The War Council

by Ann Shepphird

  If we are given a little emotional support through this precarious journey that is love, however, it is not so tragic if we lose that love. No longer are we left with an empty feeling of worthlessness if it doesn’t work out. We still have our support system and are therefore less afraid to take a chance.

  In other words: We’re not scared of love; we’re scared of not having love, of not being loved, of being hurt, of being alone. That is, until now.

  I could help these people. Well, I mean, the War Council could help these people. I realized I was changing my tune a bit but not really. I was adapting my ideas to the ones represented by Maggie’s original War Council concept. I also had to acknowledge all that we had accomplished.

  I still didn’t like the name. War Council promoted love as a battle. I preferred to think of us at the U.N. Security Council of love and had tried to get everyone to start just calling us The Council. We promoted peaceful coexistence, not war. Let’s bring people together, not send them out battling each other. Naturally, there are times when bringing about a peaceful settlement requires strategies and battle plans, but I liked to think of our strategies and battle plans as more akin to economic sanctions or strategic diplomacy than all-out war.

  Take Betsy and Herb: Herb was pretty much spending all his time sitting in his Barcalounger watching television and ignoring Betsy. She nagged Herb to get out of his chair and do something. Herb got irritated and more entrenched in his chair.

  So, we worked to reframe the paradigm a bit by creating Betsy as a pleasurable alternative to the television while the same time destroying Herb’s desire to watch television. The latter was accomplished in part through negative sense stimuli. Essentially, every time Herb sat down to watch television, he received a small shock from his chair (barely perceptible and not dangerous, I can assure you), a smell sensor set off some rather putrid odors, and the TV set was perpetually out of focus—no matter how many times he called the cable company.

  We then helped Betsy realize that the better she felt about herself and the things she did apart from her life with Herb, the more attracted Herb would be to spending time with her. Betsy joined a book club, began working in their garden, going to films with friends, and attending lectures on campus. Suddenly, Herb was bored, lonely, the television wasn’t solving his problems, and there was the same vibrant, self-assured woman he’d fallen in love with 30 years ago standing before him.

  So, through strategically designed plans, we helped bring happiness to a troubled couple. The War Council—sorry, just Council—provided loving support toward the goal of a peaceful loving union. Really, we were just what the world needed. I had to give Maggie credit for the idea, and the truth is, she was one of its biggest successes. Now that she had lost interest in the project—once she and Nick got together, she slowly started backing away from the project—I could really move it toward its full potential.

  “Sorry I’m late. What’s up?” Speak of the devil. Maggie slid into the seat across from me.

  “Not much. Just enjoying the day.”

  “It is a nice day, huh?”

  “Very nice. Did you see Betsy and Herb over there?”

  “Which ones are they?”

  “The Bio admin and the couch potato.”

  “Oh yeah, that was a good one. Did you take the electrodes out of his chair?”

  “Randy took care of it.”

  “Good. Things going all right over at the War Council? I’m going to get over to the offices soon. I promise.”

  “No worries. Things are moving very smoothly. Mike and Monique have even hired some new field workers to help out.”

  “Oh good. Good.”

  “So?”

  “So?” Maggie knew what I mean and began grinning from ear to ear.

  “How’s Nick?”

  “Good. Yeah. Good.” More grinning. And some blushing, too.

  “So?”

  “What? Things are good. They’re really… good.”

  “Uh huh?” Details, Maggie, details.

  “Actually, things are fantastic. That’s why I haven’t been around. It’s kind of embarrassing, but things are just so good.”

  “Uh huh?”

  “You know what I mean.” The smile got bigger. “We’ve had this project where we’re, you know, working our way through his music collection.”

  “Working your way through?”

  “Yeah, you know, from Elvis to Puccini. It’s a HUGE project.”

  Maggie laughed out loud, and I must say my heart was filled with joy. It felt so good to see her happy after all the years of Bill-induced misery. The change was incredible. Two short months and logical, analytical Maggie was grinning like a schoolgirl. Like I said, love: the great equalizer.

  “We’ve even worked our way up to the blues.”

  “You and Nick are listening to the blues? Together?” That was a big step.

  “Well, not just listening, you know…”

  Just then the boy wonder showed up.

  “Hey gals, what’s up?”

  “Ha, Nick, that’s what I said when I got here, too!” Maggie said.

  “You did? Wow!”

  He sat down and they looked at each other like two lovesick cows. Does love make us weenies or what?

  “Guess what I’ve been doing, Maggie?”

  Needless to say, they were oblivious to me.

  “Downloading some new music?”

  “Yep.” Nick held up his phone to show a photo of an album by Trombone Shorty. “What do you think?”

  I swear the woman swooned right on the spot. Then he swooned and their cheeks blushed. It was sickening. “Ahem.”

  “Oh, Kathy, I’m sorry, um…”

  “Why don’t you two go ahead?”

  “Okay, I’ll talk to you soon. And I’ll be in. Really, I will. Soon.”

  “Don’t worry. Just enjoy yourself.”

  “We will. Come on, Nick. We’ve got a date with Trombone Shorty.”

