by Pike, Leslie
Esme points to a particularly massive home. “That’s where the televangelist from TV lives.”
“I’m not up on my televangelists.”
“He’s the crier. You know the one who asks people to send him money for the orphans?”
“Well, he must have two hundred of them living in his house.”
We both start laughing at the absurdity of the truth. As a comedian I know nothing is funnier.
“You ready to head back?” I ask.
“Yeah. I think we did our six miles. Let me look.”
Esme checks the mileage a we slow our roll. “6.2”
We reverse our direction and start back for the car.
“We’ll get in twelve miles today! We’re going to look gooood girl! I’m proud of us.”
“We’ve been very faithful to our plan. I had to, my dress was a little tight last time I had a fitting,” Esme says.
“You look great. You’re as ripe as a little peach ready for plucking.”
Esme blushes again and laughs. “I think I’ve already been plucked. Is Becca coming today?”
“Yeah, at three. She’s bringing Paul’s tux and my gown for one last fitting.”
“She must be coming to our place first then. Finn said she’d be there at noon.”
“And in my experience a stylist is never late. So we’d better get moving.”
We pick up our pace. I give Esme a sly look. “Hey, maybe we’ll run into our golfers again. I could hold their balls for them while they scrub them clean.”
Esme gives me a look that says she’s not really certain I wouldn’t do just that.
* * *
“That looks fucking hot, you sexy beast,” I say as Paul models his tuxedo.
Becca moves around his body checking for any errant threads or imperfect seams. “It looks good,” she says.
“Are these pants too snug?” Paul asks, looking in the full-length mirror we’ve set up in the great room.
Becca looks at me and I know we’re both thinking the same thing.
“Baby, that’s what’s good about the whole look. It’s modern. And you’ve worked hard for that body. This suits you.”
He looks doubtful. “I don’t want to look like I’m trying to show my…”
He doesn’t have to finish the sentence; we both know what he’s trying to say.
“No Paul, I wouldn’t want that either,” Becca says. “This is perfectly elegant. You look like a star yourself.”
“I’m serious, BB. Is my pecker showing?”
“Let me look,” I say as if I’m the chief pecker inspector.
“No jokes,” he says.
So I open his jacket and give it my best once-over. “No Paul, your pecker is protected.”
I see Becca stifling a laugh.
“You don’t realize what a real concern this is for us,” I say.
That’s it for Paul. He heads for the bedroom. “Oh God, BB.”
I call to his departing figure. “What? Isn’t that the truth?”
As I say it, I’m holding out my hands showing Becca the length of Paul’s manhood. She reacts appropriately with a scared but impressed smile.
“I guess I’ll go put my dress on. Should I put my hair up so you can see the back?”
“Yep. You know the drill. And wear the shoes. I need to see if the hem has been done properly.”
So I walk back to our room and grab the dress off the bathroom door. I twist my wild curls up into a clippie. Paul’s already halfway out of his tux. He’s got the jacket and shirt off, but still wears the pants.
“You’re too much,” he says. But he’s smiling, so I know he’s lying.
“What? Didn’t I do a good pecker inspection?”
He takes off his shoes and works on removing his pants. “Very good. But you weren’t very thorough,” he says walking over to me.
I’ve ditched the wrap I was wearing and I’m standing in my yellow bra and panties. He puts his arms around me and expertly unclasps my bra.
“You don’t want to be wearing any underwear when you try on your dress, right?”
What a smart man. He’s been paying attention.
“That’s right. My panties need to go too.”
He slides the bra from my shoulders and tosses it on the bed.
“Look at you,” he says kissing my breasts.
Oh God, here we go. “Don’t you start anything I can’t finish, Paul.”
Then he kneels down and hooks his fingers in my panties. “I’m just helping you.”
He pulls them down to my ankles and I step out. They join my bra on the bed.
“Really, don’t you get my engine running. Becca’s out there waiting for me.”
He kisses me softly on my sweet spot. “Okay, whatever you say.” He keeps at it.
He looks up at my face. “You did your job as the inspector, now I’m on Pussy Patrol.”
I push his shoulders back. “All right officer, get up.”
He looks at me with those soulful brown eyes, and I almost change my mind.
“If I have to,” he says standing and giving me a peck on the cheek. “I’ll leave you alone.”
I grab his arm. “Just one touch before you go.”
He turns back to face me and lets me run my hand over his cock. A hot looking man in his underwear is a very good thing.
“Okay, save that for me,” I say releasing him and moving away from his outstretched hands.
He gives me a frustrated stare. His brows knit together. “You little cock tease.”
I take my gown and slip it on, zipping up the side. Paul looks me up and down.
“Wow. You look fine, woman.”
I admire my reflection in the closet door mirror. This is what they call dressing to kill. Bang! Bang! You’re dead, mother fucker. I haven’t worn Versace before, but I will from now on. The fit is perfection. It hugs my body as if it was poured on me. The neckline is modest, but the back shows more. As far as clothes go, that’s my signature. I can’t deny I’m known for my ass and this dress makes everyone who doesn’t know that fact know it now. It’s not that the back is lower than some I’ve worn, but there’s something about this fabric and the cut that says, “Behold this magnificent behind!” Against the white of my skin it really pops. If I do say so myself.
