Hungry for Love

by Nancy Frederick

  “Yeah well you’re selfish, a total pig. But I’m a girl and there are things girls need to know that only a mom can tell them.”

  “What things?” asked Will.

  “I don’t know! There’s no mom around here to tell me,” shouted Candy, “That’s why this is such a big emergency. You Thing!”

  Bill looked at his frustrated daughter and reached out and took her hand gently in his, “Okay, so who’s on this list?”

  Kevin dimmed the lights on his very excellent new Porsche as he drove up toward Angie’s place, parking several houses away from hers. Creeping stealthily from the car, he slunk forward, his head darting cautiously to one side and then another.

  Angie opened the door to reveal herself wearing a very sexy and seductive bit of lingerie, music on the stereo almost cartoonishly sexy, but if there was one thing that Kevin could appreciate, it was a sexy cartoon. At the top of the list of his all-time favorite women was Jessica Rabbit. He took in the whole appealing scene with one glance, then distraction set in and he moved toward the window and peered out at the empty driveway beyond. Nope. There was no sign of anything. No assassins, no judges. Kevin thought about the fact that his assailant hadn’t actually followed him to this address, so it was unlikely they were out there. Angie’s dad on the other hand most certainly was out there, hopefully under the influence of a strong sleeping sedative, but of course Kevin had no way of knowing if that were true.

  Angie slithered over to Kevin and from a lovely antique tray offered him the appetizers which she had just made. He took one, popped it into his mouth and ate it absentmindedly, not even remarking on how delicious it was. But so what—she wasn’t hosting a garden party.

  “I’m so glad you came,” said Angie.

  “Really? Why?”

  Angie looked imploringly at Kevin. “You know why. Because we have something here. Something special. We both know it.”

  Kevin looked into Angie’s eyes then, and saw her sweetness, her vulnerability, her courage in seeking his company despite everything that had occurred recently. She was a lovely girl, seemingly an uncomplicated girl, one to whom he was a desirable commodity, a treasure, unlike the way his wife perceived him. It would be so easy, so pleasant, he thought. Something inside Kevin clicked and he grabbed Angie and began kissing her passionately.

  They both sank into the kisses the way a tired, achy person lowers herself into a steaming bubble bath, the scent of pleasure rising all about them, and kisses led to groping and that led to an ensemble stagger toward the bed, where they lay kissing, touching, and beginning to devour each other.

  Oh didn’t it feel good to be alive, thought Kevin, touching the soft skin of this lovely young girl. Nothing was better than this. This was what made life worthwhile, this sense of newness, of the beginning, the unfolding of the flower. Life was wonderful, and Kevin was alive again. And then a random noise outside distracted him or perhaps for no reason at all, everything went south, well the thing that was supposed to go north did, and beyond that nothing mattered.

  And there they sat once again in Angie’s bed, covers up to their chins. Kevin pressed his hands to his head for the second time that evening. What had gone wrong? He had a dick that never quit but it had quit. Had he used up all his sex credits? Did he need new batteries? So many bizarre analogies coursed through Kevin’s mind as he sat next to a very frustrated young girl. What was he supposed to say? He’d said it before and he said it again.

  “Yeah, so if it never happened before, why is it happening with me?” asked Angie. She’d been around and she knew she wasn’t supposed to take this personally. This was his issue and it wasn’t about her, but it felt personal. She’d been chasing him for so long and now she had him and then what—this. It sucked.

  Outside there was the odd sound of dogs barking. Normally the dogs who lived nearby were safely at home, living the respectable lives of pets in this very well-heeled neighborhood. The judge couldn’t imagine why it sounded as though his home was being invaded by a choir of canines. He waited, expecting the ruckus to stop, but it only got louder, so he walked to the side of the house from which all the noise was coming, and there outside were several dogs, all of whom scattered when he opened the door and shouted at them, just the sort of reaction he expected from anyone he confronted. He looked down on the ground. What in blazes? There, spread across his entryway was a bunch of half slobbered over lasagna in the very container his daughter had offered him not an hour earlier. He reached down and picked up the container and strode angrily toward her door, pounding loudly on it.

  Kevin’s eyes opened wide. He glanced at Angie, who still looked irritated. She grabbed a robe as he clutched wildly for his clothes. Where could someone hide in this wide open room? There wasn’t enough time to dash toward that bathroom and he couldn’t dress rapidly enough, so he wrapped himself in a sheet, and attempted to move around the bed out of sight.

  By then Angie had opened the door and was glaring out at her irate father, but for once she met him, cranky glance for cranky glance.

  He thrust the half eaten lasagna toward her, saying, “What the hell is the meaning of this?” But before she could even reply, he spotted Kevin and pushed his way into the guesthouse. “You—Julius Caesar—what are you doing here?”

  Angie inserted herself between the two men and said defiantly, “He’s here to see me. To be with me.”

  The judge stepped around his daughter a second time and, his eyes flashing, said “I hope it’s worth going to jail over. Now get the hell out of here before I have you hauled out of here. You—you—you—doctor of depravity.”

