“I’ll be all right.”
“You surely will. Anyway, you don’t know me, except as someone who wouldn’t tolerate you being abused, but I was hoping I could talk you into letting me make up for your ruined evening. I’d like to take you to dinner. Anywhere you’d like,” he said. “Maybe tomorrow night, if that’s possible.”
“I don’t know. It’s a little soon, and…“
“You were out Friday night,” he reminded her. “My mother says I’m a helluva nice guy,” he added.
She laughed.
“You can choose wherever…Don’t worry about the cost.”
“You really don’t owe me anything.”
“Okay. Then let’s pretend you owe me. Because of you, I’m a wanted man. Maybe they’ll put my picture up on post-office walls or telephone poles.”
She laughed again. He wasn’t just good-looking; he was clever. Dare she think, charming?
“Where would you like to go to dinner?” she asked him.
“Me? Oh…um…There’s this little Italian place in West Hollywood, kind of off the beaten path, if you know what I mean. Kind of a mom-and-pop operation. Nothing as fancy as Beverly Hills, but…“
“That’s exactly where I’d like to go,” she replied quickly, maybe too quickly.
“Well, that’s great. How about I come by around seven? We don’t even need a reservation at this place, but I’ll make sure we’re seated by seven thirty.”
“I can’t stay out late,” she said. “I have a babysitter I trust, but she’s still in high school.”
“Perfect. I have to go to work early. How about I get you home by ten?”
Was she really going to say yes?
Jennifer’s eyes were completely closed. She had to get her to bed.
“Okay.”
“Great. See you at seven.”
“Wait,” she cried before he could hang up.
“What?”
“You better give me your phone number in case something unexpected comes up. I have a nine-year-old daughter.”
“Sure…555-434-5044. That’s my cell. I’m usually out and about during the day. My mother has me doing errands on weekends.”
“You live with your mother?”
“I’ll tell you all about it. You look like someone I can trust with my story,” he added.
He couldn’t have said anything that would have heightened her curiosity more. Anyway, it was about time she was with someone real. All of Scott’s friends or acquaintances were as artificial as sweeteners. This might be that fresh air she was craving.
“Now you do have me hooked,” she said.
“Maybe it’s the other way around,” he told her, and then said good-bye.
Like some mime, he was yelling silently. If anyone, especially his mother, saw him, she would think he was a raving lunatic. There he was swinging his arms, stomping the floor and spinning around. After a few more moments of elation, he calmed himself. He had some real planning to do. You don’t get more than one opportunity to make a good impression in this situation, he thought. Of course, he didn’t count the incident at the Cage and his giving her the roses as full-blown opportunities. They just set it up for the real thing.
Tomorrow, he had to get out and do some shopping. He wanted to wear something special and get himself some new shoes too. He wondered if he needed a haircut. He could trim it up here and there himself, but he’d be too afraid of messing up. Of course, he didn’t want to look like any of those Beverly Hills guys anyway. Maybe the haircut wasn’t that important. She was looking for something fresh and different, someone natural. He heard it in her voice.
“Just be yourself, Stevie boy,” he told his image in the mirror. “Just be yourself. It was enough to win Julia, wasn’t it?”
That thought gave him serious pause. Julia wasn’t up to this woman’s knees. I can’t measure anything using Julia, he decided. Julia was unsophisticated.
Maybe he wasn’t up to this new task. What if he couldn’t carry on a serious conversation? What if she started talking about art or theater? What were her interests? She didn’t look like she hung out in a bowling alley, like Julia had.
What about his etiquette? He’d rarely pulled out the chair for Julia, and when he did, she’d looked at him as if he was trying to be someone he wasn’t. He had to be careful about the way he used his silverware, too. He knew the difference between a salad fork and a main-dish fork, but sometimes he mixed them up. Julia had never noticed. She’d mixed them up herself often.
And make sure you put your napkin on your lap. Don’t tuck it in your collar like some peasant.
What am I getting so worked up about? She didn’t seem at all like that sort of snob, even though she lived in a big house in Beverly Hills. There was something downright honest and true about her. He sensed it, and once again he would rely on his instincts. It’d be just fine.
But he would spruce up a bit. That’s simply a show of respect. He went to his bottom dresser drawer and dug out his father’s dress watch. It had been his father’s father’s watch. His father hadn’t actually given it to him. After his father had died, his mother brought it to him.
“Be very careful with it, Steve. It’s an heirloom. It was made in Switzerland.”
He’d taken it, but he wasn’t excited about it then, and he certainly couldn’t wear it to work. Julia was never impressed with it either, but it did have character and it was a wonderful conversation piece. He decided he would not talk about his rough relationship with his father anyway. That might not go over too well. This woman was a woman who valued family. He was positive, despite her divorce action.
I bet she gave him every possible second and third chance, he thought. I bet going for a divorce was the very last thing she did. She’d probably put up with a great deal of misery. He felt as sorry for her right now as he often felt for himself. We were both in bad marriages, he concluded.
