wc 2053 NaNo/Writing Doodle/Bernie/Daniel

The place I almost met my demise was light, bright, airy, and filled with a smorgasbord of men.  It was head an shoulder above the city gym.

Once at the city gym I was coming out of the ladies' lockerroom and saw the guys playing basketball, shirts and skins.  The ones who should have been shirtless were hiding their bodies in baggy, saggy, and sweaty shirts. The ones who should have hidden everything except their personalities had everything on display.  In my mind, I watched and played a game of Tetris: moving a shirt from player A and covering the body of player B.  Over and over until they were all more appropriately attired.

There was no such basketball game here, at Jack and the Formerly Fat Man's Gym.  Nope.  The basketball court was hidden behind a wall with a glass door.  And they had a dress code.  No matter who you were, it had to be covered from prying eyes.  Shame too because this place was a much better presentation than the city gym.  It wouldn't have been appropriate for me to double check, though it was tempting. The fact that Chris was blocking me from the door was the other.

"Do you play, Bernie?" Chris asked.

"Nope. But I'm willing to learn," I said.  "I remember that my uncle had his high school record for faking fouls.  There's got to be a genetic component."

Genetic or not, it didn't matter.  Uncle Henry never could sink a basket from the free throw line.  All his faked fouls did was get his team a breather for about three minutes before they had to pound the boards again. He had some shame in the fact the only shots he could sink were the grannies and he didn't want to do it in public.  Me?  I'd never sunk a basket of any kind, so grannies didn't sound all that bad to me.

"Next weekend we'll play in  your driveway," Chris said.  "You've got a hoop."

And so there was.  There was no paint on it and no net, but the basic hoop and backboard were above my tiny one car garage.

"Do you have any balls? I mean I know you have balls. But are they the right kind?" I asked. "Eww. That came out wrong. What I mean is-"

"I know what you mean.  Not a problem.  I'll provide the basketball, the lessons, and you provide the space."

Vic swatted my ass.  "Come on, Bern.  If  you're going to take the old man on, you're going to need to build your cardio up."

It wasn't like I got winded going up a flight of stairs. "I don't like to run."  I looked between the two of them.  "Maybe we should find something else we can do. Play with Louie at the park maybe?"

I felt guilty whenever I left Louie, my unintended roommate.  Though he really was a great security system.  I have now been protected from the mailman, birds too near my windows, children selling magazine subscriptions, and even the newspaper boy.  When my dad or Vic have let themselves in, Louie hasn't uttered a peep.  He also seems to have a crush on my landlord.  The day I called about a water heater problem, he let himself in to work on it, assuming I'd be at work.  I was in the shower when the electricity went out.  I barely found a towel to cover myself when I found him wandering into my bathroom.  No call.  No notice.  Just a dog grinning at me as I dripped water all over the floor.

"Roller skating in the park?" Chris asked.

"I don't own any skates." And I've never been rollerskating.  My dad never had the time and when I was in my early 20s and my friends did it, I was always working.

"Give me your size, I'll see if I can't scare some up." Between all of Chris's brothers, there were plenty of girlfriends and wives who might have something.

"Eight."

Vic snorted.  "No way you're an eight.  Probably a twelve, maybe a fourteen."

Thanks, asshole.

"Shoe size eight," I said.  I turned to Chris. "What difference does my dress size make to you? Can I shoot him?"

Chris slowly shook his head indicating a no.  "But I'll look the other way if you want to pour a bottle of Ben Gay in his underwear drawer."

"We share the same drawer," Vic said.  "If it happens to me, it as good as happens to you. I'll make sure of it."

"Never mind." Chris looked a little chagrined.  But not enough to make me feel better.

"Come on, Bernie.  The dressing room is back there.  After you change out, meet me at the front and we'll get started," Vic said. "And we want your opinion of the locker room."

The locker room was opulent.  It was outfitted with more blow driers and curling irons than most salons.  The full sized lockers were some kind of wood, or a great laminate that was so well done no one would notice.  The showers were twice the size of the one I had in my last apartment.  Dollars to doughnuts they had a bigger hot water tank than my last place.

