The Lyrics to Jeopardy

Driving home from the Science Center today I finally realized the lyrics to the Jeopardy theme:

It is time for Jeopardy
Use a question when you give the answer
To the words that Alex reads
It is time for Jeo-par-dy


Now if I can figure out how to put a recording on here, I'll sing it for you.

Another one from the Vaults

[Note -- this was written around (but before) the Unnamed Story, previously posted.  The reference to VCR's certainly dates it -- ggg]

SELF ABSORBED

 

 

 

The sun shone through the windshield as he drove home.  “How could I be so stupid,” he thought as he turned onto his street.  “When will I learn to let good enough alone?”  The lyrics of Lionel Ritchie’s ‘Hello’ blared from the car’s speakers as he eased the vehicle into it’s parking spot.  Exiting the car Larry thought twice about leaving the top down.  “With my luck, someone will steal the stereo,” he said out loud to no one in particular, not even himself.  He set about to the task of replacing the top in the silence of the garage.  “Jerk, jerk, jerk!”  Again aloud, but this time directed at the only occupant of the deserted garage.

 

The elevator stopped in the lobby.  He faced the row of mailboxes as the doors opened.  He fumbled for his keys and retrieved his mail.  Three bills, a movie magazine, and an offer for an overpriced dating service addressed to “Single Occupant”.  An ironic smile crossed his lips as he retreated into the elevator.  Two more floors and he was home.

 

The apartment was a mass of diversity.  The walls were decorated with movie posters from “Star Wars”, “Star Trek”, “Citizen Kane”, and “The Brady Bunch Movie”.  Strewn across the floor lay the past week’s newspapers, videotapes, yesterday’s wardrobe, and magazines.  There were too many bookshelves laden with too many books, and covered with toys from favorite, and not so favorite, movies.  The TV was on, oops, and three VCR’s hummed recording who knew what (and who knew when they’d ever be seen).  The living room was decorated in what Larry could only describe as ‘Early American Parents’.  The couch, forever covered in junk mail and last week’s clean laundry, was a constant reminder of his family.  It had been passed down the sibling tree until he took possession ten years ago.  And it was staying, no matter what mom said.

 

He crossed to the bedroom, barely noticing the news of yet another drive-by shooting being conveyed nearly inaudibly by the TV.  Entering the bedroom he began to discard his clothing.  Shirt on the floor, shoes kicked off into the corner, pants neatly deposited on the bed (wouldn’t want his change or keys falling out).

 

His bedroom was a shrine to movies and TV.  One wall was covered ceiling to floor with shelves holding videotapes and magazines he’d collected over the past twenty five years, another housing toys, games, books, and who knows what, as long as it had something to do with ‘Star Wars”.  His bed, unmade (who’d have guessed it), under a small window, appeared to be the centerpiece of the room.  From this vantage point he could see everything.  Every bit of wall that was not covered by shelving and the like was adorned with posters and framed photographs from the movies he had seen hundreds of times.  As he moved to the bathroom, he checked to make sure yet another VCR was recording on yet another tape that would be viewed in a future he wasn’t sure would ever come.

 

Larry looked at himself in the mirror.  He was tired.  Tired of not getting enough sleep, tired of dealing with coworkers that never seemed to get it, tired of coming home to this ‘empty’ apartment.  Mostly he was tired of being a jerk.  He ran cold water and splashed it on his face.  “Just another day.”  He was startled by his own voice breaking the silence. 

 

Wading through the clothes covering the floor, Larry went back through the living room and into the kitchen, being careful not to knock any of the empty cans and bottles off the counter tops.  He searched the refrigerator for something to drink.  He found a bottle of soda behind a carton of milk that expired a month ago.  He placed the cap on the counter, briefly considering tossing it into the overflowing trash bag.  He returned to the living room and sat down in the chair strategically placed in the middle of the room, the only piece of furniture not covered.  As he took a sip of his soda he looked around the apartment.  It was the nightmare of every teenager’s parents.  What would happen if their cherub ever moved out, but never grew up? 

 

He reached for the remote control and aimlessly skipped from channel to channel.  The news, an old black and white movie that had been colorized, some special bulletin, a few talk shows, an infomercial about dieting while you sleep (he made a mental note of that one), another special report, a game show from the mid-seventies, and the scene of a high speed chase in progress.  A normal day.  It just didn’t seem important to him.  The images flicked faster and faster as he considered his actions of the day.

 

It started out as a normal Wednesday.  He was barely awakened at six by the blaring of his alarm clock.  Eyes still closed, he tapped the snooze button.  Another seven minutes of bliss.  He hoped he could get back into that dream.  He was walking through a park with Geri.  They were talking and laughing as they tended to do (though never in a park) and she had reached out to hold his hand.  It was a dream come true, well, if it wasn’t actually a dream.  He stopped, surprised.  She turned and looked up into his eyes.  A knowing smile played on her lips and he realized that she had finally come to grips with the feelings he knew (read, hoped) she had for him.  They gazed into each other’s eyes for just a moment and he slowly leaned towards her and . . .  That was when the alarm blared.  He willed himself back into the dream with mixed success.  It was earlier in the dream when they were in the car and she suggested that they take a walk.  After all, it was a beautiful day and she had no reason to rush home.  As he pulled into the parking lot the dream changed slightly.  She gently placed her hand on his as he removed the key from the ignition.  Again shocked, he sat frozen.  The same knowing smile, the same locked eyes, the same alarm shattering the image once again.

 

“Damn,” he announced quietly as the smile left his lips and he once again tapped the alarm clock.  The phone rang.  “Hello, hello,” he repeated the words as the phone rang a second time.  He felt he had to get it just right.  He didn’t like sounding like he had been asleep when the phone woke him in the morning.  He pressed MUTE on the TV’s remote control and picked up the receiver.  “Hello,” he was sure he sounded like he’d been awake for hours.  “Eight fifteen,” came the groggy reply.  “I’ll be there, bye,” he hung up the phone.  Geri sounded so different in the morning.  He tried not to think about the reality of the situation as he started dozing off again.  He knew they were just friends.  “Best friends,” she would insist on occasion.  Just someone who he worked with, just someone he gave a ride to a few days a week, just someone he thought about constantly.  He drifted back to sleep.

