MAKE ME A MATCH (Running Wild)

by Hutchinson, Bobby

  Rashneesh’s window was open and he began his goodness gracious speech, but she didn’t hesitate.

  She reached in and smacked him several times on the side of the head with her hand.

  “Idiot. Maniac. Lunatic. Look what you’ve done to my boyfriend’s new car.” She thrust her head in past the cowering, gibbering driver. “I’ll need all your names as witnesses.”

  A patrol car appeared, which interested Ian and Simon enough that they shut up. The efficient cop stopped traffic until the two vehicles could pull to the side of the street, where the feisty little woman took half a lifetime writing down names and phone numbers, license numbers, business numbers, first, last and middle names, and every other detail except the size of Rashneesh’s penis.

  At Eric’s urging, the cop called for another cab, and finally they got to Sophie’s.

  Leaving Tessa in the cab—this time the driver was a careful, pleasant young woman, and it was definitely a better class of cab, although it had begun to smell strongly of vomit—Eric carried the boys inside, one on each arm.

  Sophie opened the door.

  “We had an accident. The taxi hit a lady in the rear end and she hollered and the cops came and Ian barfed all over Tessa,” Simon reported.

  “And we nearly died on the Ferris wheel,” Ian added. “And then we ate a lot of ice cream and stuff and I think I’m gonna barf again.”

  Sophie looked at them and sighed. “Get in the bathroom quick.”

  “Uncle Eric’s not getting a sex change, but he promised I can when I get big,” Simon announced.

  Ian began to vomit halfway down the hall. Simon came to look and started gagging, and Eric made a fast getaway.

  He got in the back of the cab, relieved to find it still there. He’d fully expected Tessa to abandon him. He put a grateful arm around her shoulders. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back.

  “Don’t get close to me, I stink. My shoes are wrecked, my slacks are splotched with mud, I think this silk jacket is shrinking as we speak, and my hair has gone ballistic from the rain. Here’s your jacket back, thanks. Be careful because I didn’t get everything off it.”

  He tried to think of something soothing. “You hungry?”

  “Are you nuts?” She shuddered. “I don’t have a strong stomach. I may never eat again.”

  “I hope you know this didn’t go the way I’d planned it, Tessa.”

  “You have no idea what a relief that is.”

  “I just wanted the whole thing to be perfect.”

  “It was perfect, Eric. It’s the most perfectly horrible afternoon and evening I’ve ever spent.”

  “I suppose this means you won’t go anywhere with me again.” He tried to sound pathetic because that worked sometimes. He sighed. “Can’t say I blame you.”

  She gave a huge yawn. “Oh, I don’t know. Remember what you said about a school for the socially challenged? You were right, you do need help. I couldn’t really recommend you as a match for clients, not the way you are.”

  “And you’ll work with me on it?” This friendship thing was really tough on a guy. How did therapists manage it?

  “I might consider it. At a price.”

  “How much?” If it was his body, he was too worn down to argue.

  “I’m a little nervous about buying Synchronicity. The only lawyer I know is in Calgary, and I could use good advice.”

  “I have a friend who’s a lawyer.” Good old Fletcher. “How about catching a movie tomorrow? We could have dinner after and then you could give me pointers, and then later we’ll go over your business concerns.”

  But then he remembered his van was gone. Each time he remembered, he felt worse about it. “As long as you don’t mind me picking you up in one of the company trucks?”

  “A dump truck?”

  “Either that, or I could always rent a limo.”

  “The limo’s tempting, but with your track record I can’t see you really pulling it off. Maybe you’d better come over and we’ll rent a video instead. And we can order in. There’s less chance of car wrecks and broken machinery and rain that way.”

  “You sure that’s what you want to do?”

  “I’m sure. I love watching videos.”

  “Okay. What time?”

  “Six-thirty.”

  The cab driver drew up and parked in front of Tessa’s house.

  Eric leaned over and kissed her slow and deep because kisses were going to have to be enough, at least for a long time. He could hold out, he was a strong, stalwart man.