  “Yowza.”

  “Yowza. Is he a nut or what?”

  “Or what,” I responded as they linked arms and trotted off down the street.

  I swear, that night at the Kingfish must have set off a hormone explosion the likes of which had never been seen before. Nick and Maggie were mating like rabbits. Mike and Monique were acting very strangely—although maybe I was just reading into that. And Cindy…

  Cindy had become the belle of Berkeley while Biff had lost any semblance of self-confidence. Naturally, it had not happened with just that one night, but after a few weeks of ego-battering, he succumbed. And Cindy just grew stronger. She began to see her self-worth as including more than just being Biff’s girlfriend.

  I saw her here sporadically. Actually, maybe that was why Kevin was here—hoping to catch a glimpse of her. She was working just around the corner at the Edible Complex and living in an apartment with a friend while Biff had moved home after graduation. Amazingly enough, they still saw each other. Cindy claimed she was still in love with Biff, but the tables had definitely turned. Biff had become very possessive while Cindy managed to flirt with just about every guy she came into contact with. It was still not the healthiest relationship, in my opinion, but at this point, an opinion was all I had to offer.

  I figured I had done enough pondering for the day and was packing up to leave when Mike stopped by.

  “Hey, Kat. Seen that new guy—what’s his name—Leonard?”

  Kat. I hated that. It really didn’t take much effort to add the second syllable to Kathy.

  “No, Mike I haven’t.”

  “Shit.”

  “What’s the problem?”

  “Well, you know, he’s the guy that kept sending the ultimatums to his girlfriend in the form of an Instagram quiz with corresponding pictures. Remember? A. We can continue as we are. B
. We can become engaged. C. We can be friends for life? Remember?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, I’m supposed to be helping him with the assertiveness stuff, but I lost him.”

  “What were you doing to help him with his assertiveness?”

  “I had him working out with the guys on the rugby field.”

  “You had Leonard, 130-pound Leonard, out with those animals?”

  “Yeah. So?”

  “I’m afraid we may never see him again.”

  “Nah, Lenny is tough. You’ll see. I’ll whip him into shape.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Speaking of shape, have you seen Kiki?” Again with the nicknames.

  “I think Monique said she’d be in her office.”

  “Office, yeah, okay.”

  “What do you need her for?”

  “Nothing. Business. You know. Business.”

  Mike raced off to campus. I still couldn’t quite figure out what was going on with them but was mostly just glad they weren’t mad at Maggie and me for not showing up for that first meeting after the night at the Kingfish. Maggie had been so rattled with the Nick stuff she forgot to go and forgot to tell me to go. Mostly, I had to thank the stars they weren’t at each other’s throats anymore. I was having a dinner party later that week to toast the success of the Council, and I didn’t want any flying silverware.

  Chapter Seventeen

  MIKE

  My babe. I gotta tell ya, she was one hot tamale. The more I got to know Monique—Kiki I got to calling her; it made her a little nuts but was easier on the mouth than Monique—the more I realized that, wow, this woman was just so… hot. I mean, all of her was hot. Not just her bod, although her bod really sizzled.

  No, it was her mind. The way she had of looking at life. The way she crinkled her nose in disgust when I disagreed with her about something. The crazy ass words she used. Mostly, though, it was the way that underneath that Hard Ass exterior she was a marshmallow—a big lovable marshmallow with the best bazoongas this side of anywhere. Sorry. Sue me. I’m a guy.

  I was surprised to learn that we’d both had parents who divorced when we were young. There’s kind of a kindred spirit among those of us from, you know, “broken” homes. Not that it’s that unusual these days. Still, it’s like we understood each other as we endured the same shit. We’ve endured our families being destroyed and our parents acting like fucking children is what we’ve endured.

  I remember how pissed off I was with my Dad. What a yutz. I was 14. He was 52 and suddenly decided he liked the 25-year-old cashier at the A&P better than my mom. It was so fucking tacky. And embarrassing. I mean, here was my Dad acting like a horny teenager. He even bought a Corvette and started dying his hair—the full horror.

  The only thing I give my Dad credit for was letting my mom go quickly. He was honest enough to move out and divorce her when he took up Priscilla. (Yes, Priscilla. The worst, right?) My mom cried her eyes out, and for months, my sisters and I took turns listening to her and comforting her. So, my Mom cried her eyes out, and then, realizing the shithead wasn’t coming back, she got a job and her real estate license and made big bucks selling real estate in Connecticut. Go figure, right? Dad and Priscilla were divorced four years later, and mom became the local celebrity realtor.

  That was when I realized that you get what you give. You know? You get what you give.

  Kiki had it a lot worse. For one, I had my sisters, and she was all alone, an only kid. Also, her dad started fooling around on her mom ten years before he left. Didn’t tell her mom about the other woman but did tell her to her face that he didn’t love her—that he felt warmly toward her (can you believe that shit? warmly?)—but did not love her. For ten years, that woman did everything she could to make him love her, and he still left. Kiki blames them both in a way: her dad for being too weak to leave when he wasn’t happy and her mom for playing the victim and not moving on with her life.

