Rusty Nailed
Page 44
“Hi. NBC. Channel 11,” Neil said, pumping Bernard’s hand up and down furiously. “Sports?” he finished, when Bernard looked at him in puzzlement. “I’m the sportscaster? You know, Neil makes the call every day at six and eleven?” he finished in his best broadcasting voice.
“Oh, sure, hi. Nice to meet you . . . Neil?”
Simon choked back his own laughter.
Polly and Bernard continued to talk in the center of the room while Neil and Sophia backed into their own corners, confused. I went back to the shrimp puffs with Simon, content that this night would work itself out.
• • •
An hour later I was huddled in the bathroom with Sophia and Mimi, debating the benefits of an on-purpose nip slip. Bernard and Polly had continued to reminisce about conferences they’d attended, who had published what article in which journal, and now they were talking about some charming guy named quark who was a bottom? Ryan had attempted to explain the latter, but when he launched into fundamental forces and particle decay, I couldn’t listen anymore. Mainly because Mimi was panting so loudly; she loved it when Ryan gave good science.
So now here we were, debating the slip of said nip, and whether it would be enough to get Sophia’s night back on track. A little tipsy from too many toddies and still thrown by the fact that I wasn’t going to Rio, I was losing interest quickly.
“Oh, for God’s sake, just go flash some cleave at Professor Boring over there, will you?” I snapped, pushing back out to the party. Pretty Polly and Beige Bernard were on the couch, noses practically touching, and I was pretty sure more body parts were on their way.
Their chemistry was the kind that was cultivated in a petri dish and simmered over a Bunsen burner until hot and horny. Someone’s hadron was colliding tonight, that was for sure.
I spied Neil heading over to where Sophia had just appeared from the bathroom, and I rolled my eyes.
“How ya doin’, babe?” Simon asked, taking my arm.
“Great! How ’bout you?”
“You sure you’re okay?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” I drained my toddy and looked around for another.
“Because half your boob is out of your shirt,” he replied, turning me into the wall and away from some rather delighted guests.
“Shit,” I exclaimed, tucking myself back in. “I was demonstrating how to—oh, never mind.”
“Maybe we should think about heading home,” he suggested.
I was about to tell him what I thought about this when we heard a crash from the kitchen. We all got there at the same time to find Neil wearing a bowl of potato salad and Sophia holding a plate of shrimp puffs over his head. With a nip purposefully slipped. Neil’s eyes were locked on the nip, rage burning through the potato salad.
“Cover yourself!” he growled.
“Cover this!” she shouted.
“My shrimp puffs!” Mimi moaned.
“How far is your car?” Polly asked as she and Bernard sailed out the front door.
I shook my head, gathered up my cookies and my Wallbanger, and headed for Sausalito.
Simon and I had been together over a year now, and of course there were nights that we didn’t have sex when he was home. Headache? Sometimes I got them. That time of the month? Definitely not happening. But this was the first time I said no because I was irritated.
And he was now irritated that I was irritated.
It’s fair to say I blamed it on Rio.
chapter fourteen
The following montage has been reproduced from the television special Caroline’s Christmas Spectacular. If you are able to listen to “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas,” preferably the Johnny Mathis version, please do so now.
We open on a driveway. A beat-up black Range Rover is parked there, covered almost entirely with an enormous blue spruce Christmas tree. A devastatingly gorgeous man with jet-black hair and a grin that sparkles with mischief is untying the tree, catching it just before it falls onto the concrete. He laughs, tossing a look over his shoulder at a pretty—no, a stunning—blonde who watches from the sidewalk. Her full, perky br**sts push out against a sweater decorated with reindeer. The luckiest reindeer ever to grace wool. Ahem. As she watches the handsome man wrestle with the tree, she calls out to him, and he laughs again. He also notices the reindeer . . . How could he not?
Cut to the same couple, now joined with another happy young pair. A man with wavy blond hair, horn-rimmed glasses, and a scholarly look about him sits next to a tiny Asian woman with impeccably groomed shiny black hair and an impossibly short skirt. The four are tucked into a red leather booth in Chinatown, and as they crack into a round of fortune cookies, the brunette woman slides a festively wrapped present across the table to her friend, the stunning blonde. The four friends smile at each other as they read their fortunes. The man with blond hair looks up and spies a bundle of mistletoe, prompting him to steal a kiss from the tiny brunette.
Cut to a buxom redhead, dressed in a long black dress. She is on a stage surrounded by an entire symphony as she plays a solo on a cello. While the music swells, bringing merry tunes to all the concertgoers, she inclines her head in appreciation of the applause. As her music is absorbed by the rest of the musicians once again, she seems to have a far-off look in her eyes . . . hinting at sadness, perhaps? What could a girl this lovely have to be sad about at Christmas?
Cut to a television studio, where an athletic man with curly dark hair and a winning smile tells his audience about the latest sports news. In between the football highlights and the blooper reel, one can imagine all the viewers tuning in. Is one of them the buxom redhead? Does he hope so?
Cut to the pretty blonde sitting in front of a giant window wall. Through the window we can see the deep gray-blue of a large body of water, and in the distance we can see the outline of a great city. The skyline suggests San Francisco. In the reflection of the window we can see an enormous Christmas tree, decorated with twinkly lights and sparkly baubles. The gorgeous man enters, a majestic cat at his heels. As he sits down next to the pretty blonde, we see that she was reading a magazine. She hurriedly closes it, but before she can, we see over her shoulder that it was open to an article about Brazil.
Cut to a bedroom where we can see . . . Fade to black. Family program.
Cut back to our original couple, now seated at a table piled high with Christmas delights. Dishes of buttery mashed potatoes, bowls of green beans and sweet potatoes, crowned by a perfectly roasted turkey. As the pretty blonde brings an apple pie to the sideboard, the gorgeous man gives her a secret smile that makes her blush. Does he know something we don’t know?
