When I was young my Grandfather used to read the paper to me. One of his favorite colomnists was a woman named Erma Bombeck. I got the idea for this story from the title of one of her books. As ususal thanks to Mikothebaby for editing this story. If you like it please let her know that her work is appreciated by someone besides me.
Refusing to let go of the past is the surest way of not having a future.
God damn it. I hated mornings like this one. It was a crisp, clean, spring morning with a sense of renewal in the air. The birds were singing, the sun was shining, the leaves and the grass were beginning to turn green, I was miserable. I wish that I was like Storm from the X-men and the weather could reflect my moods. It would be a completely different day. The sky would be gray and the air would be as cold as my mood.
As I jogged the last few steps down my block, one of my neighbors, who was outside trying to get her lawn mower started waved at me. I waved back in a far more cheerful gesture than I felt. That was good I told myself. Just keep pretending to be cheerful and no one will know how you really feel.
I had a satisfied little smile on my face. The smile was actually more due to the fact that I'd pulled off another day without breaking down than a reflection of my actual mood.
As I came up to my house, I noticed an unfamiliar vehicle in my driveway. It was parked right behind my Grabber Orange 2009 Mustang GT. As I slowed down to a walk, I recognized the truck. Sarah had driven it once or twice when she needed to bring loads of her things over to my house. She had so much shit here that a lot of people thought she lived with me.
Seeing the truck forced me to make my smile not bigger just happier, I had to keep up a good front for her. I was ready for her to either try and tug on my heartstrings and beg to go back to what we had or barring that, for her to stoically go about collecting her belongings and get the hell out of my life. Shit, if necessary I'd even help her move her stuff.
I was slightly disappointed when I got to the front of the truck and saw not Sarah but some guy. He wasn't big and imposing or small and wimpy, he was just a guy. He had on a baseball cap over his graying hair and he wore a red and white flannel shirt over jeans and tennis shoes. He couldn't have been more ordinary if he'd tried.
"Hey Bill," he said as I walked up.
"You must be, uhm Bobby, her brother," I said, making sure to keep up my smile.
"Uhm huh?" he said, looking at me.
"I'll give you a hand loading her stuff," I said. "Give me a couple of minutes to shower and change into some dry clothes while you go through and figure out what you can take in the first load."
He looked at me curiously and then smiled. "God damn you're good," he said. "Probably one of the best I've ever seen."
"The best what?" I asked.
"Liars," he said, looking me straight in the eye.
"I'm not lying," I snapped. "I really will help you move her stuff. I just need to take a shower. I just ran ten miles."
"You run ten miles every morning except Friday, Saturday and Sunday," he said. "Friday morning is your day off. Saturday you only run five so you'll have more energy for whatever you and Sarah do that day. Sundays are your long run day when you're getting ready for a marathon. I'm not talking about you not helping me get ready to move your wife's belongings out of your house. I'm sure you'd do that and more. What I'm talking about is your feelings. You're even lying to yourself. You're actually so good at lying that you almost believe it yourself."
"For future reference, it's the eyes that you really have to work on," he continued. "That's what gave you away. You have that fake ass little smile down pat. But as you got close to me, I could see all of the pain you're feeling written in your eyes. She hurt you pretty badly didn't she? Well this has been a pretty fucked up situation from the beginning. Maybe it was time this happened. Why don't we go out on that deck that she was always telling me about? You can bring me a beer and you have a Pepsi or some of that Apple juice that the two of you love so much."
I just looked at him strangely. "Come on Bill, we need to talk this out. Believe me, I know what it's like losing your wife. I lost mine to cancer, it was almost six years ago and I still hurt. I didn't come to get Sarah's things. She doesn't even know that I'm here. I came here to talk to you and figure out what the hell is wrong with the two of you."
I looked at him even more strangely. I couldn't get over him having the audacity to just come to my house to talk to me about something that wasn't his business. Especially since ... Well his sister and I weren't married. "Why do you keep calling Sarah, my wife?" I asked him. "We're not married. We're not in a romantic relationship of any kind."
