by H R Jones
Come closing time, Rory said to the bartender with a wink, “I’ll see the little lady gets home safely.”
With that, he guided Margo across the dance floor and out the door to his big, shiny black Buick.
She asked about her car. He explained they’d keep it at McNulty’s till she could pick it up in the morning, and he’d see to it she got there. “I just don’t think you should be driving tonight, sugar.”
When they arrived at Margo’s, she’d invited him in for coffee. Instead of a hot cup of coffee, though, they continued drinking. Soon their clothes were discarded and one thing led to another…
That was the beginning of Margo’s long-time, on-again, off-again affair with Rory Star. Throughout the years, their lives continued to weave in and out, intertwine, and become entangled.
Four
With some of the money Margo had received upon Bill’s demise, she chose to spend a little time and money on herself, with a cruise to the Caribbean. It was during the cruise she met Noel McNair.
Noel was the perfect specimen of a lothario: tall, lean, swarthy, wavy black hair, piercing ice blue eyes and pearl-like teeth that seemed to sparkle with his smile.
He knew all the right words to say and moves to make, on as well as off the dance floor. He had a wicked sense of humor as well.
Margo couldn’t take her eyes off him. When he made his way to the bar, she sidled up next to him. He is gorgeous, she thought. She ordered a Mai-Tai, settled back and played it cool, fluffing her hair with her fingers, smoothing her hip hugging, floral sarong. Coyly, she glanced around the bar and the pool beyond. Her eyes lingered just a moment on the Adonis across from her.
As their eyes met, she quickly, coyly, lowered her eyes and played with the swizzle stick in her drink.
The next time she glanced in his direction, he was gone. Oh, no!
All of a sudden, she felt a presence, and heard a velvety voice ask, “May I buy you a drink, beautiful?”
She gasped and slowly swiveled her bar stool toward the deep baritone sound. She was face to face, staring into the ice blue eyes of the handsome gentleman.
Her voice raspy replied, “I’d like that, very much. I’m Margo…”
“How do you do, Margo? I’m Noel, Noel McNair. Shall we have a seat by the pool?”
“Yes, I’d like that.”
He motioned to the bartender and said, “Another one of these for the lovely lady, and I’ll have another Rob Roy straight up, please.”
He turned back to Margo. “May I,” he said, offering his hand as she slid gracefully from the seat.
One drink led to another. Soon the sun’s brilliance engulfed the little piece of the ocean they were sailing on in the East Indies, creating a riot of colors from lemon chiffon to burnished gold, to a deep blood orange.
Both Margo and Noel were sufficiently mellow, and his hands began to wander from her shoulders to her knee, so smoothly up her exposed thigh.
Before the night waxed and waned, the two strangers were making their own kind of music.
~ * ~
The soft evening breezes off the sea, swaying to the romantic dance music, the gentle rolling and pitching of the ship, the crystal clear moonlit nights, the many, many glasses of wine, walks in the sand, and making love on the beach, led to marriage number two for Margo. It was a glorious evening the night they were wed. The captain, in full dress uniform, performed their ceremony at the rear of the ship, as they stood in a swath of moonlight to repeat their vows.
They had a hot, sensuous six months together, until Margo discovered Noel didn’t have any visible means of support, and was perfectly happy to help Margo spend her savings while he dabbled in one harebrained idea after another. Their love cooled quickly. The bills began to pile up, and Margo had had enough. By the end of the year, she and her cruising sweetheart were divorced. She gave him enough money to fly home, wherever home was, with instructions to never bother her, EVER, again.
~ * ~
Whose arms were waiting for her when she wandered into McNulty’s one cold, dark, winter evening? Rory Star’s, of course. It was as if they’d just seen each other a few days earlier. The old sexual chemistry was still there, and each was a willing partner, as they left the bar for Margo’s house in the country.
They were a hot romance for months.
