Brad’s father drags me from the sofa, rescuing me from death by tobacco. “Just sit there and get stinking drunk, Viola. I’ve something important to say to this young lady,” he hollers in a Texas twang thicker than Brad’s.
“Lady, my ass,” she slurs and glares at my mini-skirt which has a leopard pattern with claws.
I tower above my father-in-law on yes-I-am-a-slut stiletto heels.
“I had my colonoscopy, Veronica, and the doctor removed a polyp as big as my fist.” Ethan clenches his hand and shoves it at my face. “Can you imagine this in my butthole?”
Yes, I can. Ethan is a fruitcake. I have even seen him dancing at the Country Club with a man. He gravitates around the pastels and his dinner jacket is white with blooming lavender flowers. His socks are pink and his slacks and loafers white. A sunny carnation is stuffed in his lapel but Ethan is anything but happy. He is a man living a lie. Really, he should just come out of the closet.
Viola makes a small circle about the size of a dime with her index finger and thumb. She points to his butt with her middle finger. She mouths, his polyp was the size of a pimple.
Ethan does tend to exaggerate like the time he claimed Brad was his biological son because he donated enough sperm to fill a bank.
Ethan now shoves his face closer so that he has my full attention. He bombards me with an alphabet of ailments. “I even have Zinc deficiency,” he hollers.
“Well soil gets that, too. You know…dirt?”
“Dirt?! You think I could have gotten Zinc deficiency from dirt? You’re in dental school. What do you know about it?”
I am descended from a long line of drinkers and usually avoid alcohol but now I reach for a Fat Like Buddha cocktail.
“Viola,” Ethan howls, “you been shoveling dirt in my food again? You been digging up the garden drunk?”
Viola is all over Brad, raining kisses across his neck. “My boy, my sweet boy. Your Mama loves you, Braddie, more than anyone in the world!”
This is the first time I’ve seen Brad try to free himself from his mother’s embrace. He unwraps her arms from around his waist and slides across the sofa. He tugs at his collar as if choking on his own spit. He swallows and says rather proudly, “Traci learned to ride a two-wheeler today.”
“Do you ride your bicycle well, little girl, or do you fall off your seat like your clumsy mother?” Viola does not wait to watch Traci’s hurt look. She burps and attacks me next. “Brad confided to me, Veronica, when you fell off your exercise bicycle and broke your wrist. Brad and I had a good laugh about that incident for a long time, didn’t we, honey?” Viola chuckles and slides across the couch shoving her hip against Brad. She strokes his arm, purring, and mussing his hair. Her eyes glitter at me as if to say, Your husband is mine. Brad is my son. My boy will never belong to any woman but his mother.
Ethan ruffles Traci’s hair. “Your daddy learned to ride a two-wheeler when he was four years old. Now what do you think of that, little lady?”
Traci’s puffed-out chest deflates at the comparison. She hides her face in my skirt.
This is the first time Brad has ever boasted about his daughter. “Traci has learned to ride a bigger bicycle than the bike I learned on and she rides so well I believe Traci may be a champion bike rider some day. You just wait and see. Traci will ride better than I ever did.”
Viola coughs and her cigarette drops from the long holder and onto her lap. She screams from the burning and smacks the cigarette to the carpet.
Ethan stomps on the cigarette and Viola’s toes, causing her to screech even louder.
My mother-in-law has mastered the art of turning any situation to her favor. “Aha, the little bicycle thing proves my theory! I have insisted that child does not take after you, Braddie. Traci is unfortunately like her mother and will grow up just as dumb.”
Brad stands to his imposing height. “Ronni is my wife, Mother.” He spits out the word Mother as if the endearment is a filthy word. “Treat her with respect.”
“This woman...Veronica trapped you by getting pregnant,” she snarls.
“Surely you exaggerate, Mother. It takes two to impregnate.”
“Now wait just a minute, son.” Ethan massages his arm where I punched him in a sort of friendly manner. “Don’t talk to your mother in that tone of voice.”
“Oh, but she can speak to my wife impolitely and with the intent to hurt Ronni’s feelings?”
