TWENTY-FIVE

 

“I swore I wouldn’t sleep with you,” I told Mac the next morning after we had showered and dressed, him in fresh clothes, me in the ones I had worn the previous night.

“Why is that?”

“Because you’re my boss.”

“And you’re opposed to workplace romances?”

“Life is complicated enough.” I recounted my unsettling confrontation with the no-neck, ex-football player host the day before.

Mac waved his hand in dismissal. “J.T. Brown is one of the reasons our ratings were slipping. He’s boring. Fewer and fewer listeners are tuning in to hear him.”

“Then why do you keep him?”

“His agent brokered a deal that makes it next to impossible for me to get rid of him.”

“And you signed it?”

“No, my predecessor did.” He grinned. “Which explains why he’s the ex-station manager. And why J.T.’s history once that contract is up. The guy was a terrific wide receiver, but he sucks as a broadcaster and doesn’t have the smarts to coach. This time next year he’ll be pumping gas back in Bumblefuck, Mississippi.”

“Bumblefuck, huh? Makes Ten Commandments sound like a cultural mecca.” I slipped into my coat. “Still, he made it clear he’s looking forward to seeing me fall flat on my ass. I don’t want to give him any ammunition to aid him in tripping me up.”

Mac kissed the tip of my nose. “You won’t.”

Hand-in-hand, we headed off to Bean for a quick breakfast. Then Mac walked me back to my apartment. The rain and chill of last night had given way to a picture book May morning in New York, replete with a blazing blue sky and accompanied by a cacophony of city melodies—traffic and people abuzz and alive. I inhaled, and my senses were bombarded with a mélange of fresh scents—the sweet and tangy and sharp and pungent aromas of flowers and perfumes and fish and cheese and newly baked bagels—spilling out from the open shop doors we passed.

I raised my face to the sun and basked in its warm glow. For the first time in weeks, I felt empowered. Everything would work out. Mom. Dad. My new job. My budding relationship with Mac.

Even though we had jumped into bed without any preamble, I had no doubt that this was more than a one-night stand. Something had simmered between us from the moment we met. Last night that something had fired up into a roiling boil that consumed us both.

I’d never before jumped into bed with a guy the way I had with Mac. Good girls from Ten Commandments, Iowa didn’t sleep around. Or so I was brought up to believe. When I finally lost my virginity in graduate school, I spent many a sleepless night wondering if I’d burn in hell for it. My first love affair, borne more out of curiosity, rebellion, and lust than love, died a quick death.

Then came Dave. I didn’t sleep with him until I had convinced myself I was head-over-heels in love with the prick, and look where that had gotten me.

Maybe it was time to plunge into a relationship just because it felt so good and so right and not worry where it might lead. Last night proved I had cast off the shackles of Ten Commandments so far as sex was concerned. Looking back, I could hardly believe my wanton behavior with Mac, but I felt no guilt or shame over the way I had behaved.

“Amazing what a night of good fucking can do for a girl’s spirits.”

Crude but true, Gertie.

“So let’s give credit where credit’s due, okay?”

Meaning?

“Meaning: I told you so.”

Take all the credit you want, I told her. I feel too good to argue with you.

“Especially because I’m right.”

She generally was, as much as I hated to admit it. Gertie knew me better than I knew myself. And she wasn’t shy about telling me so.

I bounced along on a cloud of euphoria until we rounded the corner and I saw the police car, its lights flashing, parked in front of my apartment. “Ohmigod!” I stopped dead in my tracks and stared at the small group outside my apartment—my parents, Hy, and two policemen stood on the curb next to the police car.

“What’s going on?” asked Mac.

All sorts of scenarios—none of them good—raced through my mind. My father had the world’s longest fuse. He never lost control and absolutely never resorted to physical violence. But his world was falling apart before his eyes, both back in Ten Commandments and here in New York. Family meant everything to Dad; Mom meant more than everything to him. Hyman Perth’s relationship with Mom might be the catalyst to transform Dad from Mahatma Gandhi into Mike Tyson.