He looked at me then and just started laughing. It wasn't a quick snort or a derisive guffaw. It was a full bellied, knee slapping, outburst of genuine mirth.
"Yeah," he said, when he got control back. "She told me the same thing. You should also know that this isn't really her fault. She got some bad advice from someone who used to be her friend. But my sister is susceptible to that considering she's pretty fucked up in the head. That part is your fault. I just hope that you're man enough to admit to it after we talk. And this is going to take some time to solve. Years of abuse aren't going to just melt away in one day."
"Hold on a God damned minute," I said. "I have never abused your sister. I've never once hit her, screamed at her or cursed at her."
"Nope you didn't," he said. "In fact you damn near killed her with kindness. That makes it even worse don't you think?"
"Exactly what the fuck are you talking about?" I asked. I didn't understand any of what he was getting at.
"I think I've got it all figured out now," he said. "It's all about strength isn't it? Or maybe, it's a facade of strength, right? The only time that someone needs to be that strong is when they think they're weak. They project an aura of invincibility because they don't want to be hurt again." He tilted his head and looked at me as if he was psychic. "This didn't start with my sister, did it? Someone hurt you before you ever met her. And that's what stilted your whole marriage to my sister. And now recent events caused her to do something really stupid that's put your whole weird ass marriage on the line."
"Why do you keep calling it a marriage?" I asked.
"Because Bill, that's what it is," he said. "Now come on let's get out to that deck and start talking. We need to figure this out before the two of you do something even stupider. And I like my beer cold. You'd probably better bring two of them. This has all the makings of a two beer conversation."
As we walked through the house, he looked around and smiled as he noticed things. I noted that he seemed to know the story behind some of the things that Sarah and I'd picked up in our travels. My rack of swords and weapons of all kinds didn't seem to faze him in the least. It was as if he expected them. "No guns, huh?" he said with a smile.
"I'm going to grab a shower," I said. "The kitchen is that way and the door to the deck is in there. You can stop off and grab your own beers. All we have is..."
"I know," he said. "You only have Dos Equis. You don't always drink beer ... Shit you don't drink period, but you just like the fucking commercials. Sarah told me. It's one of the things that she lo ... likes most about you."
I knew what he was going to say but I let it slide. I had other things on my mind. Like why the hell I was going to talk to him anyway? Sure he was Sarah's brother, but things between Sarah and I were over. I wondered if he even knew what his sister had done. I wonder if he knew just how casually she'd thrown away everything we had. As the warm water of my shower cascaded over me, I had to put away a pang of longing as I remembered that only days ago Sarah and I had stood in this shower together, lovingly caressing each other under the same warm water. She'd turned around with her back towards me and bent over, looking at me over her shoulder. "Too bad you're so tired from your run..." she'd begun. " ... Or else we could..."
Before she'd even finished her statement, I was in her. Pulling her brutally against me and plunging my dick into her in one moment. I put one hand on her firm tummy and the other on one of her large breasts and pulled her against me over and over again as she hissed in pleasure. She tilted her head around and back and her tongue inserted itself into my mouth seeking mine. Her arms reached behind her and pulled me into her further. "Ohhh God, Bill, I..." she said as she started to shiver with the onset of her climax. I had to hold her up because, as usual, when she came, her legs got weak. She turned around still slippery from a mixture of sweat and soapy water and kissed me again. "God," she said again. Her smile was tinged with a sadness that only we understood. But it was only for a moment.
"So what are we going to do today?" she asked.
"It's your turn to pick," I replied.
I shook my head and threw away the memory. I'd never do that with her again and her brother was waiting for me downstairs. I turned off the shower and dressed in casual clothes. As I passed through the kitchen on my way to the deck, I grabbed a small bowl of the fruit salad that Sarah had made two days before. I smiled again thinking of days last summer when we had literally lived on fruit, cold cuts and soda.
I sat down at the table across from Bobby.
