by Troy Storm
Stephen gripped the young coach to his pounding chest as the young man struggled to free himself. “Ooooh, shit,” he breathed. “I think I broke something.”
“Drive the fuck out of here, now! Do you hear me?”
“Officer, I don't think Stephen can drive. Oh, baby, let me see your…oh, dear, it’s all…”
“Do you have a valid license, lady?”
“Uh…” Chad struggled to free himself. “I can drive if I can just get loose. Damn, man, you’re a lot stronger than you look.”
“Should we go to the hospital?” Syble asked anxiously, gently cradling Stephen’s hand.
Chad reached for it. “Lemme take a look. I’m a coach. We’ve had training,” he explained to the officer. “The kids are always breaking something…or thinking they have.”
Stephen supported his arm with his uninjured hand and presented it for the coach’s careful probing.
“I thought you looked familiar.” The officer replaced his revolver in the holster and snapped it shut. “I know you from the papers. My kid thinks you’re the greatest.”
“He does? I’ve heard most of them think I’m a shit. How does that feel?” He pressed the injured hand in various spots between his thumb and forefinger. Stephen winced.
“Well, sure. He comes in grumblin’ like a sonofabitch. You gotta push ’em or they’d just sit on their teenage asses. Compared to that dopey head coach, I’m the one who thinks you’re the greatest. Now get the hell outa here before I have to drag you all in, greatest or not.”
“Thanks, officer. Who’s your kid?”
“Weintraub.”
“Oh, yeah. Big guy. He’s pretty good.”
“You’re kiddin’.”
“No. Good kid. Tries hard. One of our best.”
“Damn. Well, thanks for not telling him. He’s tough enough for us to handle already.” He grinned, pleased at the news.
Chad stared at the officer for a moment, before returning to Stephen’s diagnosis. “I don’t think anything’s broken. Usually, if it were, you’ve have been on your knees begging when I pushed.” He seemed to like the image and pinched gently just to see Stephen’s body jerk. “I’ll check the shoulder and we’ll be right out of here, Officer Weintraub.”
“I’ll be watching from the other side of the parking lot. Good thing that guy didn’t connect with you, he’s got quite a right.” He drove off.
“I coulda laid you out, if I hadn't have tripped,” Chad muttered to Stephen, feeling the older man’s shoulder.
Stephen jerked his shoulder away. “Ow!”
“See, smartass,” Chad smirked. “When you get older, your tendons start to stiffen unless you keep working out. Yeah, you should have that shoulder checked, too. Where’s Syb?”
A sniffle from the front seat answered him. Chad hustled Stephen into the back, barely brushing some of the shattered glass pebbles out of the way, and slid into the driver’s seat.
Syble twisted to kneel and lean over the seat, her trembling lips puckered. “You’re gonna be okay, right, Stevie?”
He kissed her, deeply, as Chad fumed. “You still love me, right? Me best, right?”
She nodded. “This really wasn’t the way I wanted the night to go, Stephen. I’m so sorry.” She swiveled into her seat, throwing a wan smile Chad’s way, as she buckled herself in.
Still frowning, the young man glanced toward the back seat. Leaning over, he kissed Syble on the cheek. “What about me? Love me, too?”
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“How well you pass your volunteer ambulance driver’s test. Now, go.”
Chapter Five
The two men sat on the floor outside the bathroom of the master bedroom leaning back against the wall, on either side of the door. Guard dogs. Competing, wary guard dogs.
“Who’s she talking to now?” Chad asked, petulantly, allowing the annoyed tone in his voice free rein, hoping it might carry inside. It seemed as if Syble had already talked to half her coffee klatch and the library staff. What the hell was she talking about? Surely, not…them.
“Sounds like it might be the Dragon Lady, her mother. Self-proclaimed,” Stephen answered, contemplating his ER bandaged hand. “It’s from an old comic strip, or movie, or musical. I forget which. Whatever, it’s a good name for her. Tough broad. Syble’s got a lot of her genes.”
