Love's Little Instruction Book

by Mary Gorman

  “Todd?” Denise inquired eagerly. When he nodded, she launched herself towards him and he caught her up in a joyous hug, patting her back as he lifted her off her feet. “Oh, it’s so good to finally meet you!”

  Part of Todd’s job was to call in reports during Denise’s shift and banter with her when the traffic was light. It made it seem more like they were actual colleagues instead of disembodied voices on the ends of a phone line. But they must not have actually met in person until now.

  “You look just like your pictures,” O’Connor told her, setting her down on her feet and looking at her.

  “And look at you! Presley said you were good looking, but she never said you were so ripped!” Dave couldn’t see Denise’s face, but he had a terrible feeling that there was a look of blatant admiration on it.

  “That’s because Presley never saw him with his shirt off before. Good Gawd, Todd,” Presley gawked. “You should never wear a shirt with a bod like that!”

  O’Connor laughed as he released Denise. “How you doing, Pres? Come here.”

  Presley seemed more than willing to take Denise’s place in O’Connor’s arms. For about half a nanosecond, Dave hoped that maybe Presley would catch Todd’s fancy so that he might still be able to spend time with Denise, but the thought vanished like the Red Sox’s chances in September. Turn down Denise in favor of Presley? Yeah, right.

  Dave roused himself and hefted the cooler up higher in his arms. He supposed that he shouldn’t have been disappointed. After all, he barely knew the woman, and so he was no worse off than he had been before, right? He would just have to drop off the meat and make the best of it, finding someone else to sit with. He wondered if there was a cooler around somewhere with beer in it. He drew in a bracing breath and began his determined walk past Denise, Todd, and Presley, just as if nothing were wrong.

  No such luck. “Whatcha got in the cooler, Dave?” Presley’s loud, nasal voice called out as he walked by O’Connor’s light blue blanket. Turning his head, he saw that she’d stepped out of O’Connor’s arms and was now walking towards him.

  He gave the heavy cooler another boost in his arms. “Meat for the cookout. Paul asked me to carry it.” He looked around bleakly. “Now I just need to find out where I’m supposed to put it.”

  Presley looked around, setting her beach ball earrings bobbing gaily. “It looks like there’s some sort of pavilion over there,” she said, pointing. “Come on, I’m supposed to be dropping off the boom box. I’ll walk with you.” She called back to Denise and Todd, “Hey guys, I’m going to go help Dave find the barbeque. I’ll be back in a minute, okay?”

  Denise was kneeling on Todd’s blanket, pulling things out of her beach bag. She looked up at Presley and smiled. “No problem.”

  Presley wrapped her red-polished fingers around Dave’s bicep and began to steer him toward a shingle-roofed building a few dozen yards up the beach, her free hand holding the boom box by the handle. “I wanted to talk to you,” she began, talking in a sotto voice. “I am so pissed at Manny and Pat for that video! Care to join me in a heaping helping of payback?”

  He looked at her speculatively. “What did you have in mind?”

  “I’m not sure yet, but whatever it is, I need you to be in on it with me.”

  “Why me?” he asked suspiciously.

  “You have an innocent face. Me, they’d suspect, but you … ”

  “I don’t know, Presley … ”

  “They have their cameras here again this year.” He winced, just a little. “You don’t want to be the feature again on next year’s video, do you? They’ll probably put in more pictures of you eating with a caption like, ‘Wide mouth shark spotted at Oceanside.’”

  “But why do you care?” he asked. “I thought you kind of liked attention.”

  “Attention, yes. Stalking, no. Do you realize that Manny’s already filmed me on the bus, hugging Todd, and has his camera pointed at us this very minute?”

  Startled, Dave looked around. Sure enough, he spotted the station engineer standing in the surf, his camera trained invasively on them as they made their way across the sand. He supposed that Presley had a point. He had only been filmed while he was eating, but they had clearly followed Presley throughout the day to get their footage, even to the point of following her into the ladies’ room. She was right, he decided. She did have a right to enjoy her day in peace. “Okay, I see your point about not wanting to be filmed, but revenge? Isn’t that going a bit far?”

