“Home sweet home,” she said out loud.
Quickly unpacking, she didn’t want any memories of the experience. The wonderful cab driver and the train ride had made up for it. Taking a hot shower and slipping soft sweatpants on was an additional nod to comfort.
“I’m starving,” she said to the air.
A bowl of homemade chili and a hot corn muffin with melted butter on it were the final touches of well-being. Reaching for her purse, she dug out her phone that she’d shut off after the last communication with Brenda.
She had six messages. Skipping over five from Brenda, she went right to the one from Arvin.
Where are you? I had a meeting after work and was here by eight. Thanks a lot for hanging in there.
Stunned at his lie, she would keep her power by letting him have the last word.
Going to Brenda’s messages next, Terry smiled at her friend’s loving concern.
I’m fine, at home in bed, no worries. Then she shut the phone off, not wanting to talk.
Sitting on the window seat with her Kindle, she read till midnight, heartache soothed by the rhythm of the neighborhood.
Chapter 6
After a hectic day in the ER on Wednesday, at the end of a battle won to save the life of a heart attack victim, comradery and maybe a little lust fueled the colleagues’ quest for beer and hot wings at a dive across the street from the hospital. A cute, young blonde nurse who’d flirted with Arvin unabashedly in the middle of the code, was moving in for the kill and actually had placed her hand on his crotch as they sat side by side when his phone went off.
“Ugh, just in case it’s the hospital,” he told her.
“Ugh is right. You’d better answer it then,” she agreed.
But it was Larry. “You asshole, Terry has been at your apartment since seven thirty,” he yelled.
“What time is it?” Arvin asked, looking around the bar for a clock.
“After eight,” Larry said. “I doubt if she’s waiting now, but you need to be careful with her. Brenda is really pissed off.”
If Arvin had concern about other humans, it would be Brenda and Larry. They’d hooked him up with Terry, a perfectly lovely young woman, and now he’d stood her up yet again. It wasn’t the first time, either, but unless Terry told Brenda, he wasn’t confessing it.
“I’m on my way,” he said, hanging up.
“Sorry,” he said to the nurse. “I have a crisis brewing.”
“See you tomorrow?” she asked, disappointed.
“Unless you call out sick, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He threw bills down on the bar and left, hoping he could get a cab. But by the time he got to his apartment, it was eight thirty and Terry was long gone. He was only an hour late and it made him angry that she’d called Larry and Brenda and involved them, so the terse, untrue text message resulted. He tried to call her, but her phone went right to voice mail.
Now he was home, and he didn’t want to be there alone. He dug through his pocket and pulled out a slip of paper upon which the young nurse, a girl named Patricia if the note could be trusted, had given him with her number the week before. She was too young for him, probably not much older than twenty-two, and they had nothing in common, but she had a nice body, lean and muscular and he was attracted to her.
Keying in the number, Arvin heard the sounds of the bar when she answered. “It’s Arvin Amir,” he said.
“How’s your crisis?” she asked, excited that he’d called her.
“Averted. Why don’t you come over to my place?” he asked. “I’ll pay for your cab.”
“I have to work in the morning and I don’t have anything with me,” she said, then blanched, why would she assume she’d stay the night?
“I have a washer and dryer,” he said. “Come over.”
The memory of her hand on his crotch propelled him to be a little more aggressive than he usually was; it wasn’t necessary in most instances because women threw themselves at him. His ego forced him to be honest about such matters. But since his date for the night wasn’t taking his calls, he’d have to improvise.
“What’s your address?” she asked, and he gave her his south Philly street number.
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” she said, and hung up.
He popped open a beer and downed it for dinner, sorry he hadn’t asked her to bring him some food. Looking at his watch, it was after nine. His timeline was to spend fifteen minutes wooing her, fuck her, and then hopefully they’d be done by ten so he could order a pizza. Bedtime at midnight at the latest.
