Chapter 12

Michael

If our lovemaking was a storm, we are entering the world of continual rainbows. I’m missing her already.

Watching as Mac’s car pulls away down the drive, I head up to the main house to find Olivia and Mort three sheets to the wind. They’ve finished the Vodka and are now side by side on a sofa, a bottle of Scotch between them.

“Well?” Olivia pipes up.

“Well, what?” I answer, not sure if I want to bother talking to either of them at this point.

“Did you bed her?” Olivia slobbers, and then bursts into peals of laughter. Mort starts laughing but swallows it quickly as he sees the dark look on my face.

“I don’t think that’s your business. You’re hired here to play a role, not manage my life,” I say curtly.

“True, true … that may be true. But tell you what, my boy,” she half mumbles, half rambles on. “You’re gonna lose that girl if you don’t be careful.”

“What are you talking about? What did you say to her?”

“Nothin’ … I swear it was nothin’ … well, not much, anyway. Did I, Morty?”

“Morty” is having problems sitting up straight so he hardly makes for a good witness. “Listen you two … sober up now and stay out of my private life, got that?”

I’m angry as I go into the kitchen looking for some dinner. The anger isn’t just at them, but with myself, as well. I feel like I’m bungling things with Mac, even after what just happened at the guest house. I don’t want to lose her and that these two clowns seem to think that’s what’s going on, bothers me. I make myself a couple of sandwiches but look longingly at the steaks that are marinating on the fridge shelf. Mort is in such a stupor it’s hard to tell when he might be able to cook dinner, so sandwiches will be it.

I pass the living room on my way back to the guest house, and to my shock, I see Mort kissing Olivia, her hand in his lap, rubbing furiously. She has to be ten years older than he is, but hey, it’s not my business. I move on as quickly as I can sneak by and try to shake the image from my head as I walk down the lawn.

I find myself wondering what Mac will be like in fifty years. I hate that she had to leave. I want her all the time, and not just for sex. There is chemistry between us that we can’t even put into words. She has agreed to spend some time with me this weekend. This is Friday night, and by all rights, she should be here and staying with me at the main house all weekend. I want to spend the kind of time together that couples get when they’re considering each other for the longer term. What? Did I just think that?

* * *

As we agreed, Mac arrives at the guest house at about ten the next morning.

“I’d like to drive if you don’t mind. Why don’t you pull your car up next to the garage?”

She smiles, and with a shrug, does as I ask. She climbs into my Porsche, and I guide it down the drive. I can see Mort standing outside the house door, dressed in his driver’s uniform, a look of regret and maybe a little fear on his face. I’m thinking he may have spent the night with Olivia and woke up with regrets and a hangover. His punishment is that he has to live with both.

The first stop on our route is The Emporium, as Mac wants to show me where she works. Margaret is manning the store alone it seems, and Mac takes advantage of reminding Margaret that she and I met when Mac was being interviewed. Apparently, Mac feels the need to reinforce that she has a husband, and honestly, I’m only too happy to play the role. While we’re talking, a very unpalatable man who I eventually figure out is drunk, walks into the gallery. He must hear Mac’s voice because he comes in our direction and wraps his arm around her shoulders. I see her flinch, and I step forward, extending my hand, and saying, “I don’t believe we’ve met. I am Mac’s husband.” I easily dwarf the man and am considerably younger. He notices the same thing as he drops his arm from her shoulders and backs off. “It’s nice to meet you. You’re a lucky man,” he says, and then there’s a pause. “Oh, Margaret,” he says, as though he had come to see her all along, “where is that piece by Priestly you were showing me the other day?”

I hear Mac sigh in discouragement, but she gives me a smile of thanks. I gather this is a man who’s been bothering her. “I think we can go now, sweetheart,” I say. She doesn’t resist as I put my own arm over her shoulders and escort her outside to the car. “That was him, wasn’t it?” I inquire, and she nods in response.

“I’m sorry. He has a drinking problem, but he gives me the creeps. He has no right to manhandle women.” She is being honest, and I commend her mentally for having more guts than I do.

