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     "Could it be personal? Problems at home?"

     "I got to tell you, things don’t look so good at home. His new wife, you know. The kid, Jules, gives him a hard time sometimes, but I don’t think she really means anything."

     "I like Jules," I admitted.

     "Yeah, she’s okay. Nothing like her mom."

     "Why do you say that?"

     "I think I told you too much already."

"Do you know anything about insurance?"

     He looked like he was avoiding something, so I repeated, "What does insurance have to do with this?"

     "The boss is not a well man. He's got some serious problems. He's been trying to get insurance lately but they keep turning him down. Maybe the blood test has something to do with that."

     Eureka! I figured that Reynolds needs a blood test to get insurance, but knows that the results would squash the deal, so he wants me to use Bruno's blood for the test instead.

     "What does Mr. No-Neck have to do with this?"

     "Who's that?"

     "That's what I'm asking you."  I described Mr. No-Neck as best I could.

     "I've said all I want to say. Just try to stay away from him."

     We stared at each other for a few minutes, and then I looked around the room. There were janitorial supplies all around, and some pictures of an Oriental family on the desk.

     "Your family?" I asked pointing to the pictures.

     "Them? No. The maintenance supervisor works down here. He’s usually somewhere in the building during the day so I figure we would have some privacy."

     "Where’s your office?"

     "Don’t have one. I work out of the car most of the time. I just find room around here when I need it."

     He looked at his watch.

     "We’ve been down here long enough. Let’s go."

     He stood up and I took his lead. We walked though the basement, up a flight of stairs, and out a side door. When we got to the corner of the building, he stopped.

     "Walk like you’re hurt."

     "Emotionally hurt or physically hurt?"

     "Don’t be a smart ass."

     "I just need my motivation here, that’s all. Am I weak at the knees? Is a leg broken? Do I hold my stomach? How’s my arm?"

     "You know, you talk too much."

     "I can figure it out."  I started to walk to the car, holding my back like it hurt real badly. Every other step I twisted my knee like I had trouble walking, and I moaned real loud. I heard Bruno say "Jesus" a few times, and I was happy that I was giving him a religious experience.

     After 20 feet or so, I stopped and held my head, shaking it back and forth, and then I grabbed my left arm and then my chest like I was having a heart attack.  I wanted to make sure I covered all of the bases.  When I got closer to the car, I stopped and held my hands straight out in front like I was having trouble seeing. I walked up to the car, feeling the fender and slid my hands until I reached the front door.  I took my keys out of my bag and bent down so my eyes were right in front of the lock, and opened the door.

     The first two acts went fine, I think, now for the grand finale.  I turned around and leaned back against the car, putting the back of my hand to my forehead. "Woe is me! Woe is me!  Rhett has left and Atlanta is burning. Get me my drapes and I will sew a beautiful gown for the ball. Woe is me!"

     I stood there a few seconds, just in case the audience was applauding, and then got in my car and drove off.  As I drove past the end of the building, Bruno was leaning back against the wall shaking his head.

     What I really didn't understand about this whole thing is where Mrs. Reynolds fit in. She didn't want Reynolds to get the insurance, and that could only mean one thing. There was more money in it for her if he didn't get the policy.

Chapter 15

     Friday was a special day. Ryan planned to drive down after work and take me out for dinner, under the condition that we don't do any shopping. He couldn't stay over because he had to work on the weekend. This would be the first time he saw my new place, and it had been almost two weeks since I last saw him.

     I rushed home from work, cleaned the car and myself, and stood in front of my closet for about fifteen minutes trying to figure out what to wear.  I actually spent much of Thursday night picking out an outfit, but changed my mind as soon as I was about to put it on.

     Ryan deserved something special, something sexy, but not too sexy because he couldn't stay the night. I wouldn't have minded a quickie, if you have to know, but I was feeling pretty tired and I think dinner was about all I could stand before passing out.  Even Ryan has his limits.

     Now most women would start picking out an outfit with the clothes, then the shoes and bag, and finally the earrings. I'm not most women.   I went first to the earrings. Ryan had seen all of my earrings, so I tried to figure what earrings he liked the most.

