999_ Twenty-Nine Original Tales of Horror and Suspense - Al Sarrantonio [214]
They had a nice bottle of I. W. Harper and invited her in. It was obvious Mike was interested in her. Jim was married. Mike was just going through a divorce he called “painful.” He said his wife ended up running off with this doctor she was on this charity committee with. Jim said Mike needed a good woman to rebuild Mike’s self-esteem. That was a word Angie heard a lot. She liked the daytime talk shows and they talked a lot about self-esteem. There was a transvestite prostitute on just last week, as a matter of fact, and Angie felt sorry for the poor thing. He/she said that’s all he/she was looking for, self-esteem.
Angie got sort of drunk and spent her time talking to Mike while Jim took a shower and got ready for bed. Angie could tell he was taking a real long time to give Mike and her a chance to be alone. And then they were making out and his hands were all over her and then she was down on her knees next to his bed and doing him and he was gasping and groaning and bucking and just going crazy and it made her feel powerful and wonderful to make a man this happy, especially a broken-hearted one.
When Jim came back, wearing a red terry-cloth robe and rubbing his crew cut with a white towel, Angie and Mike were sitting in chairs and having another drink.
“So, what’s going on?” Jim said.
“Well,” Mike said, and he looked like a teenager, excited and nervous at the same time, “I was going to ask Angie if she’d like to come to Denver with me. Spend a couple of weeks while we get the grand opening all set up and everything.”
Jim said, still rubbing his crew cut with the white towel, “This is a guy who does everything first-class, Angie, let me tell you. You should see his condo. The view of the city. Unbelievable.”
“You like Jet Skiing?” Mike said.
“Sure,” Angie said, though she wasn’t exactly sure what it was.
“Well, I’ve got two Jet Skis and they’re a ball. Believe me, we could have a lot of fun. You could stay at my condo and do what you like during the day—shop or whatever—and then at night, we’ll get together again.”
Jim said, “God, Angie, you’re a miracle worker. This sounds like my old buddy Mike Brady. I haven’t heard him sound this happy in three or four years.”
Mike grinned. “Maybe I’m in love.”
And he leaned over and slid his arm around Angie’s neck and gave her a big whiskey kiss on the mouth.
All she could think of was how strange it was. Maybe she’d met the man who was going to make her into a kept woman. And this one wasn’t married, either. He could marry her somewhere down the line.
She said, “Wait till I tell Jason.”
Mike gave her a funny look. “Jason? Who’s Jason?”
Jim came over, too. “Yeah, who’s Jason?”
“Oh, sort of my stepson, I guess you’d say.”
“You’re traveling with a kid?” Mike said.
“Yeah.”
Mike didn’t have to say anything. It was all in his face. He’d been outlining an orgy of activities and she went and mined it all with reality. A kid. A fucking kid.
“Oh,” Mike said, finally.
“He’s a real nice kid,” Angie said. “Real quiet and everything.”
“I’m sure he’s a nice kid, Angie,” Jim said. “But I don’t think that’s what Mike had in mind. Nothing against kids, you understand. I’ve got two of my own and Mike’s got three.”
“I love kids,” Mike said, as if somebody had accused him otherwise.
“He wouldn’t be any trouble,” Angie said. “He really wouldn’t.”
Mike and Jim looked at each other and Jim said, looking at Angie now, “You know what we should do? Why don’t we take your phone number, you know where you’re staying in Omaha and everything, and then Mike can give you a call when he gets settled into his condo?”
Mike didn’t have nerve enough to say good-bye so Jim was