I won’t tell her that right off, but eventually I will. It will make her feel better about her own situation.
For a guy who didn’t have all that many relationships with women, he prided himself on how well he could handle one. He was a natural psychotherapist.
As he stood there looking into the mirror, he conjured up scenes he hoped would soon take place between him and her. He couldn’t wait to take her to see the boat. That would surely impress her, and…
Wait, he thought, how am I going to take her—in a truck? The fact that he didn’t think of this before threw him into another panic. He couldn’t use his mother’s beat-up Ford. It was twelve years old. True, he kept it in working condition, but everything was worn. No way.
He hurried to find the phone book and located rental cars. Minutes later he had reserved an SUV. The gas guzzlers were popular with the wealthy. He knew that from his work. Besides, if she complained about it, even hinted at disapproval, he’d have a different vehicle the next time. Once again, he relaxed. It would all be okay, more than okay. It would be wonderful.
When he stepped back into the living room, his mother looked up and immediately saw the change in his face.
“What?” she asked.
He widened his soft smile.
“I have a dinner date tomorrow night, so don’t make anything for me.”
“That girl who needs you so much?”
“Exactly,” he said.
He sat on the sofa but he really didn’t pay much attention to what his mother was watching. He never liked her choices anyway and sat there just to keep her company or maybe just to not feel alone.
“I see you’re finally wearing your father’s watch.”
He looked at it as if he had forgotten he had put it on.
“Might as well get some use out of it.”
“Must be a fancy date. Well, what’s this woman like? How old is she? Does she work? What kind of job does she have? Where does she live?”
His mother fired her questions as if she expected he would write them down. It was like being in a classr
oom.
“She’s in the middle of a divorce,” he said.
“A divorce?”
“And she has a little girl.”
His mother leaned forward and stared at him. Then she shook her head.
“Leftovers,” she muttered, and sat back.
She could just as well have slapped him across the face. His face became that crimson. He glared at her with so much heat in his eyes, she had to look away.
“What did you say?”
“No wonder you said she needed you. You’re so naive, Steve. A woman like that always jumps to the first man who shows some interest. She’ll use you for a while, peel you like an orange and then dump you when someone else comes along.”
She didn’t look at him, but she nodded her head.
“You listen to me,” she continued. “You stay away from her.”
He shot up as if she had lit a fire under his rear end. He frightened her, but she didn’t cower. She pointed her right forefinger at him.
“Don’t you look at me like that. You look just like your father right now.”
“I’d never say anything good about him,” he said, “but at least I understand why he looked this way so much…especially at you.”
He turned and left the living room, slamming his door closed.
She turned back to her television show.
For a few moments, he stood inside his room, fuming. Suddenly his eyes were drawn to Julia’s framed photograph. She was laughing at him again.
“Bitch!” he screamed and drove his left fist into the picture, sending shards of glass everywhere and thrusting it into the wall.
“What’s that? What did you do?” his mother cried.
He looked down at the knuckles on his left hand. All but one were bleeding.
“Steve!”
“Nothing. Shut up!” he screamed. He pressed his palms against his temples.
“I’m going to start a new life,” he vowed. “I’m going to get out of here and have a family. I am!”
CHAPTER SIX
“It’s just a dinner and an early evening,” Megan told Tricia when she called in the morning.
“I hope not,” Tricia said. “What you need right now is a good roll in the hay.”
“Stop it. I’m not going to bed with someone new that quickly.”
“What did I tell you about falling off a bike?”
“Sex is not riding a bike.”
“Sure it is. You’re peddling your ass with both, aren’t you?”
Megan laughed. She had woken up with a feeling of dread and regret. What had she agreed to do? What made her so impulsive, especially now? She would not be so dishonest as to say she had never looked at another handsome man with some desire, played some fantasy, while she was married to Scott, but never once did she believe she could carry out an affair. Of course, this wasn’t exactly an extramarital affair anymore, but still, what had come over her? Where did she get all this new courage? Was it simply born out of anger and spite or had it always been there inside her, stifled and suffocated?
While she got up, showered and dressed to start the day, she debated with herself, and by the time she went down to the kitchen to start her and Jennifer’s breakfast, she had decided to call Steve and cancel. But before she could do that, Scott called.
“You didn’t give me much of a chance to talk yesterday,” he began. “And I didn’t want to discuss our affairs in front of Tricia Morgan. If I were going to do that, I might as well just go directly to ABC News with it.”
“What do you want, Scott?”
“On the advice of my attorney and after discussion with yours, I froze all our brokerage accounts and two money-market accounts. Your household account has lots of money in it anyway.”
“Why? Did you think I would empty all those accounts and run off?”
“You wanted this,” he said. “We’re in it now, so we have to do what our lawyers tell us.”
“How convenient. Fine. But I suspect your father was the one recommending it.”
“That’s not true. Look, Megan, I don’t—”
“I’m busy right now. I don’t have time for this,” she said, and hung up on him.