“Wait, Braddie, don’t leave like this, darling,” Viola wails.
Ethan stomps his foot. “Shit, we haven’t even eaten and I’ve got them ulcers, and vertigo, and whiplash, and Xerostomia—that’s dry mouth. I need a blasted drink!” Ethan pours himself a Mint Julep cocktail, spitting out some of his wife’s skin. Slowly, Viola has been shedding her eyelids, the result of too much Alpha Hydroxy Acid. “This Mint Julep tastes like mint toothpaste!”
“There’s a Brain Hemorrhage I fixed for you, Ethan, right there.” Viola points to a bloody-red glass with smoking dry ice, and it is not even Halloween.
“When you learn to treat my wife with respect, Mother, then we’ll come back,” Brad snaps.
Viola’s mouth hangs open, a cigarette dangling from her mouth, stuck to her dry lips.
My mouth drops open and I grab onto the chair arm to stop from falling.
Traci throws herself at Brad. He lifts his daughter in his arms and she hugs his neck tightly. “You coming, Ronni?” he says.
I nod my head meekly.
Maybe something scared the crap out of Brad in Philadelphia. Perhaps the plane almost crashed and his life passed before his eyes. Or it could be that Bubba Simpson, Barbie’s hubby, finally took a shot at him, as he has threatened to. Possibly, one of Brad’s patients died from heart failure and the man was 32, the same age as Brad. My husband never had a heart for Traci or me—not until he returned from Philadelphia.
Traci falls asleep during the drive home, and Brad carries her into the house gently placing her on the bed. “She looks like a sleeping angel,” he whispers.
“Funny, that between you and me, we could make an angel.”
He runs his hand across his head, making his hair scruffy as if he just woke up. He yanks off his tie and stretches, yawning. “Well, good night, Ronni.”
“Brad!” My panicky voice causes him to spin, and he almost falls in the hallway. “Do you believe that a couple can begin again?”
“Everyone deserves a second chance.” His hands are in his pockets and he rocks on his feet, waiting for my response.
Okay, so I started this conversation but my tongue is stuck to my throat.
His shoulders slump and he drags his feet to his bedroom.
For the first time, I leave the door wide open to my bedroom and undress, slowly and deliberately, mimicking Mama, the stripper. I hum the music to a burlesque movie because Brad is listening.
Chapter 12
HUSBAND
For the record, I am not a sex addict, but Ronni looked so seductive tonight, I squirmed at the parents, crossing my legs, adjusting my pants.
She left her bedroom door open on purpose. I closed my eyes and swallowed, listening to her undressing.
Ah, she unhooked her bra, leaving her breasts free to wiggle about. Maybe one will bounce off and roll into my bedroom.
Zip. Her skirt scraped down her rear.
My breath caught in my throat at the footsteps in the hall.
Ronni stood at the threshold of my bedroom. She touched the dimmer and lowered the light in my bedroom. She was dressed in a long-tailed shirt and spiky heels. Suddenly, she turned red. “This…this is a mistake,” she softly said and turned to leave.
“No, it isn’t,” I groaned and spun her around. My chest rose painfully and I began to unbutton my shirt. First the cufflinks.
I ripped off her shirt and then her camisole. “You have beautiful breasts,” I murmured.
She blushed.
I rubbed her back with my chest, fluttering my hands across her body, bru
shing her tits lightly. Burn, Baby! Burn!
She pushed her rear into me and groaned.
“Feel how much I want you, Ronni, and desire you to the point where I…”
She turned, wrapped her arms around my neck, and shut me up with her lips.
I placed a hand on each buttock and lifted her to my waist.
She wrapped her legs around me, shuddering. She grabbed me, causing me to groan. “Did I squeeze too hard?” she said in a breathy voice.
“No, do that again. It’s a good kind of pain. I’m almost past the point of no return,” I warned her, “so you better be serious.”
Her answer was to rub me as if wanting to start a fire.
She was glorying in her power over me and I shoved her back against the wall, pushing against her, grinding my hips, pulsing into her, throbbing, rocking, and making her feel all of me until her knees buckled.
