by Lass Small
He was jobless and leaving town.
She didn’t know that.
She thought he was employed as the rent collector.
* * *
Well, she hadn’t realized he was seeing to the renovation of two places. She only knew he was involved in one. The apartment building.
Once he got all the apartments in shape, he’d be able to get them all rented. Then he’d have a real outfit monitor the rent mailed to them or find out why it wasn’t mailed.
It had been a shame the previous, absentee owner hadn’t kept the property up. Of course, if it had been, Ed wouldn’t have gotten such a good deal on buying it. He’d used the building’s deterioration as a lever.
The absentee owner had used it as a tax break.
Ed’s dad had helped Ed with the dickering. His dad’s helping had made Ed wonder if he’d ever be as smart as his dad.
Of course, there’d been a time—some years back— when he’d thought his father was really out of step and blank.
It was amazing how much the old man had learned in the relatively short time since then. That old saw. But it had seemed true at the time.
Ed looked at the intense female slot player putting in coins and punching the button. Why was she so interesting to him? Why was it she who caught his eye and stirred his sex? Why did he feel the need to cosset her, to protect and guard her?
Really? He did? Yeah.
Well, what it really meant was that he’d like to get her into bed. There wasn’t anything awesome going on there, it was just sex. He wanted her. He wanted her naked and breathy and squirming under his body, clawing at his back and trying to get him closer.
And he just might get her. She was proving that she was a gambler.
In some surprise, he noticed that she was piling up quite a lot of the boat’s gambling coins.
Then she took out a wisp of a scarf from her purse. She scooped all the collected fake coins into the scarf and gave the small bundle to Ed.
She said to Ed, “Here, hold this. Don’t give me any more than twenty-five. Keep count.”
But her good luck continued.
And the amazing thing was, she called the halt! She said, “That’s enough for now. I have only one more of their coins.”
She put it into the slot and pushed the button… and hit the jackpot!
She went wild! She hugged herself, she laughed, she hugged Ed and she shook her head and just laughed.
The people around her watched, frozen-faced or smiling, depending on their attitude.
Ed grinned and willingly hugged her back and helped her scoop up the pile. Then with some prissiness and elaborate indication of good sportswoman-ship, Marcia put in one coin to get the one-armed bandit back into business.
They took the cache to the wired cage of the boat cashier, and she was given the choice of a check or the cash. Marcia took the cash. With what she’d already won and the jackpot, she had over three hundred dollars.
She turned her back and put it down, inside the front of her dress. A foolish woman.
So they walked out onto the boat’s lower deck. She took Ed’s hand and couldn’t stop her grin. Her eyes sparkled and she laughed at nothing at all but the fact that she had the money in her hand.
Well, down her dress.
They walked around, holding hands and talking. They leaned on the rail and watched the water being pushed aside by the boat. And the boat eventually went back to the dock.
She never once thought to repay Ed for the funding he’d given her to begin it all. She just didn’t even think of it.
They’d walked out of the big shore building toward the stony-faced cop. He watched them come along by him. She told the cop, “I won!”
He replied, gruffly disapproving, “This time.”
He was not a gambler.
But Marcia was full of herself and just walked along sassily and grinning as she swung Ed’s hand and laughed.
He tried to think of other ways she could win.
He was going to kiss her. Where would it lead? She was no neophyte. She had to be older than twenty-five. She looked honed. She looked as if she’d seen Life and knew the score.
He’d let her “score” with him.
* * *
In the car, he would glance over at her as they drove. Would she be so grateful tonight? On their first date? It was the dream of any man.
He lost some hope when she said good-night as she slid out of the car. He got out on the other side and said, “I’ll see you to your door.”
She stopped and waited for him. There was a strange little smile on her face, and her eyes weighed him.
He understood that he was being judged. That meant he could probably kiss her at the door, but he wouldn’t be allowed inside her place. Not then.
Well, maybe another time…
6
As they walked up the first flight of steps at the apartment house, Ed adjusted his voice to the time and the fact resident people were asleep. He told her softly, “When you said you were a painter, I thought you did paintings of pictures.”
“No. I flunked art from first grade.”
He gestured to communicate. “I…we thought we might use some of your pictures on the hall walls.”
She readily suggested, “I have a friend—”
“Yeah, so do I. He paints with drips, squiggles and swirls.”
“She doesn’t. She’s realistic and paints all sorts of things. She hasn’t picked any particular subject on which to concentrate. She paints what interests her. And she’s not very expensive. Why don’t you allow her to hang her pictures here with the price tag on them and see if they sell?”
He was more cautious. “I’ll ask.”
He didn’t say who he’d ask. He just didn’t want Marcia to know he owned the place…plus the other one.
They passed the door of the apartment that was so slowly being painted. He noted the door was closed. They went on past the closed door to her temporary habitation.
He took her key from her hand and opened her door for her. He turned and gave her key back as he looked down at her. He really wanted a kiss. Or a dozen. Why her?