As it turned out, she expected a little more from him than he was ever willing to give and it caused a bit of a problem, taking more time so that pizza was now out of the question.
“What did you think I was going to do?” she cried, her voice rising and falling in an annoying way.
“Keep it down, will you? My neighbors will call the cops,” he said, making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
“Did you just think you were going to screw me? That was it?”
“No. I thought we’d make love, have a meal and then sleep together. But it sounds like you expected more from it,” he said. “Maybe the question is, what did you think I was going to do?”
“You used me,” she cried. “Then when it was my turn, you couldn’t get away from me fast enough.”
“If you’ll remember, you grabbed my dick in the bar,” he said. “If anyone was used, I was. You let me know what you wanted and I thought I gave it to you.”
“So I can suck your dick, but you won’t go down on me, is that the story?”
“I don’t do that,” he said, flaring his nostrils. “It’s not something I have ever done, or that I see doing in my future. I don’t like it.”
There, he’d finally said it. No woman had ever had the nerve to challenge him, so he’d never had to voice his opposition to oral sex. The thought of it was disgusting.
“Well, that’s the most immature thing I have ever heard a man say,” she said. “You’re like a selfish little boy. I wish I would have known before I did it to you.”
“Look - Patricia-.” he’d forgotten her name for a moment. “We’ve already done it. It’s late. You’ll never get a cab at this time in this neighborhood. Put your clothes in the washer and let’s try to get some sleep, okay? In the morning it won’t look so bleak.”
“Right,” she said, sniffing.
“Trust me,” he said. “On a scale of one to ten, this is a three.”
“What will happen to us?” she asked, coming in from the laundry room.
“We’re friends, just like we were two hours ago. We work well together, we have fun, you grabbed my crotch in a public place and I accepted the invitation. Why does it have to mean something more than that?”
“I just thought…” she started.
“You thought that we’d fall in love after one screw. Well, that’s not the way it works. There has to be a few more before that will happen, I believe.”
That made her laugh, and she reached for a tissue to blow her nose. “I’m sorry I’m being such a bitch.”
“Yeah, talk about a buzz kill,” he said. He lifted the sheet and nodded toward the bed. “Get in. Tomorrow is another day in the ER.”
The next morning, with Terry on his mind, guilty and regretful about the way he’d treated her, it took every bit of his self-control not to be rude when he woke up next to Patricia. She was ready to chat, but he just tuned her out and smiled.
Walking into the hospital with her was uncomfortable; they had wet hair and got out of the same cab, obviously together. When they got to the ER and she had to go into report, she stood on her toes to kiss him but he reared back and frowned. “Not at work.” It didn’t faze her; Patricia seemed without pride, and it scared Arvin. She could be dangerous.
The morning was slow for a Thursday, always a bad sign that the rabble-rousers were gearing up to break a bone or get in a wreck over the weekend. Arvin got a cup of coffee
and hid in the dictation room. Looking at his watch, it was early, Terry would probably just be getting up. He didn’t love Terry. But she was smart and witty, and she gave him space and didn’t expect anything from him. Why was that? He usually gave her just that - nothing.
Picking up the phone, he dialed her cell, fully expecting her not to answer. But she surprised him.
“You have a lot of nerve,” she said in a calm voice.
“I know. Believe it or not, I’m racked by guilt. I’m sorry I treated you so shabbily. You really didn’t deserve it.”
“I don’t,” she said. “But I’m over it, so don’t overdo it though, okay? I don’t need your mental health on my conscience.”
“Ha! You’re a good kid, Terry Kovac. Give me another chance.”
“Um, not right away,” she replied. “I’d better rebuild my self-respect. I’m actually thinking about seeing someone else.”
“You are?” he asked, crestfallen.
“I am. We’ll see how it goes. He asked me to dinner this weekend and I haven’t given him an answer yet.”
“Will you sleep with him?” Arvin asked.
“I just told you I didn’t answer the guy about dinner,” she said, laughing.