 

They were in a movie theatre.  She was intently watching the film.  He had already seen it, but didn’t want to give up the chance to take her when she had casually mentioned her interest in it a few days ago.  He took an occasional glance at her from the corner of his eye.  She was beautiful.  Dark, smooth skin with just a hint of eye make-up he watched her put on in the car that morning.  Her hair was dark and silky to the touch.  Well, that’s how he had imagined it countless times.  He leaned ever so slightly toward her and . . . “Shit!”  This time he pounded on the snooze button, never opening his eyes.

 

He was back in the movie theatre, falling asleep.  How did his arm get around her and why didn’t she pull back?  It seemed almost comfortable, the way he knew it would be.  He started to doze in his seat and noticed something.  She was leaning towards him and her arm was casually draped across his stomach.  She continued to watch the movie, as if none of this was happening.  He moved closer and lightly rested his head on her shoulder.  Could he believe this?  She began to turn her head and the smile returned to her face.  She moved closer, her lips nearing his.  It was going to happen, it was actually going to happen.  And then . . .

 

He was awake.  No alarm had rung this time.  The phone was silent.  He was sitting straight up in his bed, wide-awake.  “Damn it!  Why does this always happen?  Why can’t I kiss her?”  He wanted to scream the words, but thought better of it, considering his neighbors.  As he sat there the alarm rang again.  He again tapped the snooze button.  Lying back down, he tried hopelessly to go back to sleep, but to no avail.  He was awake now, might as well get ready for work.

 

He took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes.  Larry always slept with his glasses on.  He told people it was so he could see his dreams clearly.  Though he tried to convince himself that his reasoning wasn’t far from the truth, there was a simpler explanation.  He almost always fell asleep with the TV on, and needed them to see the TV.  He looked at the clock.  “Shit!”  It was quarter of eight.  In order to pick up Geri at quarter after he would have to be out of the house in twelve minutes.  The alarm blared again.  “Oh, shut up!”  He turned the alarm off and got out of bed.

 

Larry paged through the TV Guide as he stumbled to the bathroom, mentally verifying that all VCR’s were programmed for the day’s television events.  He brushed his teeth, showered, shaved, gargled, and brushed his teeth again as he tried to wipe the images of his dreams from his mind.  No use getting wrapped up in something that never happened and never would.  He was dressed and ready to go with thirty seconds to spare.  “See ya later,” he whispered to his apartment as he closed the door behind him.

 

Though it was barely eight o’clock, the day was beautiful.  Larry decided to take the top down on his convertible.  He realized this was probably a mistake when he got back into the car and saw that he was now five minutes behind schedule.  As it always seems to happen when running late, the traffic was heavy.  He knew, at best, he would be ten minutes late to pick up Geri and started thinking up an excuse.  He could claim there was a lot of traffic; that had worked in the past and, after all, it was true.  What the hell, why worry about it?  The worst that would happen is she’d feign anger to make him feel bad, he’d beg her forgiveness, and they’d discuss their respective evenings.  That’s what made the dream seem so real to him.  They had gone to a movie he had already seen last night and she had seemed different.  Not as standoffish as she had been the other times they’d been to the movies.  There was a sense of closeness he hadn’t felt before.  Earlier in the day she even caught herself admitting they were ‘going out’ that night and quickly changed her words to ‘going to see a movie’.  “God, why do you have to read so much into these things?”  He hadn’t realized that he was, as usual, conversing with himself out loud until he saw the look the driver next to him gave as he pulled away from the green light.  Larry had no problem with the fact that he talked to himself; he just needed to use better judgement when the top was down.

 

He pulled up in front of the building where she lived and parked.  No Geri.  He was spared having to exaggerate the traffic story and he’d have the upper hand in the “you’re late” argument.  A few minutes passed and then he saw her exiting the building.  He had to keep his mouth from dropping open.  She was wearing the exact same outfit as in the dream about the park.  “This cannot be happening.”  He made sure those words were only spoken in his head.

 

Geri stumbled to the car, one hand buttoning the top button of her blouse, the other holding her shoes and briefcase.  Not exactly the consummate professional she appeared to be at the office.  Her hair was still damp and she wore no make-up.  Larry knew that by the time they arrived at work she would be transformed.  Oddly enough, this was when he saw her to be the most attractive.  This was the real Geri.  This was the person he had fallen . . . “Stop it!  She’s just a friend.”

 

“I am so sorry,” she sounded much more herself then she had on the phone a mere two hours earlier.   “I fell back to sleep and . . . were you waiting long?” 

 

“Since ten after,” he tried to sound angry but she smiled knowingly (that smile was much too familiar) and they both laughed.  “Actually I just got here a few minutes ago.”  As they pulled away from the building Larry’s mind raced.  The smile, the clothes. Forgetting the dreams was not going to be easy.

 

The drive to work was accompanied by a discussion of the film, what they did when they got home, and weekend plans.  It usually felt natural when they spoke like this, but today was different.  He felt apprehensive.  He felt the words being forced out of his mouth.  As they approached the doughnut shop they replayed the daily ‘should we stop and get doughnuts for the office’ discussion.  Larry ended with, “If you were on time, we’d be able to stop,” as they drove by.  She took a break in applying her lipstick to laugh lightly.  The smile seemed to linger on her lips a bit longer this time.  “Stop it!”

 

They arrived at work, early, and their individual days began.

 

Larry entered the building so absorbed in his own thoughts that he barely heard the greeting from the receptionist.  “Morning,” he uttered as he checked for messages.  There were two.  A client who needed a call in the afternoon and a note that Stacy was running about five minutes late.  He walked to his office re-reading the notes as they started to sink in.

 

The office was a microcosm of his apartment.  Every surface, his desk, table, chairs and shelves were covered in paper.  Even here there were videotapes scattered about.  A box that had seemed to be there forever sat in one corner, overflowing with who knew what.  The walls of his office were lined with calendars of various shapes and sizes.  When asked, Larry told others that he needed one for each time zone.  Most people laughed, a few nodded their heads with fake understanding.  He moved behind his desk to start his computer and reached for his coffee mug, still half full with the remains of yesterday’s brew.  He sipped at it tentatively then gulped it down in one clean swallow.  He returned to the reception area to fill his cup with what he hoped would be fresh coffee.