"You guys have a beautiful place here," he said. "Did you know that even though Sarah doesn't officially live here, she considered this her home?"
I just rolled my eyes.
"Her apartment is pretty much empty. She gave most of the furniture to my daughter when Emily moved into her own place two years ago. I don't even know why she ever bothered to go there when her heart was here. The two of you really need to work on your acting skills. Everything about this place has her touch all over it. There are at least as many pictures of her here as there are of you. All of her favorite stuff is in your refrigerator. And as her brother, I really didn't want to see her panties drying in your laundry room. Why can't the two of you just admit it?"
"Just admit what?" I asked. "We were friends nothing more. She worked for me and we hung out together. Okay we hung out a lot. But there was nothing going on between us." He just looked at me with that nearly psychic look again.
"Okay, Bobby, we're both adult men, right? Your sister and I were uhm, friends with benefits. But she decided to pursue other avenues. It happens. We got along great and we also took care of certain needs for each other. I mean everyone has those needs and since neither of us had anyone in our lives ... well you know?"
"Yeah, I know," he said smiling. "I know you were both fooling yourselves. Well, you were mostly fooling yourself and she put up with it. That was really one of the worst ways that you abused her and in the end that was part of what just made her snap."
"I mean, Bill, you're a good looking guy. You have a successful business and more money than you need. You could have gotten yourself a woman without very much trouble. And you could have easily gotten someone better looking than my sister."
"See," he smiled, looking at me. "When I said you could have gotten someone better looking than my sister, you got pissed. Your mouth even moved a bit but your eyes told me that you wanted to kick my ass for even saying it." He started laughing again.
"You're going to get even more pissed at me, Bill, for what I'm about to say," he said. "You love Sarah. That's why this whole thing is fucked up."
"I do not," I said loudly.
"Do not," he echoed sarcastically. "What are you six?"
"Don't get me wrong, Bill. My sister isn't a troll. She's an attractive woman. She's especially hot, if you like your women a little thick. She has that big old butt and some really nice tits but she's got a slim waist too. If you're into that hour glass shape she's your girl. But it's more than that for you isn't it, Billy? Despite all of your protestations and your little friends with benefits bullshit, you love my sister, don't you?"
"Do not," we both said simultaneously, which caused him to erupt in laughter again.
"Alright Bill, let's get started," he said finally. "Tell me about what you went through before you met Sarah. Let's hear the story of why you put my sister through all of this hell for the past five years."
He was looking at me as if he really expected me to just spill my guts to him. I'd never told anyone how I'd fucked up my first marriage or why I decided not to ever do it again. But something in his eyes just made me want to let it all out. Maybe if I could talk about it just once, it would serve to clear out some of the bullshit in my head. Maybe it would give me a new perspective on what I was doing wrong to cause not one but two women to cheat on me.
I woke up and reached for Bill with a smile on my face. I'd had an awful dream. I'd dreamed that we'd broken up. Well we couldn't really break up because we weren't really together; at least not officially. But the truth was that I loved Bill Reed more than life itself and I wanted to have his babies. Suddenly I realized where I was and why and I started crying all over again. We HAD broken up. After the best five years of my entire life I had fucked up so badly that I was sure there was no way to fix it. I know how Bill looked at betrayal. I know how he'd handled it with his first wife and I knew that since we weren't even married, I couldn't even hope for what she got. What she got was evicted from his life with no hope of parole. My tears ran down my face and caused it to hurt. The salt in the tears from the day before had dried on my face irritating my skin and the new torrent of tears made it hurt all over again.
The banging on my door that had awakened me in the first place resumed and I went to the door hoping against hope that it was Bill.
When I opened the door and saw Theresa standing there, my mouth hardened and I started to slam the door in her face.
"Damn, you look awful," she said. "Anyway, I need your help."
Theresa had never been known for her tact. She pushed right past me and into the apartment. "You really need to just rent this place out," she said. "You barely even have any furniture here. How often do you actually come here?"
