quite manage the ‘cool’ of it. For CeeCee, it appeared effortless. Even Ian gave her a reflective look, as if he, too, were trying to figure it all out.