Tears on a Sunday Afternoon - Michael Presley [38]
I didn’t hear the door close, but I knew that I was alone in the lounge. I fell down on the couch as my eyes became transfixed on the TV. As always, the anchorman teased viewers with the intro, then went to a commercial. I had avoided the news because I didn’t want to see my face as a wanted man on the TV screen. But now they had caught my attention so I sat back and waited through the GEICO commercial and two other car commercials.
“Donald!”
The news correspondent said that the dead man had an argument with one of his business partners before he went out into the woods. Even though the old man was in his early seventies, he was apparently involved in the production of methamphetamine. The newsman promised to keep viewers up-to-date as this story unfolded.
“Donald!”
“Yes?” I lifted my head to see Brian standing by the door.
“Julie thought you were in here fucking the young girl, but when she saw her come back and you still didn’t return, she sent me to look for you. What were you watching on TV? You look scared.” Brian walked to the TV so he could see what was showing. But the news had already finished and there was a sitcom repeat on.
“You guys get your food already?” I asked.
“Yeah, we’re almost halfway finished. Yours must be cold by now.” Brian was still looking at the TV.
I got up from the couch. “Well, let’s head back.”
“So what’s up with the little misses?” Brian asked.
“We’ll connect on another day,” I said opening the door to the lounge.
“She’s hot and she does attract attention.”
“You’re right. She’s hot but her attracting all that attention could be because she’s also the owner’s daughter.” I held the door open for Brian.
“People say if you go and look in gold mines, you might find some gold pieces and if you look in sewage tanks, you are apt to find shit.” Brian walked through the door.
“Ninety-nine percent of the time you’re right, but that one percent of shit you find amongst the gold can stink the entire place up.” I closed the door and Brian and I walked back to Julie.
I didn’t know what appealed to me about Brenda nor was I sure that I would ever call her. My cell phone address book was filled with numbers of women that I didn’t call. It would be virtually impossible to remember where I had met them all. Then, there were those that I did meet and fuck but, with just a name and phone number, my recollection of the time we had spent together often proved difficult. If I didn’t call a woman within seven days of meeting her, most likely, I would never call.
Julie and I had been out to brunch a few times and I usually ordered a sandwich or a steak omelet. A deluxe turkey sandwich with Swiss cheese was waiting for me that day.
“I see that you’re back to babysitting, Donald,” Julie commented as I was about to bite into the sandwich.
I put it back down. “My dear Julie, what’s a man supposed to do?”
“Be a man, Donald, and show some kind of control. You’re not fifteen anymore,” Julie scolded me.
“Why should I?” I asked as I ate some of the French fries.
Julie always chided me for my promiscuous ways. I sometimes wondered if I had a sexual problem, but that would mean I was symptomatic at a very early age. There are a million different ways to handle stress. For me, sex was the only one that worked. I didn’t have a drug, gambling or any other dependency so I considered myself lucky.
“One day, Donald, your dick will kill you,” Julie said and continued to finish her food.
“As long as it doesn’t stab me in the heart. I hate blood.”
That ended the conversation. The rest of lunch was all about the food.
Chapter 9
12TH DAY
“How are you doing, Donald?” Malcolm asked.
I didn’t want to be there, much less talk to my father-in-law. “Fine.”
“Well, your face doesn’t look it,” Malcolm said, a glass of champagne in his hand.
We were attending an event in Lauren’s parents’ clubhouse, located by their private dock. My presence as Lauren’s husband had been