 

“How was the movie,” the receptionist inquired.  Larry stopped short, again with the movie.  “I enjoyed it.  It held up to a second viewing.”  She nodded, a bit confused.  “I’m thinking of seeing it this weekend.”

 

He filled his cup with first sugar then creamer and then poured the coffee on top.  He liked to think that the condiments dissolved quicker this way.  As he stirred it he headed back to his office.  The receptionist noted that he seemed a bit quiet today.  She hoped it wasn’t going to be ‘one of those’ days.

 

Larry sat behind his desk and started to check his e-mail.  Nothing extraordinary.  Three off color jokes from a client, a picture of a thousand pound naked woman, and a brief comment from Stacy continuing a cyber conversation they had started two months earlier, just to see how many times they could reply back and forth.  As he was reading through the notes, his staff began to file into his office for the daily meeting.  He looked up and greeted each as they emptied chairs in order to sit down.

 

The meeting started with the usual banter about last night’s television viewing.  This served two purposes.  One, to allow everyone to have a few minutes of relaxation before the day began and two, most importantly, to stretch things out so no one would notice Stacy arriving late.

 

“Sorry I’m late,” Stacy entered speaking with a slight accent.  A very cute accent his mother once informed him after her third inquiry into Stacy’s marital status.  Her accent only grew heavier when she was trying to push a point through or when she and Larry got into a heavy argument.  And, oh did they argue.  Larry once told her that the reason they argued was that they worked so closely together they were like an old married couple.  “The only problem is,” he announced, “you can’t use sex against me to gain the upper hand.”  As with most of their arguments, it ended in laughter.

 

Stacy was an enigma.  She was one part enchantress, one part psychiatrist, three parts professional, and two parts Yoda.  They had spent many hours philosophizing over the nature of humanity and Larry’s pet topic that it is more natural to be bad then good.  “The dark side of the Force is more seductive,” he would quote.  “And why are the things that taste the best always bad for you.”  She would argue that good and bad were relative terms and in reality didn’t exist.

 

Larry couldn’t believe that he had only known Stacy for two years.  He couldn’t remember what it was like before she entered his life.  They were good friends, yet something deeper.  He knew he could always count on her to be the one constant in his universe (another pet topic for them).  She remained levelheaded yet never pulled her punches when they talked, whether it be work related or not.  In another life, he thought, they were probably brother and sister, Stacy being the brother.

 

The meeting continued as usual.  Personal jabs were tossed back and forth between staff members.  Larry and Katie got into the mandatory argument ending with Stacy requesting them to “just move on.”  The meeting ended, the crowd left, carefully replacing the piles they had removed from the chairs they had occupied, and Larry’s mind drifted back to his dreams. 

 

It seemed an eternity before the ringing phone jarred him from his contemplation.  It was Mark, his boss.  “Everything alright?  The phone must have rung ten times.”  “Yeah, I’m okay,” Larry knew Mark was prone to exaggeration and the phone had only rung three times, “What’s up?”  As Mark began talking, Larry caught the image of Geri through his window leaving her office across the courtyard.  He turned to look at her just as she turned to look at him.  Their eyes locked for the briefest of moments.  They quickly looked away uncomfortably, but Larry was sure he caught a glimpse of that same smile once again.  Unaware of what was happening, Mark continued with his litany of issues revolving around the day’s schedule.  “Okay, thanks,” Larry offered as the conversation ended and he hung up the phone.

 

“This has got to stop,” Larry was barely audible through gritted teeth.  And it did finally stop, for a few hours at least.  The day progressed uneventful. Well, as uneventful as any day.  He had two more run-ins with Katie, a minor disagreement with Mark over the way to handle a disciplinary problem, two and a half more cups of coffee, and a heated discussion with Stacy (she agreed with Mark).  Two clients called with thanks for a job well done on a project that had been going on for three months.  It was always nice to hear something positive.  Yes, everything went well until the middle of the afternoon when the phone rang for what seemed the hundredth time that day.

 

“Larry, do you have a couple of minutes?  There’s something we need to talk about.”  The voice was unmistakable.  It wasn’t the groggy voice he got used to hearing in the morning, nor was it the cheerful, uninhibited voice of countless car rides.  This was her professional voice; her work voice.  This was the voice that said there’s a problem and, seemingly, only Larry could solve it.  His heart skipped a beat.  He managed to spend the day avoiding contact with her.  It was the only way he could concentrate on the work that continually piled up on his desk.  He had even closed his blinds as to not see her entering or exiting her office.  He stepped to the window, opened the blinds, and watched as she closed the door of her office behind her.  She didn’t look his way.  She had a serious, almost angry expression on her face.  Thank God the smile was gone.  Larry’s breathing returned to normal.

 

“I can do this,” he thought to himself.  “Yeah, I can handle this.”  He sat and buried his head in his hands.  “It’s not fair. It’s just not fair.”

 

“What’s not fair?”  He was startled by the sound of Geri’s voice as she entered his office.  So startled, his stomach didn’t have time to tie in the knot it normally did when she came into his office.  “Mind if I close the door?”

 

“Shit,” he thought, this was going to be serious.  He let the thoughts of the morning, the night before, the last six months fade out of his mind and turned his attention to the problems at hand.  An hour later the door to his office opened.  “Thank you,” Geri said with a smile on her face.  It wasn’t that smile.  It was the professional smile she often used when talking with co-workers.  “I appreciate your time.”

 

“Anything you need, I’m here for you.”  A truer statement had never been uttered.  Larry collapsed into the chair he had been sitting in during their meeting and stared out the window.  He watched Geri walk back to her office.  On the way, one of their male co-workers stopped to talk with her.  The knot Larry was deprived of earlier came quickly.  He stood up with determination and headed to Stacy’s office.

 

“I’m obsessed,” he blurted out as he closed Stacy’s door behind him.  She looked up calmly from her typing.  “I know.”

