aside and made an elaborate sweeping motion with her left hand.
I stepped inside and removed my hat.
“You did mean in the house?” she asked.
I let that one pass. It was okay. There would be others.
As we walked through the foyer and into the den, I looked around at the overly furnished rooms. Margie always had the latest and best and too much of it. Kroehler furniture, Nairn linoleum, Holmes Wilton carpets—I knew because she was always bragging about them. Like Lauren, Margie had married a man with money. Unlike Lauren, Margie had figured out a way to lose the man and keep the money.
“You wanna drink?” she asked, nodding toward the bar in the corner of the room.
As usual, Margie had the best stocked bar around—Gilbey’s and Dixie Belle gin, Seagram’s Five Crown, Cobbs Creek, Mount Vernon, Paul Jones, and on and on.
“I’m okay.”
“You want me to take your hat? Can’t really do anything as long as you’re using your one hand to hold your hat.”
“Don’t plan on doing anything.”
Her face contorted into a narrowed, creased mask of anger and displeasure. “You always was a bastard, Jimmy, you know that?”
“You seen Lauren?” I asked.
“That’s why you’re here?” she said. “Sniffin’ after her. Well, she ain’t here. And I don’t know where she is. And I wouldn’t tell you if I did.”
“Mind if I look around?” I said, already moving toward the other rooms.
“Yeah, I mind,” she said, but she didn’t follow me.
I searched the house. Her kitchen had brand new Formica countertops, a huge new Philco refrigerator, and a Western stove, though I’d never known her to cook.
Nearly every room had an abundance of items that were part of the ration, but I wasn’t surprised. Things like rations didn’t apply to people like Margie.
It didn’t take me long to determine that Lauren wasn’t in the house. Still, I lingered in the bedroom, among the Virginia House Hard Rock Mountain maple furniture Margie was so proud of. Several times she let me and Lauren use her bed when we needed a private place to be together—especially on those long mornings when Harry had board meetings.
Through the windows, I checked the backyard. Margie’s car was the only one in it.
When I walked back into the livingroom, Margie had turned on her phonograph, removed her housecoat and gown, and was standing there completely naked except for the blue mules on her feet and the martini glass still in her hand.
“I know what you’re really after, buster,” she said.
I studied her body for a moment. It was something to see. “You’ve faired a lot better in the last year or so than I have.”
“I don’t mind you only got one arm, Jimmy boy,” she said. “It’s not really your arms I got much use for.”
I shook my head, swallowing hard against a wave of nausea and guilt.
“You want me like before?” she said. “On the floor or bent over the davenport?”
When we were together, Lauren always used to say all she wanted was for me to be happy. Anytime I’d express jealousy about Harry, she’d laugh and tell me I had nothing to worry about from Harry. They didn’t even sleep in the same room together anymore and hadn’t had sex in years. He was like her father, but no matter what she said, I just couldn’t stop obsessing. Finally, after she had had enough, and we could both feel our disintegration beginning, she said if it made me feel any better I could get a woman to sleep with when she wasn’t around. All she wanted was for me to be happy. I was so torn up inside that she could be fine with me being with another woman, so convinced she didn’t love me, not the way I loved her, that I took her at her word and fucked her friend. I did it to get her to react with the same jealousy and obsession I had, but she didn’t have much of a reaction at all. She didn’t leave me right away, and when she did, she said it had nothing to do with Margie, but how could it not?
Margie had placed
I stepped inside and removed my hat.
“You did mean in the house?” she asked.
I let that one pass. It was okay. There would be others.
As we walked through the foyer and into the den, I looked around at the overly furnished rooms. Margie always had the latest and best and too much of it. Kroehler furniture, Nairn linoleum, Holmes Wilton carpets—I knew because she was always bragging about them. Like Lauren, Margie had married a man with money. Unlike Lauren, Margie had figured out a way to lose the man and keep the money.
“You wanna drink?” she asked, nodding toward the bar in the corner of the room.
As usual, Margie had the best stocked bar around—Gilbey’s and Dixie Belle gin, Seagram’s Five Crown, Cobbs Creek, Mount Vernon, Paul Jones, and on and on.
“I’m okay.”
“You want me to take your hat? Can’t really do anything as long as you’re using your one hand to hold your hat.”
“Don’t plan on doing anything.”
Her face contorted into a narrowed, creased mask of anger and displeasure. “You always was a bastard, Jimmy, you know that?”
“You seen Lauren?” I asked.
“That’s why you’re here?” she said. “Sniffin’ after her. Well, she ain’t here. And I don’t know where she is. And I wouldn’t tell you if I did.”
“Mind if I look around?” I said, already moving toward the other rooms.
“Yeah, I mind,” she said, but she didn’t follow me.
I searched the house. Her kitchen had brand new Formica countertops, a huge new Philco refrigerator, and a Western stove, though I’d never known her to cook.
Nearly every room had an abundance of items that were part of the ration, but I wasn’t surprised. Things like rations didn’t apply to people like Margie.
It didn’t take me long to determine that Lauren wasn’t in the house. Still, I lingered in the bedroom, among the Virginia House Hard Rock Mountain maple furniture Margie was so proud of. Several times she let me and Lauren use her bed when we needed a private place to be together—especially on those long mornings when Harry had board meetings.
Through the windows, I checked the backyard. Margie’s car was the only one in it.
When I walked back into the livingroom, Margie had turned on her phonograph, removed her housecoat and gown, and was standing there completely naked except for the blue mules on her feet and the martini glass still in her hand.
“I know what you’re really after, buster,” she said.
I studied her body for a moment. It was something to see. “You’ve faired a lot better in the last year or so than I have.”
“I don’t mind you only got one arm, Jimmy boy,” she said. “It’s not really your arms I got much use for.”
I shook my head, swallowing hard against a wave of nausea and guilt.
“You want me like before?” she said. “On the floor or bent over the davenport?”
When we were together, Lauren always used to say all she wanted was for me to be happy. Anytime I’d express jealousy about Harry, she’d laugh and tell me I had nothing to worry about from Harry. They didn’t even sleep in the same room together anymore and hadn’t had sex in years. He was like her father, but no matter what she said, I just couldn’t stop obsessing. Finally, after she had had enough, and we could both feel our disintegration beginning, she said if it made me feel any better I could get a woman to sleep with when she wasn’t around. All she wanted was for me to be happy. I was so torn up inside that she could be fine with me being with another woman, so convinced she didn’t love me, not the way I loved her, that I took her at her word and fucked her friend. I did it to get her to react with the same jealousy and obsession I had, but she didn’t have much of a reaction at all. She didn’t leave me right away, and when she did, she said it had nothing to do with Margie, but how could it not?
Margie had placed