"What the fuck do you want Terri?" I asked her in as icy a tone as I could manage. "Haven't you done enough to me yet? Have you come to just shoot me in the head and put me out of my misery?"
She looked at me like I had fallen off of the stupid tree and hit every branch on the way down. "You didn't tell him yet?" she asked.
"How can I?" I sobbed. "He won't talk to me."
"Well you probably shouldn't have listened to me, then," she snapped. "Anyway, we have a bigger problem. You fucked up my little brother's life and he's depressed. You have to help me fix it."
I looked up at her like she was the crazy one. "How the hell is it my fault?" I asked.
"I didn't say it was your fault. I just said you had to help me. Well ... indirectly this is your fault," she continued. "You were so miserable that I had to try to help you. So I came up with an idea that probably wasn't a good one. But it was your misery that caused it so even though it was my plan, you share the responsibility." Somewhere in all of that she lost me.
"My brother, Frankie's girlfriend got a visit from one of Billy's PI's," she said. "They told her that Frankie had ruined a relationship by having a one night stand or maybe more than a one night stand with another woman. That woman, being you, of course. She got so angry at Frankie that she called off their engagement. Since Frankie works or worked for her father, he got fired. So now he's lost his girl and his job for no reason. We have to help him."
"What do you want me to do?" I asked.
"Well, you could talk to her and tell her the whole story," said Terri.
"You could too," I said. "I'm sorry for your brother but I'm just not in the mood to leave here. Maybe I'll never leave here again."
"She doesn't believe it coming from me. she doesn't like me at all. Anyway Sarah, we'll find you another guy," she said. "We'll find you someone better; someone who doesn't have all of Bill's hang-ups."
"Terri, just get your meddling ass out of my apartment, now," I snapped at her.
"Damn it, I'm sorry," she said. "What is it about this guy that's got you wrapped this tight?"
"Just go, Terri," I told her. As she stormed out and slammed the door behind her, I thought back to the first time I'd met Bill Reed.
It was five years ago at the Woodward Dream Cruise. The Woodward Dream Cruise is a really amazing event. It's kind of like a rolling car show through the heart of Detroit. Well to be truthful, the Dream Cruise doesn't actually take place in Detroit. It's a totally suburban affair that starts embarrassingly less than fifty yards away from the Detroit city limits and goes all the through to Pontiac, Michigan.
You can see any and every type of vehicle driving by. There are all kinds of incredible cars, trucks, motorcycles and oddities. One guy even drove a motorized toilet that first year that I was there.
Anyway, I wasn't involved in the actual Dream Cruise event. Each small city and suburb along the route has their own events and displays. Ferndale, Michigan has one of the best. It's called Mustang Alley and it is a huge all Mustang display and contest. About three years before that show my dad had passed. His passing, coming closely on the heels of my brother, Bobby, losing his wife and my divorce had just devastated us. Dad had left Bobby the house, he'd left me a broken down 67' Mustang and a little bit of money. I'd decided to sell the car to see what I could get for it and just move away.
At least that had been the plan. I took one look at that car and remembered how much my dad loved it. A 67 Shelby GT 500 was a rarity. I wondered why Dad hadn't left Bobby the car and me the house. Instead of selling the car, I decided to restore it. Somewhere along the way, I started to love the car too. The guys who were restoring the car came up with the plan of converting the car into a GT500E. When I saw the designs they had I knew that it was perfect and my Eleanor was born.
The Dream Cruise that year was her coming out party and mine too. Over the previous twenty four months that it took to restore the car, with me helping with a lot of the work, I'd gotten over most of my personal tragedies. I saw my dad in the car every time I looked at it and I knew he'd have loved what I'd done with it.
I also saw that my ex-husband had moved onto another victim. Even as he possessively held onto to her hand in the market where I saw them, I noticed the tell-tale signs of his love in the bruises on her arms and the too thick makeup on her face. Better her than me, I thought. I'd dated a couple of guys but hadn't really felt anything special until that day at the Cruise.
