Chapter 15

There is no way I could ever be considered the second-coming of Casanova.

I have been married three times and had several relationships over the years, some good, others dreadful. So judging by the facts, I do not believe anybody could say I was truly hideous to look at or be around.

As I get older, my attractiveness to members of the finer sex dwindles, or at least to many of the ones who catch my eye. After all, I am in my early-40s, balding, a little overweight, wear glasses and contacts, along with not making a lot of money.

If I wanted a relationship, chances are good there is somebody out there. But ever since the last one crashed and burned, I have been happy flying solo. I have a few friends in Tulsa and we go do things, usually boring, but it’s enough to keep me occupied and out of trouble.

None of my Tulsa friends ever kidnap me and take me to some rundown bar manned by illiterate rednecks or women who would have to get a clearance letter from their doctor before I had anything to do with them.

The woman standing at the front door does not fit in here. First off, she is very attractive. Last I heard, she was still employed and doing fairly well. She has never displayed any forms of craziness either.

Mule elbowed me in the side, way harder than necessary.

“Whooboy!” he practically screamed. “Who’s that hottie?”

“That’s one of the former Mrs. Hunts,” I said.

“Dang! Is she the one you turned queer?”

Naturally, Mule waited until everything got quiet in the bar before he said that. I don’t know if everybody in The Last Call heard, but anybody within shouting distance did. I glared at Squiggy, knowing how Mule came across that information.

"No, that was my first wife, Ellen. The one at the door was my second wife, the nympho," I muttered, somewhat under my breath.

Squiggy acted like he didn’t hear and was trying to talk with the woman who was stalking me from behind. But he kept an eye on me just in case I attempted a roundhouse right.

“Squiggy!” I hollered. “I can’t believe…”

I was interrupted by a pinch on the buttocks, the right cheek, to be more exact. At first, I was afraid it might be Mule, but he was too far away and his attention was centered on one April Hunt, if she had not bothered to change her last name.

I wheeled around to see the chunky woman standing there, smiling. She obviously must have felt that if her two primary assets did not get my attention, pinching my rear hard enough to leave a bruise would.

“Ouch!” I muttered. “Why’d you do that?”

She was licking her lips. It was a good thing I didn’t have anything in my stomach or I would have lost it. The woman looked like a lion stalking a zebra, or something. I didn’t notice it before, but now I could see her mustache gleaming in the strobe lights.

“Buy me a beer?” she asked.

“No,” I answered.

Her smile turned to a frown. She was not used to that answer. The woman moved close enough her two melons were about to propel me over the bar.

“Don’t ya like what ya see?” she asked, actually looking down at herself.

“Not particularly,” I replied. That bra she was wearing must be industrial strength and I, for one, did not want to be anywhere close when that thing was taken off for the night.

“You ain’t very nice,” the woman stated, starting to get a little angry. Apparently I was the first man who did not agree to buy her a beer and wasn’t impressed with her and her two buddies.

“Actually, I am, just not interested. Look at him, he wants you.”

I pointed at Squiggy, who was practically drooling as his eyes never bothered to look at her face.
She turned to look at him. Her facial features changed, now looking like she smelled something really bad.

“Ugh, but that’s Squiggy!” she protested.

Most people would have been bothered by this, but it only seemed to make Squiggy more determined.

“I got my truck outside,” he said.

I had to get out of here. Listening to Squiggy’s pick-up lines and being in the same place as April were not on my to-do list for the evening. I started walking toward an exit at the side of the bar. Mule followed close, too close for my comfort. His bad breath was hitting me like a hot mist.

“Where ya goin?” Mule asked.

“I’m leaving.”

“Sorry for sayin that bout you turning that woman queer. That’s what Squiggy says happened.”

Prompted by Mule, the nightmare of my relationship with Ellen washes over me. It was definitely not one of those “Priceless” moments in the Master Card commercials.

There are many things in my life that I wish could be deleted. All three marriages would fit in that category, especially the first one. We got married after two months of dating, both thinking we were in love but not knowing the meaning of the word.

Things were fine for the first few months. Halfway through the first year, she started changing. She became distant and cold. Hushed phone calls were abruptly cut off when I entered a room. I thought it was just one of the things a married couple goes through after the luster wears off.

