Vincent added “Don’t go on my account, I’m out of here in a few minutes.”
Soon after he departed Christy’s anger and frustration spewed from her mouth. Beth watched as Vincent disappeared into a mix of distance and the cover of night. As Christy broke her tirade momentarily Beth spoke up again.
“Maybe you were invited just to hang out for drinks?”
The thought was something that the evening was intended to be purely social never occurred to Christy. In her mind there always had to be more, an agenda a purpose. Then again she never really had many friends or much of a life.
Everybody’s Brother
Sitting on the floor laughing mindlessly at “Billy Madison” on cable Steve was flanked by his two new nymphets friends. The girls were both cuddled up to Steve, who while he enjoyed the warmth, just kept on laughing at the movie. Hoping to move things along at least a little Tiff left returning in a playful pair of barely kitty and ass covering short shorts and a nearly sheer skin tight tank. Steve watched her with interest as she sat down next to him a leg now draped over his. So maybe getting him talking might help, but even when posed with a chance to answer a question that could portray him in a sexual light he referred back to his job, his hobbies and an assorted list of other odd habits. Either or both of the girls would have provided him with a world of carnal delights in a manner that he had never quite imagined, but he kept talking about what he thought made him have value in life, not ever realizing there was the possibility of something more.
As Steph went to “get comfortable” she decided that gym shorts and a T-shirt might be more his pace, it was about as unsexy as it could have been. Steve instead kept talking, right along with the movie doing each and every line. The potential for something hot, erotic and sexual just never occurred, he was happy to be hanging out with them. Steve was however convinced to spend the night as Tiff explained that it was probably a little too late to go home. Tiff kissed him goodnight, a shallow, soft, slow kiss and his arousal flickered. He did not however advance with a touch or a second kiss. He declined to sleep in the same bed with either of the girls and instead slept on the couch in his T-shirt and jeans.
Some guys have all the luck, but only a rare few of those truly know what to do, most simply aren’t closers. Steve did think about Christy though, right before dozing off.
Just another Manic Monday
Some people do their best thinking in the morning. Christy woke 2 minutes before her alarm at 5:23am. It had been a full weekend, in fact the fullness of the previous week was typically completed by the artificial fullness of her weekends kept the fact hidden from plain sight that she lacked a life of substance beyond her work life. So while the Husker was on his way to his morning run and Donna for the first time on a weekday morning was in route back to her own place to ready herself for the day. Christy laid there alone on her crisp white sheets wearing her soft pink bottoms, that of course had been tailored to be just the right length, with matching soft pink button up short sleeve top. Some people are of course naturally charismatic. Christy decided there and then that morning that she did in fact consider herself adventurous, she was by her own design and intention fun, enthralling, and daring. The crisp cold 300 thread count sheets next to her told another story. The sheets declared on a daily basis that her job was her life, that she had no other diversions. They told a story of her expectations and the actuality that a man or a type of man taking a genuine interest in her, her expectations of his devotion to her and a completely empty life when she was not present was more akin to the affection levels that would be required by a delusional stocker, fairy tales or adolescent crushes filled with hopelessly desperate puppy love than an actual mature relationship combining love and compromise with a lasting passion.
As she got out of bed and made her way to the shower, her body was still stiff from the nights slumber her thoughts remained uncharacteristically not on the day ahead and its unrelenting demands but on the events of the day just passed. Steam filled the bathroom as she used her electric tooth brush with merciless intention, looking more like a person the tooth brush company would have used in an instructional video than an actual person brushing her teeth. As Christy unbuttoned the top three buttons on her top she thought
to herself how sensually tempting it was that the 4th button on her pajamas had not ever been buttoned. She revealed a white cotton low cut tank top, the low cut portion, was her opinion, it was in fact rather prudish as tank tops go. The ritual of disrobing continued and she found herself in a modest pair of white cotton bikini briefs, how daring they were she thought. There were nuns who wore more daring undergarments to church. She though they were alluring and enticing, her build could have been sexy and alluring, but her personality simply did not allow it. Christy had convinced herself she knew what well bred and respectable men wanted in a lover and a partner, what they longed for and found attractive, her image was in fact too pure for even the most common mans’ taste let alone the depraved lustful needs of the
affluent and powerful.
Somewhere between shampoo rinse and repeat a song from a deplorable bar band she had heard in a dive bar in Leigh High Valley during summer break in college came to mind.
“it’s not as bad as yesterday,
at least that’s what I’m told,
not much left to say,
but I hate waking up alone.”
She remembered a thin, manic singer who looked like death warmed over, pinning at a mostly empty room as if the walls held the secret to his misery. She stood there in the steam of the shower like he stood there that night, in a low fog on the stage filled with
putrid green light on his face, she had felt for a moment that he was truly alone in life. As she washed, she hummed the melody one last time another verse came to mind.
“Once I was in love,
but that you probably guessed,
the little girl shook up my world,
and I’m still a fucking wreck.”
After years of driving everything in her world it dawned on her she no longer knew where she was going, but for the first time ever she was worried about waking up alone.