From the first second that I pulled Eleanor into her assigned display spot, I had people, mostly guys staring at her. Since there weren't very many women at these kinds of shows except for the car show model types and sharks looking for men who can afford a toy car, I also attracted a lot of attention.
Most of the guys who came after me were either guys who wanted my car and figured if they got into my pants they'd get into her driver seat, or guys who already had a car of their own and figured it would be cool to have a woman with her own car as well.
Neither type appealed to me. I wasn't a babe in the woods even then. At 32 years old, I'd been around the block a few times and I knew what I didn't want in a man. This time around the track, if I was going around the track again, it would be for someone who really loved me and made me feel good about myself.
My first husband had been all about himself. He often told me that I wasn't pretty enough and I should be glad to be with him no matter what he did. My ass was too big and since I was over thirty my tits would be on the floor soon. I was also too short and my legs were too thick. After hearing it for over ten years, I have to admit he got to me and I believed it.
I wish I could say that I was strong and I extracted myself from that situation immediately, but I can't. I put up with it for far longer than I should have. But once I decided to go, I moved quickly and decisively.
So there I was at the Cruise. I was sitting next to Eleanor, wearing a t-shirt that I'd bought at the Cruise that morning and my favorite, comfortable, old, too-tight jeans. I got up from my folding chair for a hot second to go and get something to eat. When I started back I saw this guy going up and down both sides of the display area. He was taking pictures of all of the cars. He also spoke to almost every one of the owners of the cars. I thought he was cute and I was kind of looking forward to him talking to me and taking pictures of Ellie.
So I put my sunglasses on and leaned back in one of my most seductive poses to wait. It didn't take long. He got to the car next to mine, a really nice 2010 V6 convertible in a custom shade of red with a contrasting interior. This guy was cool. Just from listening to the way he spoke to the car's owner I got the impression that he just loved Mustangs. He wasn't a snob about it, he loved them all. He liked V6's just as much as their more high powered cousins and he seemed to appreciate all eras of the pony car.
I loved his voice and the enthusiasm he got in it when he talked about the cars that we both loved. For the last five years of my marriage, I don't think I was ever actually turned on. I think it had gotten to the point where I just endured it. So it came as a shock to me that listening to this guy talking to the sixty year old guy who owned that red Mustang had my panties dripping.
I heard him thank the guy for talking to him and shake his hand and then I saw him head towards me and walk right by. To say that I was crushed was an understatement. It just made no fucking sense. I tried to figure out why he'd skipped me. I looked across from me and saw him talking to a guy with a sweet black and Red early 90's 5.0 GT. It was a nice car but not nearly as rare or as cool as my Eleanor. I decided that there was no reason for him not to take pictures of my car and I got pissed. I went back to the booth halfway down the block to get something to drink. Fuck him I thought. No sooner than I left though he must've made a beeline for my car. He was taking pictures of it from almost every angle. Several times I saw him just stop and shake his head.
Just from the way he was looking at my car, I got jealous. I headed back from the food stand and saw him jet away from her and start talking to the guy on the other side again. I had an idea. I grabbed the arm of a guy walking down the street.
"Which one is your car?" I asked him. He looked at me crazily.
"I don't have a car in this show," he said. "But boy I'd like to. As soon as I get a job, I'm getting a Mustang."
"Great," I said. "I'm sure that Ford will love you. How would you like a chance to pick up some women? Maybe you'll have a better chance of getting a car with a girlfriend."
He looked at me then and smiled. "Not me," I said quickly. "You need someone younger and prettier."
"What do I have to do?" he asked.
"See the car over there?" I pointed at my Eleanor. "I just need you to go over there and stand next to that car for a little while. I have a seat next to it. Sit down in the chair. If a guy comes over and asks you about it, tell him it's your car but your sister was watching it for you."
