Charley (5 page)

What I wasn’t prepared for was the actual man. He walked through the arch into the lounge, and I gasped. Is that really him!  He’s finally here after all these years? A grin broke across my face, as I anticipated meeting the man I’d been having fantasy sex with all this time. Would he be as good in person as he was in my dreams? I hope so, please!

I watched Coach Mac enter the lounge with the confidence of a man who was used to being noticed. He was tall. I guessed him to be at least six-three maybe six-four, and he had a deep tan on his athletic build and a full head of closely cut jet black hair. 

I hadn’t read much about his personal life, so out of reflex I glanced at his left hand. Men often came in with their wedding rings removed, but they couldn’t remove the pale skin where the ring had kept the sun from tanning the finger. Seeing nothing I breathed a slight sigh, and felt free to finish inspecting the total package.

His hands were of particular interest. I noticed his long thick thumbs and elongated fingers. I hope Granny was right when she said, ‘a man with long fingers can be very interesting.’ Granny’s comment gave me a little tingle, as I imagined finding if the old lady knew what she was talking about.

The casual red tee, tailored sports jacket, expensive loafers, no socks, and expensive tight fitting jeans, completed the package. My God, he is gorgeous! I hope Ronnie knows what to do. Several of the young women in the lounge followed him as he glided across the floor.

Hands off ladies, he’s mine. He’s looking for action, I bet. Well, maybe I can give him a taster.

Strolling to the end of the bar, Coach Mac half sat, half stood on a bar stool surveying the lounge. His position, and the tight jeans, advertised his expectations for the evening. As his eyes adjusted to the dimmed lounge lighting, he surveyed the possibilities. Damn, he’s ogling all the young women on the prowl. I knew I should have gotten rid of them! But when I saw him smile and shake his head, I knew they weren’t going to be any competition.

I followed his eyes as he surveyed the room. Suddenly they came to rest on a woman in booth six in the corner. Sitting alone and nursing a drink, she was a woman in her late thirties or early forties. She looked like one of the many frustrated housewives I’ve met over the years. The faces change, but their stories are all the same.

They were bored with their dull, predictable sex lives. Sex had been relegated to once a week, if she was lucky. It was always on Friday night. He said he was too tired during the week for such a
special
time. It was always at home, because they rarely had a real date any more. They pulled out an old x- rated movie, with the actor and actress who moaned a lot and who were able to make love for an unrealistic amount of time. They watched the movie, and groped each other for a short while, like they had done during their courting days.

He would meet her in bed and half heartedly attempt to make love to her until she climaxed or became bored and faked one. Of course, he was lousy, and most of the time had to use some device or other to satisfy her. And that was the extent of her sex life! So she came to one of the hundreds of bars in the area and looked for some excitement. She didn’t want romance, she didn’t need to be wined and dined. She just wanted physical heart-stopping sex. And so she continued to make numerous trips into the city to meet an ‘old friend from college’.

And tonight, she was eying my man!

I watched Coach Mac slide off the stool, straighten his crotch and head toward her. When she saw him coming, she swung both feet to the floor, started to blush and began to straighten her skirt and blouse and brush back her hair.  Coach and I both knew she was ready for him.

Get him Ronnie; he’s headed toward the woman in booth six. Hurry Ronnie, hurry.

I willed Ronnie to hurry.

Ronnie got there in time. I saw him grasp Coach’s arm and say something to him. Coach looked at the woman, and back toward my booth. I thought about standing up and waving, but decided against being so obvious.

I could tell things were not going well. What
is
he doing? Now, he’s walking to the booth with Ronnie following close behind. Come on Ronnie, this is taking too long. No! He’s sliding into the booth, and Ronnie is leaving.

I can’t believe what I’m seeing. My plans were falling apart right before my eyes. I have to do something. What?

Ronnie didn’t get him! I had planned and schemed for nothing. I was wrong about him. About us, about everything, Damn! Maybe Wilma and Ronnie were right. I don’t need a dream man; I need a flesh and blood man as Wilma called him.

I couldn’t help myself; my eyes began to tear up. But I surprised even myself with my resilience.

Shape up girl, there are plenty of good looking men in Nashville. I don’t need some damn basketball coach from Ohio.