  From what Kiki told me, they fought like hell over who would get her and still barely speak. Kiki had to make appointments to visit each of them separately on holidays. I swear, if I get ahold of them someday, I’m gonna slap them silly for what they did to my babycakes.

  I found Kiki where Kathy said she’d be: office hours. I had to smile as even though she was only teaching one course during summer school, there were half a dozen dudes snaking down the hall waiting to talk to her.

  I signaled to her that I was outside. She nodded, an officious kinda nod. We’d decide to keep things between us quiet. See, we both agreed it was just physical, and that at some point it would burn out, so we thought it would only complicate things if anybody knew about us.

  Well, Connor knew about us, mostly because he’d walked in on us when we were doing it in the equipment room. After our first night in the War Council offices, we were kind of into the danger thing. Still, other than Connor—who said he’d keep it on the QT—we met on the sly.

  Finally, Kiki shooed the last of her male admirers out of her office and stood at the door, waiting for me with her sternest look plastered on her face. Whoosh. Total babe.

  “Coach Banks. What can I do for you?”

  “Well, Professor DeVillier, it’s like this…”

  “Excuse my manners. Why don’t you come in, Coach Banks, so we can speak more privately?”

  I entered the office. “Thank you, Professor DeVillier. See, it’s like this: Some of my players have been complaining about your, uh, workload, and I thought we might discuss lightening it a bit.”

  “Hmmm.” She closed the door. “Well now, Coach Banks, I might see my way clear to lightening the load, as you put it, but well, it depends.”

  She locked the door.

  “Depends?”

  “On what inducements you might offer.”

  “Inducements?”

  “Strip.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “You heard me.”

  “Gee, Professor DeVillier. Well, okay…”

  As I took my clothes off, Kiki looked at me with her most fiendish grin—oh how I loved that grin.

  “You may take my clothes off now.” She stood up and stuck out her arms like a scarecrow. She looked ridiculous and seemed to be about to bust up laughing. I started unbuttoning her dress.

  “Snappy frock.”

  “Shut up and take it off.”

  Once it fell to the ground, I grabbed her and threw her on the couch. She screamed with delight—shit, I hope it was delight.

  “Oh baby.”

  “Indeed.”

  We smothered each other with kisses and rolled onto the carpet.

  “Wait, rug burn.”

  Remembering the pain we’d experienced after our first night at the War Council offices, Kiki grabbed a chenille blanket from the couch and laid it on the carpet.

  “Is that new?”

  “A necessary accoutrement.”

  Then she pounced.

  “Hey, I wanna be on top.”

  “You were on top last time.”

  “Yeah, but it’s my fantasy.”

  “All right. Fine.”

  She rolled over, and I looked deep into her eyes.

  “Oh, Coach Banks…”

  “Say it.”

  “No.”

  “Say it.”

  “Really?” She rolled her eyes at me.

  “Please?”

  After a beat, she quietly said: “Go Cal.”

  “Again.”

  A little louder: “Go Cal.”

  “That’s the ticket.” I smiled.

  “Go Cal. Go Cal.” She smiled. “Oh, Go Cal.”

  Soon I’d answered with a rather vibrant “Go Cal” of my own, and we were lying on the newly acquired “accoutrement” in each other’s arms.

  “That was splendi
ferous.”

  “That it was, baby. I sure love… this.”

  She looked over at me, her eyes glowing. “Yes.”

  A moment passed, and we both sighed, still happily locked together. Luckily, we knew it was just physical and would burn out someday.

  “So… about that workload.”

  She smiled. “Can’t. Up for tenure this year.” Then she laughed. “I can’t believe we just did it in my office!”

  “Pfft. It’s summer. No one is ever on campus after two. Besides, they’ll just figure you’ve got the game on in here.”

  “Yeah, sure, the game.” She smiled. Kiki smiled. Oh, how I loved that smile.

  Later we both fell asleep, and I woke up just as the sun was beginning to set behind one of other buildings on campus. An orange glow filled the room, Kiki’s office, her home base, her life. I looked around at her books and her papers scattered about and at her lying peacefully in my arms. This woman could make me feel like nothing else. Nothing else.

  Thank God it was just physical.

  Chapter Eighteen

  CINDY

  Power. I must admit I was still kinda confused about what Maggie meant when she kept talking about the role of power in love and relationships. I mean, well, the night at the Kingfish was pretty weird, you know? Still, it took me awhile to figure out what it all meant.

  I will admit that having all those guys totally into me that night was really cool. But I was also pretty pissed off that fuckface Biff was slathering all over Professor DeVillier—Monique. It stabbed at my insides is what it did. I just didn’t get it. If we were so great together, why did he lust after her? Why would he risk what we had for a roll in the hay with a sleaze like Kitty or a hard ass like Monique? I mean, I knew it was an act with Monique, but the asshole was buying it!

  I tried not to think about it and concentrated on Connor, the Australian guy, beside me. I mean, he was cute, and big. Biff was a scrawny little matchstick beside Connor. And Connor had this curly brown hair with brown eyes and tanned skin and that cool accent. Like right out of a movie.