Jennifer came in at almost the same moment. If she hadn’t, Megan was sure she would have started to cry. Instead, she put on her best mommy face and had her help make their pancakes. All thoughts of canceling her impulsive dinner date evaporated seconds afterward.
Megan tried to get her mind off everything by taking Jennifer for some new shoes before they went to the movie matinee. It was a very entertaining film, and at least for two hours she was able to get the tension out of her body. It didn’t return until she looked at the clock at home and realized she had to get ready to go out.
Jennifer was all questions.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m going to dinner with someone new, someone you haven’t met yet.”
“Why?”
“He seems very nice and he asked me. I’m just as sad as you are about everything and I need to have some distraction.”
“What’s that?”
“Something to get your mind off thinking about sad things,” she said. “Like us going to the movie today.”
Jennifer nodded, but her eyelids narrowed like Scott’s did when he was in deep thought. It occurred to Megan that despite Jennifer’s precociousness, she was still a little girl at heart and hadn’t accepted, or wouldn’t accept, the idea of her parents not being together. Even though she understood that lawyers and courts were soon to be in their lives, she still had that child’s optimism. Hope was out there just waiting to be readmitted.
“And this new person can do that?” Jennifer finally asked.
“I’ll see. If not, I won’t see him again,” she said. That seemed to relieve Jennifer.
She had invited Margaret to have dinner with Jennifer, and she arrived at six.
“You can just leave everything in the sink, Margaret. Lourdes comes tomorrow to clean.”
She had the maid three times a week only because the house was so big, but sometimes she thought Scott wanted the maid more as a status symbol than as an actual necessity. He insisted Megan leave clothes to be washed and ironed.
“Go out with your friends. Take advantage of what we have,” he urged, but she always had the feeling he wanted her to do these things mainly because all the wives of all the men he knew did them. Maybe that was unfair of her, but he didn’t dissuade her when he took little interest in what she did do whenever she went out with the other women. It was only when she had gone somewhere with Tricia that he put her through the third degree.
She was as twisted as a ball of rubber bands when the clock approached seven. Right on the first gong of the grandfather clock in the hallway, the door buzzer rang. She took a deep breath and went to open the door. Once again, he had some flowers, this time a bouquet of mixed-color tulips. She thought he looked quite attractive in an embroidered black shirt and slacks with a rich leather belt.
“You’ll turn my house into a nursery,” she said, laughing, and took the flowers. “Thank you.”
“This world has so much gray going. It’s nice to brighten up the scenery-not that you need any brightening.”
She smiled.
“Well, now you’ll have to give me a moment to put these flowers in another vase. Come in,” she said, and he stepped into the entryway.
Jennifer had come to the living room doorway and was gaping at him.
“Hi there,” he said. “My name’s Steve. What’s yours?”
“Jennifer.”
“Great name. I’m very interested in names,” he continued, walking closer. “Jennifer is a Welsh name and it means ‘fair one.’ Fair doesn’t mean the opposite of unfair here. It means very pretty, so the name really fits you.”
Jennifer stared in astonishment. Megan had heard it all and was smiling in the kitchen doorway.
“How come you know so much about names?” she asked.
&n
bsp; He shrugged. “I’ll tell you later.” He glanced at his watch.
“Margaret,” Megan called, and the babysitter came to the living-room doorway. “We’ll be back at ten. Call me if there’s any problem.”
“There won’t be, Mrs. Lester.”
Megan blanched at the name but thought, Of course, what else would she call me?
“You can start calling me Megan now, Margaret. We’ve been friends long enough and you’re old enough.”
Margaret nodded. Megan kissed Jennifer.
“Go to sleep early, honey. Tomorrow’s school.”
“Okay,” she said, but her eyes were fixed on Steve Wallace. He winked at her and then opened the door for Megan. She looked back at Jennifer and walked out.
“That’s one cute little girl,” Steve said as they walked to his newly rented black SUV.
“Thank you. She’s my whole life.”
“I understand.”
He rushed ahead to open the door for her.
“This looks new.”
“Relatively new,” he said. “Is it okay?”
She smiled. Okay? What was he going to do, buy a different car if it wasn’t?
“It’s fine,” she said, and got in. He hurried around and got in.
“I think you’ll like this place,” he said as he started the SUV and began to back out. “I haven’t had a bad meal there.”
“I enjoy going to different places.”
“Oh, I do, too. It’s just that when I find something good, I try to support it, keep it in business.”
“I didn’t mean…That’s very nice. Look—,” she began the same time he said, “Listen—”
They laughed.
“Sorry, go on,” he said.
“I just wanted to say that I’m a bit rusty at this.” “Rusty?”
“I’m out of practice. I’ve been incarcerated for ten years.”
“You have?”
“Bad marriage.”
“Oh, yeah. Well, don’t you worry, Megan, it won’t take long to get back into it. I should know.”
“Divorced?”
He didn’t answer right away. He made a turn and sped up.
“No. My wife died while she was pregnant. Lost the baby, too,” he said.
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