The two men ate in silence for several moments. Finally, Flip looked up from his dish and studied his college roommate. "I don't think I've ever heard you talk about God so seriously."
Lionel put his fork down and picked up his tea. "I don't think I've ever heard you talk so seriously about a woman."
They continued to look at each other, as though seeing each other for the first time. Suddenly they both started to laugh, first a light giggle that grew into bellowing laughter.
"I guess that's what friends are for," Lionel said when he was finally able to stop laughing.
"Yes, I guess so."
Saturday
10:00 am Saturday Morning
Flip sat studying the crisp gray business card for several minutes, holding the phone receiver in one hand while depressing the button of the cradle with the other. Finally, with a deep sigh, he lifted his finger from the button and dialed Denise's number. He was about to hang up when, on the fifth ring, he heard Denise pick up the phone.
"Hello," she slurred.
It was evident to Flip he had woken her. No matter. He'd keep it short, and to the point, so she could go back to sleep. I wonder if someone is beside her, he thought and was amazed at himself for thinking it, and more amazed at how it made him feel. What did it matter if there was? Still, the tightness in his chest at the thought made it difficult to speak.
"Hello?" Denise repeated a little more coherently.
"Morning, Denise. Sorry to wake you. This is Flip."
"Oh, good morning Flip. No problem. I'm a late sleeper on Saturdays since I don't get many opportunities to indulge during the week. I was just lounging in bed. I've been awake a couple of times."
I bet, Flip thought. Probably a couple of morning quickies. He bit his lip at the thought. Come on Flip. Get a hold of yourself.
''I'm glad you called, Flip." Denise paused. He could hear her arranging herself on the bed. At the sound of his name, the image of another guy next to her vanished with a pop. She wouldn't have used his name if another guy was listening to the conversation. "I thoroughly enjoyed the other evening. It was even worth the chewing out I got at work. I've been thinking a lot about you and your offer for dinner..."
"That's what I'm calling about," Flip interrupted before she could go any further. "I'm afraid I won't be able to keep our date tonight. I mean, I know we didn't actually have a confirmed date, but uh, anyway, I'm not going to be able to make it." The words tumbled out awkwardly, unlike the conversation he had played in his head. There was a long pause on the other end of the line.
Finally, Denise answered, "I'm sorry to hear that. Is everything alright?"
"Yeah, everything is fine. It's just...well, I'm just not going to be able to see you."
"I understand, Flip," Denise answered in a voice that made it clear she did not understand. "Maybe we could get together for a while on Sunday."
"No, I don't think so. I'm going to Atlanta for a little bit, and from there, I'm not sure. Denise, I'm not sure when I'll be back in this area."
A longer pause this time. "Oh, I see. Well, you take care of yourself, Flip. Call me when you get back in this area...that is if you'd like."
"Oh sure, Denise, I will." Flip felt like a heel, size twelve. "You take care, too. Keep BVT secure and look after Li."
Flip heard the other end of the connection go dead, but he continued to hold the receiver next to his ear, listening to the dial tone. I should call her back, he thought. Explain the whole thing. Tell her I'm scared to death of her and how I feel. Tell her I just need a little time to sort things out. Or maybe, just call her and tell her it was all a joke, and that I'll pick her up at eight.
He placed the receiver back in its cradle then picked it back up. Quickly, he dialed the number.
"Hello?"
"Hello, good looking. How's the sunny Southland of Atlanta?"
"Flip, is that you? Where in the world are you, honey? Don't tell me; you're at the airport."
"Not yet Rachael, but I will be as soon as I can get a flight there. Want to pick me up?"
"That's the best proposition I've had all week, honey. Just let me know the time and the gate."
Part Two
Sowing of Seeds
Atlanta
The pretty blonde flight attendant smiled at Flip for the fourth time as she held out her hand for his glass. For the third time, Flip considered entering into some banter with her then decided against it. Instead, he smiled back and downed the last of the Crown Royal before passing the glass to her waiting hand. He noticed her long manicured nails as she took it and imagined how they'd feel running lightly down his back. It gave him goosebumps. Oh well, Rachael had long nails too. He'd be sure to suggest a mutual exchange of back rubs to her.