The young man leaned forward, his muscled arms tensely crossed, resting on his bent knees. “She calls her mother? You think she’s talking about us? My folks would have a fucking herd, if I did that,” he muttered.
Stephen cocked his head. The poor guy was very much out of his element. But hanging in there. “Your folks are concerned about their son’s promiscuous sexual behavior? That sounds hopeful.”
“I am not fucking promiscuous!” The belligerent tone modified as the young coach settled back. “This is the first time…with a married woman…ever. I…didn’t know. I'm sorry.” The last was almost inaudible.
“Now you’re sorry? Can I quote you?”
His anger instantly rebounded. “Hell, yes! I’m sorry she’s married, especially to a jerk like you. I’m sure as hell not sorry about…” He caught himself. “Meeting her.”
“Meeting her and screwing her,” Stephen hissed through clinched teeth, his face flushing as he pushed himself toward the young man. “Aaagh! Shit.” He fell back, doubled over to cradle his injured hand.
“Hurts, huh?”
Stephen glared. “Like hell.” All of it, he didn’t add.
Chad chewed his lip for a moment, and then took a deep breath, intending to say something else. The something else didn’t come.
Not speaking, they sat, listening through the door to the soft splash of water in the tub and the intense murmur of her side of the conversation binding them together, a background to their splintered thoughts.
“Thank you,” Stephen said quietly. “For being sorry.”
“’S okay. If it was me, I’da probably killed you by now.”
“I tried.”
“No. You didn’t. You pulled that punch. I’ve been thinking about that.”
“Yeah, and what did your little mind come up with? That the old dude was too…”
“That you didn’t really want to hurt somebody that…Syble might have feelings for.”
There was a long silence. Stephen scratched his head absently and flexed the fingers of his injured hand tentatively. “You may be my only hope,” he said, quietly to himself. “Otherwise, I woulda killed you,” he announced loudly.
Chad looked over, his young, unlined face contorted again. “Hope…?”
“Nobody’s killing nobody!” The pronouncement from inside the bathroom broke in. “Be nice. That won’t kill either one of you.”
“Syble, how long are you gonna be in there?” Chad barked.
“Are we there yet?” Stephen whined.
She went back to her conversation.
Long pause. Thinking. Deeply. Both of them.
“You think this is gonna work?” Chad’s puzzled, lost look was almost funny. The kid really was out of his element.
“What is this?”
“I don’t know, but she keeps saying we’ve gotta be friends and buddies and stuff. I mean, you’re an okay guy, but…”
“What do you mean ‘okay.’ Hell, you don’t even know me.”
“These last few hours, dude, you have not done a lot of covering up. I especially liked that pounding the car top.” His smirk was instantly erased by Stephen’s snarl. “Oh…kay.” His eyebrows lifted, his palms raised, mollifying. “It appears we are not quite ready to look objectively at our stupid male behavior of the evening, yet.”
A sharp, tight laugh broke from Stephen. “Obviously, I’m not yet able to make jokes about your and my wife’s stupid behavior of the last…How long have you two been going at it?”
Chad slowly stretched his arms overhead, crooked his elbows and put his hands carefully behind his head. “Two blissful
weeks, buddy. Two amazing, fantastic, awesome weeks.” He turned a superior stare on Stephen. Ready.
The older man turned away sharply to look around the master bedroom, his face still. “Ten years…ten years.”
Chad followed his look. “She never let me in here before.”
The husband turned, his mouth slack. Chad shrugged. “This is the first time.”
“Where…then…”
Chad continued to look around the room. “The kitchen. The den. The library. Once in my truck. She said…the bedroom was special.” It was hard not to hear the hurt in the young man’s casual enumerating.
“Jeez. You guys did it a lot.” Damn, Stephen thought. All that phenomenal, youthful ability to keep going and going. There had been a time when he…All those fucking hormones. He let loose a rueful snort. Fucking hormones, indeed. If only he had checked his hormones the last few…weeks? Months? Years? Oh God. How long had he been bringing this on himself?
“You know,” Chad chewed his lip, “you didn’t do anything wrong.”
Stephen cocked his head at the earnest young man.
