Little White Lies (22 page)

“Stop it, Phil,” A.J. says obediently, in a dull, emotionless monotone.

A.J.’s laconic response earns him a punch in the arm.

“Not that way you wretch! Tell him he doesn’t have to work every minute.”

“You don’t have to work every minute,” A.J. parrots in the same manner as before.

Sheri grabs A.J.’s ear. “Ouch!” A.J. yelps. “God dammit, Sheri, that hurts! Phil, tell her you’re going before she rips it off!”

Sheri lets loose and A.J. immediately starts rubbing his ear as he moves further away from her in case more trouble develops.

“How about it, Karen?” Sheri asks, completely ignoring her husband and his pain. “It will be a lot of fun. You can consider it continuing research, although I wish you wouldn’t. I would like to have you join us because we’re friends. Please, Karen, we’ll have a great time. We’ll all go shopping and A.J. can pay the bills.”

This latest comment elicits a moan from A.J. as he leans back and covers his eyes.

“If Karen wants to go, fine.” He sits up and looks at Karen. “I would love to have you join us, but all I’m going to pay for is the plane, room and board. Any shopping you do is on your own.” A.J. looks at me witha stern countenance. “That goes for you too, Ace.” Then back to Karen with a smile. “No offense, Karen, but I’m sure you understand by now that Sheri can get a little carried away at times.” Now back to Sheri with a magnanimous gesture. “Since Phil will be working, obviously his expenses will be covered.”

Sheri glares at A.J. with a look that would do a pissed-off mountain lion proud.

“I don’t think you heard me, A.J. I want Phil to go because that’s all he has been doing is work. He works all the time. I want him to take some time off. Since he won’t do it on his own, then he will do it with us. No work, got it?”

A.J. shrugs. Long experience has taught him there isn’t much to be gained in discussing these things with Sheri when she’s in this frame of mind. A.J. swings his attention to me instead.

“We haven’t heard from Phil yet. It’s still a free country, although one might question that sentiment in this house.”

Sheri inches towards A.J. to get within striking range. A.J. is up against the arm of the sofa… he’s as far as he can go. I guess it’s my turn. This is awkward to say the least.

“I think it would be fun,” I reply, “that is, if you really want some company. However, if Karen would rather not go, I will decline also. I wouldn’t want to make it a threesome. You know the old saying.”

“Then I guess it’s up to you, Karen,” Sheri observes.

“I would love to go, but I don’t have any clothes with me.”

‘I don’t have a thing to wear’ must be programmed into girl babies when they’re born… part of their DNA. Probably the only time Mother Nature screwed up is when she arranged to have girl babies born without some kind of ‘darling’ outfit, just right for the occasion.

“No problem there,” Sheri chimes in. “I can lend you some things and you can buy whatever else you need when you get there. It’s not worth going into the city just for a few clothes. Come on, girl, live a little!”

“Okay, count me in,” Karen replies.

Now what the hell am I going to do? I guess I was counting on Karen to bail us out. I never thought she would go for this thing… whatever this thing is. Hell, I’m not sure I’m ready for this. On the other hand, when will I be ready? Is there some magic moment out there in the future when everything is going to be perfect? Perhaps I’m getting too dug in here.

The conversation continues on around me. They are all excited about the trip and all I can think about is what I have scheduled this week. I don’t even want to think about all the things going on with the restaurants right now. That stuff alone is getting to be a full-time job. I know I put in a lot of hours every week, but that’s all I have to do. It has become my life… and maybe that’s my problem. Once again I am falling into the corporate trap. Why is it I’m looking at this as a conflict instead of a pleasant diversion? I can’t keep shutting doors. Some of them should probably stay open… at least until I see what’s on the other side.

After cocktails we all adjourn to the kitchen for potluck. The fare was simple: grilled veal chops, green beans and a baked potato along with an excellent wine. All this was followed with one of Martha’s salads. A.J. has made a study of wines over the last several years and now considers himself to be quite the connoisseur… as he says, his cellar is small, but it’s dark… whatever that means. Anyway, dinner with the Jacksons is always a pleasant experience. The kids joined us for a small dessert and then entertained us with questions and comments for an hour or so before they were sent off to bed. Sheri is content and has displayed her considerable charm throughout the evening. It looks like A.J. has a reprieve for the time being at least.

