Chapter 5

I was jarred from my memories by the thrum thrum thrum of Martin's fingers on the tabletop. Apparently I had been sitting with the cell phone to my ear for at least a minute without saying a word. I assume that Martin could also tell that no words were flowing from the other end of the line either. The lack of interaction was obviously making him restless.

I could still feel the humor and the heart and the stirrings of attraction when thinking of that first afternoon with Sherree and the boys, a those feelings only deepened the sense of betrayal that was rending my heart. On the other end of the phone, I could hear Sherree breathing, but it seemed she was waiting for me to break the silence. I harkened back to a conversation we once had about the artifice of Vegas, about how everyone seemed to playing games inside and outside of the casinos. I wondered if she'd remember.

"Well... sweetheart." That last was said with just a bit of the bile I felt for being lead into this situation. "It would seem to me that you've played the Vegas game very well indeed. Congratulations."

The puzzled silence on the other end of the line gave way to a gasp, presumably of recognition. And then, though perhaps I was only fooling myself, I thought I heard a small sob, that catch of breath that comes just before tears begin to flow. Annoyed with the theatrics, I decided to press on.

"I believe Martin thinks you have something to say to me?"

I heard a deep breath on the other end of the line. When Sherree finally did speak, her voice cracked badly, as if she'd been gargling with sand.

"Y-yes, Peter," she got out, before stopping to clear her throat and try again. "I have something I very badly need you to know. I need you to listen closely and try to understand. I need you to listen, dear, to these words in your ear, I'll be very clear, don't ever you fear."

If ever I needed all the skills I'd ever learned about controlling my reactions and maintaining a poker face, perhaps at this one moment in time they were the most necessary. I think I might have gripped the phone just a bit more tightly in reaction to her words, but I don't think Martin noticed that as he studied my face. I managed to continue to look slightly pissed, something which I'm sure pleased him to no end.

Except now, I was extremely pissed, and yet extremely relieved as well. With one sentence, she'd managed to let me know that she was not a part of whatever was happening... that she was a victim being held hostage, much as I was.

All because of a simple rhyme.

After that first "date" at Sherree's house, I began to do something I'd never tried with any other woman... the time-honored ritual of courtship. I had spent too much time trying to keep up the façade of "playboy entertainer" to really know what it was like to want to be around someone simply because I wanted to get to know that person better. More than that, while I had often given small, expensive gifts to my various bed-mates, I knew that Sherree would likely act negatively if I started showering her with baubles or money. I could tell that she was proud of her independence, and any attempt to buy her affections through gifts or influence would just driver her away from me.

And then I had an idea...

Which is why I was bouncing up-and-down in Sherree's backyard the next Saturday afternoon, two little boys beside me. I had called one of the local toy stores and purchased a trampoline, arranging for it to be delivered and set-up at Sherree's house that Saturday morning. Sherree had agreed to another of our "brunch" dates, and I was sitting at the table with Charlie and Chet when the doorbell rang. Sherree, who was standing at the stove cooking, looked a bit startled (as Charlie had said the previous Saturday, no one ever really came to visit his aunt). She looked at the eggs cooking, and then looked at me as if trying to decide something. Perhaps deciding that leaving me in charge of something on the stove might be a disaster of epic proportions, she jerked her head toward the door and asked, "Would you mind... ?"

In fact, I didn't mind at all. I asked the boys if they'd come with me as bodyguards, in case someone bad was at the door. Charlie laughed and nodded, while Chet gave me his "you're crazy" expression, though he got up and headed for the door as well. In less than a minute I had the delivery men directed around to the back of the house to begin setting things up. Charlie and Chet were puzzled at first, but then they saw the big trampoline mat sitting on the back of the truck. Charlie started jumping up and down, unable to contain his excitement, and I quickly took both boys through the front door and out into the yard.

"Guys... this is a surprise for your aunt. Well, and for you, too, but mostly for her okay? I want us to go back into the kitchen and try to keep Sherree as busy as we can, so that she'll be really surprised when we take her out back and show her the trampoline. Can we do that?"