He turned back to the window and stared at the lights of Atlanta far below. Winding up his affairs in Raleigh had taken longer than expected, mainly because he had promised to have lunch with Lionel. The lunch had lasted for four hours and four or five drinks. He'd finally dragged himself away from his friend in time to make the evening flight, calling Rachael again from the Raleigh-Durham airport to let her know on which flight he'd be arriving.
She's probably be pulling up in her red Mercedes sports coupe right about now, he thought. For as long as he'd known her, she'd always owned a red sports car of some make or model. It was one of her trademarks, as was her long red hair and long red nails. She never seemed to realize the red of the auto world clashed with her natural red mane, or maybe she simply didn't care. Such matters never troubled Rachael. She was too busy throwing herself at life with as much gusto and bravado as anyone Flip had ever met.
Some people tried to live life to the fullest, but Rachael lived life to excess. Everything she did she seemed to do excessively, from the fifty to sixty-hour work weeks she put in at her advertising firm, to the chain-smoking and heavy drinking. It all pointed to excess. She attempted to counterbalance her destructive lifestyle with healthy foods and exercise but managed even there to do it excessively, often putting in two or three hours working out after a ten hour day at the office. The only area she didn't seem to exceed her limits was in her relationship with men. As far as Flip knew, he was the only man in whom Rachael had more than a passing interest. Not that it would have bothered him if it had been different.
A crooked smile spread over Flip's face. Of course, even with him, Rachael often exhibited her excessive tendencies. Many of their lovemaking sessions had turned into all night marathons, reminding him of someone taking a crash course in the Kama Sutra.
The flaps on the 747 ground to their new position, creating a worrisome rumble outside the plane. Flip turned his attention back to the inside of the cabin and prepared for the landing.
He met Rachael at the baggage claim area as they had arranged. As he stepped off the escalator, he caught a flash of red hair approaching him and noticed again the number of turned heads her passing created. She probably keeps the chiropractors of Atlanta busy with all the cases of whiplash she leaves in her wake, he thought with a smile.
He dropped the leather overnight bag from his hand in time to catch her in his arms. He spun her lithe frame around as she flung her head back enjoying the ride, her red hair cascading around her shoulders. "Whee!" she exclaimed in a voice loud enough to draw attention from everyone around her. "God, Flip, it's so good to have you back in Atlanta."
"Rachael, my love, you must try to come out of your shell more. Introverted people are not happy people."
Rachael laughed. "Why don't you help me, Flip?" She bent down and picked up his bag. "Here, I'll help you with your bags, and you show me how to have a good time."
"A task I'm only too willing to tackle. Do you still have the red Merc?"
"God, yes, but I've been looking at a red Maserati. What do you think?"
"I think your business must be doing quite well."
Rachael laughed again. "When did the lack of money ever stop me from doing anything? I learned a long time a
go you can have the world on credit. Why pay cash?"
They arrived at the baggage claim, and to their surprise, the conveyor belt was already spitting the bags from Flip's flight to its waiting passengers. Flip grabbed his two bags and signaled for a waiting attendant who placed all three pieces of luggage on his trolley.
"I must have both of my hands free to handle such a lovely woman."
"Oh Flip, you say the most wonderful things. It makes my skin crawl. You be careful, or I may take advantage of you right here in the Atlanta airport."
"I guess that wouldn't qualify me for the mile high club would it?"
"No, but my guess is Flip MacDougal is a lifelong member of that distinguished organization."
"Past president, my dear."
As they exited the terminal, Flip noticed Rachael's red Mercedes double-parked in front of the door. A sour-faced police officer stood beside it, writing out a citation. "Frank, now put that silly ticket away," Rachael said to the officer, who continued to scowl and scrawl on his pad.
