Bill gulped. All he could picture was one of those female insects that during copulation devours the male. “Gosh I can’t—kids at home, babysitter, you know. In fact, we’d better get the check.”
– TWELVE –
Butch and Wimp were having a nice lunch at the cute little deli down the street from Zero Tolerance. “Wow,” said Butch, “This place is much better than it was the last time we were here.”
“Yeah, for sure. I almost didn’t want to come here today. So are you ready to hear my news?”
“Ready as rain.”
“What? It’s not raining.” Wimp stood up to look out the window to be sure.
“It’s an expression.”
“It’s right as rain.”
“What does that have to do with being ready?”
“So this doctor called in a standing order today—hundred buck bouquet—daily—for his wife—and a two hundred dollar one on Saturday. Sounds like some big time cheating to be atoned for. Wonder how many weeks he’ll be good for.”
“Well, well aren’t you the Mr. Moneybags,” said Butch, smiling.
“The business is going very well, but with this windfall, I think it’s time.”
“For?”
“For me to take you on that trip to India you’ve always wanted to go on.”
Butch sighed with pleasure and reached her hand out to Wimp. “That’s fantastic. Look at us. Like an old married couple.”
“Yes, we’ve mellowed. Like those two over there—the perfect couple.” Wimp pointed across the deli to Bill and Laura, who were laughing about his recent dates.
“Perfect, exactly,” said Butch. “Nobody would hire us to teach him a lesson.”
“Nobody hired us to teach anybody a lesson,” said Wimp.
“Don’t cast aspersions on the mood,” said Butch.
At another table Ben sat with Clint, eating panini and jicama slaws. Clint spoke hesitantly, “So how’s it going with you and Colette?”
“Oh I just love her,” said Ben, smiling. “She’s such fun and such a wonderful person.”
“Yes, she is,” said Clint, “And you love her. Well, I’m happy for you. Sad for me but happy for you.”
“Why are you sad?”
“Because oh never mind, just be happy.”
“Are we getting confused here?” asked Ben. “Have you forgotten the plan?”
“You mean you and Colette getting married and moving away to have a bunch of babies? No I didn’t forget.”
Ben laughed. “Wow. I guess we really put that over. It was a ruse, remember, to snap Angie out of her crush on that doctor and realize we’re meant for each other.”
“But you love Colette now,” said Clint.
“You dufus,” said Ben. “I do love her, but as a friend. I thought you realized that.”
“So I could date her?” asked Clint, visibly cheerier.
“It depends,” said Ben. “Is this a one night stand you’re looking for like with all the other girls you see or do you care about her and really want to date her?”
“I think I love her,” said Clint. “Never felt this way before. Weird. Like being itchy but happy but sad. Well sad cause I thought she was moving away with you. So mainly itchy. Not jock itch or anything.”
“I was getting worried there that I’d have to send you to a doctor or something for some industrial strength creams.”
“So I can call her?”
Ben laughed and nodded. “Call her. Take her on a nice date.”
Angie suddenly appeared at the table. “Who’s taking who where?”
“Oh you know Clint,” said Ben smoothly, “And it’s me taking you, isn’t it—still going to the mall aren’t we?”
Angie nodded. “Beverly Drive maybe instead of Century City?”
Angie followed Ben to the door, stopping only briefly at Bill and Laura’s table. “Everything good?” she asked.
“Fantastic as always,” said Bill, smiling.
Angie said, “I’m taking off now but see you next time.”
Bill turned to Laura and said, “So do you think I should be keeping some sort of tally or scorecard?”
Laura laughed. “Based on what you’re telling me, I’d say scoring is no part of the equation where your dates are concerned.”
“I feel so guilty. After every date Candy’s there waiting to hear how it went and I have to tell her, sorry little girl, I haven’t found you a new mom yet.”
“Want me to take her out on a girls’ day, with Julie or even just Candy and me? She might like that. Mani-pedi, haircut, stuff like that?”
“That would be wonderful, but sure bring Julie along. No point in her worrying Candy’s stealing her mom in the middle of your divorce.”
Laura nodded. “Divorce,” she said.
“Oh oh,” said Bill.
“No, no, not oh oh,” said Laura. “Candy and diamonds were bestowed but I still pushed him out the door.”
“Sounds like you didn’t want to.”
“Do you smell that?” asked Laura, “Smoke, coming right in the door. Just a second.” Laura dashed out the door only to see a nice looking man standing there reading the riot act to a couple of smokers. He was so strong and confident, so self-assured. Laura couldn’t help but admire him.
“This is a restaurant,” he said, “People are eating inside. Do you think they want to breathe the disgusting smoke from your cigarettes? Pretty soon Beverly Hills will be a smoke free shopping area just like Santa Monica, at least if I have my way about it. What’re you going to do then? Well that’s not my problem is it. I can’t have you arrested for smoking, but I can for being a public nuisance, so I suggest you put out those cancer sticks and move along. And don’t let me see you here again.”