The Things That Happen in Between Living
Nadrea found herself sitting in her office, eyes hazed from the mind numbing number of documents she was pouring through and rout conversations that were part of the daily routine. There were of course drinks here and there, mixed social activities, blatant lies and other routine obsessions about things that were for the most part trivial and meaningless, but somehow more often than not defined the very core of her being passing the minutes seconds and hours of the week. The Husker was also reading, studying positioning and debating items of significantly greater importance. Donna fretted as the final arrangements were being made for her to meet up with Paul when he arrived. Vincent readied himself, not so much for the present, but for the following week when a company they had taken an equity stake in would be headed off to the Mecca of business finance to finalize a series of new working capital through mezzanine financing, a third round placement and credit facilities required to support an IPO.
Donna and the Husker spoke daily and spent three of the first four evenings of the week together. Nadrea spent those evening passing her time with her usual routine of impure diversions and assorted playthings. Vincent however never called, she finally called him Thursday morning. Christy spent the week biding her time, waiting for Robert to cast his new toy aside and her life to get back to normal.
Thursday is almost Friday
It was a cold evening in comparison to the rest of the week and the time of the year, but somehow the fading warmth of day giving way to the cold darkness of the evening fit perfectly in line with the long anguishing life that occurred during the week. Vincent had reluctantly agreed during her call earlier in the day to have dinner at 8:30. After all he had been in the office by 6:30am and this would allow him to put in a thirteen and a half hour day before finally calling it qui
ts so by the time he needed to leave he was overly weary but still trudged forward as agreed to pick her up.
In contrast Nadrea’s day ended at 5:30 and she prepared to take her day look that had been temporarily interrupted with a mid-day workout and a fruit and mixed baby greens salad at the club for lunch. So she headed home to change for the evening. No sooner than she walked through the door did the sound system kick in, the day’s theme was lust filled graphically sexual rap. As the treble setting and midrange frequencies faded giving way to a wall shaking bass thump Nadrea went for the tan leather pants and subtly contrasting suede blouse and a pair of matching four inch heels. Her hair was down and flowing. Her demure daytime makeup gave way to a clean face that was then painted with dark heavily curled lashes, dark eye liner and burgundy lips. Sipping a vodka and cranberry from a pewter and glass rocks glass, the look mixed with the music and the drink in hand gave her appearance a bit of an edge, a euro trash night club look.
Vincent arrived, the inside of his Acura RL glowing purple like a space ship. The charcoal gray car’s windows were tinted so dark black that the windows looked like black mirrors. Vincent’s day wear was his evening wear, dark gray Brooks Brothers trousers, Black Allen Edmunds loafers a black Canali blazer and a custom made striped dress shirt. Nadrea’s cell rings as Vincent rounds the corner onto her street.
She answered “Hello” reading the caller ID knowing damn well who it was.
“2 minutes” Vincent states. “Charcoal Acura” and just as quickly as it had been answered he was gone. No small talk or banter, no hello, no good bye, it was like he had fallen into an episode of dragnet “Just the facts ma’am.” Soon after the call Nadrea was tucked into the black leather bucket seat and after buckling in and exchanging basic greetings connected her IPod to the car’s sound system to continue with the theme of the evening of pounding rap music. Neither spoke after saying their hello’s. Vincent drove racing through the streets pushing the car’s handling and all wheel drive close to its limits. Nadrea just stared out of the dark windows singing along with the songs while counting the seconds until they arrived.
As they entered the restaurant and were seated both were stoic and silent until the waiter arrived. Nadrea ordered a Grey Goose with cranberry juice and Vincent a Dewars on the rocks. She hadn’t seen him drink or eat much either. Well other than the typically irritatingly morning pancakes from Friday night, she could still swim in that delicious memory.
“Why are you here?” Nadrea asked somehow wanting to break the silence as the waiter’s assistant showed up with crustinis.
Vincent thought about his answer, drifting back from where ever his other thoughts had actually been occurring “I figured it was a good place to kill some time. Besides all work nd no play makes a dull boy.”
Nadrea wasn’t sure what he actually meant by his answer. Sure he was typically irritating often he avoided her, more often he interrupted her but at the very least he had always been playful. It occurred to her that this was the first time she had been with him even for a few minutes that he hadn’t laughed. Vincent hadn’t carried on with anyone, instead he just ordered dinner, conversed when she engaged him and kept most of his own thoughts to himself. There was wine with dinner she had steamed Sea Bass with Asian vegetables and jasmine rice, he had seared Ahi with a Miso paste Glaze and Wasabi and Bok Choy garnish.