“I completely agree. If he bothers you again, just let me know.”

“Michael, I know you would step up without thinking twice, but that guy has a lot of money and a lot of connections around town. He could ruin your business if he wanted to.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that. I can take care of myself.”

Our next stop is for lunch at a small seafood restaurant a friend of mine owns. We go in and sit down while a waiter brings a bottle of wine and begins to pour each of us a glass.

“How are you doing, Roberto?”

“I am well, Mr. Michael. We have not had the pleasure of your company for some time now.”

“That’s right. I’ve been busy, you see. Let me introduce you to Miss Duncan. Bring her anything she wants, and treat her well, Roberto.”

Roberto’s head swivels and he takes in Mac’s appearance. “This will not be a problem, Mr. Michael,” Roberto confirms. I know he has an eye for beautiful women and that he will be only too happy to see to her every need.

“I didn’t think so, Roberto.”

Mac and I relax in the coastline atmosphere, talking about the things we love and what we want to do with our futures. I begin to see why she has such a draw for me. Her goals and objectives are not very far from mine, although they lie in different fields of interest. I can see that she has a creative spirit and finds joy in expressing this. While my creative spirit may not be as visible as hers, when I conclude a successful business deal, I feel a sense of similar fulfillment. I explain this to her, and she agrees.

“I meant to tell you, Mac, but I may have someone lined up for your girlfriend, Abby.”

“Really? Who is he, and what does he do?”

“His name is Walter, and he’s an adjunct professor at a small private college along the Gulf. I won’t say he’s handsome, per se, but I believe he’s pleasant enough to look at. He’s extremely bright, ambitious, and loves smart women. He likes to impress them with his intellect. I guess that’s typical of very bright people. It’s tough for them to impress a girl who isn’t bright enough to understand who she’s with.”

Mac is nodding. “I think you read Abby fairly well. She often says something quite similar to that, and of course, it goes right over my head.”

“Why do you identify yourself as not being bright? I think you’re razor-sharp.”

Mac shrugs. “Really? I guess I don’t realize that I do that. It’s just that when you keep company with someone who is extraordinary, like Abby, you tend to put yourself in a position of comfort. We all have our way to shine, I suppose. For Abby, it’s her mind. For me, I guess I followed more of the debutante formula.”

“You should give yourself more credit than that. I get it that your life was planned out in advance for you, but that doesn’t mean you have to become what others want you to. Follow your heart; be true to yourself, and at the risk of sounding like a Hallmark card, if you do that, you’ll always be happy and successful because people are always very good at what they love best.”

“Did my father have a talk with you or something? You sound exactly like him.”

I feel myself cringing inside. If Mac knew that her father and I had met at the country club, she would instantly know that I am wealthy enough to be a member, and that would fly in the face of what she believes about me. I have to admit, though, I almost blew my cover when I sent her the flowers and now, driving the Porsche. I need to find a way to get myself out of the corner I’ve backed myself into and not lose her. I wish I had never started this charade, except I know she doesn’t want wealthy men in her life. What was it that Shakespeare said about tangled webs?

The restaurant is now behind us, as we head for the zoo. It is an unusually beautiful day with low humidity, making it the perfect destination. We begin with the lions’ exhibit. Mac is standing at the fence, and I wrap myself around her from behind, smelling her hair and hearing her laughter as she tells me she had a fifth-grade teacher who very much resembled the alpha male. “He had hair just like that, I remember. It pushed out from his head, and he wore it overly long so that it shook every time he got angry. And believe me when I say he got angry a lot. I think he had mental issues. After all, for a man to be happy teaching the fifth grade, he has to have low aspirations in life.”

I chuckle. “When we get to the monkey exhibit, I’ll show you my fifth-grade teacher,” I tell her, hugging her from behind. She leans back into me as I do this, and I acknowledge that she wants me as much as I want her. It’s one of those things that lovers feel and pick up on between one another. The people around us are oblivious, which somehow makes it all the more racy.