When Margo’s father became ill and she needed to help her mother, Ida Mae, with his care giving, she closed up her house, moved to the other side of the state, and stayed on ‘til after her father’s passing.
It was during this time, while she was staying in Riverside, she met an old high school acquaintance from back home, John Oleson. He was a few years older than she. He had been a senior when she’d been a freshman in high school. All the girls had huge crushes on the handsome, virile, star quarter back for the Buckton Buccaneers, “Big John” Oleson.
He looked just the same. He was still straight and tall, and wore his wavy blond hair, slicked back. It was just beginning to gray a bit at the temples. John’s shoulders were as broad as she remembered when he was a football star. He still filled out his suit jackets to perfection. His dusky blue eyes could’ve melted butter.
She’d dated him a few times until he fell hard for “Lucy Goosy,” at least that’s what she called her. She’d heard Lucy played fast and loose with more than one of the football team’s players. It was John Oleson who’d fessed up and made an honest woman out of her and a good father to her little boy. No one was ever sure just who the real father was, but whispers were he was the spitting image of Jack Henry, who’d been the place kicker for the team.
Anyway, Lucy and John were married for several years ‘til she passed away due to a blood clot on her lung.
~ * ~
John had heard rumors about Margo through the years, especially her close ties to Rory Star, a questionable ‘gentleman’ at best. So when they first reconnected, he rather hoped what he’d heard was true. He needed and wanted a woman to fulfill all his ‘needs.’ He’d been alone far too long and was tired of the one-nighter bar girls.
He’d been a widower for a couple of years, owned his own successful business, and his three children were grown and out of the house, living in different states.
Part of Margo’s appeal, for John, was her looks, as well as knowing just what to wear. She was intelligent enough, and if what he’d heard was true, Margo was a tiger in the bedroom. The best part, if she’d been a bit loose with her affections in the past, none of his circle of friends and business associates would know about it, or her questionable morals.
John thought Margo would be all he needed. He found her to be a lady, when with associates and friends of his, but in the bedroom? Margo fulfilled all John’s carnal needs and more. After they’d dated a few months, he decided it was time to make Margo his wife. They were married in a small ceremony on his sprawling estate, Pine Bluff, overlooking the Mississippi.
~ * ~
Margo made the decision to keep her little house in Buckton. She had no reason to return anymore, but she just couldn’t bring herself to sell it. It had been, after all, hers and Bill’s home.
Who knows, maybe I’ll go back someday.
John and Margo were married a few years when one morning he walked into the breakfast room for coffee, and out of the blue he announced, “Margo, I want a divorce.”
Margo was shocked and sputtered, “Why John? Is it something I’ve done or didn’t do? What…?”
“Nope,” he said curtly, with no emotion in his tone, “just don’t want to be married, don’t want to be tied down and I want to go wherever and whenever the mood takes me. I can’t do that if I’m married and have to consider someone else and their wants and needs. I want to go when I feel like it and stay wherever I like for as long as I like, with whomever, and whenever I like. Nothing against you, sweetheart.” With that, John continued sipping his coffee and sat next to her at the table.
“But, but John, how could you? We love each other. You’ve
even said we were meant for each other and should have been married a long time ago. Please John…”
“I’ve said a lot of things, sweetheart. I want variety in my waning years.”
“I can be creative, give you variety—come on, right now and I’ll show you how inventive I can be.”
“Nope,” he said curtly, with no emotion in his tone. “Look, Margo, it was fun while it lasted. Now I’ve come to the conclusion I really don’t want to be married. The sex has been great and you’re a great lay, but, it’s the everyday stuff that’s getting to me. I don’t want to be responsible for anyone but myself.
Margo was floored. It was one of only a few times in her entire life she’d been left speechless. She didn’t know what to say, if anything, to persuade him differently. She didn’t know what to do.
As though sensing she might be agonizing about what was to become of her financially, he said in a monotone, “Don’t worry, honey, I’m giving you enough money for you to buy a place, with a little extra left over to meet your needs.”