 

 

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” Larry shuffled nervously in his chair.  On the television a newscaster was interviewing a policeman.  Without even thinking, Larry did something he rarely did.  He shut off the TV.  “Why did I have to talk to her about this?”  Larry felt that as long as he kept things to himself, they weren’t an issue.  Just another fantasy.  God knows he’d had plenty of them.  But now that it was voiced, it was real, something he had to deal with.  Stacy was a great comfort.  She listened to everything he had to say, the dreams, the smile, the clothes.  She let him stumble over his self-analysis, not uttering a word.  When she finally spoke he heard something he didn’t expect. 

 

A voice of logic, a voice he trusted implicitly told him that he wasn’t crazy.  She told him that maybe he should consider pursuing things.  Not right away, she had warned.  Be sure of you’re feelings first.  Then, when you’re sure, do something.

 

This wasn’t what he wanted to hear.  She was supposed to discourage him.  She was supposed to list out all the negatives he had been running through his mind for months.  She’s too young.  She works for you.  And the ever popular, she could never be interested in you.  All the things a true friend would say to spare his feelings.  Instead she told him what she thought, what she felt.  He knew he could always count on her for this. 

 

And now things were worse.  What if he did approach Geri and she didn’t feel the same way?  Would she start to pull away from him?  The friendship was too important to be lost because of his attraction.  Stacy had laughed at that one. 

 

He took another sip of his soda.  He had thought about pouring himself a scotch but dropped the idea immediately.  He never drank alone, especially when he was troubled.  He was afraid that this would lead to a drinking problem.  No, the soda was fine.  “Oh, the hell with it.”  Larry leaned back in his chair, starting to feel comfortable for the first time today, this week, this month.  He actually started to feel good about what he had done.  On the one hand, voicing the issue had turned it into a reality, but on the other hand, he felt relieved of a burden.  He was finally able to articulate his problems to one of the two friends he felt closest to.  The one who could best understand it.

 

He turned the TV on and resumed flipping through the channels.  The phone was on its third ring before he sat up and answered it.  “Hello,” he had considered screening the call.  Usually the only calls he got at this time were from sales people or someone soliciting for a charity.

 

“Larry, it’s Stacy.”  Her voice seemed somewhat rushed, almost panicky.  “Hey, I was just thinking about you.  Thanks for letting me pour my heart . . .”

 

“Are you watching the news?”  She cut him off so abruptly it made the hairs on the back of his neck tingle.  “No, I never watch . . .”

 

“Turn on channel four.”  He followed her instruction immediately and eased back into his chair.  “Yeah I saw this, some kind of drive by shooting.  Don’t you get tired of seeing these every . . .” This time he cut himself off.  On the screen was a news anchor.  In the corner of the screen was a picture with the word Victim captioned below it.  The smile on the picture was unmistakable.  “ . . . was pronounced dead at eight twenty five this evening,” were the last words he heard as he dropped the phone and drifted into unconsciousness.

 

They were in the park.  Geri reached over and grabbed Larry’s hand pulling forward and closer to him.  At first he was surprised, but her hand felt so natural in his.  She led him to a big tree by a lake.  She stopped and turned to him.  Their eyes locked as he pulled her closer.  He cautiously wrapped his arms around her, leaned over, and kissed her.  It was a moment for which he had waited a long time.  She seemed to melt in his arms and he in hers.

 

 

They found Larry the next morning.  He looked so relaxed in the chair.  Stacy couldn’t help noticing the smile on his face.  She smiled herself as a single tear rolled down her cheek.

 

The embrace seemed to last an eternity.  Larry was the one to pull away first.  As he looked at the smile on Geri’s face he felt a similar one forming on his own.  They stood unaware of their surroundings, locked in each others’ glance.  After a moment Geri tugged at Larry’s hand.  “Hey, let’s go to the movies.”

 

 

The End

[This ultamitley turned into chapter one of I guess what I could call a novella.  More to come? -- ggg]

Unnamed story

[Author's note:  I wrote this story close to 20 years ago and have not even considered updating it.  It's not what I would consider your typical fiction and it does get a tad explicit at points.  Just saying to serve as a warning.  I have some additional comments but I will make them at the end as to not bias the reader.  ggg]



Chapter 1

David tried to go back to sleep.  It wasn’t going to be easy.  Jackie had stolen most of the covers and had spread out to cover what seemed like two-thirds of the bed.  “Why did I let her sleep here tonight,” he thought as he slipped out of bed.  He padded lightly out of the bedroom and closed the door gently behind him.  “Early morning nookie, of course.”  He sat on the couch and took a cigarette from the pack lying on the table.  Looking out the window, he saw the first rays of the sun shining just above the horizon.  He rolled the cigarette between his fingers and coughed lightly.  His throat was still raw from the combination of cigarettes and singing from the party last night.  He lit the cigarette and took a long drag.  A brief dizziness overcame him.  The lightheadedness, a result of the fresh nicotine combined with the stale beer he could almost feel flowing in his gut.  He knew he was still hours from the obligatory hangover.  He picked up a blue plastic cup that was filled almost to the top with beer.  He sipped.  Warm and flat with a distinct, all too familiar flavor.  Just below the surface floated a cigarette butt.  He reached in and pulled the butt out, examining it, his fresh smoke dangling from his lips.  He flicked the butt towards, but not into, a large garbage can across the room.  “I’ll get that later,” he thought as he guzzled the remaining fluid in the cup.  The hangover could wait a little longer.

The ‘party’ started out as a friendly night of Poker and cigars.  Just a few friends from work who had nothing else to do on a cold December evening.  He was bored.  Lynn was away for the weekend visiting her folks.  “I have to take some clothes to the dry cleaner,” had seemed like a reasonable excuse to avoid the three-hour car ride and countless inquiries regarding marriage, children, and home purchase.  Lynn wasn’t convinced.  No tears this time, just a few jabs at David’s parents and the over used “When are you going to grow up?” as the door was slammed.  This, he had thought, was his chance to be a stereotype.  While still in bed at 11:00, he ordered a pizza.  No shower, no shave, he pullled on an old pair of gym shorts when he heard the doorbell twenty-five minutes later.  He stopped in the kitchen for a beer on his way to the door. 