He nodded and went and sat next to Ellie. It took less than 20 seconds. As soon as he sat down, Billy was on him. I was sure that he had tons of questions for the guy. On one hand I felt better. It validated my theory that my car was indeed special and beautiful so I was happy. On the other hand I wondered what the hell was wrong with me, that a guy that I didn't even know disliked me so much that he'd skip my car to avoid me?
I looked over at Bobby. He took a long pull on his beer and laughed at me. He burped loudly and looked at my bowl.
"Cantaloupe, honey dew melon, pineapple, green grapes and cherries, that's one of her favorite concoctions," he said. "She even has you trained in the way you eat. Okay, we don't have all day. Let's hear this story of why you don't love your wife ... I mean my sister."
"Alright," I said.
"This all started back when I was twenty four. I met this girl at a party after work. Her name was Irene and we kind of fell for each other. We started dating and got married. We had a great life or so I thought. At first, we did everything together. We were almost never apart. She was everything to me. As time went on though, I guess like most couples we kind of settled in for the long haul. Things weren't new and fresh anymore, in fact they were kind of boring."
"I guess that our marriage was like most things in life. You spend all of your time and energy trying to get something. Then once you have it, you get used to it and pretty soon it isn't nearly as special or important as it once was. Over the years, Irene had settled in too. Don't get me wrong, we still loved each other but maybe we'd just gotten used to each other.
It wasn't my fault or her fault; it was just the way things go. I'm sure that I'd spent far too much time building up my business and making us financially secure. I often worked sixty plus hour weeks back in those days. So she probably resented the time I spent at work. She'd told me more than once that I was married more to my business than I was to her.
On the other hand, I was in love with success. After scraping and barely getting by for a number of years, I finally had enough cash flow to do whatever I wanted. I bought that first Mustang back then and was in love with it. Since I was a kid I'd always been into Muscle cars and Mustangs in particular. So that first Mustang, the Black one, that's out there in my garage even now, was important to me.
I'd also started running marathons, so I was in pretty good shape when I wasn't complaining about my injuries or how much my legs hurt.
I guess it was me that messed everything up, because I looked at my life and at my marriage and didn't think that I had everything I deserved. I was especially disappointed in the way Irene turned out.
Irene was really cute when we first met. She was short and petite. She was kind of pixyish. But over the years, she'd picked up a few pounds here and there. She wasn't built like Sarah, so the extra weight didn't look good on her. On the other hand, she also just didn't give a damn about her appearance. She didn't do anything with her hair so for convenience she just chopped it off short. Also, as she went past thirty, she started wearing these huge unflattering glasses. She wasn't really unattractive, she was just frumpy.
I guess she figured that we already had each other, so we had no one to impress. We were comfortable with each other. Maybe that was what made everything boring. In fact, when I think about it, our life wasn't really bad at all, it was just boring. And in retrospect, I am at least 50 percent to blame for it. Maybe if I'd taken more time away from work or taken more of an interest in Irene, things would have been different. But I didn't so they aren't.
You know that old saying the grass is always greener somewhere else? Well, it was that greener grass that is partially responsible for fucking up my marriage.
In those days, I worked really hard drumming up new clients for my business. Anywhere and everywhere that I went, if I saw or heard about someone who might be a potential customer, I was on them. At the same time, I was still the same old guy I used to be. I still hung out with a lot of my friends from both college and high-school.
One of my best friends at that time was James Kirk. Kirk and I had played little league and high-school baseball together. When we got older we'd chased girls together. Kirk had been married and divorce three times by the time he was 28. Kirk was a notorious pussy hound. Anyway, Kirk and I were having lunch and talking about old times in an outdoor cafeteria near my office when I first saw HER.
When she breezed into the café, every guy in the place followed her with their eyes. Like most of those guys, I was smitten. Rebecca was simply amazing in the weirdest way. She wasn't one of those twenty year old, blonde, Nordic, goddess, swimsuit models with an amazing rack and piercing blue eyes.