  “Night, Eric.” She slid across the seat and he almost had it made, but then she hesitated. “I guess you don’t want to come in for a while?”

  He was trying hard to remember why sex with her wasn’t a good idea. It had something to do with Nema and feeling used, but the details were getting fuzzier by the moment.

  “Sure.” He couldn’t help it. He’d fought the good fight, and he’d lost.

  He paid the driver off and followed Tessa in the door, and fifteen minutes later, they were naked in her shower, and he had renewed admiration for detachable showerheads.

  The breaking point for Sophie was water. It came an hour and fifteen minutes after Eric had dropped off her nephews. She’d gotten most of the vomit off the rug and the walls, and they were out of the bath, angelic looking and rosy in their pajamas, watching television in the den.

  The phone rang. It was a call from one of the other docs at St. Joe’s. A patient Sophie had treated and released several weeks before was back in emergency claiming she’d given him the wrong drugs. The guy was obviously an addict, working the system, but the situation was complicated and the sound track on the cartoon channel loud.

  She walked into the kitchen and talked for ten more minutes before she was aware of muted giggling coming from the den. She’d learned in the past couple of days that giggling wasn’t a good sign. Ending the call, she hurried down the hall.

  Simon and Ian were on their knees in front of the gas fireplace, which she’d turned on earlier because of the rain. Each boy had a large bottle of Evian, and they were squirting the last of the water on what had been the flames.

  “What are you doing? Give me those bottles right now.”

  She had visions of the entire building exploding. What happened when water was poured on gas? She didn’t know, but now she was going to have to call the super and find out.

  “You two get into that bedroom and into bed, don’t you dare set foot out of it again tonight. And there’ll be no cartoons in the morning.”

  She knew her voice was shrill. She’d dealt calmly with missing limbs, torn bodies and schizophrenia, and now she was shrieking and shaking because of two little boys.

  They ran off to bed, giggling like demons, and she tried to mop up some of the water, understanding for the first time exactly how children got beaten.

  “We have to pee, Auntie Sophie.”

  “Then get in the bathroom, and make it fast.”

  The door closed behind them, and she heard the lock engage.

  “Simon? Ian? Open that door.”

  Water began to run, full force. It sounded as if it was coming from both the sink and the bathtub, with the faucets on full.

  “Open that door, boys, or so help me, I’ll make you sorry.”

  She pounded and threatened and then tried bribery. Nothing worked.

  She called Eric, who wasn’t home and wasn’t answering his cell, and the super, who had a pager and didn’t respond. When water began to trickle from under the bathroom door, she gave in to hysteria. The water turned into a stream, and with the last shred of her sanity, Sophie called Rocky.

  He was home, he had a cell phone, and on his way over he talked her through finding the main shut-off valve, under the stairwell in the crawl space, which someone had once showed her but which she’d forgotten.

  She turned the handle and the sound of water stopped, but there was now a river pouring under the door and soaking her beautiful ne
w rugs, and they were going to mildew and stink and she’d have to replace them, and she’d offered to keep her nephews for ten whole days, and it had been four nightmarish days and three nights, and she wanted them gone.

  When the doorbell sounded, she was sobbing. She threw the door open and tried to fling herself into Rocky’s arms, but that was difficult because he was carrying a huge toolbox and several devices that resembled surgical instruments.

  “Thank god, you’re here, they’re demons from hell,” she wailed. “I can’t do this anymore, someone has to come and take them away,” she gabbled as he set the tools down and her arms went around his neck. “I know they’re my nephews, but I never want to set eyes on them again. No wonder Karen went bonkers. Nobody could deal with those two and stay sane. They’ve ruined my rugs, there’s water everywhere, the bathroom door is locked and they’re in there.”

  A new thought filled her with horror. “Omigod, the bathtub’s full. What if they drown? It can happen in seconds. What’ll I tell Karen?”

  “Hey, Sophie, take it easy.” Rocky’s arms closed around her, and she thought, This is what it took to get him to hold me?