But it kept getting worse until the day I came home unexpectedly and found her in bed with her boss, also a female. To some men, this could have been an arousing situation, but given the circumstances, I wasn't. I packed my bags and hit the road, filing for divorce the next day.

I whirled around to face Mule and his retched breath.

“I didn’t make her ‘queer’,” I insisted.

Mule showed a little doubt.

“Squiggy says you couldn’t meet her needs.”

“Squiggy doesn’t always know what he’s talking about.”

Mule had to think that one over for a few seconds.

“Didja really come home and find her in bed with another chick?”

“Yes.”

“Cool. Did you, like, get to join in?”

I shook my head and stalked off. First off, I didn’t find it the least bit “cool”. Second, I wouldn’t have joined in with them. Since it involved the woman I loved, I found it fairly disgusting.

“Go away, Mule,” I ordered. I tried the door on the side of the bar with the exit sign above it. Naturally, it was locked. I figured this was violating several fire codes and made a mental note to tell someone of authority about it, someday.

“I’m sorry,” Mule added, and acted like he truly meant it. “You think you might introduce me to that hot chick at the door?”

“Introduce yourself, I’m leaving.”

April was still standing at the door. She didn’t look much different than the last time I saw her, at the attorney’s office when the divorce was worked out. I thought she was the one. Smart, funny and a blast to be around.

Apparently all the guys in our apartment complex and neighborhood bars felt that way, too.

She stood her ground at the door, refusing to let me pass.

“Hi, Michael,” she said.

I nodded in reply, just wanting to get out of here.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“I’m leaving.”

“It'll just take a second.”

“Then you can give me a ride to my truck.”

She nodded and we left the bar. I looked back one time to see Squiggy and the chunky woman huddled together at a table. Squiggy was slipping his beer into her ample cleavage like it was a koozie and giving her his best pick-up lines. Mule looked sad as he watched me go. I waved and he managed a crooked smile and waved back.

We got in her Honda Accord, out of place in this parking lot. She drove away after I plopped down in the passenger seat and buckled my seatbelt.

“I’m sorry about your father,” she began.

“He’s an old man,” I responded, as if that was reason enough. “My truck’s at the high school.”

“I know.”

Surely she had not been stalking me. I didn’t even know she had moved back to Langford. Last I heard she was satisfying half the men in Tulsa.

We drove through town. Traffic was light at this time of night, just an occasional vehicle. Based on experience, most of the people driving at this time of night were drunk and things had not changed as I watched several trucks veer in and out of their lane.

Luckily, none of the drunks hit us so we arrived safely at our destination.

April was as beautiful as when we first met. She had the most intriguing olive complexion and eyelashes that would stir up the air when she blinked. Her hair was jet black, straight and long. Even in the dark, I could see her eyes, the bluest eyes I have ever seen. I always wondered how a girl with her features could have blue eyes.

She was wearing a slightly too small OSU Cowboys tee-shirt that allowed a slight peek at her tanned stomach and the ring in her navel, along with jeans and boots. There wasn’t any makeup on her face, not that she needed any.

April pulled in next to my truck. I started to get out but she grabbed my arm.

“Do you ever think about us?” she asked.

“I try not to. It wasn’t a good memory.”

“All of it?”

“The last half sure wasn’t.”

She put both hands on the steering wheel and squeezed, looking straight ahead. Her eyes looked a little misty, but it must have been an illusion. April was not the type to cry or show weakness.

“I’m sorry for what happened,” she added. “I was young and didn’t know what I was doing. I know I hurt you and wanted to apologize.”

I nodded, not knowing what to say.

I fumbled with the door hatch, wanting to get out. Finally, I open the door and start to get out.

“Will you at least accept my apology?” she asked.

“It won’t change anything,” I answer. “How can you possibly expect me to forgive you for what happened?”

“I can’t, but I’m really sorry.”

“Okay, you’re sorry. See you.”

I slam the door and start walking toward my truck. It’s been a long day and all I want is to get in bed and sleep, knowing tomorrow will start early.

She gets out of her car and follows me to the truck.

“Michael, please wait,” she pleads. “I need to tell you something.”

Knowing I should leave, I stop and listen to a story I never expected to hear.

Chapter 16