In fact, she was almost the opposite of that. She was kind of pretty in a girl next door sort of way. She had short, brown hair in one those flip under styles. Her breasts weren't huge or even large and she was a few years older than me. She was probably about 36 or 37, maybe even older, but that was how old she looked. But there was just something about the way she smiled and the way she walked that got everyone's attention.
She had this way of having her eyes kind of half open and half closed and just scanning the room and smiling at every man there. But each and every guy thought that she was smiling only at him. If I knew then what I know now things would be different. I'd have thrown some money on the table and walked away from there.
Anyway, that day she sat down to eat her lunch with one of her girlfriends and an obsession was born. I started eating lunch in that café every day just to catch a glimpse of her. Without ever once having spoken to her, I fell head over heels completely in love with what I thought she was like.
Rebecca was, in my mind, the woman that I should have married. She was perfect and pure, but in the bedroom, I was sure that once unlocked she'd behave like a perfect whore. I always stayed in the back of the café, hoping that she wouldn't notice me. I watched her for six months before I really went crazy. I made up all kinds of little fantasy scenarios about the way that we would meet. I imagined what she'd say and how she'd act. I was behaving kind of like a fifteen year old girl does with her first crush.
The only thing missing was me getting a notebook and writing our names and making little hearts around them. Part of the reason why I couldn't do that was because I didn't know her name yet.
So every day I was sitting there watching my perfect dream princess eat and imagining how perfect our life together would be. But every night I was going home to a woman that I was simply tired of and bored with. Irene never did anything wrong. In fact, her only crime was that she wasn't Rebecca.
Suddenly, she was too short for me and her legs weren't long enough. Her hair wasn't dark enough and it wasn't styled correctly. Anything she wanted to talk about didn't interest me. And, of course, none of it was really her fault. It was all me and my fantasy.
Kirk and I had lunch again and he noticed my interest. "She's a player," he said.
"What?" I asked.
"She's the kind of girl you could have for a while if you wanted her," he told me.
Then he told me to watch her very carefully. A guy walked past her table and dropped something. I couldn't tell whether it was a napkin, a rolled up piece of paper or a business card, but she looked at him and then picked it up and slipped it into her purse.
"Tell you what," he said. "Your birthday is coming up. I'll get you some info." Before I could say anything, Kirk got up and walked over to their table. Without any preamble or introduction, Kirk went into action. He walked right over to their table and sat down next to Rebecca. He pushed her away from him as if she was crowding him and stared directly into her friend's eyes.
Rebecca's friend, whose name I later found out was Bonnie, was an interesting woman. She was on paper far prettier than Rebecca and built better. She was also younger and nicer but around Rebecca, she was always the odd one out. It was like Rebecca just exuded sex appeal beyond her actual physical beauty and made most of the women in her vicinity just null.
Kirk had somehow sensed that and just went straight to the heart of the problem. He grabbed Bonnie's hand and stared into her beautiful blue eyes. She was so taken with Kirk ignoring Rebecca, which almost never happened, that she'd have done anything he wanted.
She gave Kirk her phone number on the spot and agreed to see him that evening. As Kirk returned to our table all smiles, I noticed Rebecca's laser like gaze on him and then me. She smiled at me from across the room and I was hooked even further though I didn't really understand what was going on.
The very next day, Kirk came into my office, though he didn't work for me and told me all about Rebecca. He told me her name and that believe it or not she was forty years old. She was also married and very unhappy in her marriage and yes she fucked around; a lot.
I couldn't believe that she was forty, but I didn't care. I couldn't believe that she was married, but in the end I didn't care. And I was sure that there were reasons for her fucking around. I was sure that once we got together she'd stop.
It's really funny that Kirk had the idea that I was just after a quick piece of Rebecca's ass and after I'd gotten it I'd go back to my marriage happier and fulfilled. And he was even more convinced that Rebecca was, as he'd first called, her a player. After he got his info on her, he always got this sneer in his tone when he talked about her. I guess in his mind he thought of her as just a sperm dump.