They had even gone to the expense of making sure there was good lighting by the mirrors, I wouldn't look too scary if I put my makeup on under that light.  Unlike when I did a touch up at work; I never got it right.  I was either washed out or looked like I belonged on RuPaul's Drag Race. Over accentuated eyes, lips, and cheekbones.  If I had great cheekbones or could replicate the look on demand, it would be one thing, but I couldn't so there wasn't much point in trying to maintain the farce.

I changed into the outfit Vic found for me at an estate sale.  Poodles.  Nothing but poodles.  I mean head to toe.  Turned out that the woman who lived in the house had been a nationally ranked compeititor for thirty years with her standard poodles.  Think of what Liberace did with rhinestones, that is what she did to her house in dogs.  The table lamps, table cloths, bed spreads, shower curtains, even the dishware was done in dogs.  Someone from the sale decorated a Christmas tree to sell.  It was top to bottom in dog ornaments, there were no bells, no angels, no santas. Just dogs.

The outfit was a little on the roomy side, but I matched.  Dog tracks up and down my arms and legs. A picture of someone's best beloved dog.  Done in bright pinks and greens.   Well, no one would lose me in the place.  Thank god I  no longer had a perm or I'd look like I was trying to match my hair to the outfit.

When I came out Vic and Chris both laughed at me.  "I think we can find you a shirt with a shepherd on it," Vic said.  "Then it would look like  you were in love with Louie."

"Better Louie than anyone else," I said.  "He's so much better than Grady ever thought of being."

"Get on the treadmill and you can tell me about it."

I knew the ruse was to get me moving.  It was also proof that when I worked out I wasn't overly exerting myself - no talking equals no breathing and no breathing equals no more torturing of Bernie.  And we had to continue to torture Bernie at all costs, right?

I got on the machine and adjusted the incline to ten percent, started walking, and set the speed for three miles per hour.  Vic twiddled with the controls on his and I don't know his speed because he went on a slow jog.

"So tell me what's better about Louie," Vic asked.

"No more dirty underwear on the floor," I said.  "No more talk about how much better things were going to be some day.  No more plans that never happen.  No more fighting about what to do on the weekends."

"Sounds like it was a decent trade," Vic said.

"Yeah.  He even cuddles at night.  A nice change."

"Like the Kelly Clarkson song, sleeping warmer alone?"

"I'm not exactly alone.  I have seventy five pounds of german shepherd and dachshund keeping me warm. Oh and he even sheds less than Grady.  And he's no hung up that his hair will never grow back or that he'll be prematurely grey."

"Grady was worried about that?"

"No. Just putting words in his mouth. I'm moving on. I'm going to be stronger than before.  Some day he'll know what he threw away." At the moment, I didn't really believe it.  I did, however, know that I wanted to believe that I was going to be stronger, no matter what he thought.

"You're already pretty strong," Vic said.

"Yeah, but being a workhorse to make someone else happy doesn't work.  I'm not going to wait for my turn to be happy.  It's my time. And, damn it, it's my turn."

"So what are you going to do?"

"Find vacation places that take dogs and go somewhere fabulous with Louie."

"Sounds like you're making him a pretty big priority and it'll be expensive to go to places that cater to dogs."

"My last vacation was someplace to cater to Grady, and it wasn't cheap.  It doesn't matter if I foot the bills.  I've done it for years.  But this time I want to go with someone who will appreciate the effort, even if he doesn't say anything."

I had been thinking it would be fun to drive up the I-5 corridor with the dog.  Maybe use the pacific coast highway and stop at various beaches, eat some good seafood, wander in places I've never been.

"Now, let's talk about something important," Vic said.  "What about the ladies' locker room?  Is it fabulous?"

I gave him my thoughts.  "How's the men's?"

It was about the same, down to the makeup tables.  Who knew there were that many metro sexuals in the area?