“How much?”  He was fumbling through a wad of mostly singles when he opened the door.

“Seventeen twenty nine.”  This was not the voice of the usual middle aged driver he came to know.  David looked up.  Before him stood an image of beauty, no, cuteness, no adorableness was probably the best way to describe her.  She couldn’t have been more than nineteen.  David estimated that she stood about five foot three, the perfect height.  Her brown hair was tied into two pigtails.  Her uniform was just a smidgen too tight and the top two buttons of her shirt were open, revealing just a hint of cleavage. 

He on the other hand was wearing no shirt and, as he had joked so many times before, showed just a hint of cleavage.  His ‘beer belly’ hung just over the barely functioning elastic waistband of his shorts.  His hair was matted down in the front and sticking up, haphazardly on either side of his head.  He appeared to be the quintessential dirty old man and the look in his eyes, slowly rising to focus back on her face, didn’t help the image at all.  This was not the first impression he wanted to make on this voluptuous little darling.

David took the pizza from her and placed it on the floor.  He fumbled through his bills and pulled out a twenty and two singles.  “Keep the change,” he muttered and tried to suck in his gut, knowing the damage had already been done.

“Thank you.”  Such a delicate voice.  She started to turn.

“Ya know, I was expecting Vince.”  He tried, unsuccessfully, to flatten his hair.  “If I’d known it would be someone like you . . .” The sleep was out of his voice and he was able to let it deepen and soften slightly.  “Well, let’s just say, you’re not catching me at my best.”  He allowed a friendly, almost inviting, smile to form on his lips.

She turned back, smiling shyly and gazing at her shoes.  “Well, maybe some other time.”  Her words were nearly inaudible.

“It’s working,” he thought letting his eyes soften.  “Hey, who knows, I might get hungry again later.”  He leaned casually against the doorframe.

“I work till seven.”  And in a flash she was gone.

David shut the door and allowed his smile to become more of a grin.  “Seven, I’ll have to remember that.”  He picked up the pizza and headed into the living room.  He took a long drink from the beer and opened the pizza box.  He removed a slice and took a bite.  “Damn,” he thought, “it’s too hot.”  He replaced the slice and sat in the large lounge chair in the center of the room.  “This is the life”, he said out loud as he took another gulp from the beer bottle.  He reached for the remote control and turned on the television.  He surfed right to the soft porn pay-per-view channel and keyed his secret code into the remote.  Almost instantly the image of naked bodies locked in an embrace covered the screen.  He reached for a cigarette and sat, smoking, drinking beer, and watching nature taking its course.

The novelty wore off in a mere three hours.  The pizza, at its room temperature best, was half eaten.  Three empty beer bottles sat on the table.  An overflowing ashtray balanced precariously on his stomach.  And a series of wavy lines with vaguely discernable female body parts graced the screen.  After the movie was over, David didn’t bother paying for another.  He just sat and watched the channel click off to the sight before him.  “Now what?”

David considered his options.  He could sit here for another few hours, possibly pay for another movie (but the plots were so thin).  He could go out (looks like snow, though).  He could sleep.  He could call up Delores and maybe get some ‘Afternoon Delight’.  No, that wouldn’t work.  Delores had been less than ecstatic after Lynn moved in.  The only time they got together was when she was in the mood.  And that was happening less and less over the past few months.  David was sure she was seeing someone else now.  Was that a twinge of jealousy in his stomach?  Nah, he just needed another piece of pizza.

He reached for another slice and continued his list.  He could call a few buds over and play a night’s worth of poker.  “Now there’s an idea.”  He was reenergized.  “Who to call?”  Most of David’s friends were married, a few with children.  Why did they get so dull since tying the knot?  He paged through his address book and found a couple of guys that were always ready for a little action, especially if they had a chance to win back some money from him.  John was into it and promised to bring beer.  Dan said he couldn’t, plans for the theatre with his chick.  Bob asked if he could bring a few friends along.  The night was taking shape.

David decided to straighten up a little, not that there was much to do.  Lynn kept the place immaculate.  “Someday I’m going to stop cleaning up after you and then where will you be?”

“Exactly where I started,” David would answer in his mind.  His response was usually a little puppy dog smile that he knew she couldn’t resist.

He filled a bag with miscellaneous trash that had been accumulating since Lynn’s departure the night before.  The beer bottles clinked as he picked up the bag trying to remember where the garbage shoot was.  He couldn’t remember the last time he took the trash out.  He stopped in the bathroom before leaving the apartment with the bag.  He wet his brush and ran it through his hair, attempting to even out the contour.  “Maybe I’ll see that little cutie from 2B.”  He swished some mouthwash and walked to the bedroom.  Opening a dresser drawer, he located a T-shirt with a few rips and fake bloodstains that read “MY PARENTS WENT TO TIENAMAN SQUARE AND ALL I GOT WAS THIS LOUSY T-SHIRT.”  He pulled it on and headed to retrieve the bag of trash sitting by the door.  “Can’t you ever close a drawer?”  Lynn’s words ran through his mind.  He turned, looked at the open drawer and smiled to himself.  He walked out of the room.

A few hours later everything was ready.  He had set up a card table in the center of the room and pulled six chairs around it.  It had taken some time to figure out where Lynn had hidden the poker chips and cards.  He moved a large garbage can into the living room and placed a number of ashtrays around.  Lynn didn’t let him smoke cigars in the house, but they were going to play poker.  It was a necessity.

After showering, David looked around the room one more time to make sure everything was fine.  He was smiling.  This was gonna be fun.  He glanced at his watch and noticed that seven o’clock was approaching.  “Why did that time seem to mean something?  The guys aren’t getting here till at least eight thirty.”  He remembered and went to the phone.  “That’s right, three large with everything and get it here soon.”

Just after seven the doorbell rang.  He quickly glanced in the mirror, practicing a few smile variations.  He decided on the ‘friendly-but-pained’ look and opened the door.  There she stood again, pizzas in hand.  She was now out of uniform and wearing street clothes.  ‘Street walking’ clothes was more like it.  She wore a floor length, obviously fake leather, coat that was open revealing a too short pleated blue skirt, a white shirt, three buttons undone now giving an excellent view of her cleavage and a peek at the bra clasp in front.  The pigtails, white socks, and loafers completed the ensemble.  A Catholic schoolgirl fantasy flashed in David’s mind.  He fought the urge to leer and forced a look of confusion onto his face.