“Oh, sure, hi. Nice to meet you . . . Neil?”
Simon choked back his own laughter.
Polly and Bernard continued to talk in the center of the room while Neil and Sophia backed into their own corners, confused. I went back to the shrimp puffs with Simon, content that this night would work itself out.
• • •
An hour later I was huddled in the bathroom with Sophia and Mimi, debating the benefits of an on-purpose nip slip. Bernard and Polly had continued to reminisce about conferences they’d attended, who had published what article in which journal, and now they were talking about some charming guy named quark who was a bottom? Ryan had attempted to explain the latter, but when he launched into fundamental forces and particle decay, I couldn’t listen anymore. Mainly because Mimi was panting so loudly; she loved it when Ryan gave good science.
So now here we were, debating the slip of said nip, and whether it would be enough to get Sophia’s night back on track. A little tipsy from too many toddies and still thrown by the fact that I wasn’t going to Rio, I was losing interest quickly.
“Oh, for God’s sake, just go flash some cleave at Professor Boring over there, will you?” I snapped, pushing back out to the party. Pretty Polly and Beige Bernard were on the couch, noses practically touching, and I was pretty sure more body parts were on their way.
Their chemistry was the kind that was cultivated in a petri dish and simmered over a Bunsen burner until hot and horny. Someone’s hadron was colliding tonight, that was for sure.
I spied Neil heading over to where Sophia had just appeared from the bathroom, and I rolled my eyes.
“How ya doin’, babe?” Simon asked, taking my arm.
“Great! How ’bout you?”
“You sure you’re okay?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” I drained my toddy and looked around for another.
“Because half your boob is out of your shirt,” he replied, turning me into the wall and away from some rather delighted guests.
“Shit,” I exclaimed, tucking myself back in. “I was demonstrating how to—oh, never mind.”
“Maybe we should think about heading home,” he suggested.
I was about to tell him what I thought about this when we heard a crash from the kitchen. We all got there at the same time to find Neil wearing a bowl of potato salad and Sophia holding a plate of shrimp puffs over his head. With a nip purposefully slipped. Neil’s eyes were locked on the nip, rage burning through the potato salad.
“Cover yourself!” he growled.
“Cover this!” she shouted.
“My shrimp puffs!” Mimi moaned.
“How far is your car?” Polly asked as she and Bernard sailed out the front door.
I shook my head, gathered up my cookies and my Wallbanger, and headed for Sausalito.
Simon and I had been together over a year now, and of course there were nights that we didn’t have sex when he was home. Headache? Sometimes I got them. That time of the month? Definitely not happening. But this was the first time I said no because I was irritated.
And he was now irritated that I was irritated.
It’s fair to say I blamed it on Rio.
chapter fourteen
The following montage has been reproduced from the television special Caroline’s Christmas Spectacular. If you are able to listen to “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas,” preferably the Johnny Mathis version, please do so now.
We open on a driveway. A beat-up black Range Rover is parked there, covered almost entirely with an enormous blue spruce Christmas tree. A devastatingly gorgeous man with jet-black hair and a grin that sparkles with mischief is untying the tree, catching it just before it falls onto the concrete. He laughs, tossing a look over his shoulder at a pretty—no, a stunning—blonde who watches from the sidewalk. Her full, perky br**sts push out against a sweater decorated with reindeer. The luckiest reindeer ever to grace wool. Ahem. As she watches the handsome man wrestle with the tree, she calls out to him, and he laughs again. He also notices the reindeer . . . How could he not?
Cut to the same couple, now joined with another happy young pair. A man with wavy blond hair, horn-rimmed glasses, and a scholarly look about him sits next to a tiny Asian woman with impeccably groomed shiny black hair and an impossibly short skirt. The four are tucked into a red leather booth in Chinatown, and as they crack into a round of fortune cookies, the brunette woman slides a festively wrapped present across the table to her friend, the stunning blonde. The four friends smile at each other as they read their fortunes. The man with blond hair looks up and spies a bundle of mistletoe, prompting him to steal a kiss from the tiny brunette.
Cut to a buxom redhead, dressed in a long black dress. She is on a stage surrounded by an entire symphony as she plays a solo on a cello. While the music swells, bringing merry tunes to all the concertgoers, she inclines her head in appreciation of the applause. As her music is absorbed by the rest of the musicians once again, she seems to have a far-off look in her eyes . . . hinting at sadness, perhaps? What could a girl this lovely have to be sad about at Christmas?
Cut to a television studio, where an athletic man with curly dark hair and a winning smile tells his audience about the latest sports news. In between the football highlights and the blooper reel, one can imagine all the viewers tuning in. Is one of them the buxom redhead? Does he hope so?
Cut to the pretty blonde sitting in front of a giant window wall. Through the window we can see the deep gray-blue of a large body of water, and in the distance we can see the outline of a great city. The skyline suggests San Francisco. In the reflection of the window we can see an enormous Christmas tree, decorated with twinkly lights and sparkly baubles. The gorgeous man enters, a majestic cat at his heels. As he sits down next to the pretty blonde, we see that she was reading a magazine. She hurriedly closes it, but before she can, we see over her shoulder that it was open to an article about Brazil.
Cut to a bedroom where we can see . . . Fade to black. Family program.
Cut back to our original couple, now seated at a table piled high with Christmas delights. Dishes of buttery mashed potatoes, bowls of green beans and sweet potatoes, crowned by a perfectly roasted turkey. As the pretty blonde brings an apple pie to the sideboard, the gorgeous man gives her a secret smile that makes her blush. Does he know something we don’t know?