My fragile confidence began to return, and I sat up straight and waited for Ronnie to return with the bad news. I was at the edge of the seat, eagerly waiting. Ronnie’s face was grim when he slid into the booth beside me. “He refused to come, said he already had a dinner date. I’m sorry Charley, I tried.”

“Well they aren’t going to sit in my Bar and eat in front of me.”

I was fuming. In a deliberate growl I ordered Ronnie. “You’ve got to ask them, no you must tell them, they have to leave!”

The ever calm Ronnie looked into my eyes and became my friend again, not my employee. “I know you’re hurt and angry. I understand. But, you must calm down. This is your business; you cannot order a customer to leave, you’ll make a scene. Try to relax. This is not the time or the place for your anger.”

Ronnie laid his hand on my quivering shoulder and softly squeezed it. “You’ve come a long way from being a selfish child. You’re an adult now. Act like one.”

Whether it was Ronnie’s words or his touch or just reality setting in, I relented, and eased back into the booth. Damn, Ronnie, damn, damn, damn! I didn’t want to hear
calm down
. I wanted to sneak out of the owner’s booth and rush to the apartment and have a good cry.

It took a few minutes, but finally I regained some degree of control. “Okay, I’m better now, Ronnie. What should I do?”

“Well, if it were me, I would go over to the booth, introduce myself, acknowledge McCoy as a former Grizzles player, buy their drinks and dinner and invite them back to Jimmy’s”

“I don’t think I can do that,” I confessed.

“Sure you can. I’ve seen you in a lot more difficult circumstances.”

“Okay, okay … give me a minute.”

When I was ready, I stood and pulled myself to my full five feet ten inches. I straightened my skirt, adjusted the chocolate pearl necklace, unbuttoned one more button on my blouse,
I’ll show that bastard what he’s missing,
and put on my best Bar Owner welcoming smile. I started across the lounge.

As I approached the couple, they broke off their conversation and turned toward me. “Evening folks, welcome to Jimmy’s. Hope everything is okay.”

“It couldn’t be better,” Coach said and grinned. “We’re fine.”

I turned to the woman. “Say, I’ve seen you in before, glad you came back. My name is Charlotte Howard. And you are?”

“I am Loretta Barton.”

“Good to meet you Loretta. But I don’t believe I’ve seen your gentleman friend in before; your first time in Jimmy’s?”

I gave him my best cynical smile.

“Yes first time, I’m here for the Coach’s Convention at the Summit.”

Of course you are; I worked hard to get you and that damn convention here.

“I heard they were having something this week. Good to have you,” I replied. I turned to leave and quickly turned back. I hoped that wasn’t too obvious. “I think I recognize you. Aren’t you Phillip McCoy? You played for the Grizzles didn’t you? My husband and I were big fans. Say, what are you doing now?”

“I’m coaching basketball at a small school in Ohio, Curtis University.”

I could tell from his voice that he was ready for me to leave and let him get back to his pickup date. I was determined to not let them get under my skin.

“Well, good to have you both in tonight. Coach McCoy, Loretta; let me buy your drinks and dinner tonight. Anything on the menu is yours on me. If you don’t mind, I would ask you to tip your waitress; she’ll work hard for you.”

You aren’t going to get off scot free.

“See you later, perhaps.”

I couldn’t help myself; I gave Coach a quick wink and a smile. And I left two speechless guests, one of whom seemed to be trying to pull up a memory from his past …

It was 9:00am Saturday morning and the staff were getting ready for the lunch crowd that began around 11:00. I busied myself with my job, but I just couldn’t let last night go. The frustration level had been building a head of steam since I woke around 5:30.

I was helping Wilma set tables. “I sure as hell didn’t dream about him last night! Wilma, that son of a bitch, snubbed me! I didn’t push him. Ronnie asked him politely, but he still went with that hussy. Men think with their dicks and not their brains. I have never had a man refuse me before. And when I went over to introduce myself, they were so cozy, I could have puked. I talked to Roberto. He told McCoy specifically to meet the owner of the Bar. ‘
You’ll like her,’
Roberto told him. Roberto didn’t tell him to pick up some cheap bar hussy.”

Wilma laughed. “You’re just mad because you weren’t the hussy he picked up.”