He looked at his watch, stealing another glance from the corner of his eye.  “I thought you got off at seven,” the sentence had been scripted the moment he hung up the phone from ordering the pizzas.

“I thought I’d make one more delivery on my way home.”  The shy giggle was something only a teenager could perfect and, for that matter, get away with.  David noticed that the shyness was starting to dissipate as she looked over his shoulder to examine the room beyond.

“Well, would you like to come in?”  The question dripped with innocent sincerity.

“I don’t want to bother you, ya know, if you’re busy.”  The shyness was back.  She shuffled her feet.

“No bother.  I had a few friends coming over but they just called and said they’d be a few hours late.”  He saw a smile form on her face.  “Might as well start on the pizza.  If you’re hungry.”  The last, a mere whisper, and feigned nervousness.

“Sure, okay.”  She handed him the pizzas and walked past him.  “Nice place.  After this morning I pictured something a bit different.”  There was a strange confidence in her voice as he saw her toss her coat onto the couch.

“I guess I’m a bit of a neatness freak,” he nervously laughed continuing the act.

“Or your girlfriend is.”  She was playing with, no, fondling the chips.

“Excuse me,” for the first time in ten minutes he was caught off guard.  “Just let her continue,” he thought.  “Don’t dig yourself a grave.”

“There were a couple of times I delivered here.  I guess you weren’t home.”  She turned over a card.  “Queen of hearts.”

“Huh?”  He hadn’t been looking.  He had turned away to hide the flush in his face as he was quickly trying to figure a way out of this.

“Queen of hearts, silly.”  She walked towards him holding the card out in front of her.  As he turned she was standing less than a foot away.  “Must be my lucky day.”

She dropped the card and looked up at him.  Her eyes closed slowly.

David pulled back a bit nervous.  “Um, can you excuse me?  I have to get something from my bedroom.”  He walked quickly, closing the door behind him.  His usual improvisational skills were escaping him.  This wasn’t the script he had written.  He fumbled for the switch on the lamp by the bed when he heard the door open behind him.  He turned to see her, bathed from behind in the light coming from the other room.  She was unbuttoning her blouse.

“Hey,” she said softly, “where’s my tip?”

It took less than an instant for him to make up his mind.  “Fuck it,” he thought ironically as he slid his arms into her shirt and they embraced.

The clock read eight ten as David awoke from his half-sleeplike state.  The delivery girl, he never did get a name, lay asleep by his side.  There was the tiniest of smiles on her face.  He was exhausted.  “I’m not as young as I used to be,” he thought as he looked upon her half-covered body.  She moved slightly revealing a perfect breast he had become quite good friends with.  “But she certainly is.”  He shook himself.  “The guys are gonna be here soon,” he thought as he shook her lightly.  She stirred.

“Hi,” she smiled up at him.

“Hi.”  He was all business now.  “Listen, I hate to do this, but my friends are gonna be here soon and, well, we’re gonna play poker.  Ya know, guy stuff.”

“Sure,” the smile remained.  “I understand.”  She sat up pulling the covers to her neck.  “Can you get my clothes?”  She motioned towards the clothing trail that led to the bed.

“Of course,” he answered as he sat up and pulled on his boxer shorts.  He got up and began playfully tossing her clothes at her.  He walked into the bathroom.  Given other circumstances he would have watched her dress, maybe allowing it to add a few more hours to the evening’s entertainment.  But time was of the essence.  John was notoriously on time.  Not that it mattered, but John’s girlfriend was a good friend of Lynn’s and John had a habit of talking in his sleep.

He looked in the mirror and saw that, as expected, his hair was sticking up in patches.  He licked his hand and rubbed down his hair.  He ran the brush under the faucet and tried brushing it down.  It would have to do.  He felt a pair of arms reaching around him and a hand headed towards his shorts.  He grabbed the hand and turned to face her.  She had a dreamy smile on her face.  He sat lightly on the marble-by-appearance-only counter and tried to stop his natural impulses.  “I’m between a rock and a hard place,” he thought and smiled.  She must have interpreted the look differently because she gently kissed his neck, then his chest.   He glanced at his watch.  “Shit!”  He caressed her hair lightly.  “You really do have to go,” he said gently with a hint of honest disappointment.

She rose slowly from the crouched position she was now in.  “I know.”  She looked into his eyes, her lower lip purposely sticking out in a pout.  He kissed her gently.

At the door, he kissed her again, this time with more passion.  She seemed to hold on just a bit too long.  She pulled away, flashing a magnificent smile.  “Give me a call sometime.”  She walked around the corner. 

“Sure will,” he called to her as he closed the door.  “See ya later, um, Pizza Girl.”  He walked over to the table and picked up the phone book already opened to the Pizzeria section.  He ripped out a page, tore it up, put the pieces in a large ashtray, and set them aflame.  He took a cigarette from the pack on the table and lit it from the small fire starting to burn out in the ashtray.  He sat down and took a long drag.  Smoke and a content laugh escaped his lips.

As David finished his cigarette the doorbell rang.  “Coming.”  He extinguished the butt and headed to the door.

“Let us in.”  There was a banging.

“Us?”  David opened the door.  There stood John and his current girlfriend Vickie.  They both held brown paper bags with potato chips and pretzel rods peeking out above the top.

“Are you just gonna make us stand here?  This beer is heavy.”

David moved out of their way.  “Come on in.  You know where the fridge is.  Oh, I got some pizza a while back.  It should be cool enough by now.”  He glared at Vickie as she passed him laughing with John over a joke he must have told in the car.  “It’s guys’ night,” he thought.  “Why would he bring a chick?”

“I hope you don’t mind that I brought Vickie,” John answered the unspoken question.  “I talked with Bob and he said he was bringing a few friends, too.”  His tone turned too sweet, “Plus she just wouldn’t let me out of her sight.”  John pecked Vickie lightly on the cheek.  She returned the gesture.  David had seen this many times before with every girl John dated.  Some sort of mating ritual, he presumed.