I lowered her to the carpet and groaned, smashing my lips with hers.
To hell with the consequences! I was condemned if I took her and lost if I turned her down. This taboo was the most desirable of all. Ever since coming from Philadelphia, Ronni tortured me with her presence. She was causing me to act like a perverted teenage boy spying on her, like a peep show. I really had tried to stay away from her and not touch her. I never meant for this to actually happen but she came to me and I am not supposed to act on her invitation?
“Cum. Cum to me,” I whispered in her ear. “Join with me. Be mine.” If only for one night. God help me, I am such a bastard!
Ronni opened her legs wide and I shoved myself into her as deep as I could go. I rode Ronni like a man possessed. Damn she felt good!
“Move,” I grunted.
“Move harder,” I panted. “Dammit. Move like you mean it.”
Ronni became a wild woman in my arms and our bodies slammed against each other.
Harder.
Harder.
Harder.
I must be a sex god and with every pound of flesh, Ronni screamed as lightning zapped the sky.
I gave one loud cry and shuddered on top of her.
Our finale was the loudest boom of thunder. God may be pissed at me for deceiving Ronni. He hurled from the sky a perfect dome of light about six feet in diameter as if short aliens landed, but then the light vanished from the window as lightning does.
“You can sleep in my bed tonight,” Ronni whispered, smiling up at me in the soft light of my room.
I fell asleep on Ronnie’s frilly virginal bed. Oddly, my conscience bothered me less though I should have felt guiltier for seducing her into having intercourse with me. Ever since flying to Austin from Philly, nightmares have plagued me, but tonight, I slept undisturbed by dark dreams.
Call me sentimental, but after tonight, I would no longer think of the sex act with Ronni by the coarse word of fucking. Yeah, we had intercourse, a higher class act.
My last thought as I drifted off to sleep was to put in a good word for myself with God. I rarely talk to The Man in the white suit but guilt ate at my guts for having sex with Ronni.
Ah, come on, God! Don’t be so pissed at me for my new carnal knowledge of Ronni. I promise not to commit the act again.
To show God I meant every word, I snuck out of Ronni’s bed around five in the morning to resist the temptation of morning hard-on, you know when that part of a man’s body wakes up first. Yeah, we guys have a built in alarm cock.
Chapter 13
HUSBAND
The three of us sat down like a normal happy family and ate breakfast together, scrambled eggs and pancakes. Well, anyway Traci was joyful. Ronni acted suspicious, causing my stomach to ache more than usual. This situation was giving me an ulcer.
Okay, lady, I snuck out of your room in the middle of the night for your own protection. I’m trying to do the right thing here, what I should have done since returning from Philly. I have had a pang of conscience.
“Since when can you cook?” She eyed the eggs with distrust.
“Since always.” I chomp on a piece of toast, smiling smugly. A woman married a man and thought she knew everything about him.
“The last time you were near the stove, I had to put out a fire because you tried boiling hot water. Ah, but then you are a braggart, Brad, and believe you can do anything better than anyone else.”
She gave me an icy smile. Ronni was spoiling for a fight because she surrendered sexually giving me all of her, well the strategic parts below her waist. Ah, saved by the cell phone ring. “Yes?” I answered loudly to shut Ronni up.
“Hi, sugar, it’s me,” a woman answered in a deep, sexy voice.
“You have the wrong number,” I insisted.
“Why, sugar, I just wanted to thank you for this morning. It was scrumptious. Absence does make the heart grow fonder.”
“This morning? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Best phone sex you’ve given me, Tiger,” the woman growled.
“Phone sex?!”
“What’s phone sex, Daddy?” Traci rubbed the sleep from her eyes.
Ronni flung her napkin down.
I pushed the End Call button. “Wrong number,” I muttered.
“And I thought you changed, Brad, else I never would have…No wonder you snuck out of my room this morning, you lying cheat! And after we…” Her lower lip trembled. She was going to say—fuc…had intercourse.