"I wish they'd do something about the musical selection," I said.  Most gyms I've been to or heard about had a pretty heavy classic rock beat/vibe going through them.  This one was playing disco.  It wouldn't have surprised me to have seen a mirror ball in the ladies' locker room, the chandelier kind of threw me.

"We're going to start to have theme nights.  Monday country western.  Tuesday disco.  Wednesday disco.  Thursday top forty.  Friday back to country western.  Saturday and Sunday nights will be house music and disco combined."

"Will there be a mirror ball on those nights?" I asked. I thought I was being funny until he answered me.

"I'll tell Jake about it.  It might not be a bad idea.  Mood lighting by the free weights and the mirrors.  Good one."

Only because he winked at me did I realize he was just kidding.  I'd gotten a bit worried until that point.

"We're thinking of adding a doggie day care to the place," Vic said.  "Our demographic likes to cater to their animals."

"What's the demographic."

"Single or dual income and no kids.  Pet parents."

"Will there be discipline on offer, too?"

The guy behind me on a stair climber said, "If there's discipline, I'll sign up."

"For pets," Vic called over his shoulder.

"I could pretend to be a dog," he said.

God, I hoped he was kidding.  Probably not.

I pressed the button to slow down the treadmill.  I was getting tired, my calves hurt, and I was winded.

"You need to spend thirty minutes on it, Bernie," Vic said. His feet kept pounding. He hardly seemed to sweat much less breathe hard.

"Fine."  I put my feet on the metal runners next to the belt.  I was still on the machine.  It was still working.  The clock was still ticking.  And I wasn't going to die any time soon.

"You know what I mean," he said.

"When you're my trainer, you can boss me around," I said.

"I'll be your trainer," a voice that came from the rowing section said.  "I like bossing women around."

I turned my head and did a double take.  Daniel.  The landlord.  Louie's real dad.


~~~

tbc

word count 2053

wc 1112 writing doodle/NaNo/Bernie/Daniel

There was little doubt in my mind who had gone through the apartment and emptied it. I thought Grady might actually be a grown up about things, after all he was the one who left.  Evidently he wanted to take all of the comforts of home with him, except for me. Fine.  I didn't plan to keep the furniture anyway.  Now I'd have to go shopping for everything from soup to nuts.

My grandmother told me it would be better to start somewhere fresh, begin again.  All of the platitudes you'd expect.  She didn't encourage me to come home which sort of surprised me.

"You need to experience living on your own," she'd said.

"I have been living on my own since I was eighteen," I said.

"No.  You've had roommates and then you had Grady."  She examined her cuticles with an intensity I've only ever seen on a beauty school student.  You have them and they're raggedy or their not.  They need to be pushed back with an orange stick or they're already fine.  The answers to the important questions of the universe aren't found by examining cuticles or nail beds.  "You should experience complete freedom for a little while."

I shrugged. I hadn't planned to move in with the next guy who asked me to coffee and I didn't really want a roommate.  The brief fantasy of living under my father's roof was just that: brief and fantasy.  He wouldn't even notice I was there and it wouldn't be a Norman Rockwell experience.  But I could pretend we were incredibly close, if only for a couple of months.

"It's something I should have done," she said.  "A long time ago."

"What do you mean?"

"I went from my parent's home to college and roommates and then married  your grandfather before I graduated. I didn't live by myself until he died and then I was raising my family so I wasn't really alone alone."

She'd been alone raising my dad and my uncle before either of them could read. She was in real estate so she could control her hours and go to school events.  All of my life, Kate Daily had been my hero.  She was everything I wanted to be: smart, strong, hard working, loving, caring, and a fierce negotiator.

"Why didn't you ever remarry after your divorce?" I asked. 

"It was never the right time."

"Did you ever date?"

"Sure, but I kept finding men who wanted a mommy and I was already that to two little boys." She gave me a look.  "That was the problem I had with Grady. He wanted you to be Mommy."

I picked up my cup of lukewarm coffee and took a tentative taste. It either needed to be rewarmed or have some ice and Bailey's added to it.  Nine in the morning is too early for Bailey's but somewhere it had to be five o'clock, right?

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"I was young once.  I know what it's like to want to do it all on your own." She put her finger under my chin to raise my face to hers.  "You deserve someone who treats you like the absolute treasure that you are."

I nodded.  It was a long time since I played plundering pirate and the treasure map.  I think I was in fifth grade and it was someone's birthday, the treasure was a melted ice cream cake.

"I don't need a man," I said. "Not even to open jars or take things down from tall shelves."  Last year Grandma gave me a Black and Decker automatic jar opener; it opened everything except for the huge jars of pickles from the big box stores.  And two years ago, I bought myself a great step ladder, one with the wide rungs, so I could put things on the high shelf in the apartment where we lived.  

"I should email the rental application back on the bungalow," I said.   

"How much do they want for it?" she asked.

I gave her the figure, conditions, and condition of the house.  

"Call and make an appointment to see it again," she said.

"Why?"

"Something about the whole thing doesn't smell right.  Your father and I should look at it with you."  She used the tone from when I was a kid and being obstinate about anything.

"What time do you want to do it?" I asked.  

"The sooner the better."

 "What about Dad?"

"He'll come.  He wants you to move, too," she said.

I picked up my coffee cup and walked to the sink.  It was cold and bitter, a little like I was feeling.  If you are what you eat, or drink, I should become a decadent chocolate cake: rich, tempting, hard to deny.  I poured it out and rinsed the cup.