With that, he reached into the breast pocket of his meticulously pressed suit and pulled out a perfectly creased envelope. “I’ve taken the liberty of having the divorce papers drawn up by my attorney. You will see I’ve arranged for you to receive a generous alimony over the next couple of years, equal to the years we’ve been married. There are no assets to divide. You take whatever it is you came in with, any personal items you’ve purchased, and the rest will remain here.”
What a bastard! Thank goodness he doesn’t know about my house in Buckton. I’ll take his damn money but I sure as hell won’t spend it on a new house. I’ll just let it sit in the bank to collect interest and live like the queen that I am.
Margo was stunned, shaking her head in disbelief, trying to figure out where it had all gone wrong. She finally sputtered out, “But John, I thought we were so good for each other, so well matched, so much in love. What have I done wrong? Please, at least tell me what I’ve done.”
She hoped he could see tears welling up and would know there would be no easy way for him to do this. He told her there’d been nothing specific. He just didn’t want to be married any more…besides, the new little office temp was a ‘hot little number’ who was more than eager to satisfy him in any way he wished, and he was eager to let her try.
All he could say was, “Margo, you just don’t turn me on anymore.”
With that, he handed her the envelope he’d been holding. “I think you’ll find this is satisfactory. I’ll expect you and your things to be out of the house by the end of the week, Friday. Leave your keys on the dresser in our bedroom. I’ll sign over the BMW to you, and you can be on your way.”
“But, but, John…”
“There are no ‘buts,’ Margo,” he thrust the envelope in her hand. “When you have everything together, let me know and I’ll help you load the car.” With that, he stood, turned on his heel and walked out of the breakfast room.
~ * ~
“How dare he!” she wailed, “How could he?”
She got up and slammed every kitchen drawer.
“He’s a shit head! He was the one who wanted to get married. I didn’t force him or get pregnant so he’d have to marry me. BASTARD!” she yelled at the top of her lungs.
Five
Margo was hurt, stunned, confused, and exhausted. What was she supposed to do? She sat motionless for a while, unable to move, to comprehend. She felt as if she’d been slapped.
She didn’t know how long she’d been sitting at the table, when finally she picked up the offensive envelope with her name scrawled carelessly across the front. She was anxious to see just how much Mr. John Oleson decided he needed to provide her with, and just what his idea of a ‘satisfactory amount’ actually was.
Margo grasped the corner of the check with her well-manicured fingers, held it up and gasped as she mouthed the figure. She blinked, literally, rubbed her eyes and looked again. Her unshed tears were drying up quicker than rain in the desert, as she tried to comprehend how all this could affect her lifestyle. “And, WOW! I got the baby blue BMW too?” she asked the empty room.
She quickly finished her coffee. Margo went directly up to their room. She couldn’t wait to get out of the house and out of his sight. She pulled the suitcases out of the storage area off the landing and began to pack.
After she’d finished folding and packing her clothes, she took a look around. There were only a few items she’d purchased since they’d married, and she took those she enjoyed and wanted the most, like the pair of Staffordshire dogs from an antique shop in Lanchester, England, the Degas painting she’d loved and John had bought for her when they’d traveled to Paris, and the beautiful Waterford crystal wine set purchased while touring Ireland. Everything else she would have liked and enjoyed had never been hers to begin with. They’d belonged to Lucille, and she felt their children should have those things as mementoes of their mother.
Margo was packed and ready to go by late afternoon the same day. She’d made up her mind she wouldn’t stay a minute longer where she was no longer wanted. True to his word, John helped carry her things to the BMW, saying, “Good luck to you, Margo,” then turned and walked back into the house.
Hupf! Well, that is that, not even a thanks, honey it’s been fun, a kiss my ass, or anything, except ‘good luck.’ What an ass!