“Not fair, Wilma, even if it is true.”

“I told you, honey. Don’t let yourself get so worked up. Your special man will come along soon enough. I didn’t think this dream man was right for you.”

“I know, but God, he was too gorgeous, wasn’t he?” I laughed. “Oh well … maybe another day.”

Wilma’s joke was enough to break the tension, and I went back to my work.

The lunch crowd was familiar, the usual mix of locals and strangers consisting of business folks in the area working on the weekend, a real estate agent meeting a potential client, a young tourist couple and several women eating out before returning to their shopping. I worked the room, greeting them all with a smile and a friendly pat on the back of the regulars.

City Councilwoman Becky Tolbert and I were talking politics, when I felt a gentle pat on the back. “Just a minute,” I said, thinking it was one of my employees with a question.

In a moment I felt a second tap. I turned from the Councilwoman to see if I could answer the question and get back to my rounds. My face must have had a peculiar look because the intruder replied. “Sorry I didn’t mean to startle you.” The clothes were different but the man was the same.

“I was in last night. You asked me to have dinner with you, remember? Could we talk?” 

The coach flashed a nervous smile.

What’s he doing here? Don’t lose it. I’m in control; he’s not going to get to me again.

“Give me a minute.”

I tried to be steady and business like. I continued my rounds. “Hello Mr. Mayor. Food any good? If it’s not, you’d better lie if you want my vote. Enjoy!”

Turning to Coach McCoy, I was a bit curt. “What do you want to talk about? Wasn’t the food any good last night? Service not up to your standards? Sorry I can’t give you your money back because you didn’t spend any.”

To my surprise, Coach remained remarkably calm considering my attitude. He remained very self-composed. “Food was wonderful. Could we go someplace not quite as noisy, maybe a little more private?”

“Look, I’m working. This is my business, and I can’t take time to talk to everyone just because they come bouncing in with a smile and a handshake. Not even a famous basketball player. I’ll be through making my rounds in thirty minutes, if you want to wait. You may not have time. Loretta is probably waiting for you.”

“I put her in a cab at 11:00 last night.”

I was taken aback by his comment. “Why did you do that?”

“I’ll wait in the lounge for you to finish. We can talk about that. But … I really want to talk to you.”

There was something about his voice. Something different, pleading almost …

I edged toward the kitchen as I continued working the crowd. I eased through the kitchen past the freezer and into the hall and hurried up the stairs and into the apartment. Inside, I leaned against the door and, for the first time today, allowed myself to really smile. With an emphatic hand pump, I raced into the bedroom and fumbled in the closet for something to wear.

Sun dress? No, not business enough. Tank top? I wish, but no. Teal Tommy Bahama blouse? Nice, but no. Finally, there it was. I pulled out my white cotton dress with the cute collar and buttons down the front. Thank goodness it didn’t need ironing. This can be sexy or not.

I  quickly changed, unbuttoned the top three buttons and the bottom three buttons, picked up the long string of big red bobbles, ran a comb through my long hair, changed shoes, freshened up my makeup and slowly walked out the door and down the stairs. It was 1:30 and the lunch crowd was thinning out. But the kitchen was active as the staff cleaned up lunch, and began preparing for the Saturday night crowd. 

Wilma was waiting for me at the kitchen door. “He’s here again, in the lounge.”

“I know, I know, isn’t this great?”

“Honey, it doesn’t change anything, be careful. You don’t know the man.”

“I will be careful and …” I said with a grin. “I will get to know him.”

“I’ll have to admit, I didn’t expect we would ever see him again,” Wilma replied. “He may be okay after all.”

“Thanks, Wilma.” 

I checked my dress and hair and took a deep breath to slow down my pounding heart. With my confidence restored, I strolled through the swinging door into the lounge as if I hadn’t a care in the world. There he sat, in one of the stuffed leather chairs in the lounge, with a drink in his hand. His long legs were crossed and he leaned back in the chair, as if it were made for him …He looked the part of a typical tourist; reading the newspaper, sports page, wearing white shorts and deck shoes, no socks and red polo shirt with a Curtis University logo on the left breast. A red ball cap rested easily on his head. He hadn’t seen me yet, so I walked up behind him.