  Kevin, still wrapped in the sheet, most of his clothes in one hand, but wearing only one shoe and no socks on his feet, saw an opening and dashed through it and out the door without even looking back.

  Angie was enraged and for once she would not back down. “You have no right to do this, Daddy, no right.”

  “The hell I don’t. That man belongs in a mental institution.”

  She stood up taller, her eyes narrowed and boldly she said, “What do you care? It’s not like you’re interested in any part of my life or me. So what do you care who I fuck?”

  Antimangia was visibly taken aback by his daughter’s insolence and the sound of that word was like a slap that actually pushed him physically back.

  “Yeah, I say fuck. I even do it occasionally,” Then under her breath, she mumbled, “Not tonight of course.”

  The judge looked at her as though she’d suffered some sort of breakdown, then he turned toward the door, but she kept speaking.

  Angie walked toward him, her face almost pressed against his as she spat out the words. “Yeah. Get out of here. Go back inside where you belong. I hate you! Hate you! Hate you!”

  “My God! That jerk isn’t worth all this. Wake up, girl, he’s a lunatic.”

  Angie sneered and seethed. “Oh I hate you all right, and it’s not about him. It’s about you—you Daddy—you—and all these years of me asking you to look at me, see me, and you waving your hand at me, go away Angie, don’t ring the bell Angie, don’t walk on the grass Angie. Well, you know what—fuck you.”

  The judge was stunned and he pressed a hand to his heart, which was beating normally, although it had been wounded deeply.

  Angie shouted, “You suck as a dad. You suck!”

  The judge shook his head and spoke softly, as if in shock, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m right here, you’re right here. What do you want from me?”

  “Nothing, nothing. Go to bed. What’s the use. I know you’ll never love me. I’m just the fat daughter you’d like to hide in the garage out back.”

  “Of course I love you. Why would you think I don’t love you?”

  “Because of the crappy way you treat me—what do you think?”

  “Well, my God. I just don’t know what to say to that. Don’t I have you right here, living right here, where I can see you’re safe? Don’t I see you every day? Just the
other day I was thinking maybe we’d get that dog you said you wanted.”

  “When I was five? Are you kidding?”

  I could rent this place for a bundle, but do I, of course not. It’s so you can be right here.”

  “Well run an ad, you miserable old fucker. Cause I’m outta here.”

  Antimangia looked baffled at his daughter. She was hysterical. She needed time to calm down. He’d seen it many times in court. “Get some rest,” he said softly, backing out the door, only to have her slam it in his face.

  Kevin muttered to himself all the way home. He drove raggedly, a bit unused to the features of the new car, but mostly just distracted by everything. Half thinking, half speaking, he sputtered along, largely unhinged. “It’s some sort of devilish retribution. Never thought any harm in doing it. Just a little innocent, okay not so innocent fun, but never hurt anyone. Like a hobby, a casual hobby. My recreation. I deserve it. Now what. I’ve got a wanker with no wank. A cock with no crow. And what’s left for me? Nothing. I’m a eunuch. A life of weighing fat women, nothing more, nothing less. I might as well be dead. I’m already dead below the waist.”

  Laura heard the car coming when it was still several doors down the block and contemplated putting the chains on the doors, then from the window she saw Kevin emerge from a new car, which irritated her, but then she noticed him all disheveled, wearing one shoe, looking down at his feet, scowling and then tossing the single shoe into the car, all the while clearly frantic and muttering to himself, words she could not hear. This had to be more than the effects of a tryst with Chrissy, so she decided to let him enter the house.

  They sat on the stools at the kitchen counter, drinking coffee, although Laura was sure Kevin needed no stimulants this evening, and she listened to the bizarre tale about him being chased all over Sunset Boulevard for days by someone he couldn’t identify or catch. Laura considered the most frustrating thing about her marriage the fact that she always knew when Kevin was lying, and she was absolutely certain that tonight he wasn’t and so her face softened, the sympathy plainly lit in her eyes. Seeing this look, Kevin put his hand over hers as he continued to speak. At last—someone was listening to him and believing what he’d endured. At last.

  Kevin was flooded with love for this woman he’d married so long ago he couldn’t even remember why. She was the one person who was always there for him, the one person he could always count on. Why had he been such a fool? “I was dying there, thinking you wouldn’t understand, but thank God….Tonight when I couldn’t do it, I realized it was time to wake up and come clean. Start over with the one woman I could always trust—with you—here in our beautiful home. Where else would I go, would I belong.”

  As she began hearing this new line of commentary, Laura’s expression started to change, the softness in her eyes faded, she leaned away from him, extricating her hand from under his, but Kevin kept talking, not really observing the nuances of her reactions any longer.

  “We’re not young any more, not at a place of starting over, no, no way. And so I drove, no raced, over here to you…”

  “Tonight when you realized you couldn’t do it?” asked Laura. Then with no warning, she slipped down from her stool, gave a mighty shove, and Kevin found himself toppled to the floor, looking up at his enraged wife.

  “You know what,” she seethed, “I’m angry—furious really, madder than I’ve ever been. But not at you—I’m pissed at myself.”