"Rachael, I've warned you a dozen times. You have to park in assigned parking areas like everyone else in this world. Next time I catch it sitting out in the middle of the road blocking traffic, I'll have it towed."
Rachael smiled at the irate cop for a few seconds longer, then, walking up closer to him spoke softly. "My little cupcake, unless you want to cause one incredible scene that will block traffic for miles around, why don't you tear that little ticket up?"
"Are you threatening me?"
"Frank," she said in a stern voice, "You know I don't use threats, but you remember what happened to the fellow you replaced? It's just possible that little old Rachael had something to do with it.”
Frank turned suddenly white. "Now you mention it, I did hear such a rumor." He stopped writing and stared first at the ticket then at Rachael. Finally, he tore the ticket out of his book and handed it to her.
"Hell, it's time I retired anyway. You have a nice weekend." He glanced over to Flip. "Good luck, buddy."
Flip roared with laughter as he took the ticket from Rachael's shaking hand. "Please, allow me to take care of this. It's the least I can do."
“What a little prick," Rachael said between clenched lips. "I don't think he likes redheads." She continued to glare at the officer's back, and then with a sigh, she shrugged her shoulders. It was one of the things Flip admired most about her: how quickly she could turn her emotions on and off.
As she opened the trunk of her car, she turned to Flip. "Well, Sugar, what will it be? A bite to eat or..."
"A bite sounds good, but not of food. How about we pick up a couple bottles of champagne and retire to your place?"
"A man after my own heart." Rachael smiled.
“It’s not the only thing of yours I'm after," Flip replied as he slid into the leather seat beside her.
As the Mercedes reached the expressway, it picked up speed. Rachael expertly wound in and out of the heavy traffic. "Okay, Flip, who are you running from this time?" she asked without taking her eyes from the road.
Flip flashed a quick look at her, then back to the cars whizzing by. Riding with Rachael always made him nervous. He tried to relax his grip on the armrest but gave up when Rachael slammed on breaks and blew her horn at a pick-up truck that had cut her off.
"What are you talking about, my dear?" he asked.
"Flip, I've known you for almost three years now. In the past, your typical modus operandi is to send a dozen red roses a week or so before you plan to ‘take Atlanta.’ You then send a telegram filled with suggestive things you've been thinking of doing to me, followed by one of those lovely and naughty phone calls. Only once before did you call the day you were planning to arrive without any, shall we say, foreplay. That was when you were running from...Leona, wasn't that her name?"
"You're not even close," Flip responded testily. "Her name was Linda, but I wasn't running from her. I just..."
"Give it up, Flip. You do some things very well—very well indeed, but lying isn't one of them. What happened? Did you decide to add to your harem and end up in over your head?"
"For your information, I was visiting my college roommate, Lionel. I believe I've told you about him."
"He's the mad scientist in North Carolina, isn't he?"
Flip held his breath as Rachael dodged the car from one lane to another. "Lionel happens to be a very successful research scientist at Bio-Vita Tech. He'll probably win a Nobel Prize one day." Then remembering Rachael's previous comment, he asked, "And what's this about my harem?"
"Flip, this is Rachael you're talking to. Don't get coy with me. I know you have other women—several in fact." Rachael's smile had a sadistic quality to it. She glanced at Flip and patted him lightly on the knee.
"Let's see. There's Stacey, and Liz and Ingrid. Oh, and let's not forget Bridgette. Oh, do help me, Flip. I'm terrible with names, even of my friends." Flip was not enjoying her little game. "Where did you come up with those names?" He asked coldly.
Rachael giggled a little but did not speak for several moments. Instead, she concentrated on her driving. She cut across three lanes of traffic just in time to catch her exit. "We'll be home soon, Flip. I'll fix you a nice hot bubble bath. I'm sure you'd enjoy one after your flight."
Flip did not respond but was deep in thought. Had it been an incredible coincidence that the names Rachael had dropped were the same as four of Flip's other girls? He didn't think so. The names were too uncommon. How had she found out about them? Flip had specific rules of conduct he followed. He never mentioned his other women, and he never lied or tried to convince any of them that they were the only one in his life. How had Rachael come up with those names?