She smiled and said, “Thank you for the evening. It was great!”
He thought how much greater it could be. But he didn’t say anything. He did bite his lip very briefly and said, “Thanks for your good company. Good night.”
And he kissed her. He leaned his head down, and she didn’t move back, so he just went on and kissed her. It was only then, during the distraction of his kiss, that he put his arms around her. His arms were very much like sly, double boa constrictors.
With the kiss, she wouldn’t notice he was holding her against his body. Mmmmm. Up close. She was so soft.
Slowly, but with some smothered breathing, he reslanted his mouth and gathered her closer. He moved one hand down her back to pull her against him.
She evaded his move quite adroitly, but she continued with the kiss.
When he then settled into a serious communication in the kissing, she moved her head and broke the contact.
It was a very skilled counteraction. She’d done that just as he was settling in, ready to push the door open and lift her over inside the apartment.
She broke the kiss quite easily and leaned back with her hands on his chest. Her forearms held him back. She smiled.
What an amused smile.
She ticked him. She’d very skillfully countered him. And she smiled about it. She didn’t laugh out loud or scoff. She just smiled in a twinkling humor.
He pretended he’d intended ending the kiss as he said, “You’re good company.”
“So are you. I had such a nice time.”
“We could do something else.” He smiled in an innocent manner.
She wasn’t dumb. She straightened and moved as she indicated that she wanted him to let her go.
He released her without any problem as if he’d planned to release her right then anyway.
She w
as amused.
Women are like that. Frustrated men reply with heady smiles and much good humor. He said, “Go on inside and let me be sure your door locks properly.”
He knew damn well it did. He’d double-checked all the doors. His master key to the doors’ locks was in his pocket. Even if she locked the door, he could get inside. He doubted she knew that. She’d just think he was being purely solicitous.
She had a sliding bolt. She read him like a book. Or a picture. Or a man.
And he was certainly a man. She took a deep breath. She smiled up at the frustrated man. She said, “Good night.” And damned if she didn’t close the door!
He stood there, recovering somewhat. Well, at least he’d gotten in a really deep kiss. She wouldn’t be able to sleep. Not right away.
Then, as he walked carefully to the top of the stairs, he considered that not only did he have to go all the way back to his complex, he had to face a run to calm down.
Women were a marvelously concocted nuisance.
When God had gotten around to making women, He had been very skilled. Men were so simply made and their thinking was so basic. Think of the challenge God had in making a woman!
Or maybe women really had come there from another planet. Think how entertained and challenged women were in coping with a simple, straightforward man. Just communicating basics with a man must be heady for them.
How entertaining for a woman to lead a man along and allow him to share her life…her way, of course. Ed mulled that over all the way down the stairs to the first floor.
Driving to the complex, Ed considered that it would be worth the time it took to train her right. Of course, he would be leaving for California. But she’d be smoothed enough for another man with most of the work already done.
At the compound, he drove his car into his roofed slot, which was at an angle from his front door. Then he went inside and changed into jogging clothing. He went out and ran.
No man can run from the lure of a woman.
Running only lulls his agitation enough so that he believes he’s in control again.
It was interesting that Ed understood the genders so well.
He got back to his place and listened to the various messages left on his phone tape. He wrote notes on some. It was too late at night to reply to others.
Charlie had called again. Ed was very tempted to call and let the guy talk. But there was the chance Charlie was finally asleep. It would be wrong to waken him. If he talked then, how could Ed soothe Charlie enough that he could go back to sleep?
Ed showered and stood in the hot spray a long time, relaxing. He would sleep. And he did. But his dreams were getting hotter.
Why her?
He wakened to a wrecked bed. He was disgruntled. He looked at the chaos and thought only teenagers messed up a bed that way.
It had been a long time since his libido was so triggered. It must be his second adolescence. Hell. To go through all that again? Surely not.
In the trashed bed, Ed lay with his hands behind his head as he stared at the ceiling. He would conquer this strange attraction and not see her for a week.
Satisfied that he was again in control, Ed got up and stripped the bed. Pitching the bedding and pad into a pile, he remade the bed in a precise, masculine nononsense, utilitarian manner.
Then he scrubbed himself in the shower and dressed in jeans and a short-sleeved T-shirt. He fixed himself a good hot breakfast of cereal, toasted waffles, fruit and milk.
He took his clothes bag and the bag with the bedding to the laundry and filled two machines. He then asked the supervisor to take them out when they were done and fold them. He paid for that.
She smiled at him. She was probably closer to his age and would be easier. He was businesslike but kind.
The day was overcast. The catfish were more active when it was cloudy or if there was a slight rain. They would bite better. They did because the rain brought the insects down to the water.
So he asked Rudolf and Amy if he could rent their boat.
Rudolf replied, “We took you with us. Are you going to invite us along?”
“No.”
Rudolf’s eyes glinted. His voice was mournful. “Today’s a fishing day. We could catch a bunch of catfish, and Amy would cook them.”
