The Great Bedroom War

by Laurie Kellogg

  “Who?”

  “Maggie Manion.”

  “Jake’s new wife?”

  Jen nodded.

  Sam dug the donuts out of the freezer and put them in the microwave to defrost. “If Maggie’s due April first, she must have gotten pregnant around the same time their kids got married.” Sam had met Maggie for the first time at the quickie backyard reception Jake had held for his son and his teenage bride. She’d liked the woman a lot and had been thrilled when she’d received another invitation two months ago for Jake and Maggie’s equally speedy wedding.

  “Actually, Maggie told me she conceived the night of Alex and Emma’s wedding,” Jenny said. “She’s four months now and none of her clothes fit, so we’re going shopping Friday evening. Want to come?”

  The word sure nearly sprang out of Sam’s mouth, but the microwave’s beep cut her response off. She clamped her lips shut when she thought about which stores her friends would undoubtedly be going to. As much as she could use a girls’ night out, she couldn’t handle an entire evening of oohing and ahhing over maternity clothes among a throng of pregnant shoppers. Not when there was an excellent chance she’d never become a mother again. “Thanks, I wish I could, but I’ve got a backlog of orders I really need to catch up on.” She took the box of donuts out of the microwave and placed them on the table. “Besides, if you and Maggie go alone, it will give you preggers a chance to bond.”

  “Well, if you change your mind, let me know.”

  “Wait.” Sam held up her hand after suddenly recalling Jenny’s earlier confession. “A few minutes ago, you said Keith and you haven’t....” She sank back into her chair and stared at her friend. “Okay. I promise not to judge. In fact, considering all that’s going on in your life, I can almost under—”

  “That’s just it.” Jennifer burst into tears, sobbing. “I haven’t been fooling around. Except, I’m afraid Keith won’t believe me. He’s been insanely jealous ever since my boss took on a young partner who’s going to eventually take over when Dr. Webber retires.”

  “I’m assuming he’s not only young but also good-looking?”

  “Good-looking is an understatement. And of course Keith already feels insecure because he has over ten years on me, and his hairline has begun a steady march backward. Anyway, I’ve been covering a lot of evening appointments with Dr. Sullivan, and two weeks ago, Keith popped in for a visit and found us sharing a pizza after a patient failed to show up.”

  “If you haven’t had sex in three months, it’ll be understandable if Keith has doubts. How do you think you became pregnant?”

  “My only explanation is one morning he woke up raring to go and began making love to me. When I stopped him to put my diaphragm in, he lost his erection. Even though we didn’t actually have intercourse, there was plenty of physical contact.”

  “It’s rare, but it is possible to conceive that way.”

  “I know. The million-dollar question is will Keith believe me?”

  ~*~

  “Absolutely not!” Nick sliced his hand through the air Sunday afternoon when Ryan stopped by and invited his daughter to go to his second band rehearsal that weekend. The day before he’d had a blast helping the four boys refine their performance.

  “Why can’t I go?” Dani asked.

  “Because I said so.” Ryan’s pals all seemed like nice kids, but like any group of normal teenaged males, their bonding involved a lot of locker-room talk and raunchy innuendo.

  “Mo-om!” Dani turned to her mother. “Talk to him!”

  Yeah, right. Sam hadn’t spoken two words to him since yesterday. He’d apologized a dozen times for his behavior, but she’d simply ignored him.

  “You’re still gonna come, right, Mr. R? We could really use more help.”

  Nick clapped his hand on Ryan’s shoulder. “Sure. But just for a little while.”

  “Daddy, pleeease, let me go, too.”

  “I’m sorry, Princesa.” Nick shrugged. “A young girl shouldn’t be hanging out with a crowd of boys—even if I’m there.”

  “What do you think will happen? That Ryan’s friends will attack me while you watch?”

  Unreasonable as it might seem to his daughter, it was a sore spot for him. Fifteen years ago, the members of his band and their pals who served as sound techs and stagehands had viewed the groupies who hung around their rehearsals as nothing more than putas and had passed the girls around like they were a communal pack of smokes. When he kept refusing the girls’ advances, the band began calling him Nicole, which provoked him to repeat Paul Newman’s famous quote on fidelity.