On the other hand, I still saw her as my fairy princess. Sure her halo had been dented a bit but I was sure that I could save her, make her happy and we'd have this perfect life together. I started imagining all of the scenarios around us meeting and getting together. I'd take her away from her husband who I imagined to be some brutish asshole that abused her and didn't deserve her.
There was only one fly in the ointment of my perfect fantasy life with Rebecca. I had to find a way to get Irene out of the picture.
So, as I saw Bill go over to the jobless wonder that I had sitting next to my car, I was pissed. The closer I got the more I found the situation funny. Bill was asking the guy all kinds of questions that he simply couldn't answer.
"Is this car a reproduction or a restored original?" he asked the guy.
"It's a Mustang," said the guy, smiling proudly.
"What kind of engine does it have?" asked Bill.
"Chrome," said the guy.
I stepped behind Bill and tapped him on the shoulder. "The car is a 67 Shelby GT500, but it originally wasn't an Eleanor. All of the parts for the conversion and the body kit were made by Shelby so in that regard it could be considered and original, but since there were actually only two Eleanor models made by Shelby this can't be considered an original."
"The engine is a Ford Racing performance modular V8. It puts out four hundred and twenty eight horse power."
He just looked at me with those green gray eyes of his and nodded his head and then he turned away.
"Hey, wait a minute," I said. "I answered your question, now you answer mine." He just nodded his head.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"Every year that I bring my car to the show, mine is the Grabber Orange 09 GT over there. Anyway, I always take pictures of all of the cars in the show. I ask questions to give me an idea about mods that I might want to do to my car and for cars I might like to buy."
"Are you gay?" I asked him. "Or is it just that you don't like ugly, chunky girls."
"I'm not gay," he said. "But I can't really say that I like ugly, chunky girls either. Do you know any so I could figure out what an ugly, chunky girl looks like?"
"You know, like me," I said. He just laughed at me then.
"You're nowhere near ugly," he said. "And your tummy is too small to be chunky. You just have a lot of goodies. Most of the guys coming here today will be staring at your jeans."
"Then why..." I began.
"I just don't have any room in my life any more for women," he said. "I mean they're okay, but there are just too many problems with them. They're kind of like Lamborghini's. They're beautiful to look at but they're just not practical. Who wants a car that you have to pay more for a brake job than the down payment for another car?" He shrugged his shoulders.
"Maybe it's not even the case of practicality," he continued. "I appreciate them but I just don't want to own one."
When he'd said, "beautiful," he'd been looking right at me.
"Thanks for telling me about your car," he said softly. "It's probably the nicest car here." As he turned to walk away, something told me that he was the man I was destined to spend the rest of my life with. Just from looking at him and listening to the way he spoke, I was smitten.
"Hey babe, can we go get something to eat now?" asked my stand in, the jobless wonder.
"You go right ahead," I said.
"But I thought that we had something?" he said. "Maybe we could go for a ride later?"
"I wouldn't get your hopes up," I said.
"Is it because I don't have a camera?" he asked. I just shrugged my shoulders. "Man it's like those rap stars always say. Bitches be crazy." He walked away looking back at me and then he turned away and kept walking.
For the rest of the day I watched Billy as he walked up and down the entire display. He must've taken at least one picture and probably more of every one of the more than 600 Mustangs on display. His own car was a honey. It was a 2009 GT that had been heavily modified. It had black racing stripes and gloss black bar billet details everywhere. The upper and lower grills were black billet. He had a splitter in black that matched his stripes and contrasted nicely with the orange paint. He had a black rear diffuser. Even the rims on the car were a very glossy black in a split five spoke design.
His engine was all chromed with black details as well. His shaker hood system was the first time I'd seen one of those. The functional scoop amazed me. The black scoop rose through and above an opening in his hood. His spark plug wires were the same orange as the body of the car. His car also put out more horsepower than Ellie did. I had no doubt that it was probably faster as well. One of the things that amazed me the most was that even looking under his car everything I saw was black, orange or chrome. I was sure that I was in love.