     No problem there. Ryan's favorite earrings are the monkeys. Each matching earring is a large monkey in a red and gold bellboy outfit, with a swinging tail, and hanging beads. I wore them on one of our first dates. He said, "I love your earrings. Do you want to monkey around?"  I said "Yes", and we went back to his place and spent the most amazing night in bed, on the sofa, and on the kitchen floor -- I forget in which order.

     With the earrings picked out, I needed something that went with red. I picked out a pair of black velvet stretch pants that showed off my legs, and a red and black sweater that showed just a hint of cleavage. To top it off, I decided on a pair of black suede shoes with two-inch heels and brass rivets on the toes and heels.

     I did my hair and make-up, and then waited downstairs for my prince to appear, fanning myself so my makeup didn't melt. I used the time to straighten up, do some paperwork and write some checks. I made out a check to Applebee's to pay for the meal we never finished last week, and one for my charge bill, which was getting a little overdue.

     Ryan rang the doorbell at 7 PM and I almost tripped running to the door. He looked great in a pair of black pants, a black turtleneck, and an orange pullover with black stripes around the neck. 

     I let Ryan straight in without the booties, it is worth cleaning up after him. He walked in and wrapped his arms around me, giving me a long hard kiss that made me dizzy. For a minute, I thought the hell with dinner, let's just go the bedroom and see how much shaking this old house can take, but I could tell from the dark rings under the eyes that he was tired. He's been working too hard; this was his second weekend of work in a row.

     So instead of going to the bedroom, we sat in the kitchen and talked a few minutes. He looked around the first floor of the house and told me he liked what he saw, and then we got ready to go.

     There are some nice restaurants down the shore, but only a few that we really like. We drove over to the Crab Trap and had a drink at the bar while we waited for a table. The Crab Trap is a place that is always crowded, even off-season. Early on, the crowd is mostly elderly folks from Ocean City who come for the specials. Later, the crowd changes to a slightly younger set that have a few drinks at the bar before eating.

     We were sitting at the bar when Lipschitz walked in with a woman on his arm. It's funny, but I never thought about Lipschitz having a personal life, maybe because I figured no woman would find him attractive.

At first glance, from across the bar, the lady with him looked attractive, with bright blond hair, jewelry, and nice clothes. As they got closer, however, I could get a better look at her. She must have been a good ten years older than Lipschitz, if not more, and with enough makeup to give my walls two coats of paint. Everything was just a little too much and a little too bright, and it looked like she was wearing her granddaughter's clothing.  I didn't know whom I felt sorrier for, her or Lipschitz.

"Hi Brooke," he yelled from halfway across the room.

When they got closer, I said, "Hi John."

"Are you going to introduce me to your boyfriend?"

"John Lipschitz, the lab manager where I work, this is Ryan Cook."

"This is Emily, my girlfriend. Hey, if you two get married you'll be Brooke Cook."

"Gee, thanks John. I never thought of that."

Just my luck, there were empty seats on both sides of us.

"Emily, why don't you sit next to Ryan? Just don't excite him too much," Lipschitz oozed. "I'll sit next to my girl Brooke here." Man, when this guy turns on the charm can anyone resist him?

"Don’t you want to sit next to Emily, John? We can move over." Please.

"No that's all right. I'll be seeing plenty of Emily later tonight. So Brooke, how long have you and your boyfriend been together?"

     "Don’t you think that at our ages, boyfriend and girlfriend sound a little funny?"

     "Hell, no. Don't be an old fuddy, Brooke. So, how long?"

     "A few years now. When did you meet Emily?"

     "Last week, in the video store. I went in to rent a movie and it was lust at first sight. Ha!"

I noticed that he laughed with his mouth open and you could see strands of saliva between his lips. Then he started coughing and I could feel a spray on my face. If I had a wire brush, I'd scrap a layer of skin off my face right then and there.  Instead, I took the napkin from under my drink and wiped my lips, cheeks, and forehead.

"You give towels with your showers?" I asked him.

"Hey, sorry about that Brooke. I just crack me up. How did that thing with Reynolds go?"

I almost choked. "What thing with Reynolds?"

"Taking his blood. At his house. You remember."

I wondered what made him bring that up now.