At that point, Chet smiled and nodded. I'm not sure he was all that enamored of the trampoline, but he liked the idea of a surprise gift for his aunt. Charlie nodded his head up and down like a bobble-head, eager to get the preliminaries over with so he could outside and bounce like a super ball. We hurried back inside and resumed our places at the table, where Sherree was already started to place eggs and sausage on our plates.

"Who was at the door?"

"Oh just some delivery guys. Some doorknob down the block bought a trampoline, and they were looking for directions."

She shrugged her shoulders, satisfied. Then Charlie jumped up onto his chair and started bouncing in place, shouting "I want a trampoline! I want one, too!" I couldn't help but look over at Chet and wink, as Sherree hurried over and forced Charlie to sit back down. What surprised me is that Chet waited until his aunt couldn't see his face... and then he did a slow, sly wink of his own.

"Damn, but I like this kid!" I thought as we shared a grin across the table. Sherree finally managed to get Charlie settled down, and we progressed to eating eggs, sausage, and pancakes. With the chatter around the table and sound of silverware hitting plates, there was no clue that anything out-of-the-ordinary was going on in the backyard.

When it came time to clean up, I helped the boys gather up the empty plates and took them to the sink, which Sherree had already filled with water and dishwashing liquid. Both Chet and Charlie looked at me with anticipation, but I slowly shook my head to indicate it wasn't time to spring the surprise. They both nodded, and asked if they could be excused. Sherree had been putting things in the refrigerator as we conferred silently, but she stood up and looked at them when they asked if they could get away from the table.

"And who's going to help me with the dishes?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

Without hesitating, both the boys pointed at me, yelling "Him!", and then ran from the room, pounding up the stairs to their indoor play area... which, if I'm not mistaken, had a window which looked down on their new toy in the backyard.

I grinned at the boys' antics and started rolling up my sleeves to indicate I was ready to get to work. Sherree shook her head, seemingly irritated, and then moved over to the various pans which sat atop the stove.

"I don't know what's gotten into those two. They generally don't like anybody hanging around me. But you I don't know if its jealousy or the fact that they feel left out when I'm dating somebody, because the guy always wants to dominate my time and not make them a part of it. But you! They act like they've known you for ages! Just yesterday, Chet was asking me if you were coming over to teach him another magic trick this weekend, and that's when I told him you were coming over today. Though you'd never know it just from looking at him, I could see he was VERY happy." She stopped moving the pans around on the stove, picking up a towel to wipe her hands.

"And that bothers you, does it?" I could see the tension in her shoulders, the wrinkles of thought in her forehead.

"Yes, it does." She sat down at the table, reaching for her coffee cup, only to find it empty. I quickly moved to the coffee maker, grabbing the carafe and filling her cup so she wouldn't have to get up. She nodded her thanks and looked at me over the rim as I sat down across from her.

"I'm going to be blunt, Peter. Your reputation as a womanizer precedes you everywhere in this town. I'm sure there are more than enough sluts here and in L.A. that you don't have to go home to an empty bed any night. I don't want to be cruel, but your nickname around the Bellagio is "Deuce Bigalow." I didn't understand the reference, and my confused look brought a smile to her face. "I see you never saw the movie. I'll put it very simply. "Deuce Bigalow" was a comedy about a guy who was about the sorriest excuse for a gigolo there ever could be. But one of the ways he referred to himself was as a 'man-whore.' I supposed we'd call you that... except its a little less crude to say 'Here comes Deuce Bigalow!' as opposed to 'Here comes the man-whore!'"

I have to admit, Sherree's words had a mixed impact on me. On one hand, that's exactly the image I wanted to portray to the outside world — a frivolous, constantly prowling "man-whore." On the other, I was sitting across from someone who didn't want or need anything from me, and to whom I was finding myself more and more attracted. I don't think anyone would want to be looking that person in the eyes and hear the words "gigolo" and "man-whore" used in reference to himself. I was beginning to think I was in trouble.