Please, spare me the dramatics! Ronni had such a hurt look in her eyes I felt like cutting off my finger to remove the tight gold wedding ring. The woman had a gift for making me feel like the sneaky, tricky man I had become. My voice rose in anger at having to explain. “It was just some nut on the phone, Ronni. Don’t make a big deal out of a stupid phone call.”
She pushed her chair back from the table. “And in front of Traci, Brad, you rinse out your dirty wash?”
Now the kid looked like she was about to cry. I had little experience with children. What was I supposed to say to Traci, explain what phone sex was or say that her mother was upset because I had intercourse with her last night, and the act turned a woman into a jealous fishwife who thought she owned a man?
Ronni seized the opportunity to ball me out in whispers. “A tiger really can’t change its stripes.”
Jerk me off, floozy!
“You are a lying, cheating, conniving wolf, Brad.”
Yeah, well you are a stinking prostitute, stripper, pole-dancing slut!
“Do you think you can pull the wool over my eyes?”
“Wool?” I squeaked guiltily. “I’m innocent, Ronni. I did not have phone sex with that woman.”
Unfortunately, Ronni did not appreciate my poking fun at a United States president. She hit me. Ronni beat my back with her fists.
I stormed out of the kitchen.
The woman was impossible. She had no sense of humor.
The drive to work was torture. It was like 98 degrees with 100% humidity. Shouldn’t it be raining when the humidity was 100%? My shirt stuck to my back and my balls itched with sweat. I kicked off my shoes, peeled my damp socks from my ankles, and drove barefoot with my hairy toes sliding off the wet accelerator.
Halfway to work and I was driving in just my undershirt and shorts, my soaking plaid shirt cooling my sticky hair like one of those towel heads.
If only Ronni could have slipped into a coma last night, her death would save me a lot of guilt.
I did not have phone sex with that woman.
I laughed at my own cleverness and about the wool thing, too.
Do you think you can pull the wool over my eyes?
Uh, yes, I do.
Chapter 14
HUSBAND
A bologna sandwich was kind of like my marriage, which was full of baloney or maybe marriage to Ronni was Spam, a meat part clear gel so shaky and see through. What was transparent—my so-called marriage would not end well.
My office door burst open and a peroxide blonde flung her purse back and smacked me.
Bologna fl
ew out of my mouth. My head flung against the back of the chair, and the chair flew across the room, the wheels whining against the wooden floor.
I cupped my bleeding nose tenderly. “You could have broken my nose, you whore!”
“How dare you hang up on me, Brad O’Boyle,” she spit out. Even with a tablespoon of saliva, Barbie’s Texas twang was itchy.
“Hang up? What in tarnation are you talking about?”
“You know perfectly well I’m talking about this morning. I would have come over earlier to give you hell, but could not escape from Bubba, that fat ass. God, I wish I’d never married that pig.”
Barbie was aptly named. She resembled the Blonds Diamond Barbie doll with cat eyes, super-long fake feathery eyelashes, full red lips, and long white-blonde hair. She even had a hot-pink leather jack draped across one shoulder. Barbie was a real Texas beauty queen, according to the patch on her jacket.
She cracked her gum and plumped down on my desk, jiggling her boobs. “Quit acting like you don’t recognize my girls, Brad, and take that stupid look off your face. I can recite the size and brand of your underwear. I shop for you, remember? I have even measured you. We had fun that day with the ruler. You betcha!” She blew a bubble and it popped. Barbie could chew gum and scream like a banshee at the same time without choking. “You hung up on me after professing to love me for the rest of your life when we had phone sex this morning! And last Sunday morning instead of going to church you said you felt like ear humping me again!”
“Was my number blocked when I called you this morning to have phone sex?”
“Yes, your number was blocked but you can’t hide from me, Brad O’Boyle. I have your cell phone number, your mama’s number, and your private office number. Oh, and your mama said to call her. I had lunch with Viola yesterday. She’s still upset at you.”
She pouted at the blood dripping from my nose to my fingers and handed me a perfumed hanky. “Poor baby.”
Barbie was scarier in a purring mood than when she was beating me up with a hefty purse. She shook her hips around the desk and groped me a hard squeeze with her vampire-like fingernails.
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