She stayed at her mother’s for the night, then headed back to her little house outside Buckton the next day. It was a good thing she’d kept it, and was diligent in keeping it up, and making repairs when needed. All she’d have to do would be to remove the dust covers flung over the furniture, do some really deep cleaning, turn on the water, turn up the heat to take out the damp and dank, stock up on provisions, then relax.
As she drove the five hours to Buckton, Margo couldn’t help but go over and over again in her mind what had gone wrong between her and John. Yes, things had not been as electrifying as in the early years of their marriage. It was true, he no longer responded to her overtures as much, and rarely if ever initiated sex. She’d tried to light a fire under him, but got very little warmth for her efforts.
~ * ~
She stopped at an all-night grocery store on her way to Buckton…she knew nothing would be open by the time she arrived home. She picked up a few essentials to get her through the rest of the week, and made a stop at the liquor store.
As soon as she arrived home, she turned up the heat, plugged in the refrigerator, went to the basement to turn on the water and let a weak stream flow into the kitchen sink to get all the air and dust out of the pipes. She pulled the covers off the furniture.
Margo then made several trips to retrieve her things from the car, and parked in the garage. It was entirely possible she wouldn’t be able to get a phone till Monday, so she made sure everything worked properly before calling it a day.
After the long drive, the shock of the divorce, the unpacking, cleaning and straightening, it was late and she was exhausted. The frozen pizza she’d bought, was in the oven. Margo adjusted the rabbit ears on the television, poured herself a glass of wine, plopped down on the sofa and waited for the oven buzzer to go off.
The metallic, high-pitched beep of the timer woke Margo. The smell of burnt food got her to her feet in a hurry as she raced to the kitchen. When she got there, smoke was seeping through the oven door. Margo quickly turned off the stove, opened the back door, then ran to open the front door of the house as well. She plopped down on the sofa and cried.
After a good cry, she got mad. She threw out the cold, burnt pizza, locked up the house and decided to see if they still served decent food at McNulty’s Bar that time of night.
Six
Margo sat in a back booth at McNulty’s, her eyes still red rimmed and sore from crying. She was enjoying one of Mike’s greasy cheeseburgers, fries and a cold beer. She realized just how much she had missed this kind of meal. No amount of gourmet food could replace one of McNulty’s burgers.
M
argo savored every grease-dripping bite, nearly purring as she chewed. She was on her second beer and wallowing in self-pity when she heard a familiar voice coming from the bar area. Suddenly, she felt hot. Her face felt as if it were on fire. Immediately, the mental argument began. Should I go out there so he knows I’m here? But Margo, you silly lady, you don’t need another man in your life. Not now. The ink on the divorce papers is still damp. Are you crazy woman? He's the last person you need back in your life…
“Margo? Baby? You back in town?” came an enthusiastic greeting.
She looked up to see Rory, his hands thrust in his pockets, a lock of his curly dark hair hanging over his eyes, bouncing on the balls of his feet, standing in front of her, all smiles and charm.
“Rory,” she said in a breathy whisper, “would you like to join me?” Margo wasn’t really sure she meant it.
“You bet I would,” he said without hesitation, and slid into the booth next to her. “You are a welcome sight around here, baby. I’ve missed you.” With that, he placed his hands on either side of her face, turned her head toward him and planted a passionate kiss on her greasy sensual, lips.
It literally took her breath away, and all resolve about never getting involved with Rory Star ever again vanished. Margo immediately responded by reaching up her arms and encircling his neck, kissing him with just as much passion.
“Jimmy at the bar told me you were back here. I couldn’t believe it! You look great, baby! So, you here to check on your place or are you on vacation…where’s hubby? ‘Big John’ Oleson, isn’t it?”
“As of today, I no longer have a husband.”
“Did he die or something?”
“It would be in the ‘or something’ category. As of today, I am divorced…well, nearly.”
“He divorced you or you him?”
“Does it really matter, Rory?” she looked deep into his eyes, hoping he could see the need in hers.