“You…” He shrugged, trying to be the casual sophisticate. “Just weren’t here…enough. When you were…it musta been…okay. I guess.”
“How do you know?” Stephen asked quietly, his breath held.
“She was always…really glad to see you.” He re-crossed his arms, hugging his knees, his head nodding as he inspected his feet. “You two must have been awesome.” He cut a smirky eye to the older man. “Just not awesome often enough, I guess.”
Stephen smiled. “Well for all the times you boffed her, there seemed to be plenty left over for her to make me feel pretty damn awesome with. Dude. So, I guess you just weren’t…”
“Will you two stop talking dirty and come in here?”
They scrambled like kids on Christmas morning.
“Oh jeez, Syb. Couldn’t you…” Stephen stopped in the middle of the bathroom to avert his eyes. Syble was sitting up in the tub, her breasts and ribcage exposed, dark, lustrous hair piled high upon her head. She looked magnificent. “There’s another guy here,” Stephen pleaded.
“Damn right, there is.” Chad forced himself to raise his eyes to her face.
“You're sweet. Come here, sit next to me, both of you.” There was nowhere to sit except on the floor. “I’m going home to mother.”
“What?”
“I was afraid of that. D.L. strikes again.”
“Syb, what the hell is this mother Dragon Lady shit?”
She tried to wipe the hurt, angry look off the young man’s face. He was fast losing traction. “Mom calls herself the Dragon Lady. It’s from an old Terry and the Pirates comic strip.” He looked blank. She rolled her eyes at Stephen, and then looked back benevolently. “She thinks…hopes that she still looks rather exotic and she’s…rather domineering. While I’m away, Stephen can explain it all to you.”
“Why do you have to go? What about us? How long are you gonna be gone?”
“A week. You both have a week. I’m leaving in the morning.”
“But the presentation…to the board? It’s Thursday.”
“Stephen will be taking over at the library. Not my job, the preparation of the proposal for the school board. I’ve called Mrs. Abernathy and a couple of the other adult volunteers. Andy and the girls can’t wait to work with you, Stephen. I think, Chad, he’ll give a much better presentation than I would. I tend to get…overly emotional sometimes. As we’ve seen tonight,” she added, under her breath, slightly embarrassed. “We need a cool head in front of the board. He’s corporate. They’re corporate. You and I,” she shrugged, ignoring Stephen’s pained look, “are not. I’ll be back next Sunday, a week from tomorrow.”
Her resigned husband waited for the next stiletto to drop onto his and Chad’s far from cool unsuspecting heads.
“You have a week to become good friends. Really good friends.”
She cleared her throat and reached for their hands, which she put together and enclosed with her own. “The next time we have sex, we will all have sex together.”
Chad’s hand jerked. His jaw dropped in shock. Syble released her grip to allow him to remove his hand if he wished. The stunned young man took a couple of deep breaths and licked his dry lips. Stephen felt sorry for the kid. Syble was being pretty blunt.
Chad left his hand where it was. Slightly shaking, he tightened his grip.
Oddly, that pleased Stephen. The young man cared that much.
“I’m sorry to put it so…blatantly. Later we can be romantic and poetic. Now, I’m just exhausted and I want to get to bed.
Stephen pushed himself up off the floor, feeling very old, expending a great deal of effort it seemed. Everything ached. His head. His hand. Especially his groin. Chad followed. Easily, without effort. They started for the door. The sound of water draining from her body caused them both to turn back quickly.
She was gorgeous. She raised her arms to check her hair. Both Stephen and Chad stared, transfixed.
She looked up, surprised, then smiled at their ravenous appraisals, looking moist and scented and more than ready. She sighed. A sigh Stephen knew all too well. For the moment her dreams of what might be—what would be—would have to suffice.
“Stephen, my darling, forgive me. Will you sleep in the guest room tonight? Chad, you can sleep in the den.”
“Ah, baby,” Stephen moaned. “Don’t I at least get a farewell night alone?”