~~~

When my father met Grandma and me at the cottage, he asked if I'd made a punch list.  

"Not a physical one," I said.  I had thought about a few things the place would need, but I hadn't seriously considered moving, so I hadn't written anything down.

He got out his contractor's desk, the glorified metal clipboard that held his life, a pen, and a piece of plain paper.  He clicked the top of the pen, licked the tip, and sketched the outside of the property.

"Let's take a walk," he said.  

"Shouldn't we wait for the owner?" I asked.

"Why?  He'll just slow me down."

Every three steps my father made a note of something on the property: the volume of leaves on the roof, the state of the yard, the age of the exterior paint, and the condition of the windows.

"It needs a little TLC," I said.  I felt like I somehow needed to defend the place. I might have said more, but there was thunderous barking coming from inside the house.

"What the hell is that?" my father asked.

"Louie." I shrugged and tried not to blush.  "He comes with the house."

"I've sold and rented houses with washers and driers.  Sometimes with the furniture.  On occasion, a security system.  Never have I rented a house with a dog in residence," Grandma said.

"Would you believe he's organic security?" Daniel asked.  

I hadn't noticed him come up behind us.  This time his clothes didn't look like they came from Goodwill.  He'd showered and shaved and there were no apparent stains on anything he wore.  He looked credible and reputable, yesterday he'd looked neither.

"Organic?" Dad asked.