  His mouth was close to her ear. “I’ll get them out. I can do locks, and there’s a machine in the truck that’ll suck up the water. Demons from hell don’t usually drown in the tub. It’s going to be fine.” He used his thumb to wipe tears off her cheeks and smiled down into her eyes.

  “I did teach them to float, at the pool.”

  It felt like every one of her fantasies, being in his arms, only different. She’d never envisioned water, at least not this way. Reluctantly, she pulled away so he could get to work.

  “Coming in, guys,” he called to the boys. Within four minutes, using some kind of lock pick, he had the door open. Simon and Ian had discarded their wet pajamas in the middle of the lake that was the bathroom floor. They were standing beside the bathtub, stirring a large bottle of Sophie’s best bath oil into the water with the end of the toilet plunger.

  “We’re making potions,” Simon announced.

  “Look, Aunt Sophie, this turns the water blue. I bet when I add this, it’ll go purple.” Before she could move he poured in her new bottle of Poison perfume, and Sophie’s hand itched to turn parts of his anatomy red.

  Simon gave Rocky a gap-toothed grin. “Hiya, Rocky, how come you’re here?”

  “Because you guys’ve made a bad mess of your aunt’s nice house,” Rocky told them. “That’s not what good guys do, and you’re good guys, right?”

  Choruses of right set Sophie’s teeth on edge. Liars, into the bargain.

  “So you’re gonna have to work with me to clean this up. First thing, you pull the plugs out of the sink and the bathtub so that water can go where it belongs, down the drain.”

  The naked demons did it with enthusiasm.

  “Now we’re gonna use towels and get rid of this water on the floor.”

  Sophie handed out a stack and they set to with a vengeance, and Rocky praised their efforts.

  She escaped to the kitchen. Her hands were shaking. She recited aloud the list of calamities she’d managed with cool aplomb in the ER: car crashes, multiple injuries, near fatalities, explosions. Not once had she ever lost it this way.

  She actually felt dizzy, as if she was going to faint.

  Low blood sugar. She poured herself orange juice, then added two good inches of vodka from the bottle she kept in the freezer.

  She needed it, because having Rocky here unsettled her nerves beyond what the boys had already done. She looked her very worst. She’d changed out of the suit she’d worn to the meeting into sweats, and she hadn’t bothered with underwear or makeup. And she probably stank of vomit.

  She heard Rocky talking away to the boys, cheerful and patient, apparently showing them what a toilet plunger was actually used for. Now why hadn’t she thought of that? She could have taught them the finer points of anesthesia and had them practice on each other.

  Rocky went out and came back with a vacuum that sucked up water and he and the boys used it on her hall carpet. He patiently allowed Simon and Ian turns with it. There wasn’t even a fight over whose turn it was.

  She was a total failure as an aunt. The only other thing she’d ever failed at was getting Rocky to notice her. Why had she ever dreamed of a time when she’d be a mother, when she couldn’t even get the aunt part right? No wonder Anna was balking about getting pregnant; for once in her life, she was thinking straight.

  Sophie took the glass into the study, only then remembering that the gas fireplace was out, thanks to large bottles of her Evian water. She sat on the sofa and sipped her drink and plotted.

  Tomorrow morning she’d manufacture a call from work, insisting she had to go back early. Anna and Bruno could take over, after all, there were two of them, while she was outnumbered. She wouldn’t have to see the boys again until maybe Thanksgiving. She might be able to extend it to Christmas if she volunteered to work the holiday.

  After half an hour, the boys, still bare butt naked, came to find her. They stood in front of her, long lashes, round stomachs with belly buttons poked out, rosy, curly-topped angels. Well, she wasn’t about to believe in the innocence of children, not ever again.

  “Aunt Sophie, we’re really sorry for what we did,” Simon began.

  ‘You oughta be,” she snarled. The vodka was helping her to be strong. “I try to be a good auntie to you guys. I take you swimming and to McDonald’s, and this is how you treat me?”

  “We ’pologize,” they chorused. “We’ll never flood your house again, honest. We won’t put water on the fireplace, either.”