From halfway down the block I couldn’t tell if anyone was handcuffed. Couldn’t make out blackened eyes, bloodied noses, or dislocated jaws. I craned my neck to see over and around the other pedestrians on the street, but my view kept getting blocked. “Damn! I can’t see.”

I dashed down the street. Mac grabbed my hand and ran interference as we scrambled our way around strolling tourists, scurrying commuters, and a dog-walker whose assorted brood took up nine-tenths of the sidewalk.

When we stopped short at the group in front of the police car, I quickly scanned my father and Hy for telltale signs of battle. No bumps, bruises, or blood on either. And no handcuffs.

“See, I told you she’s not missing,” said Mom as I gulped in rapid lungfuls of air to catch my breath. She offered the policemen a smug smile. A split second later, that smug smile transformed into an irritated frown directed toward Mac. The irritated frown deepened into a harsh scowl as her gaze zeroing in on our still-joined hands.

“Missing?” Damn! Of course they’d jump to that conclusion when I didn’t return home last night. I should have called, but what would I have said?

“How about, ‘Hi, Mom and Dad. Don’t wait up. Mac and I are going to screw each other’s brains out tonight.’”

Not one of Gertie’s better suggestions. However, by the way Mom glared at Mac, I didn’t need to tell her anything. She already knew. I glanced at Dad. His attention alternately shifted between Mac and Hy, his expression equally severe. What were the chances I could get the police to take me into protective custody until my parents went back to Ten Commandments? Then again, from the looks of things, they’d better take Mac and Hy as well.

“Maybe you could get them to offer a three-for-one deal,” suggested Gertie.

When the police were finally assured that all was well on Bedford Street and drove off, my father turned to Mac. “Who are you?”

Mac extricated his hand from mine and offered it to my father. “Mackenzie Randolph, sir.”

He turned to Mom. “The doctor boyfriend?”

She shook her head.

Dad stared at the extended hand and responded in much the same way as he had to Hy the day before—with suspicion and a begrudging grunt, no handshake.

Mac withdrew his hand and turned to me. “I have to get to the office.”

I nodded. “I’ll be in as soon as I freshen up.”

Then he bent down and kissed me in full view of my parents. Not an air kiss. Not a peck-on-the-cheek kiss. Not a fleeting touch-of-the-lips kiss. Mac grabbed me in his arms and kissed me in a way that announced exactly who he was and that he didn’t give a damn who knew it.

My responding kiss proclaimed a resounding, “Ditto.”

My mother gasped.

My father bellowed, “Honora Rachel Stedworth!”

Hy chortled.

Mac and I ignored all three of them. He finally broke the kiss—reluctantly—and strode down the street.

I had no idea where our relationship was headed. From the moment I met Mac, he did things to my body and mind that no man had ever done, and that was before he’d touched me with nothing more than his eyes. Not that I had that much experience with other men, but I did have enough to know something special was unfolding. I decided to live in the moment. I wasn’t going to think about tomorrow, much less forever. Besides, I had less than an hour to shower, dress, and get to the studio on time.

“He’s ruining everything,” I heard my mother mutter under her breath as I headed into my apartment.

I didn’t need to ask who he was or what he was ruining. Mom may have changed her hair and wardrobe and even her outlook on life since arriving in New York, but she’d never give up on the idea of getting Eugene and me together. A fact made apparent when thirty minutes later, I stepped out of the bathroom and found the mortician in question sipping coffee at my kitchen table.

“Good morning, Nori,” he said.

I nodded. “Eugene.” Then I turned to my parents. “I don’t suppose either of you could give me the short version of what disaster took place in my bedroom.”

My mother handed me a cup of coffee. “I’m sorry, dear. I’ll clean it up later. I needed the phone book.”

“The phone book?” Did I even have a phone book? I decided I didn’t have time to pursue the subject further. I had to get to work. I held up my hand as she started to launch into an explanation. “Never mind. I don’t want to know.” I doubted it would make much sense, anyway.

Mom motioned to one of the unoccupied chairs. “Sit down. I’ll make you some breakfast.”

I took a quick swig of the coffee, then placed the cup on the counter. “Can’t. I have to be at work in twenty minutes.” I swung my purse over my shoulder and headed for the living room.

