Authors: Elizabeth Lowe
Beginning
his habit of pacing with one hand on his hip the other rubbing the back of his
neck, “I've never been more serious in my life.
Are you happy, Ted? I mean happy.
Have you stopped long enough to look at the jungle we have created?
Haven’t you become fed up with chasing
skirts, the rat race, appeasing ignorant bastards like Somers for instance?”
Ted
flinched and visibly paused to regroup his forces.
Jesus, frantically he wondered how much Brad
knew.
On second thought, if Brad knew
anything at all he would be kicking the shit out of him for not keeping his
promise never to gamble again.
Displaying a calm front was a feat considering he was decomposing
inside.
Still, Ted needed to know.
“What about Somers?
Is there a problem?”
Slicing
eyes as sharp as a razor’s edge turned on Ted; Brad’s voice grew harsher with
each word.
“With him and just about
every client you have.
When did you talk
to them last, review contracts, read your memos?”
In all the years of friendship, Ted
never saw Brad so angry.
“Alright, man,
I hear you.
God, you’re stressed out.”
Although
greatly relieved when Brad skipped over the subject of Somers, Ted was
overwhelmed with feelings of remorse and self-contempt.
A stinging inner conscience reminded him he
had betrayed the one person who trusted, defended, and believed in him.
It was time to return to work and firm up the
Keller deal before Brad found out the underlining reasons.
“What you need is a vacation,” an intentional
change of subject.
“Yeah, like a
year.
I'm beginning to wonder if the
past ten years of hell have been worth the work and worry.”
Brad stopped pacing to face Ted.
“I haven't been home in three years.
Can you believe it’s been that long?”
“Big
deal, I cannot believe you miss Wyoming.
I thought we moved to New York to seek a better life.
Have you forgotten the shit you did not want
to shovel only to wind up like your father just making meager living?
We went to college so we could use our
brains.
Look how far we have gotten. God
man, we’re on top.”
“Are
we?
It's easy for you to say, you've
had a reprieve from the pressures.
I
have had enough of New York and the corporate world to last a lifetime.
I am thirty-two years old and feel like
fifty.
I cannot distinguish the
difference between night and day anymore.
Wake up, Ted, this is not living.
Maybe if I had gone home I would have been lucky enough to meet someone
like Sam, settle down, have kids before this business gives me a heart attack,
before it is too late.”
“She’s beautiful isn't she?
Can you believe I'm in love?”
Shifting gears honesty stalled in
Brad’s mind.
“Why wouldn't you be?
Sam's perfect, terrific, but a little young
wouldn't you say?”
“Why, if I didn't know you better,
buddy of mine, I'd think you were jealous.”
Unwilling to admit the truth, Ted’s
jab drove home.
“Me?
Be real.
Why would I be interested in someone as young as Sam?”
“I
can't believe I am either.
There is no
explanation considering she is an inexperienced virgin, for Christ sake,
something I know nothing about.
Trying
to get into her pants is like breaking into the Federal Reserve.”
A
dark expression clouded Brad's face.
His
body stiffened.
He hated to admit he
felt a sudden lightening in his heart. “You mean you've never been intimate?”
“That's right.
Shocked aren't you?”
Brad's
concern instantly quadrupled.
“I guess
you could say that, but are you sure you are in love with Sam or is it simply
because she is the first woman who has refused you?
What about last night?”
“I was drunk that's all. I got
carried away.”
“Are you sure you didn't go all the
way?”
“Shit, Sam gets me so hot it’s over
before I get that far.”
Unpleasant
feelings churned Brad's stomach.
Every
instinct he possessed warned Sam was just another notch in Ted‘s belt, nothing
more.
Somehow, he had to come up with a
plan to end their relationship before it went too far.
There had to be some way to convince, Sam to
go home, and Ted that Sam was not for him.
Reaching
for the bottle of whiskey on the counter, Brad pulled up a chair alongside Ted
pouring himself a healthy swig he downed it in one gulp. “Want some,” he
offered, while pouring a second.
Brad
rarely drank anything but beer.
Considering his blood was ninety-nine percent alcohols, now even the
smell turned Ted’s face green.
“No
thanks.
I’m on the wagon.
Since when did you take up the hard stuff?”
Brad
silently thought, since you dropped the business in my lap and that country
bumpkin came to town, instead, “Listen to me, my friend, Sam is just an
innocent kid.
She‘s not the type you
throw onto a bed, nail and forget.
She
is the kind you marry, build a white picket fence around, and keep barefoot and
pregnant.