They didn't speak of it again until they were in Rachael's apartment and on the second bottle of champagne. Flip stared into the flames of the gas fireplace, his head nestled in Rachael's lap, one hand holding the champagne glass while the other idly rubbed the alpaca rug beneath him. Rachael's habit of maintaining a cold, almost frigid, apartment so she could enjoy the fireplace and her heated water bed seemed to Flip to be just another sign of her excessive approach to life. It was one he particularly enjoyed.
Rotating the glass slowly in his hand and watching the golden liquid slide around, Flip gently reopened the subject again.
''It wasn't a guess, was it?"
"What's that?" Rachael asked returning from some far away daydream.
"Ingrid, Stacey, and Liz?"
"Let's not forget Bridgette," Rachael giggled. "No, I wasn't guessing."
"How do you know about them? I try to be very discreet."
"Oh, you are, Flip. You're very cute that way." Rachael smiled sweetly at him and started playing with his ear.
"Well?" Flip asked, a hint of impatience slipping into his voice.
"Well, what? Oh, how did I know? I'm sorry Flip. My mind was wandering. You have the cutest ears I think I've ever seen." She continued to tickle him, sending goosebumps running up and down his neck. She's enjoying the little mystery, Flip thought. She's driving me crazy with curiosity, and she knows it. She is a bit sadistic. It shows up in her lovemaking as well, sometimes becoming almost violent.
"There are several ways I could have found out. I could have looked in your wallet one night while you were sleeping. I could have hired a detective to follow you. There are several ways, Flip."
"But which way did you choose?" Flip tried to keep his voice calm.
"Well, none of them. I didn't need to find out about your other women."
"What are you talking about? You're not making sense."
"I didn't need to find out about them because I already knew them."
"What!" Flip sat up, spilling his champagne on himself and the rug.
"Think back, Flip. How did we meet?"
Flip thought for a moment but couldn't remember.
"Don't strain your brain, honey. Let me help. Do you remember a pretty brunette by the name of Eloise?"
"Yeah, that's rig
ht. She introduced us."
"That's right, then she ran off and married that banking executive. She retired from the business world at the same time. I was her replacement."
"What do you mean? I thought she sold real estate."
"She did. I don't mean I replaced her that way. I took over her 'harem spot.'"
Flip spun around so he could see her better in the subdued light. "There's that word again. I don't know what you mean."
"You know Flip, I think you're telling the truth. We've often debated about this. I've always thought you knew but were just playing along."
"Knew what? Debated with whom?"
"With Stacey, Liz, and the others. Think for a moment. How many of your ladies would you describe as professional career women?"
Flip thought for a moment then frowned. "Why all of them, I guess. But that's the kind I like. They have brains as well as beauty."
"Thanks, Flip. I'll pass that along. How many of them seem totally dedicated to their careers, as I am?"
"Same answer—all of them."
"You still don't get it, do you?" Rachael poured them both more champagne. "We're all hard-driven businesswomen trying to claw our way to the top of our particular profession. But we are still women, and we have certain needs, just like men do. But who has time to go out and find someone to have a relationship with? And if we could find the time to find one, it would then take too much time and energy to maintain it. What's a woman to do?"
"You're kidding," Flip said, a sick look spreading across his face.
"Don't look so hurt, my dear. It was an informal arrangement at first. I'm not even sure who started it. I think maybe it was Bridgette. Do you recall who the first one was?" Rachael asked nonchalantly.
"No," Flip responded in a dazed manner.
"Well, no matter. Let's just say it was Bridgette. Whoever it was, was very impressed with you. So she told her best friend. Let's say that was Stacy, who then made it a point to run into you at cocktail party or mixer. You know, you're quite the social butterfly. Later, Stacy was on a business trip to Chicago and met Liz. After a couple of drinks, Liz complained to Stacy that her needs weren't being met, and so Stacy told her about you. Before anyone knew it, the Harem was born.
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