  “No. I want payback. It’s the only way that they’ll get the message that it has to stop.”

  “Couldn’t you go to Paul Lund, or if he’s no help, go over his head to Howard Kartstein?” he asked.

  “Oh yeah,” she retorted. “And why don’t I tell the teacher while I’m at it? Come on, Dave. We don’t need to drag management into this, we just need to handle it ourselves. Those two have managed to annoy someone from every department with their stupid video.”

  “Except engineering,” he pointed out.

  She blinked. He was right. “Except engineering,” she agreed. “They look out for their own. So what do you say?”

  He was saved from having to answer by their arrival at the pavilion. Presley let go of his arm to drop off the boom box, then followed him as he found out where he was supposed to leave the cooler.

  Presley grabbed a diet soda from an ice-packed tub of drinks and said, “Let’s bring something back for Denise and Todd. She drinks iced tea and he’ll probably want a bottled water.”

  “Not a beer or Coke?”

  “No, he’s really into health and fitness. He’d probably just want water.”

  They started back across the sand toward the place where Denise and O’Connor now sat in rapt conversation, apparently making up for lost time in their pen pal-like relationship. Even from this distance, Dave could make out that they were both smiling at each other, and he began to think that maybe coming to the beach had been a waste of time after all.

  “Will you sit with us?” Presley asked, oblivious to the turmoil that was going on inside of him.

  “What?” Dave asked, blinking at her.

  “Sit with us,” she ordered. “It will give us time to come up with some sort of revenge. And even if we never come up with anything, think of the fun we can have plotting.”

  “I don’t know, Pres,” he said, glancing unwillingly toward the couple on the blanket.

  “Please?” She half whined the word. Then she lowered her voice. “I wish you would. I feel a bit like a third wheel with Todd and Denise here. I guess they’ve been building this weird sort of relationship off-air ever since she started at the station, and I have a feeling that the two of them are going to spend an annoying amount of time ‘catching up.’”

  “So sit somewhere else,” he suggested.

  “But I already made plans to sit with Denise. I didn’t know that she’d invited Todd to sit with us, too. Now there’s no graceful way to back out. Please sit with us. I could use another ordinary mortal in the company of these two gorgeous people.”

  Dave glanced at Presley. “That’s not much of a compliment, you know,” he informed her.

  Presley frowned apologetically. “Sorry,” she muttered. “But you know what I mean, don’t you? About being intimidated by someone else’s appearance?”

  “Not really,” he lied. Then he looked at Presley, walking beside him with a strangely wistful look on her face. “You shouldn’t be intimidated by them, you know. You’re a good looking woman. And you’ve got style.”

  She looked up at him, clearly surprised, then smiled. “You’re a nice man, David. Thank you for that. So will you sit with me?”

  He sympathized suddenly with Presley and didn’t want to let her down. Besides, he could still pursue his goal of getting to know Denise. If she was going to get
into a relationship with O’Connor, best to find that out for sure so that he could redirect his sights elsewhere. At least then he could stop wasting his time. “Sure, Presley. I’ll sit with you.”

  She blessed him with a smile of both relief and joy.

  “Hey, you two,” Presley called out as they approached the blanket. “Dave’s going to join us. He’s going to help me figure out a way to get back at Manny and Pat. We brought you some cold drinks.” She handed the bottled water to Todd. “I guessed that you’d want bottled water, is that okay?” she asked, sounding just a little intimidated by the golden man with the perfect white teeth which he flashed at her as she accepted her offerings.

  “Perfect. Thank you.”

  Dave belatedly handed Denise the bottle of iced tea. “Presley said you liked iced tea.”

  Her eyes were warm as they met his. “Why, thank you, Dave.” She took the bottle from him and set it down on the towel next to her.