“Well are you attracted to him?”
“Yes, actually. Very much. I wouldn’t consider having a meal with the man if I didn’t think he was nice.”
“How do you know him?”
“Arvin, you might be overstepping your boundaries,” Terry said.
“I’m just curious. I hope it’s not someone from your work.”
“We’re not allowed. It’s an offense that could lead to dismissal if you date anyone from the firm. No, this is a friend of a friend. He’s actually a librarian at the Penn law library, if you can believe it.”
“That’s a first,” Arvin said. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a male librarian.”
“You practically have to be working on a doctorate to work there,” she said. “I’m excited just to know him.”
“Well, have fun Terry. And again, I’m really sorry about last night.”
“Have a good day, Arvin. Goodbye.”
She hung up without waiting for him to say goodbye. He looked at his phone for a moment and ended the call. The door to the dictation room opened and Larry walked in.
“You’re walking on thin ice with the babes, Arvin,” he said, his accent noticeable when he was annoyed.
“Oh jeez, you’re supposed to be my friend,” Arvin said, grimacing.
“I am your friend, and a friend is honest. You’re upsetting my girlfriend and anything that makes Brenda unhappy pisses me off. You’re an adult man, and you’re acting like a teenager. Pull it together, man!”
“Okay,” Arvin said. “I’ll try.”
“Don’t try, just do it,” Larry said, walking away.
“Should I call Brenda and apologize?”
“Go for it,” Larry said.
Arvin found her number in his contacts and pressed call. She answered right away.
“I’m so angry with you! How could you do that to Terry? She’s such a great woman, Arvin, compared to those losers you usually date.”
“I know, I’m sorry,” he said, letting her rant. Everything she said was true, too, and it made him more convicted about changing. “I won’t let you down, Brenda. I promise. I called Terry and apologized, just so you know. You and Larry are the last people on earth I want to upset.”
“Stop it then! I love you, Arvin, and it’s upsetting for Larry, too, to see you so self-destructive.”
They said goodbye with more declarations and promises.
Pulling himself together to get to work, Arvin knew he needed to make some changes. He would make them, but it would take a few more years to see the results.
***
Brenda just made it to work at nine.
“Cutting it a little close, aren’t you Lipinski?”
It was law firm partner Paul chastising her, all the while looking at her ass. “Sorry, sir,” she said.
“It’s just nine,” receptionist Corinne said in Brenda’s defense, pointing to her watch, her eyebrows lowered. “The last time I looked, starting time was nine.”
“We can always get a new receptionist, too,” Paul said, but Corinne just laughed in his face.
“Ha! Try it! I’ve got a file of sexual harassment claims I’ll be happy to bring out anytime, from the UPS lady to the last secretary you fired,” she said, waving a manila folder in his face, prompting him to run for his office.
“Thank you,” Brenda said, frowning.
“You’ve been here for almost six months,” Corinne said. “I’ve watched him looking at you like you’re something to eat. Don’t let him get away with it.”
“The guy’s my boss,” Brenda replied.
“I don’t care,” Corinne said. “Don’t allow any man to treat you like a piece of meat.”
Shrugging her shoulders, Brenda walked to her office, thinking of her college days and how allowing men to use her was just part of her daily life.
“Grow up, homie,” she muttered, hanging her coat up.
“Are you talking to yourself?” It was Terry, sticking her head in the door.
“Yes,” Brenda replied decisively. “I just had a minor skirmish with Paul. Actually I didn’t; Corinne did on my behalf. Now, first thing in the morning I’m wondering why I’m such a doormat where men are concerned.”
“If you discover the answer, let me know. It might apply to me, too.”
Brenda looked at Terry carefully. “Did that putz apologize?”
“He did, and I cut him a break. But I’m not going out with him again anytime soon. He needs some downtime, at least from me. Plus, I have a date.”
“You do? With who?” Brenda asked.
“Remember that friend from college I told you about with the law librarian friend?”