  Unfortunately, after mentioning how great the steak was at home compared to the hamburger those idiots were trying to force on him, his friends began eyeing Sam like she really was a piece of meat. If he hadn’t kept her away from the guys in the band, he inevitably would’ve given one of the letches a fat lip.

  Sam slid her arm around Dani’s shoulders. “Sweetie, I don’t think your father is concerned about what will happen to you as much as his is about your reputation.”

  “What if Haley and Allison come along? Then it won’t be just me and a bunch of guys. And Bethany promised to shoot a video of the band some afternoon so Ryan’s mom could see them perform. Maybe she could join us, too.”

  Nick snorted to himself. Bethany wasn’t exactly the kind of role model he wanted for his daughter. As much as he hated playing the parental, all-powerful because-I-said-so card, which he’d despised as a teen, this was one occasion he couldn’t hold back. He raised his voice a decibel and injected a this-discussion-is-closed note into his final, “No!”

  “Your father never let me go to his rehearsals, either,” Sam told her in a conciliatory tone. “Even after we were married.”

  “Why the heck not?”

  “Because there’s a reason the world calls girls who hang around rock musicians groupies. And it isn’t complimentary.” The knowing look Sam shot at Nick said she was confident he’d taken part in his band’s orgies while she sat home with their baby growing inside her.

  “Uhhh, maybe your mom and dad are right,” Ryan said, obviously recalling Fletcher’s obscene comment about Dani during their last rehearsal. “The other guys might think they can make a move on you. I don’t want to have to punch one of ‘em out.”

  Nick smiled at the boy’s insecurity. It proved the kid genuinely cared for Dani.

  Just once, he would’ve liked to have seen that look of uncertainty on Sam’s face. But she’d never complained or accused him of being unfaithful. His wife had seemed as if she hadn’t cared what he did as long as he came home every night and supported her financially. More than once, she’d mentioned feeling responsible for tying him down and insisted she didn’t expect him to give up his music career and all that went with it.

  That was why, no matter how tired he’d been after a gig or rehearsal, he’d made love to her. He’d needed to prove his fidelity and reassure her that she still excited him, regardless of the size of her belly. The pressure to confirm his faithfulness was one of the reasons he’d been glad to leave the band. And yet, when he’d suggested quitting, Sam had tried her damnedest to talk him into staying with the group—almost if she hadn’t cared if he played around.

  Most men would welcome the freedom to have variety in their sex lives. It was just his lousy luck the only woman he wanted was his wife.

  For years, Sam had called him a puppet master whenever he tried to help her. Could her indifference be at the root of his compulsion to make himself indispensable to her?

  His fear of losing Sam permanently had certainly played a huge part in his attitude toward Adam yesterday. His juvenile performance replayed in Nick’s memory like a segment from a Greatest Marital Bloopers video. What an insufferable ass he he’d been.

  Now, he had more reason than ever to help make Sam’s business profitable. Then maybe—just maybe—she would finally understand how much he’d always loved her.

  ~*~

  Monda
y evening, Sam arrived home from work to discover a lavish buffet from Sally’s Sweet & Savories, Redemption’s incredible combination bakery and deli, spread out on the kitchen’s island and half the men in the neighborhood seated in her dining room with poker chips piled in front of them. Even Doc Foster was there.

  Un-flipping-believable. Nick’s little card party had wiped whatever thoughts she might have of forgiving him right out of her head.

  If only she wasn’t giving him the silent treatment. Then she could remind the idiot that half of his friends were unemployed and couldn’t afford to feed their kids, let alone lose the little they had in a poker game.

  “I’ll raise,” Nick said tossing a chip onto the growing center pile.

  Bill Sutton spotted Sam fuming in the doorway and glanced at his watch. “Oh, no. I didn’t realize it was so late. Ginny asked me to put the meatloaf in the oven at four. This has to be my last hand.” He threw a chip onto the teetering mound. “Call.”

  Nick laid down his cards. “A pair of jacks.”

  Idiot.