  Presley plopped down ungracefully on the blanket then patted the space next to her. “Sit down.”

  He hesitated awkwardly for a moment, then sat down next to Presley.

  “I was just about to put some sunscreen on for Denise,” Todd announced, squeezing the cocoa butter scented lotion out of the tube and onto his hand. Denise whipped off her T-shirt and shimmied out of her shorts, then positioned herself so that she sat with her back to him. She wore a bikini. Not a particularly remarkable bikini, neither overly revealing nor overly concealing, but Dave noticed two things about it immediately. First off, it was fire engine red, surely the sexiest color God had ever made, and that particular shade of red against Denise’s dark skin was the most erotic thing Dave had ever seen in his whole sorry life. The second thing he noticed, as O’Connor positioned himself into a kneeling position behind her, was that the buff blond was wearing the exact same shade of hot sex red.

  “Here, Presley. Sit in front of me and I’ll do your back while Todd does mine,” Denise invited.

  “Okay,” Presley agreed, immediately shedding her T-shirt and shorts. She wore a more conservative suit, a one piece tank style that revealed very little, partly because there was very little to reveal on the small, waif-like body. She sat cross-legged with her back to Denise, who set to work lathering sunscreen onto Presley’s back. Presley looked up at Dave, still standing there like a fool, watching. She gave him a warm smile. “Hey Dave, want me to do you?” she asked.

  Dave looked at the three of them and thought suddenly of a line of chimpanzees, all grooming each other. He watched the three firm, supple bodies massaging each other and it suddenly occurred to him that there was a major difference between them and him. Unconsciously, his hands drifted up to his middle and he felt the extra weight that he had stored there.

  “Thanks for offering,” Dave told her regretfully. “but I’m afraid I’m allergic to cocoa-butter.”

  “Really?” Denise asked, looking up at him without stopping her long, slow stroking of Presley’s back. “That must be really hard with such fair skin.”

  Dave shrugged, unsure what to say. He sat down on a corner of the blanket and took a long, gulping drink of his soda. Drops of condensation and water from the melting tub of ice dripped off of the can and onto his shirt. It felt good. He looked over at Denise’s tanned hands as they rubbed their slow, methodical path over Presley’s skin, making slick, greasy swirls over the pale flesh. Dave shifted, uncomfortable, feeling a few surging waves of his own. Suddenly he damned himself for having worn loose, boxer-style swim trunks. He shifted again as he noticed how long Denise’s fingers were. She wasn’t wearing any nail polish, but her hands were perfectly manicured, with long, tapered tips. He’d never realized just how sexy fingers could be before. Abruptly, he launched himself to his feet. “I think I’m going to see how warm the water is today,” he announced.

  Three sets of eyes looked up at him as he didn’t quite run but didn’t quite walk to the shoreline. Once there, he kept on walking until he got as deep as his waist, then did a shallow surface dive, T-shirt and all, the dark green waters cooling him in a multitude of ways.

  He sighed. This wasn’t working out quite the way he’d hoped. In romance books, the couple went to a lush tropical paradise and the mood was set. But this wasn’t exactly a tropical paradise. The waters were dark and green, and there was no “lush vegetation” — not a shady tree in sight. The waves were choppy, the water was cold, and Dave was pretty sure that that was the smell of hamburgers in the air.

  Looking back at the trio on the blue blanket, Dave pondered his next move. He supposed that he would have to go back, and he hoped that the chill of the water would be enough to keep him from — he grimaced — pitching the tent, as it were. Maybe, if he just kept his eyes on the water rather than on the incomparable sight of Denise in her bikini, he’d be okay. Maybe if he thought of something else. Maybe he could close his eyes and think of the queen of England. Of sick puppies. Of politicians. Yes, that might do it.