“No, it’s fine.”  David’s enthusiasm started to drain.  And now Bob was gonna be over with his friends and their chicks.  “I shouldn’t have let, what is her name, Pizza Girl go so easily”, he thought.  “Yeah, right, and then Vickie would tell Lynn and I’d have to go without for a week while I talked my way back in to her good graces.  His mind reeled.  This was one of those situations that longed for the presence of Lynn.  He hated being uncoupled in a group of couples.

“Have you heard from Lynn since she left.”  Was that a note of sarcasm in Vicki’s voice?

“Yeah, she called last night to let me know she got in and to remind me to not smoke in the house.”  He lit another cigarette. 

“How come you didn’t go?”  Give me a break Vickie.

“I wasn’t in the mood for her folks reading me the riot act over premarital cohabitation.”

“So, when are you two gonna get hitched, anyway?”  What was this, the Spanish Inquisition?

“Hitched?  Is that actually a word?”  Maybe that would shut her up.

“Let it go,” John interrupted as he handed her a beer.  “It’s none of our business.”  He sat on the arm of the couch next to Vickie and started the ‘pecking’ ceremony again.

“Our business?”  David looked up perplexed.  “Maybe I should be talking to you about this hitched thing.”  John looked at Vickie and then turned to David.  He started to laugh.  Vickie joined in.  David, giving in to temptation, let himself laugh, too.

The doorbell rang.  David moved to the door and opened it, tears in his eyes.  “Come on in asshole.”

“Excuse me?”  That was definitely not Bob’s voice.  David looked up.  There before him stood the image of beauty.  Behind her, Bob and a group of five stood shivering, hands filled with bags of food or six packs of beer.  Bob held an open bottle of something, obscured by a brown paper bag.

“Hello, I’m David.”  She was gorgeous.

“Hello, I’m freezing.”  Bob pushed past her and almost collided with David.  “And I have to take a piss.”  He knew which way to head, and did.

“Come in, come in,” David motioned to the others.  They followed his direction without hesitation.  David followed the young woman with his eyes as she walked into the living room and tossed her coat on the slowly forming pile on the couch.  John and Vickie exchanged greetings and introductions with the new group as David gathered up the coats.  He went to his bedroom and tossed the coats on his bed.  He could still smell the light scent of a too sweet lemony perfume.  “Pizza Girl, where are you now?”  He laughed as he reentered what had definitely turned into a party.

“Give me a hand.”  David turned to John, motioning to the card table.  Vickie grabbed the cards and chips as the two men folded up the table.  David passed Bob coming out of the bathroom as he carried the table to the spare bedroom beyond.  “Who’s the chick?”

Bob had obviously started partying hours earlier.  “Don’t know, she drove Sean here.”  He took a swallow from the mystery bottle and walked, well stumbled, to the living room.

“Who’s Sean?”  His voice was drowned out by the stereo that someone had just turned on.

“So how’s Lynn?”  Vicki’s sarcastic voice came from behind.  She had followed David into the spare room and was closing the door behind herself.

“She’s okay, I guess.  You talk to her, why not ask her yourself.”  He tried to maneuver around her but she blocked his only exit.

“I haven’t spoken with her in a few days.  And you know we don’t talk about everything.”  She took a long pull from the bottle of beer she was holding.

“Don’t go there,” David thought.  He fell into a chair.  Vickie took a final drink from her beer and placed the empty bottle on a shelf.  She approached him slowly.

It was two months ago.  Lynn, Vickie, John, and David had gone out for dinner.  It was one of those nights that you felt like getting dressed up, drinking overpriced wine, and eating food that was just too expensive for your budget.  They shared three bottles of wine at the restaurant and another two when they returned to Lynn and David’s apartment.  Lynn, being the petite woman she was, crashed on the couch, falling immediately to sleep.  David, being the large man that he was, was the least drunk of the quartet.  He offered the spare room to the other two.  “Can’t sleep in a strange bed,” John informed his friend.

“Tell me about it,” Vickie retorted, louder than she had wanted.

“I’ll take you home and you can get your car tomorrow.  Not too early, I have a feeling Lynn’s gonna sleep in.”  They all laughed and headed out the door.

John was the first to be dropped off.  He offered Vickie housing for the evening but she declined, something about a headache from all the smoking.  This was the first time David witnessed the ‘pecking ceremony’ and he hoped it would be the last.  Needless to say, it wasn’t.

When David pulled up in front of Vicki’s building she asked if he’d walk her to her apartment.  It seems a light was out in the hallway and she was nervous about going in herself.  David made a sarcastic crack about it being all right for him to come back through the darkened hall as he parked the car.  They were laughing as they got out.  As they approached the apartment through a well-lit corridor, guess the landlord finally did something about it, Vickie offered David to come in for a cup of coffee.

“Well, I don’t know, it’s late and . . .”

“Come on, one cup of coffee.  I don’t think I can get to sleep and the company would be nice.  Hey, it’ll give us a chance to get to know each other if I’m gonna be dating your best friend.”

The logic seemed impeccable.  On top of that, he wasn’t that tired nor too thrilled about returning to Lynn’s snoring.  “What the hell.”  He followed her in.

The apartment was small and almost vacant.  There was a couch, a coffee table, a TV on a folding table, and a combination radio/record player/tape deck sitting on the floor.  “Have a seat,” she motioned to the empty side of the couch.  The other side was piled with newspapers, junk mail, and magazines.  He moved to the couch as she went to the kitchen, began to remove some of the stack, thought better of it, and sat on the floor.  He flipped through a small stack of records then began looking through some tapes.

“Mind if I put on some music?”  He called to her finding a seventies compilation with a few songs he liked.

“Be my guest.  By the way, how are you gonna want it?”

“I’m sorry?”  He nearly dropped the tape.

“Your coffee.”  She poked her head from around a wall.  “Cream, sugar, black?”

“Dark tan and a spoon and a half of sugar.”  He placed the tape in the deck and turned it on.  “Where’s your bathroom?”

“Only door on your right.”