Amy said, “They’d be great on a charcoal grill. You cook them. I’ll make a slaw salad.”
Ed mentioned, “I’d like to have a peaceful trip without all your chatter.”
Rudolf turned to his wife. “Remember before we was married?”
Ed was patient. “I’m not going to marry Marcia, we’re just going fishing.”
Both of the Smiths laughed.
Ed looked at them in real puzzlement. “That’s all.”
The couple thought that was hilarious!
Still laughing, Rudolf gave the boat keys to Ed. He slapped Ed on the shoulder a couple of hilarious times. He mumbled things Ed didn’t get, but the old man sure did laugh.
Then Rudolf cautioned, “No hanky-panky on the boat. It’s a virgin.”
Friends can be a trying nuisance at the worst of times.
Ed went to the apartment building and up the stairs to her apartment. She did not answer his knock. He went to the apartment she was painting, but the door was closed. Ed tried it. And it, too, was locked!
He inserted his master key, and it did not unlock the door! It should have. He’d had it fixed! What the hell had she done? And why? To again change the lock on an empty apartment was not logical.
A new lock on one of his apartments did not sit well on Ed’s shoulders. What was she doing?
After all, he considered the fact, she was Elinor’s renter. Any connection anyone might have with the tricky and elusive Elinor should make a man wonder about her. How close was Marcia to that tricky, unlawful, sneaky Elinor?
He’d just find out. He sat on the top step of the staircase and wondered where she was and how long she’d be gone?
And the door into the building opened. Someone walked in. The steps were heavier than a woman’s. Who was it?
It was the janitor who had been hired by Ed’s predecessor. He was doing a better job of it now. His steps were lighter and quicker.
Well, sure. He’d seen Ed’s car parked outside.
Ed sat there on the stairs for over an hour. It was a stupid, juvenile thing to do. He grimly sat. He ought to be back at his place and talking to Charlie.
He should.
He went back and knocked on both doors. Her temporary place gave no reply. Her partially painted apartment door was opened by the lump who asked, “Yeah?”
“Where’s Marcia?”
“I don’ know.”
He started to close the door, but Ed put his foot into the opening and asked, “Did you change the lock on this door?”
“Not me.”
“It’s been changed. That’s illegal. It has to be changed back.”
“I’ll take care of it.” Then he told Ed, “Women are different. She probably feels insecure painting up here all by herself.”
“What are you doing here?” A logical question.
“My old lady throwed me out. I’m negotiating.”
From “throwed” to “negotiating”? An interesting mix.
Ed narrowed his eyes at the lump. But the lump only stared.
There was nothing else Ed could do at that time and with that association. So he bobbed his head once, turned and walked away.
He’d learned nothing. Where was she? She was supposed to be painting so that she could pay the down payment on her apartment.
And while she was doing that, she was occupying two apartments. Not only that, but the lump was in one. And the lock had been changed.
Ed suspected he wasn’t in control.
Then he went back and knocked again on the lump’s door. It was patiently opened, after a time, and the lump just stared. Ed didn’t blame the guy. He said, “When Marcia comes back, would you ask her to call Ed?”
And the lump replied, “Sure.” But the word could well have been mockery.
So Ed said, “Get the lock changed back.”
“We will.”
Ed left. As he went down the series of stairs, he contemplated the “we will” of the lump’s reply. They would…what?
When he got home, Ed went to his phone to call Charlie, but he hesitated. If he was on the phone, he wouldn’t get Marcia’s call.
He paced around and the phone didn’t ring. He stared at it. Then he went out and drove over to Charlie’s. If Charlie needed to talk, Ed could listen then. Or they could go for a cup of coffee and Charlie could unload some of his worry then.
Charlie wasn’t home. June was a little distracted. She just stood and waited until it finally dawned on Ed that Charlie was not there and June didn’t want to chat.
Finally Ed went back to his place. And there was, indeed, a message from Marcia. She said, “Hi. I’m shopping. Tim said you wanted to talk to me. I’ll be back at the apartment about three. Bye.”
He changed into other clothing and went out on Rudolf’s boat alone. He didn’t fish. He considered the world, its inhabitants, the times, the manners and mores. He solved nothing.
He returned the boat on time. He told Rudolf it was a good, head-clearing outing, and he mentioned the fact he went alone.
At three, Ed was at the apartment house. He felt like a fly on a spider’s string, which was pulling him into the web. Entrapment.
Naw. Nothing like that. He just wanted…Well, he was just curious…For some strange reason, he needed to see that lousy painter.
What possible excuse could he have?
He couldn’t think of a one. What good would it do to stand in Marcia’s door and allow his tongue to stumble around while he concocted some excuse for hounding after her?
Ed considered just who was in charge of his actions. His brain or his hungry body? He suspected it wasn’t his brain.
So he went down to the basement and shifted things around and got all dirty and sweaty. He figured the exercise was good for him and more productive than a run down the river road.
