Charley (21 page)

After a long warm shower, I wrapped a towel around me and called Marlene. “I’m ready when you are.”

As Marlene brushed and combed the tangles out of my hair, she asked the question that was probably on everyone’s mind. “You like Coach? … a lot?”

I couldn’t contain myself. “Marlene, I think I might love him! Please don’t tell him that, I still have some things to work out, but yeah … I really do think I could love him.”

“Good! He’s done nothing but talk about you all this past week. I suspect you’re going to be real good for him. Oh, before I forget, I put away the goodies you brought. They’re all in the top drawer of the chest of drawers.”

“Now I’m really embarrassed Marlene.”

“Don’t be, honey,” Marlene replied and laughed and giggled. “You know, my man Vincent and me? We use those things all the time. They help keep a spark of romance going. Nobody will know, except you and PJ.”

Marlene and I took our time arriving in the living room, almost thirty minutes after the guests. I was nervous. These were people who only understood me as PJ’s girlfriend, they didn’t know me nor, did I have any idea who they were. But my anxiety soon dissolved once the ladies crowded around and introduced themselves, showering me with compliments and hugs and air kisses. They all talked at once; no polite society conversation here.

‘I love your hair …’

‘Where did you get that cute designer outfit …?’

‘How long have you known PJ …?’

‘Have you met Vince Gil …?’

While Mary Lou, Joy, Marlene and Harper made a fuss over me, I barely had time to glance at PJ. He was standing over with the guys, grinning from ear to ear. I winked at him, and tried to will him to come over and join me. If he got my message, he ignored it. I could make out snatches of their conversation.

‘Lots of surplus there, beautiful, energetic …’

And, the biggest roar from the men came when I heard ‘in bed?’ and ‘Damn right!’

I turned to see PJ shaking his head, laughing his loud hah-hah voice, and the men slapping him on the shoulder. Funny, but the women never got around to asking me how PJ was in bed. Not sure I would tell them anyway!

Shortly, Vincent called us over to the table. He sat the serving plate in the center, steaks still sizzling. This group was like one big family with no manners at all; my kind of folks. Everyone found a place to sit, and eagerly reached for a steak.

“They’re all the same so don’t fight over them.” Vincent talked to us just like he did to the student athletes he fed every day. “And don’t ask for any steak sauce, they’re perfect as they are.”

“I swear Vincent, you ought to open your own steak place,” someone said.

“Been thinking about it, but I would miss you guys. You’ll eat anything if it’s free. A restaurant has to charge for food. Hey, anyone have an extra $500,000 I can borrow?”

“Don’t encourage him,” Marlene broke in. “He couldn’t rub two nickels together right now, much less finance a restaurant.”

I had to ask. “These steaks are fantastic Vincent. What have you put over them?”

“My own mixture of Cajun seasonings, no big deal,” he replied with a large grin. He knew they were good, in fact mouthwatering good. And he wasn’t about to reveal his secrets either.

The table fell silent, the steaks were devoured, and no one needed a doggy bag. Finally the conversation resumed at a more relaxed level. Marlene, acting as PJ’s hostess, brought out coffee mugs and a big pot of coffee that Vincent had brewed. The best part of a meal always seems to be the same, whether in the South, or up here in the North, sitting around, so the food can settle. Coffee helps too.

Harper Winters leaned into the center of the group and looked directly at me. “Charley, PJ told us you own a bar at home. How in the world did that come about?”

I knew that question would come up. “Well Harper, it’s a long story. First of all, it’s not just a bar, it’s a bar and grill. We make our steaks almost as good as Vincent’s. The history of Jimmy’s Bar and Grill is a fascinating one.”

I knew they really wanted to know more about me, so I told them the full story of Jimmy’s, the old building, it’s gangster past, the private booth and everything, including my marriage and divorce with Randle. I suspected I would have to shorten it for other folks, but these were PJ’s closest friends, and I wanted them to hear and know the whole story. It took about twenty minutes to tell about Jimmy’s and answer some questions.