From the lions, naturally, we head to the tigers, and from there to the giraffes and then the elephants. We come upon the sea life portion of the zoo and have a seat in the bleachers while dolphins and killer whales cavort in a gigantic pool, their trainers riding their backs and throwing them dead fish as rewards.

“If I threw a dead fish at you, would you reward me?” Mac asks, her eyes twinkling.

“Are you calling my manhood a dead fish? I beg your pardon?”

“Far from it. I feel it every time we stop, and you stand behind me. To tell you the truth, I’m surprised you’re still standing, and you haven’t dragged me off behind the water buffalo exhibit.”

“Don’t worry; we’re not through the entire zoo yet.” She shudders with anticipation in a very cute way. I am in deep trouble. The more time I spend with her, the more I want to spend with her. But now, I’ve surrounded myself with a bawdy woman who’s supposed to be my rich aunt, and I’m supposed to be of moderate means. Dirt poor. I can only thank my lucky stars that Mac has never been around actual people of moderate means, which is the only way I can surmise that she hasn’t called me on the cost of the flowers and the car. I suppose I could say that Aunt Olivia provides the car and gives me a healthy allowance. It’s the only thing I can think of, but it sours my stomach to lie to her. She deserves so much more than that. I become a bit absent-minded as we walk, calculating the best way to spill my guts and not lose her at the same time. This isn’t going to be easy.

We leave the marine exhibit and head to the reptile and amphibian building. If nothing else, it is cool and dim inside. and the schoolchildren seem to avoid it. As we stand and look through thick plates of glass at venomous snakes and lizards, I pull her against me and can feel myself grow hard. The only other people in the building just left, and we are standing there in silence. I can’t stand it a moment longer, and I draw her into a shallow hallway that leads to the back sides of the aquariums and cages. I twirl her around to face me, and while zipping down my pants, I lift her up, and her legs go around me, not unlike the serpents nearby. I penetrate her slowly and deeply, and she wriggles against me in enjoyment.

“We shouldn’t do this. We can get caught,” she whispers.

“Just for a minute. Just let me be inside you for this one minute,” I whisper back, and she nods and molds herself more tightly around my waist. Whether it’s the nearness of her body, the earthy smell of the creatures nearby, or the excitement of doing this forbidden act out in the open, I drill her hard and fast and explode within seconds. She squirms upon me as though milking the last of me into herself. Some people come in at the end of the hallway, and I quickly but silently slide her to her feet and zip up my pants. She moves down the exhibit, squealing at the python to draw attention away from our dark hallway rendezvous. I am in seventh heaven.

***

We are heading back to the guest house, and my mind is in a whirl as I try to find a way to tell her the truth. It has to be a private moment; one when she may be capable of understanding my motivation. I know she trusts me, and God knows I want her to be able to. Mac goes to her car, extracts a small suitcase, and comes inside. I text Mort who appears not long thereafter with a picnic basket and a blanket. We exchange few words as he sets these on my kitchen table and retreats back to the big house. Grabbing the basket and the blanket, I lead Mac down to the water’s edge and a stand of trees that makes our spot private from wandering eyes.

We chat about everything and nothing. We swap childish secrets and future plans. She tells me what it was like growing up with her parents, and I tell her what it was like to sail with mine across deep blue waters that are always at the mercy of the wind. She says she would like to try sailing sometime, and I wonder whether I can do it. I’ve avoided boats since I lost my parents. I seem to be attracted by activities I can control, and sailing is not one of those. In fact, as I sit there with her, and she’s under the assumption that I have no money to my name, I realize there’s nothing in my life that I can control, at least nothing that makes me happy.

That night, we create a cocoon made of a man and a woman. Neither one wants to admit they have more than just a casual relationship going on. We are two who are melding into one, sleeping skin to skin, still moist after a long and slow lovemaking. Rolling against my side, she clings to me, and I can feel a certain desperation. She’s not the only one, however. I’m desperate to keep her, to keep her trust, and yet I know I’ve done nothing to earn it.