The smokers, duly intimidated, put out the cigarettes and hurried away. The judge turned and saw a beautiful woman staring at him and instantly he blushed and said, “Oh please forgive me. I get a little insane about smoking. And this is my daughter’s restaurant.”
Laura smiled, “Nothing at all to forgive. I came out here to do the same thing. I run an anti-smoking awareness group. Maybe you should volunteer with us.”
“I’m Sam,” he said, clearly dazzled, and reached out his hand, which Laura took and smiled warmly.
“I’m Laura. Angie’s your daughter? She’s a lovely girl. And a wonderful caterer.”
The judge sighed. “We had a little falling out a couple weeks ago and I’ve been coming here daily trying to see her and make it up to her, but they keep telling me she’s out. I don’t think she’s ready yet but I really have to apologize.”
“She actually did go out—I saw her leave a few minutes ago. But why don’t you come in and meet my friend and have a sandwich with us?”
The judge followed Laura inside, and shook hands with Bill as Laura said, “Bill, this is Sam, Angie’s dad. He’s an anti-smoking crusader too.”
Bill laughed. “I guess the world will be tobacco free any day now with both of you joining forces.”
“I told Sam to join our group. We need more help, especially with you often too busy to participate.”
“I’m a widower with a domineering eight year old who’s determined to marry me off to a new mom, and all that dating is a big energy drain but I dare not stop until success is achieved or she’ll refuse to attend college.”
Sam laughed and looked ruefully up at the ceiling. “I’ve been in your shoes and wish you lots of luck with that….And what about you,” he said, turning to Laura, “Married, I see.” He noticed Laura’s wedding ring with what sounded oddly like disappointment.
“Divorcing,” said Laura, “Or trying to.”
“Her husband has other ideas,” said Bill. “Hunkered down in the cabana and wooing her madly. Dated other women all through the marriage but now is wooing only Laura.”
“No clue if that’s true,” Laura said miserably.
“Criminals don’t reform that readily,” said Sam seriously.
&nbs
p; “Oh gosh,” said Bill, “I have patients waiting.”
“I’m planning to get some take out at the deli counter,” said Laura, “So go ahead without me.”
Bill reached down to kiss her, shook Sam’s hand and raced back to his office.
“Maybe I’m being imprudent and improper,” said Sam, “But could I take you to dinner sometime? You did say you filed for divorce, right?”
Laura looked at Sam for a while without speaking. “Okay,” she said hesitantly, “Sure. I’d love to have dinner with you. Just don’t expect big things.”
“You saying yes is already a big thing,” said Sam.
It seemed like forever since Angie had some alone time with Ben. Now that he had that odious girlfriend, she was always there, saying or doing something horrendous, thus preventing Angie from telling Ben everything that had happened with Kevin. At last, though, they were alone together, and as they strolled along Beverly Drive, stopping in Crate and Barrel and Williams-Sonoma, Angie related what had happened as Ben listened hopefully. Then they walked into Pottery Barn toward the back to choose some sheets.
“Yeah,” she said, “Old guys are lousy in bed. Who knew?”
Ben smiled encouragingly at her.
“You know,” she continued, “I realized it wasn’t just an older man thing. It was the thrill of being found out—like you know—those people who have sex in public. Can you believe that?”
Ben pondered only for a moment what she’d just said then answered, “You’d have thought after what happened with your law professor, enough would’ve been enough.”
Angie laughed. “I haven’t thought of him in ages.” Her mind wandered back in time to when she was pre-law in college and had a massive crush on darling Professor Wanamaker, who was over fifty at least, a tiny little firecracker of a guy, although as she looked back now, he seemed more nebbishy than dynamic. It was so strange how people looked different in recollection than they had during the actual moment.
She was extremely overweight in those days and leaned over him as he pointed to a passage in a thick law book. As soon as he felt her breast graze his forearm, he snapped around, stood, and pressed against Angie, bending her back against the desk. How funny to remember him and how small he was. Angie felt like a giant next to him, both in height and girth—how unpleasant that was. But then he was kissing her and sliding his hand up her skirt, well trying to because it was way too tight and provided much resistance. As his hand struggled north, Angie moaned.
Yanking and tugging at her too-tight clothing, the professor valiantly kissed her neck, throat, and breast, battling all the while with the determined skirt and mumbling his far from aphrodisiacal version of thinking about baseball to prevent an early finish, “Corpus Juris Secundum…the right to a speedy and public trial, being twenty-one years of age, and citizens of the United States, or in any way abridged, except for participation in rebellion, or other crime….”