They were particularly interested in Randle’s involvement with the gang, and how I reacted to it. Of course, I had trouble telling them the story of Randle’s death and the miscarriage of little Jimmy. But their curiosity awakened when I told them of our sham divorce, and how we would sneak around to see each just like two love struck teenagers.

Afterwards, we broke into predictable groups to chat. We ladies took our drinks outside to the pool side. The guys disappeared inside the house, probably to PJ’s brown room, to watch sports, drink some more or both.

Outdoors was a pleasant temperature, with a clear summer sky. Marlene turned on the pool lights and some soft jazz. As we settled into the comfortable aqua deck chairs, I realized this was an unusually close group of women. They were all connected to the athletic program at Curtis, and shared many common memories of life as a basketball coach’s wife. They also shared a common curiosity about PJ. Since he hadn’t dated much since he’d been at Curtis, they were anxious to find out more about this Southern girl who apparently captivated their leader. I suspect one or two might be suspicious, both of me and my motivations. But the questions were polite, if not somewhat pointed. The first question was gentle enough and I anticipated it.

“How did you and PJ meet?”

“I’ll tell you as much as I can, but some things I might just have to keep to myself … until we get to know each other better.”

The women all grinned at the implication. I told them about meeting PJ many years back, and how he had immediately hit on me. They all had a good laugh about that. Seems like he flirted with all the women, although he rarely follows through. They thought the part where Randle wasn’t angry because I was the prettiest woman there, and PJ couldn’t help himself, was perfect. When I told them about PJ signing the program photos and the inscription, they gave a collective sigh. ‘Ah … How sweet.’

I didn’t want to go too far into my state of mind, but I did tell them about finding the program recently and crying as I re-read the inscription. 

“At that point, I began dreaming about PJ McCoy.”

“What did you dream?”

They really wanted details. “Well, I dreamed enough to know that I had to see him again.”

I gave them a huge smile and a slight nod of my head. They knew I was not going to tell them, but they already assumed they knew. I told them about the Coach’s Convention, and my plan to get PJ to Jimmy’s and how he snubbed me that first night, and how he came back the next day. I let them know we spent much time together on Saturday and Sunday. I didn’t actually say anything about spending the night with PJ, but I’m sure they suspected.

Joy couldn’t contain herself any more. “Did you sleep with him? How was he?”

 Once Joy opened the question, they all chipped in.

I just laughed back and said. “I was satisfied the whole weekend.”

“And”?

“You’re a tough crowd, and I’m not talking!”

I refused to tell them the whole story, certainly not the juicy parts. But, I told them about that first kiss, and about our long discussions on Sunday. But not about Saturday night nor about loving him so hard Sunday morning that we couldn’t do anything for the rest of the time we had together! Those were my wonderful memories and I kept them for myself.

We continued talking well into the night, when the men came outside and reminded us that they had work to do next day. Everyone left around 11:00 once the ladies got together to straighten up the kitchen.

We said our goodbyes and walked back into the house. No sooner had the door closed, when PJ asked. “What did you actually tell them about us? What about the weekend?”

He really seemed worried.

“I’ll tell you, if you’ll tell me what you told the guys.”

“I didn’t tell them anything …not much anyway. I just told them that I was a lucky guy to have met you again.”

“And?”

“Well, I did tell them we slept together.”

“And?”

“That you are totally awesome.”

“And?”

“That’s all sweetheart, I promise.”

I could see him sweat.

“Did you tell them I wounded you?”

“No! No! Now what did you tell the girls?”

“I told the girls you had a tiny manhood, and you were lousy in bed, and that I was very disappointed.”

“No, you did not!”

“No sweetie, I told them you had the tool of a stallion and kept making love to me all night long and that you’re awesome in bed and I had twenty real orgasms that night.”

PJ laughed that loud awful infectious laugh of his.

“I am so glad you finally told them the truth.”

I took his hand as we walked to the bedroom. “Sweetheart, after all that lying, I’m worn out. Why don’t we go to bed, get a good night’s sleep? Tomorrow, we can take a swim, visit the school and you can show me your beautiful campus?”