“What do you think about the color? Do you like the butter yellow?”
“Beautiful. It’s about the sexiest dress I’ve ever seen. God almighty, BB, you’re making me get a hard on.”
“Hard on inspired fashion. I think I’ll sell it on QVC.”
I grab the equally stunning heels and put them on. Now I’m eye to eye with Paul. I do one twirl, and he spanks me playfully on the ass as I leave for my fitting.
When I walk into the great room Becca lets loose with a wolf whistle.
“Fanfuckingtastic!”
“I love it all. Good pick, Becca.”
“Wait till you see it with the diamonds. We’re going simple. Simple and big. A diamond cuff, four carat each stud earrings, and one beautiful and classic ring. And that’s it. Let your dress and body speak for you. The jewelry’s the frosting on the cake.”
I go into my “Gentlemen Prefer Blondes” routine. “A kiss on the hand may be quite continental, but diamonds are a girl’s best friend.”
She holds her hands up to stop my performance. “Let me see if you need anything done. Any final tweaks. Stand straight, quit dancing.”
So I do as ordered. I look in the mirror at the length of the gown. “What about the hem? I think it’s about a half an inch too long. What do you think?”
She surveys the dress from all angles. “Yeah, it can come up a bit. Let me measure.”
She gets down on all fours and turns up the front with a few straight pins. Then she looks in the mirror. “That’s a bit too much. Good eye, BB, I think the half inch is going to be perfect.”
Paul walks into the room and passes through on the way to the kitchen.
“Becca,
should I just keep the tux, being that there’s no more alterations?”
Becca lifts her head and takes the straight pins from her mouth. “No, I need it. I’ll get it back to you next week, all pressed and ready. Bring me your shoes too. I’ll put it all together with the right socks and your cuff links. It’ll all be ready for you, nice and organized.”
“Are you going to wipe his ass for him too?” I say with a serious expression.
All I get from both of them is “the look” that means whatever I said isn’t worth their response.
“BB, Finn’s called and asked if we want to go to their place for dinner tonight. What should I tell them?”
“Tell them we’ll be there.”
Finn and Esme’s place has a certain charm, just like its residents.
“Every time we come here I’m reminded how much fun we had last summer. I think we were on the beach every day,” I say.
We’re sitting at the dining table outside. The sunset’s colored in shades of pink and orange, with deep purple streaks running through the sky.
“I think about that a lot too,” Esme says, “It was healing. Emotionally, and physically. After what we’d been through we needed that so badly. But I don’t have to tell you that, Paul.”
“It seems like it happened years ago sometimes,” Paul says.
Finn jumps in. “Not to me. Once in a while it feels fresh. The nightmare of almost losing Esme and Paul both.” He visibly shudders with the memory, then pulls Esme’s chair close and takes her hand in his.
She looks at him and says pointedly, “I refuse to give up one more minute of my life thinking of what happened.”
“I agree,” says Paul.
Esme smiles. “Lucky I met you all. That’s when everything changed for me.”
“For all of us,” BB says.
Finn starts laughing. “I remember the first time Paul saw BB up on her balcony in Park City. I thought he was goin’ to swallow his tongue.”
“Oh come on, I wasn’t that bad.” Paul laughs.
“Yes, you were. Remember, I asked your name and Finn had to answer for you?” BB says.
We’re all laughing now.
“That’s because I wasn’t used to leaving out the “Father”. I still identified as a priest, until you showed up, that is. Then it was all over. Slam bam, thank you ma’am.”
The laughter trickles down and the conversation stalls for a minute. I’m sure we’re all thinking of the same thing. At least Finn, Paul and I are. The infamous threesome. I have no idea if Esme knows about it. I can hear Finn now, “Um, honey, I hope you don’t mind, but I diddled two of your best friends. And oh yeah, it was at the same time.”
If she’s aware, she’s just about the coolest chick I know. And if she isn’t, then Finn is making a huge mistake. Because when she does find out it’ll be a thousand times worse. Better that he comes clean with our debauchery now. Oh, that was one crazy night. We fucked our way through every room in the condo, and took Paul’s virginity in the wildest way we could. It’s an absolute miracle we ended up being the friends we are. All three of us had to be very sure of our own decisions and choices. And we each had to be able to put what went down firmly in the past. Thankfully, Paul changes the subject.
“So what’s happening with Carl? Is the surgery scheduled?”
“Not yet. But I’m sure it’ll be soon.”
“Paul said it wasn’t a heart attack,” I say.
“No. But he needs to get an upgrade from his pacemaker to a defibrillator. And he needs to have a stent put in one of his arteries.”
“Sounds scary,” Esme says.
“He’s very calm about it all. You know my dad.”
“Why are they waiting?” I ask.
“They need to stabilize his blood pressure first. It’s really a fuckin’ mess getting old. But laid back Carl takes it all in stride.”
Finn makes the hang loose sign with his thumb and little finger splayed.