When David returned, Vickie was placing two mugs on the coffee table.  He noticed a lit candle in the center of the table that he hadn’t remembered from before.  “Hope it’s okay.”  She sat on the floor and gestured for him to join her.  “Oh, I love this music.”  Funny, so did he.  When he was younger he couldn’t wait until the disco craze ended.  Now he could stand it and actually liked some of the music.  He joined her on the floor and picked up the mug left for him on the table.  There was an awkward silence.  David only knew Vickie from meeting two times, tonight being one of them, and what John had told him.  In a rare moment, he was without anything to say.  He sipped at his coffee.  She almost had the perfect blend of cream and sugar, but there was something else.  David could taste the unmistakable flavor of whiskey.  He sipped some more.

“Could you excuse me?”  Vickie got up and headed for the only door remaining.  He glanced in as she opened the door.  It was dark. 

“Probably the bedroom,” he thought as he took another sip of his spiked beverage.

Two songs later, The Hustle and Hot stuff, the door opened again.  Vickie stood there in a sheer, black negligée.  David recognized it from one of John’s stories.  “I had to get out of that dress.”  She reached for a light switch.  In an instant the room was dark.  A soft flickering from the candle was the only light.  Vickie sat next to David, took the mug from his hand, and leaned forward.  The Village People’s YMCA started playing.  She brushed David’s lips lightly with her own.

“What’s going . . .” She placed a single finger over his lips and then replaced it with her own lips.  It was a deep passionate kiss.  John had told him about this, he was right.  She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him closer.  He thought of resisting.  He didn’t.

David stood by the door looking at Vickie sleeping soundly.  The negligée strewn next to her on the floor.  He thought about waking her, decided against it, and left.  As he walked away from the door, he could hear YMCA playing once again on the stereo.

They had never spoken about this since.  And now . . .

Vickie crawled to where David was sitting.  She straightened up, still on her knees and placed a gentle kiss on his lips.  For the second time since they met, David was speechless.  She unbuttoned the top button of his shirt and kissed his neck.  The next button was undone.  She followed, once again, with a kiss.  She stopped and took a sniff.  “New cologne?  Smells like lemons.”  He didn’t answer.  She continued unbuttoning and kissing until there were no more buttons.  The music from the other room was getting louder.  David recognized it immediately.  YMCA.

“They’re playing our song.”  Vickie reached for his zipper.

David finally found his voice.  “Vickie, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

There was a banging at the door.  “Hey, what’s going on in there?”  John sounded buzzed.  “I hope you’re not in there screwing my fiancée.”  He burst into laughter and stopped pounding.

“Be right out,” David called to the door.  “You’re engaged?”  He was whispering to Vickie.

“Yeah, he asked me on the way here.”  She sounded apathetic.  “I said yes.”  She pulled down David’s zipper.

Fifteen minutes later David and Vickie exited the room.  David was paging through a Dictionary.  He stopped on a page and pointed to an entry.  “There, exactly what I said.  I hate to say I told you so, but . . .” Vickie tapped him on the arm.  He looked up and saw that nobody was paying attention.  Their little charade was unnecessary.  Bob was on the floor, asleep.  His arm was around a sleeping girl that David hadn’t met.  John, the man who must have been Sean, Harry, and a little blond were in a deep conversation about the increasing cost of cigarettes and beer.  From the bottles and ashtrays surrounding them, it didn’t seem that they were being affected too badly.  That girl, the one who drove Sean, sat alone on the couch, nursing a beer.  Vickie stepped over Bob and joined her fiancée, wrapping her arm in his.  She glanced over at David and gave him a wink then joined in the group’s conversation.  David walked to the couch.

“Hi, I’m David.  I guess we got off to a bad start.”

She took his hand.  It was soft and warm.  “Jackie.  Interesting group of friends.”

“They’re a bit odd, but harmless.  Can I get you another beer?”

“Sure.”  Her smile brightened.

David weaved his way into the kitchen to retrieve a beer.  He stumbled over Bob, stirring him slightly, on the return trip.  He opened the beer and handed it to Jackie.

“Thanks.”  She rocked slightly, holding the beer tightly in both hands.

A new song started.  Under the Boardwalk.  David’s ears perked as he turned to the rest of the group.  The conversation in the corner stopped and John caught David’s eye.  David nodded and stood up.  He half turned to Jackie.  “Excuse me.”  The group got together in a circle and started to sing, using their beer bottles for microphones.  As the song continued, they went through a routine they had done hundreds of times.  When the song ended David returned to Jackie and the group conversation started again.  It was as if nothing had occurred.  “Just something we do.”  His tone was a bit apologetic.

Jackie laughed.  “I thought it was great.”

“If you liked that, just wait.”  He returned her smile.

The evening continued.  Twenty-two songs later -- including performances for Stop! In the Name of Love, the theme for Hawaii Five-Oh, YMCA (David couldn’t look at Vickie who was giggling nervously), and David’s solo of I Left My Heart in San Francisco – the apartment was in a shambles.  There were empty beer bottles all around, two stains from spilled beer, and a fog that had formed from the cigarettes and cigars.  David had spent the better part of the evening talking with Jackie.  He learned about her childhood, college days, and ex-boyfriends.  David knew that the way to a woman’s heart was by listening.  How many times had he heard the complaint about how men only want to talk about themselves?  His unique M. O. rarely failed.

And now all that was left of the party was overflowing ashtrays, half empty beer bottles, and another in a series of one-night relationships.  David looked out at the sunrise as he heard a door opening.  Funny, it really sounded like two doors opening.

“Look David, we have to talk.”  Shit it was Lynn.  He turned to the hall where he expected her head to come around any second.  There, blocking his view, was Jackie.

“Coming back to bed, sweetie?”  She wore a coquettish grin and nothing else.

“What the hell happened here?”  Lynn had made it around the corner.

“Who the fuck is she?”  They were in such perfect synch it could have been rehearsed.

David couldn’t speak.  It didn’t matter.  He took a drag on his cigarette and rested his head in his hands.

[Author's note: This was originally intended to be a multi chapter story, but to be honest, after this chapter I found I couldn't write anymore.  Why?  I really disliked the main character.  I just couldn't write him anymore.  I've read this thing a number of times over the years and still feel the same way.  What an ass.  ggg]