Daniel fished a ring of keys from his front right pocket, and inserted one into the kitchen door.  This time there was no fumbling or lack of coordination.  


~~~
tbc

word count 1112

wc 1029 NaNo/Writing Doodle/Bernie/Daniel/Louie

"You should see if things in the mirror are really larger than they appear," Vic said after he started the car. "I mean, I could smack that ass all day long."

"If you can catch Daniel, you can keep him," I said. Sure he had a nice body.  He was also a little too willing to give away the farm to someone he didn't remember all for the custody of a living, breathing, canine cocktail table.  So it isn't a very nice description of Louie, but it looked like he'd been cut off below the knees.  My grandmother bought a dining table at an auction once, beautiful maple with a few water stains on it which was why it went for a song.  One of the legs was wonky, so she let my then fourteen year old father get a saw and try to even things up.  In the end, the table was maybe twenty-four inches high and the only way anyone could sit at it to eat was if they were on the floor.  How did he do refinishing it?  Let's just say that the water stains are still there, but Grandma has always loved the table.

"Oh come on, wouldn't you like to tap it just once?" he asked.  He put the key in the ignition but didn't turn the engine over.

"That would be a no."  I heard enough stories from Grady about his glory days in the fraternity and all of his special brothers to not want to ever be near anyone who was dedicated to a pair of Greek letters.  Especially the ones about Daniel.  If the stories were true, he had a penicillin resistance for a reason.  Yes, a lot of things can change in a decade, give or take, but I wasn't in the market for someone with that kind of mileage, at least not unless I had a medical certificate from his doctor.  "He looked like he'd been rode hard and put away wet."

"And in a good way, girl. God, that sounds like fun. I can't wait until Chris is off the graveyard shift," Vic said, sighing.  "I love it when he-"

"If you love me like you say you do, you won't give me any details." My upper lip twitched in a poor Elvis impression.

"Is that because we're gay?"

"Oh, please.  You know so much better than that. I don't like public displays of affection and I don't like getting the second hand knowledge of them either. What happens in the bedroom should stay in the bedroom."

"What about what happens in the living room or the kitchen?  There are some spectacular things that happen in the bathroom," he said. He even winked.

Grady and I hadn't been all that creative. Then again, I have always had body issues.  Lights on during sex was adventurous enough for me, and only after strenuous dieting for a few weeks, lots of exercise, and a bath where everything that could possibly need to be groomed was. Even then I restricted it to candlelight because everything looks better in the warm glow candlelight.  Right?

There were a couple of guys before Grady, but there's only so much maneuvering you can do on a dorm twin bed when you're worried the roommate is due home soon. In those cases, the lights were always out because nothing, and I mean nothing, looks good in florescent lighting.

"What do you think about the dog?" I asked.  "I've never owned a dog." I'd never so much as owned Sea Monkeys, so the prospect of being responsible for a dog was a bit daunting, especially one who had such big teeth.

"He's a pushover.  Anyone who breaks in might get licked to death," Vic said.  "But he's cute and seems like he's got some manners."

"He would be good company."

"Sure if you like the silent type. And he might prevent you from getting attached to rebound guy."

"I'm not worried about rebound guy, I never was good at sports of any kind, much less basketball," I said.

"You know what I mean.  I'd hate to see you wind up with someone who makes Grady look like Prince Charming just because you got lonely," Vic said.

"That's why I have you." I leaned across the center console and kissed Vic on the cheek.  "You'll keep me on the straight and narrow."

Vic raised an eyebrow at me.

"You know what I mean," I said.  "Let's go to the beauty supply store and see if they got in any new polish colors.  Then we can do a modified mani-pedi at my house."

"Do you still have the old Rock Hudson movie on your DVR? He is my favorite."

"Mine, too."

Just as Vic turned the key in the ignition, there was a knock on my window.

Daniel.

I powered down my window.  "Yes?"

"Name your price," he said.

"Excuse me?"

"Sorry to startled you," he said.

I shook my head and attempted to look casual.  Startled?  Me?  Of course.  But never let them see you sweat.

"Name your price.  For rent.  What would you be willing to pay?" Daniel leaned so far into the car I thought he was going to climb in through the window.

"Why are you desperate?" I asked. And more to the point, why didn't you take a shower or at least brush your teeth before you met with me this morning?

"I just want to get it rented."

Right.

"Is this a candid camera show or one of those old TV game shows?" Vic asked. "Cause this is sounding like a set up to me."

"Come back in and I'll tell you straight," he said.

"Tell us here," I said.  If this was going to be hinky, no way did I want to get stuck with no way out.

"Fine." He took a deep breath and said, "Louie is the heir to my ex-wife's estate and I have to house him and he can't live with me, not right now."

"Right.  We'll be going," I said.  "Cute house.  Good luck renting it. Come on, Kato, drive."

"Sure thing, Green Hornet," Vic said.

~~~

tbc

word count: 1029

wc 1167 Nano/Writing Doodle/Bernie/Daniel ... Who is Louie?