It’s back to the library after dinner and the conversation naturally drifts back to the trip and all its possibilities. The ladies seem to be up on the plays and musicals currently in Toronto. I have always thought of Ottawa as a great town for restaurants while Montreal, in my view, tends to be more on the commercial side. Toronto is a wonderful blend of culture and commerce… and probably has some of the best bars in the world. A.J. is just resting and enjoying Sheri’s excitement. He doesn’t seem to care one way or the other what we do as long as she’s pleased. Obviously a split personality, he puts on a good show of being downtrodden and maligned, but he’s a very devoted husband.

Although it’s still early, Sheri’s stretching and declaring herself ready for bed. A.J. doesn’t seem to be getting the hint so Sheri uncoils from the sofa and gently takes his hand. She pulls him to his feet, tenderly kisses him on the cheek and then directs him towards the door.

Reaching the door she turns, wiggles her fingers and says, “Good night, everyone… say good night, A.J.”

The Jacksons’ comic departure has left us in momentary silence. I wonder what’s going to happen next. Just what kind of couple are we supposed to be?

“I guess we can talk now,” Karen observes with what I take to be some apprehension and perhaps a signal of things to come. “I’m going to say some pretty forward things, but I want you to know that the reason I’m doing this is because of the circumstances we’re in.”

She has my undivided attention and I turn on the sofa so I directly face her. I don’t want to miss a beat.

“To state the obvious,” she continues, “you’re in the employ of the subjects of an upcoming article of mine. But, on the other hand, if you were not in this position, I doubt that we would ever have met. But we did meet and I am both interested in and attracted to you. At the same time, you have not displayed an abundance of interest in or attraction to me. I am left with two possible conclusions: One, you are not interested or attracted; or two, you are both interested and attracted, but you feel that because of the situation I described earlier, you cannot display either saidinterest or attraction.” A long pause for effect and then, “Okay, now you talk.”

As my sainted grandmother used to say, ‘now that I have heard everything, I guess I can shoot myself’. To be honest, I’m not used to such straight talk about emotions. In fact, I haven’t talked on a personal level with any woman since Laura died. I know I’m attracted to Karen, but admitting it and doing something about it are two entirely different things. This would be a lot easier if she weren’t quite as attractive as she is. Her physical beauty is actually disconcerting. On the other hand…

“I think you’re aware that I am both interested and attracted to you,” I reply, “and I …”

“No, I’m not.” She interrupts with a petulant look on her face.

Dammit, she waits forever for me to start a sentence and then she cuts me off in the middle of it.

“Well I am,” I persist.

Her laugh tinkles and she takes my hand.

“What a nice thing to say, Philip. I must say I’m quite surprised.” She flutters her eyes and demurely looks to the side.

Now she’s swatting me around like a damn mouse.

“Come on, give me a break. Let me finish.”

“Sorry.”

I would think her contrite look was sincere if I didn’t know better.

I slip into my sternest countenance and continue, “What I was going to say before the interruption is that you’re right, the situation I’m in has affected me. You have to understand… I do not feel free to invite you out or ask you over. That sort of thing is difficult, living and working here as I do. As I said earlier, this is not my home and I cannot impose upon my employers. I know, they are friends as well, but I could never take advantage of them and that is what I feel I would be doing.

“Sheri, of course, is incorrigible. She is the eternal romantic and I think she has taken me on as her personal project. She’s convinced I am training to become a monk and she wants to prevent that from happening… and now that I think about it, so do I.”

Karen’s index finger is on my lips, preventing further discussion. I’m not going to object since she is now kissing away any damage she might have done. Somewhere along the line I’ve forgotten all about this part, but I think it’s one of the things they say is like riding a bike. It takes practically no time at all to get right back to the height of your powers and you’re suddenly just as good as you ever were. As far as most of us are concerned, if we were ever half as good as we thought we were… ah, why bother? Time alters reality.