A woman like her will never
put up with your screwing around.
Hanging on to her will mean settling down, and leaving New York.”
“You're
wrong!
Sam loves it here, the glamour
and glitter, the clothes, furs and jewels.
What better place than New York to fulfill her dreams of becoming a
designer?”
“That's
what Sam says now, but when there is a ring on her finger and a baby in her
belly she's going to want to go home.
Trust me she'll never be able to cope with New York or your life style.”
Glaring
at Brad, Ted lurched to his feet.
“What
makes you think you're so God damn smart?
You are dead wrong.
I am in love
with Sam and I am going to marry her.
Not you or anyone is going to stand in my way.
If you are indeed my friend you will help me
keep her here.”
Admittedly
surprised and confused by Ted's vehemence, Brad refilled his mug and gulped it
down. Maybe Ted had changed right before his eyes.
Realizing he was getting nowhere, he
relented.
“What do you want me to do?”
“It
sounds like I have a real mess at the office to straighten out and you need
time off, so I will leave it up to you to take care of Sam, keep her busy and
convince her I'm wild about her.”
Wearing a lopsided cocky grin, Brad
answered, “You mean you're going to trust me with her?”
Ted
chuckled at the look of shock on his friend's face. “Why wouldn't I?
Anyway, Sam is not your type.
Friends don't screw another friend's woman
without permission.”
Assailed
by fresh new doubts, Brad was not at all amused.
It would be difficult enough to be ordinary
friends with Sam, how was he going to handle spending entire days with
her?
Ted was out of his mind to trust
him when he did not trust himself.
CHAPTER 18
It
seemed Monday would never arrive fast enough for Ted.
After ignoring his clients for so long, he
would obviously raise Brad's suspicion by going to the office immediately after
their confrontation, but firming up the Sommer’s - Keller contract was crucial
before his partner became too inquisitive.
Over the weekend, Sam did not
hesitate making her feelings perfectly clear to Ted.
It would take time for her to recover from
his actions.
They agreed to start over,
this time taking it slow.
Ted held firm
to his conviction her attitude toward sex was medieval.
Facing a full-length mirror
preparing for his initial day back to the office, Ted began plotting.
“I'll show Sam that I can change.
Maybe reverse psychology will win her back.
I know where to get what I want.
I don't need sex from her.
From now on it will be hands off until she
begs and she will before I'm through.”
In
the past, Stacy was more than happy to service him.
Last night dreams of their ardent office procreation
teasingly fleeted in and out of his mind.
Whistling a tune of confidence and vowing never to do without again, he
tugged on his tweed sport coat.
Eager
to do her part in making their relationship work, Sam set her alarm to awake
before Ted to prepare breakfast for him.
Working diligently, she scurried around the kitchen.
A quick glance at his watch informed
Ted it was seven thirty A.M.
It had been
months since he had been up that early.
The fragrances mingling with shrill clanging noises drifting into his
bedroom annoyed him first thing in the morning.
Irritated, he was determined to instruct the new housekeeper in the
future she was not to report to work until after his departure.
Stopping
abruptly in the archway of the kitchen, he was surprised to find Sam standing
by the stove poking at spitting bacon.
The aromas making him nauseous, cruelly reminded him why he never ate
early in the day.
Instantly disgruntled he was by her
appearance, especially after recently purchasing her a new wardrobe.
Sam was wearing an oversized, red sweatshirt
ending at her knees and horrid purple slouch socks.
Her straight hair, a halo of little sprigs
wet with perspiration pulled to one side secured by a rubber band, trailed down
the front of her.
Why in the world
would someone as gorgeous as Sam want to look like a rag-a-muffin, Ted
fumed.
Resolved to keep his feelings to
himself, he approached from behind.
“Good morning, darling.”
Startled, Sam twirled around almost
stabbing him with a fork dripping with bacon grease.
Her forehead, nose, and cheek flour
splattered, her essence reeking of grease and smoke.
Ted's chameleon eyes raking over her related
his disapproval, then scanned the kitchen that was a total disaster.
Ted detested disarray of any sort.
Rising
up on her tiptoes for a kiss, Sam said rapturously, “Good morning.”
Shifting backward continuing to assess her with
his eyes, his words tainted with a hint of anger fell like stones in the
silence.
“What are you doing up so
early?
What's all this?”
Criticism
instead of an expected kiss evaporated Sam's self-confidence.
Uneasiness assailed her.
Acting
detached, with taut white lines bracketing his mouth.
Stepping aside, Ted reached for the coffeepot
to pour himself half a mug.