At the sound of his name, the backdoor pushed open.  

"Don't be shy, Louie," Daniel called.  "Come on in."

Was Louie addled or just slow? Why would I ever want to be stuck with an instant roommate when I just got finished with a one sided relationship?

Louie was a dog, a cocktail table of a dog.  Her father used to say that dachshunds were half a dog tall and a dog and a half long.  That about summed up Louie, except that Louie was a full size German shepherd from his nose to his tail with short, stubby legs.  

Daniel patted his leg and wiggled his fingers at the dog, "Louie, what a good boy."  The dog walked to Daniel and stepped between his spread legs.  Daniel commenced rubbing the dog's sides and back.  "Who's the biggest dog?  Who's my best boy?"

The dog wiggled and whined.  Had he been taller, Louie's bushy tail could have doubled as a feather duster.

"Louie belonged to XZY (can't remember the name insert here)."

I looked at him, at Vic, and back to the dog.  He was cute, in a Rin Tin Tin kind of a way. "Why don't you take him?  He's obviously in love."

"I bought a condo at the top of the market and I'm upside down in it."

Ah, so there have been advantages to being a renter.  My rent may go up from time to time, but I can walk away.

"Why not rent it and take the loss on your taxes?" Vic said.  "You and Louie could live happily here, together."

"He's got friends, he's got a routine, he's got a schedule," Daniel said. He looked at me like that should mean something significant.  

"Sounds like he's in high school and he doesn't to move when his parents have to relocate," Vic said.  "I resemble that remark."

"A bit much sugar for a cent, if you ask me," I said.  

"What does that mean?" Daniel asked.

"Easy.  You have a schedule and a relationship with the dog, you should find a way to make it work. If you really loved him  you would."  Ok, guilt may not be my best tool, but I have learned a little how to wield it and who to inflict it on.  I am no where near so talented as my grandmother or my father, but I have learned at the masters' knees. "You're asking a lot of anyone who will live here."

I leaned down and scratched the dog behind his ears.  He sat and grinned at me.  

"He's good security," Daniel said.  "He doesn't like men."

Vic rubbed his fingers together and the dog came to him.  He rubbed his palms together and the dog sank to the ground and rolled on his back.  Vic commenced the belly rub.  

"Really?  He doesn't like men?" I asked.

"Suits.  Men in suits.  Men with attitudes," Daniel said.

I smiled at Vic.  "He'd hate Bozo wouldn't he?" I decided Grady's name didn't need to be used when something more descriptive could be used.  Bozo was one of the kinder names I've bestowed on my once true love.

"Probably eat him for lunch," Vic said.

"Is there a security system with the place?" I asked before Vic extolled on the lack of virtues of Grady.  "The neighborhood looks OK."

"Meh.  It is a neighborhood that's in transition.  It was great, got a little run down and is making a return. But XXX didn't want a security system as long as she had Louie." Daniel slapped the side of his leg, Louie immediately rolled back over and sauntered to Daniel's side.  "I get an electrician to install some better lighting by the front and back doors. But this guy here will hear anyone long before they get to the door."

Again with Louie.

"Sweets, if you need to think about security, maybe you should stay where you're currently living," Vic said. 

Before Vic could elaborate on the hours I work and the fact we weren't planning to live together, I decided it was time to make our way to the salon. "We need to get going," I said.  "We've got another appointment."

"What would it take to make you change  your mind?" he asked.

"I need to think about it," I said.  

"I'm serious," he said.

"So am I.  This place needs a lot of work, mostly elbow grease, but it's time consuming." And I wasn't volunteering to do the work so he could rent it to someone else for more money.  Been there and if I wasn't getting paid, no way I'd do it.

"Give me a list," he said.  "Or you can." He nodded toward Vic.

Vic said, "Ten minutes and we need to go, but I'll give you my list."

By the time Vic and Daniel had gone over Vic's list of must haves which had nothing to do with the fact I was going to be saddled with a dog in a bungalow I wasn't sure I wanted to live in, thirty minutes had passed and the mani-pedi appointment had been lost.  