  Hearing this, Kevin jumped up from the floor and took a step toward her, smiling. She said she wasn’t mad at him, didn’t she?

  Laura continued, “For all these years I waited around when I knew there was nothing left. When I knew there was nothing between us, nothing at all. Call a lawyer, Kevin, a good lawyer. And get the hell out of here. Now!”

  “Hmm,” answered Kevin, “I don’t think so.”

  “I said it’s over. Get out.”

  “Yeah…no. This is my house. You’re my wife.”

  “‘Til divorce us do part.”

  “Not gonna happen.”

  “Stop it, Kevin. We can have a nice, simple, no contest divorce, or you can go out kicking and screaming and a messy divorce with a witness to your infidelity. The dirty doctor. The press loves that stuff. But will your patients?”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “I might. You don’t really know, do you. For all you know, I was the one who got those Honda thugs after you.”

  Kevin gasped. It couldn’t be. “So you admit it!”

  “Of course not. But who knows. You know what they say about women scorned. Sometimes we do very rash things.”

  Kevin looked deep into Laura’s eyes. What was there? Was there any information about whether she was lying to him or not? “Stand still, dammit,” he said as she turned to dump the coffee from the two mugs into the sink.

  “Well, Kevin, as nice as this has been, it’s time for you to leave. Get a place. Call a lawyer. I’m sure you’ll find a bimbo to screw in roughly twenty minutes. Unless you get mowed down by a Honda. Or maybe they’ve changed cars too. Maybe they’re in a new vehicle and are ready to come at you from any direction. And you won’t have a clue until you’re rolling down an embankment. Poor, poor Kevin. I just hope that vicious judge doesn’t incarcerate you for too long when that happens.”

  Kevin glowered at Laura. How dare she mess with him like that. Who knew she could be such a scary broad. It was appalling—and sort of a turn-on. “Okay I’ll do you the favor— out of respect for Julie and her security, I’ll move into the guesthouse—but only for a while.”

  “Guesthouse,” laughed Laura, “You mean the cabana? You don’t remember we remodeled it? There’s not even a bed in there.”

  “There’s a bed in the guestroom. And if I had it remodeled, I can have it unmodeled.” Kevin marched past his wife and up the stairs and started dismantling the bed in the guestroom and bringing the parts down the stairs while she stood disbelieving, watching him walk up and back.

  - ELEVEN –

  When Ben drove up with two other cars tailing him, Angie figured he’d brought some helpers, which made sense, although she was less than thrilled to see that psycho Colette exit a car and race up to Ben for a large and tasteless kiss before they—and Clint, who could lift the world if necessary—entered the guesthouse. It hadn’t been difficult to find an apartment and in the last week she’d bought some furniture which had already been delivered. This was really the first time she’d ever set up a home of her own because she’d lived in that guesthouse of her dad’s since returning from culinary school. The only things there which she would be moving were clothing, cooking equipment, and books. And the this and that which always must be dealt with during a move.

  “Piggylicious!” squealed Colette the moment she saw Angie, grabbing her in an overly long, overly tight hug. “I have a little moving day gift for you.” From the depths of her seemingly bottomless tote, Colette dug around and produced a small box wrapped in silver paper, which Angie preferred not to accept but couldn’t refuse. It was a small bottle of cologne.

  “Orange,” said Colette. “I thought it would blend nicely with your natural bacon scent.” Angie scowled as Colette continued, “Oh and I brought my tape measure,” she said, pulling a tiny dressmaker’s reel out of her pocket.

  “Oh no, I already have a floor plan, and the furniture is in the apartment, but thanks anyway,” said Angie coldly.

  “You silly little bacon girl! Does this look like something for a floor plan? It’s to measure you—not a wall—for a bridesmaid dress.”

  Angie looked aghast, and strangely so did Clint, as Ben tried to focus away from the whole scene and on the boxes they’d have to remove.

  “I know, I know,” said Colette, “If I had my way you’d be maid of honor—always a bridesmaid, never a bride, huh Piggy, but there’s my odious cousin Bree—funny you’re both named after food…” At that point Ben leaned toward Colette and whispered something in her ear. “Oh my, Ben says I sho
uldn’t call you Piggy, that I’m being rude. Why? Isn’t bacon an aphrodisiac? It is to all the men I know.”

  Then Colette walked even closer and engaged Angie in some sort of intense shoulder lock, her arm wrapped around Angie like a boa constrictor, or at least that’s what Angie’s expression indicated. “I have the fabric sample right here,” and from her tote she extracted some synthetic fabric in a vivid turquoise with bright yellow suns printed on it. “Because you were the light of my sweet Ben’s life—’til I came along that is.” Colette observed the look of horror on Angie’s face, wanted terribly to laugh, but managed to say, “Now I know it’s plain, but don’t worry, I’m a whiz with a bedazzler.”

  Angie attempted to toss a desperate glance toward Ben, but he just grabbed a box and headed out to his car. “This place isn’t going to empty itself,” he said benignly.

  “Wait, wait, wait,” squealed Colette. “Are you forgetting our rule? Really?”