Behind me, I heard Mom urging Eugene. “Go. Walk her to work.”

“That’s not necessary. I know the way,” I called over my shoulder as I closed the door behind me.

Halfway down the block, Eugene caught up with me. “Nori, wait.”

I expelled a huff of annoyance as I continued taking city strides. “I thought you were here for a conference.”

“I am.”

I waved him off. “Then go conference.”

“Wait, please.”

I stopped and turned to face him. He shoved his hands into his pants pockets, hung his head, and shuffled his feet. “Look, uhm...there’s something we need to talk about.”

He was right. We really needed to put an end to this parental manipulation so we could both get on with our lives. “Okay, but talk and walk. I’m on the air in less than half an hour.” I took off again, and Eugene fell in step.

“On the air?”

I told him about the radio show.

“Hey, that’s really cool.”

“You think so?”

“Sure.”

I shrugged. “Just don’t spread it around Ten Commandments. I don’t think people back home would feel likewise, and my father’s got enough trouble right now.”

“More than you know.”

I stopped short again and spun around. “What now?”

Eugene filled me in on the way the town council had turned against Dad.

“Those ingrates! And after all he’s done for that town.” And then I thought about the shock Dad received yesterday when confronted with the “new” Mom. And the expression on his face earlier when he looked at Mac and me and put two and two together. A lump the size of Sioux City lodged in my throat. “He must feel like his world is crumbling at his feet.”

“It’s a hell of a way to get yanked into the twenty-first century.”

I chuckled. “Twenty-first century? Dad never made it into the second half of the twentieth century.”

“But we have.”

“Yes, and I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that they don’t have arranged marriages in the twenty-first century, at least not in America.”

He cocked his closely cropped head and raised one shaggy eyebrow. “So you don’t want to marry me?”

“Hell no!” Then I quickly backtracked. My outburst had sounded so cruel, and I hadn’t meant to hurt Eugene’s feelings, only make it clear that I couldn’t and wouldn’t marry him. Ever. “I’m sorry, Eugene, I—”

But he didn’t let me finish my apology. He placed both hands on my upper arms, grinned, and expelled a happy sigh. “That’s a relief because I don’t want to marry you. Never did, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

We both laughed, then hugged and laughed some more.

A major problem still loomed before us, though. As we resumed walking, I brought up the albatross hanging around both of our necks. “So how do we convince our meddlesome parents to butt out of our lives?” Eugene didn’t offer any suggestions. I turned my head to glance in his direction.

He chewed on his lower lip, his brows knit together in pensive concentration. When he noticed me staring, he said. “I suppose I could come out of the closet.”

“That’s not something to joke about, Eugene.”

“I wasn’t joking.”

For the third time, I stopped short and spun around to confront him. No twinkle sparkled in his eyes. He wasn’t fighting to stifle a grin. Eugene’s expression was dead serious. “My God! You’re not kidding, are you?”

“Queer as they come. Right down to the bunions and calluses on my toes. You never suspected?”

I shook my head. I doubted anyone in Ten Commandments suspected. I couldn’t help laughing. “I suppose it’s a good thing I never did fall in love with you.”

“Maybe you didn’t because deep down you knew.”

I thought that over for a moment. “I don’t think so. To me, you were always more like a big brother. Sometimes a pain in the ass, sometimes a pal, but no,” I shook my head—again. “I never thought you were gay.”

We continued walking down the street. “Do you think Ten Commandments is ready for a gay undertaker?” I asked.

“I doubt Ten Commandments is ready for a gay anything, but I’m tired of living a double life.”

“You don’t have to stay there.” We had arrived at the station. “This is where I work.” I glanced at my watch. I had less than ten minutes before my show aired. “We should talk more later.”

He nodded. “Later.” Then he bent down and planted a dry big-brother peck on my cheek.

~*~

I was still reeling from Eugene’s news when, a few minutes later, Mac confronted me in the hallway outside my office. An all-too-serious scowl covered his face. “I like it better when you’re smiling,” I told him.