They walk toward his car a little over two blocks away and at dinner Nadrea had finished the better portion of the bottle of wine just chatting away at Vincent, she was finally starting to relax and unwind. He just took it all in formulating his own thoughts about what was being said. The street grew darker as they neared his car which was in a short stretch with two burned out street lights along a row of businesses that had closed for the evening , trees and grass were between the sidewalk and the street. Dimly lit apartments hovered above the businesses below them. In the darkness of an otherwise quiet street Vincent unlocked the car and trailed Nadrea to her side to open the door for her as she continued to talk away. A man appeared from behind the SUV in front of them “Give me the fucking keys” he demanded. Vincent turned to face him watching the man as Vincent’s size became apparent to the attacker. He closed the door before Nadrea could get in so as she stepped back away from the front of the car Vincent asked his counterpart. “Give you the fucking keys, or what?” He surmised that the would be attacker was about five seven and a hundred and forty five pound man in his early to mid twenties. “Don’t make me.” The attacker said his voice wavering between angry and violent and nervous. Vincent was worried, there was no weapon being brandished, the assault had started at a distance, not a pro, just some bush league thief looking for an easy grab who was not prepared to deal with conflict.
“Get the fuck out of here before I fucking hurt you” Vincent instructed him as he approached. Most men when threatened wouldn’t have held their ground, a small percentage might have tried to diffuse the situation but only on a rare instance would someone have advanced on an attacker not out of a defensive posture to protect them self but out of pure aggression. Vincent didn’t keep his distance but kept moving closer. Advancing past the front of the car to the sidewalk.. Nadrea moved to the edge of the front door still standing three feet back from the vehicle and now in the middle of the deadly still street. As the confrontation unfolded Vincent slid the keys in his front pocket after hitting the button to relock the car. It was the moment for the attacker to decide, the most basic human survival instinct fight or flight. A reaction that should have been part of his evolutionary make up, but something must have been mis-wired. The attacker’s hands were in plain sight, he didn’t reach for a weapon. Most people, especially most yuppies, would have simply folded, tossing the keys and calling the police form their cell phones. Vincent just watched his body tensed waiting for the seconds that felt like a lifetime in slow motion for the assailant’s move. When it came it was a charging movement toward Vincent, a pathetic stupid attempt to retreat to where he had come from rather than in the opposite direction of danger. It was like a slow wounded zebra running toward the lions. Vincent caulked his leg stepping into the attacker as he passed landing a shoulder in his ribs and a fore arm across the attacker’s head as he fell backward, his eyes unfocused staggering to keep his balance and gather his breath. Nadrea was mesmerized, watching with a morbid curiosity as Vincent landed a bone shattering blow across his opponent’s left cheek cracking his nose where it met his face.
As Vincent unleashed a merciless flurry of primitive brutal blows on to a man who was crumbling to the ground at his feet Nadrea thought how it was like flying over a Florida lightning storm during dusk, flashes of light and beauty in the darkness that despite the danger was worth ever pulse pounding second, she felt so alive. Vincent stood over the crumpled mass of a man half conscious and bleeding from his mouth and nose the red drops spewing from his body through the cool night air onto the cold damp sidewalk. Vincent’s nostrils flared still filled with blood lust, “Now get out of her before I really hurt you!” Nadrea still anticipating additional seemingly obvious violence drifted slowly even further back. Not until something caught her eye in the distance did she realize she was in the middle of the street with a car just a few blocks away pointed its lights in her direction.
“Should I call the Cops?” she asked as the humbled assailant attempted to move away from Vincent. “No. Get in the car.” Vincent replied unlocking the car and tossing the keys in her direction. Nadrea missed the keys and scrambled into the street to retrieve them. “Start it before I get in.” Vincent’s tone leaving no room for questions his eyes still watching his attacker intensely.
Nadrea started the car. She sat and watched through the dark windows, her date still towering over the injured man. “Never kick a man when he’s down.” Vincent said not at all pleased that he was still in the company of the moron who tried to steal his car. “Bullshit!” he yelled his voice filled with murderous rage. He kicked the already befuddled injured criminal
in his ribs breaking two of them making each breath more painful than the last while he shielded his head fearing more unprovoked attacks. The blow delivered another brilliant flash of his brutality in retribution that was otherwise uncalled for. “Should have run when you had the chance.” Vincent said quickly, climbing into the car locking the doors as soon as he entered pulling away into the street quickly as if it was he who had stolen the car, echo’s of Ludicrous echoing in the space they had just occupied.
“Why didn’t you want me to call the police?” Nadrea asked. For the first time that night Vincent laughed “because I’m an escaped convict.” Nadrea was amazed enough once again, not at all amused even though for much of the night she had missed his odd sense of humor shooting back at him
“No really,” Nadrea for all of her alternative activities believed that the legal system, a profession that she herself worked in was for the most part a fair and well functioning system. Vincent waited but her eyes fixed on him finally looked back at the road and answered. “Why call them so that dickhead could know who we were and where we live?” Nadrea had never thought of it that way. Vincent continued, “Then he would sue me for kicking his ass when he tried to steal my car and you for not stopping me. No fucking thanks.” They would wind through the streets on their way back to Nadrea’s. She was still flush with the brutality of the confrontation, aroused by his violent force feeling secure and safe in the most primitive way admiring his strength. Vincent on the other had had also enjoyed the confrontation with his assailant, he only wished it had been a better fight.
It Had Been Years Page 17