  “You raised with that sucky hand?” Steve rolled his eyes. “What a fool.”

  Doc Foster laughed. “Amen.”

  Bill tossed down three tens and swept the huge pile of chips toward his chest. “Now I guess Ginny won’t be too mad if dinner is a little late.”

  Sam spun on her heels and stomped back to the kitchen, grinding her teeth. She pulled a slice of rye bread from its bakery bag, piled on some roast beef, turkey, and Swiss cheese, and then heaped a generous portion of coleslaw on top before finishing the mammoth masterpiece with a second slice of bread.

  Her neighbors, Tim and Jake, wandered out to the kitchen as she took a giant bite of her sandwich.

  “Hey, Sam.” Tim waved. “How was your day?”

  “Just ducky,” she mumbled and swallowed her food. “One of you wouldn’t by any chance know where my daughter is, would you?”

  “She and Ryan are outside playing with Keith’s twins,” Jake explained, and frowned. “Are you mad at us for something?”

  “Now that you mention it, I guess I am. I credited the two of you and Steve, and you, too, Doc”—she pointed at her silver-haired family doctor who’d just wandered into the kitchen—“with more sensitivity than to help Nick encourage those men to gamble away their unemployment checks. The five of you may be swimming in money, but Rick, Bill and—”

  “Whoa, Lucy,” Doc Foster said in a bad Ricky Ricardo imitation, raising his hands. “You’ve got it all wrong, my dear Samantha.”

  “I do, do I? Then why don’t you ‘splain to me why you’re gambling with those guys.”

  “Nick thought a poker game would be a good way for us to slip them a little extra cash without wounding their pride.” Tim answered.

  Jake glanced at her askance. “Do you really think your ex would’ve been stupid enough to raise the ante with a pair of jacks if he hadn’t been trying to lose? All three of those guys are going home at least fifty bucks richer.”

  She rolled her eyes. “And those idiots didn’t catch on?”

  “They probably did.” Doc Foster shrugged. “But I’m also sure they were grateful to get some help without having to accept a handout.”

  Men and their gigantic egos. They were all idiots. Even the senior citizen and gay ones.

  “Exactly who did Nick think he was feeding here today?” Sam took a bite of a kosher pickle and waved her hand toward the stacks of cold cuts, numerous containers of potato salad, pasta salad, and coleslaw, as well as a giant box of Sally’s renowned chocolate chip cookies. “There’s enough food left to feed a small third world country.” He must have dropped over a hundred dollars on feeding his pals.

  The other men all strolled into the kitchen behind Nick, who said, “Make sure you take some of this food, guys.”

  “Sorry. We can’t,” Steve said. “Tim and I already have a ton of lunch meat in the fridge. This would all spoil before we could eat it.”

  Jake raised his hands. “Same here. Maggie just went grocery shopping. With Alex and Emma gone, the food will just go bad.”

  “I can’t take any, either. Like I told you all earlier,” Doc explained, “Abby and I are going out of town for a few days.

  “Well, you other guys better take most of it.” Nick pointed at their three unemployed neighbors. “I don’t want to be stuck eating cold cuts for the next week. And make sure you take the pickles and salads, too. And the cookies. Sammy doesn’t want Dani eating those. ”

  She swallowed hard as she watched Bill, Rick, and Keith eagerly divvy up the food.

  Okay, so she might be the biggest idiot of all.

  ~*~

  Tuesday afternoon, Nick sank into the chaise lounge on their neighbor’s terrace and sipped the ice cold beer Tim had handed him.

  Steve studied the sample toy Nick had bought from the hospital gift shop. “It’s definitely cute and cuddly. And unique.” He turned the flashlight on and off and flipped the dog over to check out the secret compartment in its belly. “I can see why they’re so popular with kids.”

  “Sammy also makes cats in a similar design. I’ve made appointments for videoconferences with several toy companies to explore options for outsourcing and the possibility of selling the licensing rights. But, please, don’t say anything to Sam. She doesn’t know about it yet.”

  “You mentioned you wanted my help. What can I do?” Steve asked.