  They wouldn’t, she knew that. They’d just think up something else so diabolical no sane human would ever be able to second-guess it or them.

  Tomorrow they were going to Anna’s. Poor, poor Anna.

  “Get some pajamas on and get to bed.”

  “Rocky said we’re such good helpers we can go with him tomorrow, all day. He’s gonna show us how to dig holes in the ground for pipes to go through where people poop. But only if you say it’s okay. Please say it’s okay, Auntie Sophie?”

  “Rocky says he’ll get us hats like his,” Ian added. “Please, Auntie Sophereeno?”

  Auntie Sophereeno? She hardened her heart against Ian’s charm.

  Think Evian. Think carpets.

  “I’ll talk to Rocky about it.” Tempting as it was, she was going to have to warn him about them, which meant the trip was off. They kissed her, and she hardened her heart against their soft little lips, their velvety skin, their milky breath.

  “Bed.” They scampered off, and she went to find Rocky.

  The bathroom was pristine, the hall carpet only slightly damp, and he was loading wet towels into the washing machine.

  “Rocky, I forgot there for a while, but they also poured water on the gas fireplace, and now the pilot light is out. Is that dangerous? Is the whole complex going to blow up?”

  He grinned. He had that great grin. “Nope. I can relight it for you.” He followed her into the den and started wiping the water out of the fireplace.

  She went in to check on the boys. They were both in one twin bed, sound asleep, curled up like puppies, duvet on the floor. She picked it up and tucked them in, and against her better judgment, bent and kissed them.

  Karen was gone, and give the devil his due, Rocky was here, in her condo, and it was because of them. When she got back to the den, he had the fireplace dry and lit.

  “I don’t know how to thank you.” She knew how she’d like to, though. Being around him sent her hormones into overdrive.

  “Would you like a drink? I’m having vodka and orange juice, but there’s beer in the fridge.”

  “Vodka sounds good.” He sat down on the sofa. He’d taken his cap off, and his hair was smashed down on the sides and sticking up on the top; it always made something inside of her go mushy, the way his hair looked. His arms were bare to the shoulder; he had the best biceps. And she
knew by the way his jeans fit that his pecs and abs were just as spectacular. He had a hole in his sock, so his two middle toes stuck out. He even had great toes, extra long and only a little hairy. She knew there was no truth to that thing about men’s thumbs and the size of their cocks, but maybe toes? She’d never really researched that theory.

  He looked so reliable and kind and sexy and succulent. And shy. Why did he have to be so darned shy?

  Knowing it was nuts, she’d asked Anna to do their combined charts, hers and Rocky’s, and her sister had said they were totally compatible. But then, Anna would say that anyhow.

  “I’ve tried to come on to him,” Sophie had confessed. “But he never picks up the ball and runs with it. I figure maybe he just isn’t attracted to me.”

  “Going by this,” Anna said, tapping the chart, “he ought to be, but he’s got this asteroid in his chart that makes him feel really insecure about himself. Remember, he was dyslexic in school, that would make it worse. ”

  “So what can I do?” She knew she was in a bad way when she ended up asking Anna for advice.

  “You could visualize the two of you together, see it and feel it and really believe in it.”

  She’d done that alone in bed quite a lot. “Anything else?”

  Anna had looked thoughtful. “You could find a defining moment, get him drunk and just out-and-out jump his bones. Guys sometimes need the direct approach.”

  Sophie was full of courage in her role as physician, but in her personal life she’d always been way less than brazen. She’d always been too scared to really come on to Rocky. What if she didn’t turn him on? What if he couldn’t get a hard-on and she ended up so embarrassed she wanted to die? She’d have to quit her job and leave Vancouver forever.

  Which, she realized, pouring orange juice and a husky slug of vodka into his glass, meant never seeing Simon and Ian again, except maybe at weddings and funerals. Right this minute, that held a certain appeal. She added more vodka to his glass and refreshed her own.

  When she handed him his drink, she sat down beside him.

  “The boys said you asked them to come with you tomorrow. I’ve got to tell you, they’re bad news.”