“Wait, I know the librarian. Remember, I went to Penn Law. It’s not Russ Adams, is it?”
“Right! Wait. Why do you say it like that?” Terry asked.
“He’s handsome and all, but -” Brenda started, but Terry interrupted her.
“Anyway, he asked me to dinner and I just accepted. He’s the antithesis of Arvin,” Terry said, her nose in the air.
“Yikes, he sure is. Russ is a little brainy, you realize that, correct?” Brenda asked, worried. Russ Adams was rocket-scientist smart but worked back in the stacks because he was a lunatic.
“Well, I assumed, but now you have me worried,” Terry said, hesitating. “It’s not too late to cancel. Should I?”
“No, but maybe dinner is too much for a first date, at least for him. He has a reputation for being a bit odd. You might check it out first.”
“Oh great! I should never date. It never works out. I have the worst luck with men,” she whined. Then, she looked at Brenda from the corner of her eye. “How’s he odd?”
“I don’t know the man, okay? I’ve just heard that it’s difficult to hold a conversation with him.”
“I think I’ll leave well enough alone. He’s taking me to The Windjammer and I’ve always wanted to go there but am too cheap,” Terry said, then grimaced. “I hope he doesn’t want me to split the bill.”
“Ha! That’s a concern we all have nowadays. My mother said she’d never go out with someone who made her pay her way. It was a different world back then.”
“I’d better get to work,” Terry said. “Anyway, wish me luck. Our date is tomorrow night. He said, and I quote, ‘I love Fridays because they are the start of the weekend. And now this Friday will really be special.’”
“Aw, no way!”
“Yes, I know. Just pray he doesn’t stand me up,” she said, laughing.
“We’ll kill him,” Brenda said.
Friday night rolled around and Russ Adams was on the phone promptly at five, letting Terry know he was on his way to pick her up. He lived in South Philly, but when they were done with their date, the driver would take
Terry back home to Mount Airy. Russ had everything planned out to a tee.
While Terry and Russ had a delicious seafood dinner at The Windjammer, Brenda and Larry ate Chinese takeout in front of the television.
“I’m getting fat from all this takeout food,” Larry said. “One of us is going to have to start cooking, I’m afraid.”
“I do cook once in a while,” Brenda said, indignant. “I mean I try.”
“I know you do, sweetheart. But we have to eat every night. How can I help you? I try to buy easy to prepare food. You just have to stick the meat in the pan, open the salad bag and throw a potato in the microwave.”
“Okay, I’m sorry,” she said. “I guess I’m sick of doing that. I should get some recipes from my mom.”
“Great idea! She’s an excellent cook.”
Fortunately, he didn’t add any more to the conversation because Brenda was ready to throw her plate of lo mein at him. Cooking for Larry had lost all its allure when she realized she’d be stuck in the kitchen alone, like a chef, while he was out in the living room in front of the TV.
“Let’s get a television in the kitchen so you can keep me company while I cook,” she said.
“I don’t get home until seven thirty at night. If you wait to cook until I can be with you, we won’t be eating until after eight.”
She didn’t respond, feeling like a broken record. This was not a good sign. They weren’t even married yet and already arguing about something that didn’t seem to have a resolution. Larry was such a great guy and he loved her, but the dreariness of the day in and day out drudgery of cooking and cleaning and doing his laundry was getting to her. They rarely went out with their friends anymore, and when she asked if they could invite them over, he always had an excuse.
“I guess I didn’t realize what a homebody you are,” she said.
“What’s this homebody?” he asked.
“You get home and never want to leave.”
“Ah, I get it. You’re getting bored,” he said, smiling at her. “The old man is comfortable at home and the young wife is ready to go out dancing.”
“Well, not exactly,” she said, panic-stricken when it hit that maybe he was right: he was almost fifteen years older than she was.
Bittersweets - Brenda and Larry: Steamy Romance Page 7