  “Sam’s critters will need a marketing plan once there’s mass production in place.”

  “In that case, you should probably talk to Tim. He could design a website for her to sell them.”

  “That’s something we’ll address after we know what kind of deal I can negotiate for her. Right now, my goal is simply to generate interest in prospective manufacturing partners. I’d like you to create a short comic book with a story featuring Sam’s Magic Worry Pals helping kids, in order to illustrate her toy’s potential. If they like it and we’re really lucky, the comic book will become a televised cartoon series.”

  “That sounds like an awfully ambitious marketing plan.” Steve chuckled.

  “Maybe. But if we build enough momentum in sales, we might convince a production company to collaborate in producing a show to publicize the Worry Pals.”

  “Which would, in turn, promote the cartoon,” Steve added.

  “Exactly. It’s the ultimate in symbiotic marketing. The most successful advertising medium for toys is a television show that targets children. And, in turn, the most effective promotion for a kids’ cartoon is a toy that allows them to act out the show they enjoy.”

  “I can see where that would be true.” Tim nodded. “I doubt Hasbro’s profit on their Transformers would be a fraction of what it is without the movies and video games driving their sales. And vice versa.”

  “The drawback for you,” Nick explained to Steve, “is this would be a purely speculative venture with a distinct possibility that your time would result in zero payoff.”

  Tim smiled at his partner. “It might be a bit of a gamble, babe, but I think you should do it. If nothing else, it would keep you too busy to think about rewashing clean cars.”

  “True.” Steve laughed.

  “You’re always saying the dialogue and plots in the scripts you’re given to animate are lame,” Tim continued arguing Nick’s case. “This is your chance to have creative control over an entire project.”

  Nick tipped his long-necked bottled toward Steve. “Naturally, you’d be entitled to the lion’s share of any revenue from the cartoon if we sell it. And Samantha would get just a residual percentage as the creator of the Magic Worry Pals brand.”

  Steve clicked his bottle against Nick’s. “I’ll get to work the moment you leave.”

  “In that case,”—Nick catapulted to his feet and grinned—“consider me gone. And remember the old World War II moto, Loose lips sink ships.”

  In this case, he was the ship, and if Sam found out what he was up to, he was as good as sun
k.

  ~*~

  “It’s been really creepy at my house,” Dani told Haley as the bus pulled up to the high school on Thursday morning. “My mom hasn’t said more than two words to my dad since Saturday. It’s worse than before their divorce.”

  Every evening the three of them sat at the dinner table together, and each of her parents spoke only to her. She’d overheard her dad apologize a dozen times, but her mom continued ignoring him.

  “That really bites. How’s it going with Ryan?” Haley asked as they climbed off the school bus.

  “You mean my dad’s new best friend? Would you believe my father went to Ryan’s rehearsal both Saturday and Sunday afternoons and again yesterday?”

  “Hey, Dani.” Ryan waved as she approached her locker, where he’d obviously been waiting for her. “Bethany told me to say hi. She’d like you to come for dinner tomorrow night.”

  “I’ll have to ask my parents, but they’ll probably say it’s okay. Bethany is really nice, isn’t she?”

  “I’ll say. She recorded our entire rehearsal on Tuesday and played the video for my mom. And then last night, she spent the whole evening reading some trashy romance to her. My mother doesn’t seem nearly as depressed since Bethany’s been livin’ with us.”

  “I’m glad. I can’t wait to meet your mom.”

  “Anyway, since I don’t have anything going on tonight, I thought we could do something. Maybe a movie? You too, Haley. I know Mr. R won’t let Dani go out with me alone, so if you’re with us—”

  “I can’t.” Haley shook her head. “I’m not allowed out after dinner on school nights except for organized activities.”

  “Same rules apply at my house,” Dani told him. “My mom made an exception last Thursday, when she let you stay for dinner, because my dad just moved back. But we could hang out this afternoon.”

  “Okay.” He started to leave and then turned back to her. “By the way, RTMF Express has a gig a week from tomorrow.”

  Dani frowned. “You’ve finally come up with a name for your band?”

  “Actually your dad thought of it. Do you like it?”