  He waded about in the water for a bit; it would have been too obvious if he’d just dove into the water and come straight back. He could feel the water evaporating on his skin already, and the slight residue of salt clinging to his skin. Walking back toward the shore, he spotted an intact sea star and bent to pick it up. It was as dead as Tut, stiff and hard, with a bumpy pink color. He smiled as he turned it over, examining the small beak of a mouth. He held it in his hand as he walked parallel to the shore, enjoying the feeling of the waves lapping against his ankles as he went. A few yards farther and he found an intact whelk shell, its spiral, tapering shell a graying white on the outside, but a soft, shining orange on the inside. He ran his finger along the inside rim, marveling at its smoothness, then held the shell up to his ear and smiled — he heard the ocean — of course! He glanced up and whatever he had managed to recover of his good mood evaporated as he realized that Manny from engineering had his video camera pointed right at him.

  Annoyance roiled up within him once again. He knew the image of him listening to the sound of the ocean when he was already at the beach was definitely going to make it into next year’s home movie. He made his way out of the surf and over to where Manny stood. There was something he needed to say.

  • • •

  “Where have you been, Dave?” Presley asked as he came back to their towel a few minutes later.

  “I found these for you,” he said, handing the sea star to Denise and the whelk to Presley. Both women turned the objects over in their hands, examining the subtle beauty in color and forms. Dave sat down and drew his knees up toward his chest, feeling pretty self-confident after his talk with Manny. He didn’t think the man would be a problem to Presley after this, and he rather doubted that Manny or Pat would be troubling him any more, either. But just in case, he wasn’t going to be eating any burgers with the works this year.

  “How’s the water?” Todd O’Connor asked, sitting next to Denise on the far side of the blanket.

  Dave shrugged. “Warmer than a tundra. Colder than the air. About right for an ocean.”

  “I was talking to Denise and Todd about how we can get back at Manny and Pat,” Presley informed him. “I think maybe you and I should wait until everyone’s looking and then come up from behind and yank down their swim trunks. See how they like being put on display against their will.”

  “That’s not very subtle, Pres,” O’Connor told her.

  “Neither am I,” Presley shot back.

  “I don’t think they’ll be as much of a problem to you this year,” Dave told Presley, meeting her eyes as he spoke.

  A slow grin split Presley’s gamine face. “We saw you walking up to Manny. What did you do?”

  A small, smug smile pulled up the corners of Dave’s mouth. “I told him that you were up here talking to Denise about how a person files a sexual harassment suit. Told him that Denise thought that considering the
fact that everyone saw the movie and could testify that Manny and Pat had filmed close ups of Presley’s backside, that they followed her around like a couple of stalkers, and even chased her into the ladies’ room, that it was a pretty open and shut case.” He shifted his gaze from Presley to Denise. “I don’t think you’ll be having a problem with them this year.”

  Presley threw back her head and laughed. “David DiSciullo, you’re brilliant! That’s perfect! Thank you so much!”

  O’Connor and Denise were grinning as well. “That was great, Dave. Really clever,” Denise praised him.

  Feeling smug and wanting to bask in the glow of their approval, Dave lay down on his back and soaked up the sun.

  • • •

  It hadn’t turned out to be such a bad time after all, Dave thought not long after lunch as he sat back on the blanket and listened to Presley arguing with Todd O’Connor about the best place to sit to take in the Boston Pops’ annual Fourth of July concert on the Esplanade. Denise lay on her back just a few feet away, sunglasses on so that Dave couldn’t see her eyes. She might even be asleep for all he could tell. There had been two more hasty dips in the ocean during the course of the day. One when she sat up to slather more sunscreen on her front — the sight of those long, sexy fingers stroking her breasts above the bright red of her top had damn near done him in. He’d made another trip into the ocean, less hurried, when she accepted O’Connor’s proposal to take part in the A.M. vs. P.M. crews’ volleyball game. He wasn’t fool enough to go and watch, but just the thought of Denise in her sexy red bikini raising up her arms to spike the ball had him doing a little unscheduled spiking of his own.