Unaware that the door was opening, the professor kept kissing, tugging, and mumbling until a cough came from the doorway, causing him to snap to attention and back off from Angie. It was the dean, who sternly said, “Professor!”
It had a very unhappy ending. Angie recalled loading her car with suitcases and boxes and driving away, college in the background, as a small group of students angrily marched in front of the dean’s office, holding signs demanding that the dean reinstate Professor Wanamaker.
Angie sighed. “Yeah, maybe, but do you really think I belonged in pre-law?”
She reached for a packet of nice sheets and wanted to feel the fabric, but Ben pulled her behind a display, took a deep breath and kissed her deeply. Angie was stunned but kissed him back. Emboldened, Ben held her even more tightly and kissed her with increasing fervor. Then he reached down and began unbuttoning her blouse.
Angie leapt back from Ben and looked at him, shocked, “Someone could see!”
“I thought that was what you wanted,” said Ben.
“Wait a second,” said Angie, pausing to think. “No, no, it’s not.”
“It’s me,” said Ben, by now quite miserable. “Or I should say it’s never been me, never will be me. You just don’t want me.”
“No, it’s not about you.”
“Obviously.”
“Wait….I get it! It was them getting caught. I wanted them to get punished. These older guys—older guys like my….”
“Father!” said Ben.
Suddenly Angie turned to look at Ben, and this time she actually saw him. Her eyes opened wide, and she pulled him to her, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. And she kissed him. And kissed him. She stopped only for a moment to ask, “What about Colette?”
“Don’t worry about her. Let’s go to your place and I’ll tell you all about it. After,” said Ben.
“After,” said Angie, sighing sweetly.
– THIRTEEN –
The judge had decided that he would just go over to Angie’s new apartment instead of barging into her deli every single day. At least she’d have to come home at some point and finally they would talk. He’d just sit there at her door for as long as necessary. He thought about bringing her flowers but he knew such a cheesy gesture wouldn’t mean that much. And it wasn’t as though he could bake her a cake. All he had to offer her was words, and he knew they were long overdue.
Inside the apartment, Angie lay snuggled in bed next to Ben, deep in a sweet afterglow. For the first time in her entire life she felt safe and truly happy. And how she’d laughed when he told her about Colette’s scheme to snap her out of her trance. “I guess we’ll have to double date,” laughed Angie, “Maybe at a barbecue place. At least now I don’t have to shop for a deodorant that masks the smell of bacon.”
Ben laughed. “I’d love you even if you smelled like pig feet.”
“Pigs’ feet are a delicacy.”
Ben grimaced and said, “Good to know.”
When the bell rang, Angie and Ben said simultaneously, “Pizza!” She grabbed a robe and headed toward the stairs as he scrambled for his clothes. “You can stay in bed,” she said adorably.
“I can undress again. No point in dripping pizza on your new sheets.”
“Romantic,” said Angie, laughing as she dashed down the stairs and opened the door, still chuckling. It wasn’t pizza though, it was her dad.
“Please let me talk to you,” he said sincerely.
“This isn’t a good time,” said Angie, her voice cold. “I’m not alone.”
The judge pushed his way in the door. “That maniac isn’t here, is he?” But it was Ben who came down the stairs in just trousers, no shirt, no shoes, no socks.
Angie looked nervously at her father. Would he now go all berserk on Ben?
Instead Sam’s face lit up, and he strode smiling toward Ben, and reached out for what Ben assumed to be a handshake but instead the judge crushed him in a massive hug. “Thank God,” he said, “Thank God. I’ve hoped you two would get together for years.”
“Since when have you hoped anything about me other than that I’d go away,” said Angie frostily.
Sam reached out and took his daughter by the hand and said, “Please sit and listen to me.”
“I’ll give you some time alone,” said Ben, rushing up the stairs before Angie could say anything.
“I wish I had a good explanation or something cathartic to say,” said Sam, “But what excuse do I really have? When your mother left, I allowed myself to put a wall around my heart and was too lazy to knock it down. Pathetic, I know. You’re my daughter and I love you so much, but for years I’ve tried to avoid feeling anything and it just got easier to be an old crank instead of a nice person. But it wasn’t about you at all.”
“Nothing has ever been about me,” said Angie. “Wolves do a better job raising humans than you did.”
“Yes. I’m so sorry. I wish I hadn’t hurt you. I wish…. But look at how fantastic you turned out. You’re this sweet, loving, kind, generous girl, a big success,
and everyone loves you. If only I could take credit, say I must have done something right, but maybe this is just you being you. And I’m proud of you, really so proud of how you turned out and all you’ve accomplished.”
Angie started to cry. “But why didn’t you ever say so? It would have meant so much to me.”
“I was an asshole. But I’m saying so now, if that means anything at all.”
Hungry for Love Page 18