As I reach for another of Esme’s homemade after dinner cookies, my cell sounds. It’s my mother and that’s unusual for this time of day. This is their Wheel of Fortune half hour. I know their schedule hour by hour. It rarely changes. My father likes things routine. Dinner at six, cocktail at seven, Wheel Of Fortune at seven thirty. Take a shit at eight. Clockwork.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Hello, honey.”
The words sound right, but her voice doesn’t. I can tell when there’s something off. Even a tiny inflection.
“What’s wrong?”
“Is this a good time to talk?”
“Yeah. Tell me.”
“I can never fool you, can I?”
“No. Are you all right?”
I can see all eyes at the table are on me, so I get up and gesture telling everybody I’ll take the call inside. As I’m walking toward the sliding glass door my mother starts talking.
“I’m sorry to call at this time of night, but it’s my only opportunity. Your dad had to run to the pharmacy.
“Okay.”
“Anyway, I have something to tell you that’s going to be disturbing Barrie. But it can’t wait. Your father has been having some cognitive problems for, well really it’s been for about a year. It started with things only I could detect. But in the last few months it’s become more obvious.”
“What’s wrong with him?”
“He didn’t want me to tell you, but I just couldn’t do that to you, or to him.”
“What is it, Mom? Tell me.”
“He’s been diagnosed with early stage Alzheimer’s.”
My skin gets hot, and all through my body I feel the effect of my mother’s words. A jumble of thoughts pass through my brain in a matter of seconds. But all I can say is, “Oh God.”
“I know. It’s devastating,” she whispers through her tears.
What question do I ask first?
“How are you handling it?”
“Not well. Or as well as can be expected. I don’t know, it’s fresh yet. We just found out yesterday.”
“Is he aware? Does he understand what’s happening?”
“Yes, Barrie.”
“Oh shit.”
“I need to do some research. This is the time I wish I knew how to work a computer,” she says.
Paul walks in to check on me. When he looks at my face he knows something serious is going down. He waits.
“I’ll start looking right away, Mom. We need to get on some sites that explain what a caretaker can expect and we need to learn the progression of the disease. Don’t worry about money at all. That’s the place I can help at least.”
“I haven’t even thought of that yet. I’m still trying to absorb the news.”
I start crying. “I’m so sorry, Mom. So sorry for you both.”
She blows her nose and composes herself. “I want you to do something for me, Barrie.”
“Anything. I’ll do whatever you want.”
“Be nice to him. He’s scared. It might look like the perfect time to get back at him for the things you have every right to be angry about. I know he doesn’t deserve your compassion. But I want you to give it to him anyway. For me. I need to know you won’t make things worse for him. Just imagine how scary this would be. Even for a man like your father. Can you promise me this?”
I answer with no hesitation. “Yes, I’ll do it for you, Mom.”
“Do it for yourself, daughter. This is your last chance.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
NICKI
If this isn’t the perfect place to think, I don’t know what is. Lately I’ve spent a lot of time alone out here looking at the ocean, covered with my quilt. The salty air on my face comforts me in a way. I’ve contemplated my life and what’s to come. I’m painfully aware the decisions I make now will affect not only Jack and I, but our unborn son as well. Whatever choice I make impacts our lives forever, and they’ll be no do-overs or take backs. There’s no scenario I can imagine in which I’d be able to change my mind
.
For the last few months I’ve watched Jack trying to plan his first son’s future in a way he never anticipated he’d be required to do. I know both he and Carol never believed John would outlive either one of them. And I suppose they avoided thinking of it, even though each year brought them closer to the possibility.
Jack’s tough, strong shell is showing cracks. Every day gets closer to Carol’s death, and I see the anxiety he feels. It’s the unknown, but it’s also what he’s certain of. The years have schooled him on what it takes to be responsible for a disabled person. But only to a certain degree, because he’s been able to walk away after every visit.
Carol and he have interviewed at least ten different long-term caregivers and have rejected every one. I’ve got to give it to her, she hasn’t even broached the subject of John living with us. I don’t think she wants to guilt him into doing that. She must want us to come to the decision ourselves. But it’s got to be torturous to keep from asking.
Then there are the brochures and pamphlets I’ve seen on his desk. They try to put a positive spin on their facilities that care for non-ambulatory patients. The grounds portray rolling hills and scenic vistas, and the rooms look homey and clean. But no one’s fooled. It’s a half-life at best, made for people who’ve run out of options. Damn it. I can’t forget what I know. John is Jack’s son, and no amount of denial on my part is going to change that fact.
So how do I go forward? Do I pretend the special circumstances excuse him from taking responsibility? Should I not expect him to live up to his own moral code because it’s going to be hard? Do his responsibilities become my lifelong trials? And do I put a virtual stranger’s needs ahead of my own?
And behind all these questions there’s no guarantee I will ever come to love this son of his. I don’t know that at all. He would be a part of my every day, a part of my own son’s life and forever a part of my family. And I may never love him. That thought scares me more than anything else. I know I’ll want to, so that’s the right beginning. But make no mistake, Nicki, it’s going to be life-changing. But it comes down to one undisputable truth. I love Jack. There’s the trump card. So, tonight I’m going to let him know my decision. We need to put things in motion.