We continue to talk and touch and do different stuff until after midnight. I tell Karen a little more about my background without going into any great detail. I want her to understand some things about me, but the details can wait for another time. Our conversation isn’t all about personal history… we compare likes and dislikes and find we have a lot in common. We both like the theater and music. I confess I do not particularly like to travel since I havedone so much of it through the years. She says she understands but that I may find certain kinds of trips could still be interesting. I agree to be agreeable, but I’m skeptical.

One of the things I find intriguing about Karen is the different kind of activities in which she’s involved. Unlike many women of my generation, she likes sports and participates in several. I’ll take her word for it since she certainly looks as though she stays active.

Another thing I particularly like about Karen is that she’s easy to talk to and nice to be with. On one level there’s no tension in the sense that I feel very comfortable with her. I’m relaxed. At the same time, on another level, the sexual tension is electric.

Karen is a toucher. She will often touch my arm or leg and let her hand rest for a while. She’s probably unaware of it, but I certainly am not. Whenever she touches me I have trouble thinking about anything else… like whatever it is she’s saying at the moment. Her most disconcerting move is when she touches the back of my neck and lightly strokes me with her fingertips. I can feel my hair raise up like a cat’s back. She has a way about her and by now she knows how to punch every one of my buttons. I’m doomed.

Finally there’s been enough talk. We both stand as if on signal, although neither one of us mentioned anything of the kind. I don’t quite know what to say. ‘Your place or mine?’ seems inappropriate since we’re both staying in the same house. I could say ‘your room or mine’, but that seems a bit smart-alecky at such a tender moment as this. The bottom line: I’m stuck. I must look it because she’s smiling with an understanding look… I hope it’s understanding and not condescending… I don’t think I could handle condescending right now.

“Why don’t you come up when you’re ready?” she says in an understanding tone of voice.

I like understanding… I think it suits the mood perfectly.

We turn out the lights and walk hand in hand through the foyer. I leave her at the foot of the stairs and walk quickly to my room where I shower and put on a clean pair of sweats. Not a very dashing outfit, but if Sheri finds me wandering around the house, I don’t want to look like I have just fallen out of bed.

Out the door, up the back stairs and quickly and quietly down the hall to Karen’s room. I knock softly. The door opens slightly and she steps aside as I enter the dimly lit room.

“I see you’re dressed for a workout,” she says punctuating her comment with a straight jab to my stomach. A little lower and she would have ruined our evening.

She’s wearing a robe that ends at mid-thigh. The silken material follows her curves faithfully and I take all this in as casually as I can. My neuro-transmitters are sending all this data to the smaller of my body’s two heads… the one that does all the thinking for me in situations like this. The response is quick and decisive.

“I’m just about to shower,” she says pointing to the bathroom to her right and I watch as she heads for the door.

What the hell… another shower wouldn’t hurt. It might even help.

CHAPTER 15
 

While I’m not exactly in any hurry to get started on our little trip, it appears I am the first one to arrive in the kitchen this morning. I have finished both my breakfast and most of the morning paper by the time A.J. and Sheri amble in. They look bright and cheerful, A.J. basking in the aftermath of a good night’s sleep.

“Karen’s not up yet?” Sheri asks.

“I’m not sure,” I answer, folding and placing the paper in the center of the table. “Are you folks ready to go? Everything all packed?”

“We’re all set,” A.J. responds. “I’m going for a few days, but from the looks of Sheri’s luggage, she’s going to stay until sometime around the turn of the century. We may have to charter a larger plane. Say, you don’t suppose the military would lend us one of those big cargo jobs for a week or so? You know the kind I mean… the planes they use to move entire armies. One of those should do it… at least I think all it would take is one.”

Sheri ignores A.J.’s monologue regarding her luggage. She has heard it all before and I don’t think she thought it was any more amusing then than she does now. She has always said the needs of a beautiful woman are different from those of the common man… especially a man as common as her husband.