The scowl deepened. He clenched and unclenched his left fist as he huffed out a sharp exhale of breath. “I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

My body tensed. I didn’t want any more news, bad or otherwise. I was up to my eyeballs sorting through all the news I’d received lately from both my parents and Eugene. I walked into my office, tossed my coat and bag on the chair, and scowled back at him. “Let me guess. You discovered there’s a company policy against the on-air talent sleeping with management.”

“Shh!” Mac glanced down the corridor, then followed me inside, closing the door behind him. His scowl softened into the hint of a smile. “No, I made sure I deleted that paragraph from the policy manual before I hired you.”

I felt the tension in both my body and the air ease a bit. “That’s a relief. So what’s the bad news.”

“The suits are flipping somersaults over you. Aside from a few disgruntled jocks whose opinions don’t count, everyone loves your show. Especially the sales reps. They’ve got sponsors standing in line to hand over money.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“The suits are talking huge media campaign—print, billboards, TV, the works—with an eye toward eventual syndication. They think you’ve got what it takes to go national.”

“I see.” This was a major problem.

“Not that the idea doesn’t sound intriguing,” said Gertie. Admit it. You’re tempted.”

True, but what about my parents? I had no doubt once she got used to it, Mom could handle my Gertie persona, especially considering her new direction in life. But Dad? Never. Look at the way he had reacted to Mom’s transformation. How could I cause my father more anguish?

“The man is stuck in a make-believe time warp. He needs a swift kick into reality.”

Maybe Gertie’s harsh assessment was correct, but that kick could crumble him. I may have run away from his controlling attitudes, but I still loved my father. Besides, both Mom and Ten Commandments were kicking him hard enough at present. How could I add to his already bruised ego? I couldn’t.

I chewed on the inside of my cheek and mentally counted to ten before reminding Mac of the clause I had insisted adding to my contract—the clause that kept my identity a secret. The clause he had accepted. “We agreed I wouldn’t have to do any publicity other than radio ads.”

“I know. That’s the problem. They’re not real happy with me at the moment.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning if I don’t get you to strike that clause, I’m history.”

“Shit.” I pushed my coat and purse onto the floor and slumped into my chair. “So I either give my father a heart attack, or you lose your job, is that it?”

“In a nutshell.” He straddled the corner of my desk with one hip. Retrieving a sealed envelope from his sport coat pocket, he waved it in front of my face. “Don’t worry, Nori. I refuse to place you in that kind of position. I’m on my way upstairs to resign.”

“No!” I jumped to my feet. Before he could stop me, I grabbed the envelope from him and tore it in half. Then in half again. And again. I kept tearing until the wad in my hand was too thick to rip. Then I crumpled it up and tossed it in the trash can under my desk.

Mac shrugged. “That solves nothing. I’ll simply print another off the computer.”

“You will not.” Panic seized me. I glanced at the clock. “Look, I’m on in less than five minutes. Don’t pull any heroic, sacrificial crap for the next hour. We’ll figure something out after my show, okay?”

He shook his head in resignation, his expression determined. “There’s nothing to figure out, Nori. You change your mind, or I’m out of here. Simple as that. Black and white. There are no other options. And I’m not going to box you into a corner to save my ass.”

With one hand I grabbed the file with today’s rant. My other hand reached for Mac. I fought to keep my mounting hysteria from echoing in my voice. “There are always other options, Mac. Promise me you won’t do anything until I get back.”

When he didn’t answer, I squeezed his hand. Hard. Time to call in the big guns. If there was ever a time to employ the ultimate threat, this was it. “Promise me, or I’ll never sleep with you again.”

He raised both eyebrows and cocked his head. His lips twitched into a smile. “You fight dirty, Stedworth.”

“You better believe it.” I tightened my grip. “Now promise.”

Mac sighed. “Okay. Don’t break my fingers. I may need them to dig ditches. I promise.”

I released his hand, wrapped my arms around his neck, and kissed him until our tonsils tangoed. When I broke the kiss and stepped back, I raised my chin and fired off one parting shot. “Just a little reminder of what you’ll be missing if you break your word.”

I opened the door and raced down the hall without so much as a glance back.