I didn’t rest well that night. My mind wouldn’t settle down, so I drifted in and out, never really getting into a proper deep sleep. I was thinking about the problems at home and about PJ’s friends and about the bed’s hard mattress and that the room temperature was a little cool. But mostly I was in an unfamiliar place with a man I had only met a week ago. A man I suspected I could love, but yet was still a relative stranger.

And, this was his home territory and not mine.

I tried to calm my nervousness by rolling over to PJ, gently laying my hand on his arm. When that didn’t help, I slipped closer, nestling my back to his chest and my hips against his lap. Unconsciously, PJ reached his arm over my side, under my arm, and grasped my breast without waking up or making any other movement. I put my hand over PJ’s hand to keep it there. The full body touches, and the familiar hand lightly holding me, was comfort enough to fight the insomnia demons and surrender to sleep.  

But it was not enough to keep me from waking up at my normal time of 5:30am. I quietly rolled out of bed and made my way to the bathroom, before slipping out of the bedroom into the hall, wearing just the tee-shirt he had given me to sleep in last night.

I wandered across the living room and over into the kitchen. Much to my delight, PJ had one of those single-cup coffee makers. I located the coffee, and proceeded to make a welcoming cup of the deep roast breakfast blend.

Heading for the patio, I walked past yesterday’s newspaper, picked it up and decided to find a comfortable chair under the canopy next to the pool. It was a quiet morning. The sky was just beginning to change from black to light gray, and gradually to a pale blue. There was an orange glow to the early sky indicating rain for the day. The morning temperature was a bit cool, but I was too lazy to get up and go inside. So I slowly drank my coffee, and watched the dawn wake up. The calmness of the pool water, the chirping of the early birds, and the slight mist hovering over the flowers and shrubs, brought images of a fairyland with a happy mother and father, and three playful children romping on the lawn.

I couldn’t help letting my mind drift back to the plans Randle and I had when we first married. I wanted a house in the suburbs and three perfect children. I don’t have that now, and that dream had faded. But I wondered if I could hope for the dream again, or if I would always long for the excitement and convenience of living downtown? Before this past weekend my choice would have been obvious, but now I don’t know. I don’t want to give up what I have, but all this around me is appealing.

I had shut my eyes, deep in my thoughts, in fact so deep I didn’t hear PJ approaching. But I did feel the warm blanket being placed gently over my lap, and the warm socks pulled over my cold feet. I definitely felt the kiss that graced my lips, and heard the loving sound of good morning.

“Good morning, lover,” I replied sleepily. “Hope I didn’t wake you when I got up. Thank you so much for the blanket, it’s a bit chilly out here.”

“I woke up and you weren’t there and I nearly panicked.  Glad I found you.”

“Hey, me too. I like this time of day. I often come outside in the early morning just to sit, drink a cup of coffee and think. Something about the quiet, I guess.”

I lay on the lounge and PJ sat in a chair. We both let the quiet engulf us. After a few minutes, I broke the calm. “PJ, you have a great place here. I could get used to living like this.” I didn’t expect a response from him; I was just stating the obvious.

So I was a bit surprised when he sat up in his chair and turned to me. “Charley, I’ve been thinking a lot about us. I know this is sudden, given that we’ve only known each other for a week and a half, but why don’t you move in with me? I’ve got plenty of room, and you’ve already just said you could get used to living like this.”

I was definitely not expecting that. “I … don’t know …” I stammered.

Now he started hard selling the idea. “Ronnie and Wilma can run Jimmy’s. You can make regular trips back to check on things. We could even set up conference calling to allow you to meet with Ronnie and Wilma about any problems.”

And finally he added the closing argument. “Besides, it would give us time to get to know each other a lot better, and make some plans for our future if we decide we have one together.”

I let out a nervous laugh. I needed time to think how I wanted to reply and blurted out. “PJ, I’m not sure I could physically stand the constant lovemaking you and I would do. In the morning, we would mess around before getting up, we are already late for that one by the way, and next I could come to the gym for a lunchtime quickie. At night, after dinner, we would need to make love again before we go to bed. And maybe in the middle of the night, as well! Let’s see … seven days a week, three or four times a day. Can your mighty warrior handle that?”