"Everything went fine. He changed his mind about the test, though, so I never got the sample."

"That's strange."

"Yeah."

He leaned over the bar and yelled "Hey Emily."

"Yeah, hon?"

"You know who one of our patients is? Jason Reynolds, from R and R."

"The construction guy?"

"That's him. Brooke here is his personal tech. Goes to his mansion to take blood. How about that?"

Just then we heard our name called over the speaker. "Cook, party of two." I held my breath, praying that what I knew was going to happen wouldn't. God evidently didn't hear me or decided to play a cruel trick.

"Hey, Brooke, how about we eat together? We can get to know each other a little better."

"Well...I...maybe..."

"That would be really lovely, John," Ryan cut in, "but there are some personal things that Brooke and I have to talk about tonight. Maybe another time."  Ryan took my hand and led me out of the bar.

"What personal things do we have to talk about?" I asked him.

"Nothing special."

I looked at him.

"We've been together for a long time. We share bodily fluids. Don’t you think I could see your flesh crawl talking to that guy?"

     He was right about the bodily fluid thing.  Almost two years after we started dating, we reconsidered the whole safe-sex thing. Since he had a vasectomy, we didn't have to worry about pregnancy, and both of us were the monogamous type. I trusted him, and he trusted me – some miscellaneous thoughts about Officer Luke didn't count.

     "That was wonderful of you."

     "Anyway, do you really think that I could eat dinner sitting across from Emily? What's this about going to some guy's mansion to take blood? You never mentioned that to me."

     "It was nothing. Just some VIP who wanted special treatment."

     "As long you didn't treat him to anything personal." 

He laughed. I laughed. I worried.

     Dinner was wonderful. We held hands between courses and talked about the week. I still didn't tell Ryan anything about Reynolds, Bruno, and the rest. I don't know what I was waiting for, but I didn't bring it up. I was almost sorry I hadn't because on the way out we ran into Bruno and two of his friends.

     I saw them as soon as we headed for the door. They were headed towards the bar, and I was hoping that Bruno wouldn't spot me. I had drunk so much cold water that my bladder was telling me to get home right away, and I didn't want to get stuck in a conversation with Bruno, so I walked with my face turned, chatting to Ryan.  Where was God when you needed her?

     "Hey Brooke!"  He sounded sloshed already. I ignored him.

     "Brooke!"

     "Is that guy calling you?" Ryan.

     "Me? No." But it was hard to ignore Bruno when he walked right up to me.

     "Brooke, I thought that was you. You look much better when you're not dressed like a slut."

     "Hey fella, you can't..." Ryan started to say.

     "That's all right, Ryan. He doesn't mean anything by that, and he's a little drunk."

     "I don't care. He can't talk to you that way."

     Ryan started to move towards Bruno, and out of nowhere Bruno's two friends appeared and got between them. "Careful there."

     "I still have that scratch from your earrings," Bruno said. "You really did look hot in that red dress."

     Ryan, testosterone leaking from his pores, tried pushing his way past the two goons to get to Bruno, but it was like fighting Mount Rushmore. I felt sorry for him.

     It was a free for all.

     "What the hell..." Ryan.

     "Don't even think about it" Goon.

     "Red dress." Bruno.

     "You can't..." Ryan.

     "Let's go." Me.

     "Back off." Goon.

     "I'll..." Ryan.

     "You and what navy." Goon.

     "No underwear." Bruno.

     "No underwear?" Ryan.

     "No underwear!" Goon.

     "I'm going to be sick." Me.

     Luckily, Bruno chose that moment to bend over and throw up all over the Crab Trap's floor. The two goons forgot about Ryan and picked Bruno up.  I grabbed Ryan by the collar, and with whatever strength I had, dragged him out of the place.

     "What the hell was that all about? You shouldn't have stopped me." We were out in the parking lot, yelling.

     "It was nothing; he's just some guy I know."

     "He called you a slut."

     "No he didn't. He said I look better when I'm not dressed like one." At least I saw the distinction.

     "And what about the underwear? What's that all about?"

     "I don't know. The guy was drunk, he didn't know what he was saying."

     "He said no underwear. What did he mean by that?"

     "I can't explain what every drunken guy says."