by J. L. Salter
Beth nodded.
“Take as many as you need, but stay within the dosage. If you have any sleeping pills, take one tonight.” He held up a single muscular finger.
“For a bruised cheekbone?”
Arnie shook his handsome face sideways. “To get you settled down after...”
Noise erupted outside Beth’s front door. Connie Bryan rushed inside, ignoring the policeman trying to block her. She landed on the couch, between Beth and Arnie, in a clumsy but tight embrace of her friend. “What on earth? Are you okay? What happened?” Then she noticed Arnie. “Who’s he?”
“Robbery... just a bruised cheek... and I’ll introduce you.”
Connie didn’t wait. “Connie Bryan. Pleased to meet you, Arnie.” Name tags were distinctly helpful for semi-desperate women.
The corporal moved closer, likely to learn more about this bustling female.
“This is my friend, Connie. We were going to a late movie.”
“What were you going to see?” Arnie was probably just making polite conversation, but he’d been watching Connie since her energetic entrance.
“Can’t even remember now,” Beth moaned. “A chick flick.” Verdeville had a four-screen theater at the mall.
Connie leaned quite close and whispered. “Dee-lish. He’d be good for you. About time you started dating, you know. Do you want him?”
Beth watched Arnie’s eyes and figured he’d heard some of those whispers. He’d been monitoring Beth as a patient, but he apparently scanned the vivacious Connie as a prospect. “He’s all yours, Connie,” she whispered, but even the corporal must have heard it, because a thin smile formed on his pudgy face.
Most women would have been embarrassed by this scene with stage whispers, but Connie just smiled and wiggled her upper torso in that way she often did with her upper arms pushing her breasts together. She probably intended it to appear coy, but on thirty-five-year-old Connie it just looked like appetite.
Arnie couldn’t help smiling back. But he made himself focus on Beth again. “Any other injuries? Anything I need to examine?”
Carefully holding the compress in place, Beth moved her head sideways.
“Well, Arnie, if you run out of things to scrutinize...” Everyone knew the ending.
“Tom, I’m through with her if you want to finish your questions.” Arnie grunted when he stood. A strong, manly grunt, like a stud bull.
Connie extended her hand. “Didn’t catch your last name, Arnie.”
He grinned and reached into his left chest pocket for a card.
Connie pulled it to her bosom with both hands. “I should give you mine... in case you need a good deal for a new or used Chrysler-Dodge-Plymouth-Jeep.” As though she were checking for a card in the pockets not even present in those tightly tailored slacks, Connie patted her hips, which caught Arnie’s eyes again. “Must’ve left my purse in the car. Hold on a sec. Now, don’t you dare leave yet.” She hustled out the front door and Arnie watched her all the way. Most men did. After the divorce two years ago, Connie dieted and exercised herself into great shape and made sure she stayed that way.
Arnie and the corporal exchanged glances; both unsuccessfully tried not to grin. For some reason, their obvious thoughts made Beth want to smile, but the swollen cheek restrained her.
Connie was back within a long minute. “Can I borrow your pen?”
The medic produced it.
“Uh, need something to write against.”
When Arnie rolled his left shoulder forward, Connie nearly squealed with delight. She placed the card on his shoulder blade and sighed heavily... then scribbled something. “My office number’s on the front, if you’re interested in cars. But if you want to talk about anything else, my cell phone’s on the back.” She manufactured a reason to squeeze Arnie’s upper arm while she slid the card off his shoulder. “Oooh. Where do you work out?”
Beth rolled her eyes. A few minutes before, this had been about the break-in at her cottage... but suddenly it was all about Connie angling for a date.
Arnie came back over to Beth at the couch. “Sorry, this... uh, situation happened. Hope you’ll be all right.” He pointed to her cheek. “Just ice it about fifteen minutes each hour.”
“I will. Thanks for your help.” She watched the medic leave.
So did Connie... with a bit of drool on her lips. She followed Arnie out to his vehicle where they resumed talking.
Corporal James shook his head and grinned. “Arnie drives ‘em wild... he does.”
Astraea Press
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