“No. There is no farewell. None of us will ever have to sleep alone again, unless we want to.” She grinned wickedly. “And it appears it will be my job to see that we don’t want to. Now, scoot.” She waved them out of the room.
Outside the bathroom, Stephen tapped the wide, young shoulders. Chad turned.
“Did you two do it in the den?” He glared.
“Yeah.”
“And the guest room?”
Chad thought a moment. “Yeah.”
“Damn. But not in the bedroom?”
“No.” Chad looked thoughtful.
Small favors, Stephen thought.
“I guess that’s where we’re all gonna do it, huh?” the young man asked…slightly worried. “All of us,” he repeated quietly.
Steven’s feeling of gratitude for small favors melted. He hadn’t allowed himself to think that far ahead…to the bedroom…all of them.
Chad turned and trudged toward the den. Steven heard him mutter under his breath.
“Holy shit.”
* * * *
Stephen’s furrowed brow and tight jaw faced the shadowed ceiling of the guest room—the guest room, for God’s sake! He hadn’t slept in the guest room for, what? Two, three years? Not since the Dragon Lady and DeDe both came to visit at the same time and the ‘girls’ wanted to have a slumber party.
The Dragon Lady was indeed a formidable mother. If they made a musical of her life, they sure as hell wouldn’t name it after her daughter like they had Gypsy. They’d have to call it Dragon Lady! flat out. He flopped over and pushed his lonely crotch into the mattress, grumbling. D.L. was something else, he thought, disjointedly, commanding her daughter to flee from the clutches of whatever Syble had told her about him and the assistant coach. B.B. she should be called, for Balls Buster. Hard to believe she had produced such a sweetie as Syble.
He rolled over on his back, hard eyes drilling into the black cloud over his head.
DeDe wouldn’t have been such a bitch. Bitch! That’s all he could call Syble’s totally insensitive actions with that dumbass jock. A jock, for God’s sake! Syble’s younger sister would have been more understanding. Jeez! He had been working his nuts off to try and save the marriage. Well, okay, he confessed, ruefully, he hadn’t realized the marriage needed saving. The house, then. Saving the house and his career. He was her husband. They had a life. They had promised to…forever…
He chewed his lower lip. Sighed deeply. Nah, he had used those lines too many times, true as they might be. He was o
lder and wiser than that. Or he damn well should be.
At the firm, Stephen knew well enough they were building a house of cards. He had been one of the ones carefully fitting the cards in place, gleefully, even though in his heart of hearts he knew it could only go so high and then gravity would take over. He just wasn’t fast enough on his feet.
Obviously, the dumbass jock was.
Fast on his feet, and fast out of his pants and into hers.
Stephen groaned at the thought and turned on his stomach again, maliciously trying to pound the pillows into some kind of receptive mass before burying his head. His crotch felt lonelier than ever.
Damn the dumbass, he snarled. Why the fuck did he have to come along just when…
Timing.
If he himself had had sense enough to take the money and run six months ago, or even two years ago. But, no. He wanted to make a killing, too. He wanted to run with the Big Boys. He wanted to be something really special. To show Syble the crap they both had been putting up with the last couple of years in this less than idyllic suburban setting, the soul-deadening commutes, the time away from each other slowly prying them apart…
He fucking deserved what he got!
He hadn’t even known. Never dreamed. Never in a million years. Stephen blinked into the darkness and rubbed his biceps over his eyes. He sniffed. His sinuses were beginning to clog.
His crotch wasn’t the only part of him that felt empty. His soul—whatever the hell that was—felt like it had drained out of him, too. He was a shell.
Whereas, Mr. Hot Nuts was round and firm and fully packed.
And probably hung like the fully packed asshole he was.
Something solid she could hang on to. Not an empty shell. Something she could put her trust in.
Something he could put his dick in.
He threw the covers aside. The cool night air hit his hot body like a wet washcloth. “I’m hungry,” he muttered. Maybe some hot milk.
Blech. Syble always fixed him hot milk when he was feeling low.
He hated the taste of the stuff.
Probably something the Dragon Lady had stuck in her head.
He felt for his robe.