"The floor plan should be more open.  The appliances in the kitchen should all be new," Vic said.  

I glared at Vic.  "Who is going to pay to move the walls? And most of them are load bearing," I said.  "I mean, it can be done, but it's a lot of work and the return wouldn't necessarily be worth it."  Besides, too open a floor plan and I wouldn't be able to hide dirty dishes in the kitchen if someone came for dinner.  He or she would know I don't clean as I cook. "I'd start with the wallpaper and the paint." I motioned to the ugly, faded pattern of sunflowers in the kitchen.  "Maybe even better carpet, but for a rental, the bones aren't too bad."

"Mirrors in the bedroom all get to stay, right?" Vic asked.  

"Only if I can put stickers on them that say something about the reflection not being life sized," I said.

"Ouch," Daniel said.  "Are you two sure you want to move in together?"

"Why would you think we want to live together?"

"You answer each other's questions, get along well, and both seem to like the same things," Daniel said.

"I've got someone at home," Vic said.  "I'm here for moral support and to encourage Bernie to take a chance."

"You know you like the place and Louie's already attached to you," Daniel said.

"Yeah, I'm sure he won't be much trouble."

Of course not.  Not at all.  "Is he allowed on the furniture?" I asked.  

"No.  Of course not."

"Will you pay his vet and license fees?"

"Sure."

Daniel reduced the rent again, told me he'd pay for the paint, and have the place power washed before I moved in.  I'd get stuck with ugly shag and get the fun of removing the wallpaper, but it would keep my hands from being too idle at night.

~~~
tbc

word count 1167

wc 1420 NaNo/Writing Doodle/Bernie/Daniel ... introduction - sort of

"So, who is he?" Vic asked.

"We were at the same wedding a couple of years ago, one of Grady's fraternity brothers.  I don't know him well, but I remember who he is.  Now shut up because he's coming this way." The Christmas themed wedding had been a large, ostentatious event, complete with open bar. And some guy spent the entire evening doing the Santa thing, you know, pretty girls in his lap every couple of minutes. When there was no one in his lap, he'd actively solicited women from the various tables.  He was like Goldilocks, this one was too fat, this one's breasts were too small, this one was just right.  Except it took him forever to get to the this one was just right.  After he found her, they disappeared for about half an hour, then he started over.  If he'd been dressed as Santa, it would have looked less conspicuous.

Daniel Peterson didn't so much walk as stagger across the yard to us.  Dressed in a grey and pink Save the Tatas t-shirt, barely there tattered jeans, and a pair of flip flops, he actually looked better than he had in a tuxedo.  I mean he looked like the jeans had been spray painted on that morning and someone tried to rip them from his body, if the t-shirt was any tighter I could have counted the chest hairs. I've read my fair share of romance novels and proudly based my purchases on the cover art, Grady was nice looking, if a bit uninspiring.  Daniel wore two days worth of stubble really, really well.  Only the sunken eyes with a complete set of matching Samsonite travel bags were about as bloodshot as I've ever seen were off putting, a pair of sunglasses and no one would know.  Not that I'm much of an expert, but my college roommate, Beth, was as wild as I was mild; and except for the beginnings of a beard, he looked just like her the morning after.

"If I can get him fumigated, do  you think I can have him?" Vic asked. "He looks like the captain from that old TV show Firefly.  I always did have a crush on him."

I shrugged.  "We'll talk in the car." My voice doesn't carry, except when I don't want it to.  You know how when you are at a party and all but have to yell for your friend to hear you?  I'm the person who is still yelling when the music suddenly cuts out.

I raised my hand in greeting and said, "Morning. Great day, isn't it?"

Daniel grunted.  "One of you is Bernie XXX?" he asked.  (ok so I forgot her last name, so shoot me)

"Guilty," I said. So he didn't recognize me, or at least not the name.  It had been at least five years ago and I hadn't been one of the hordes that had graced his lap that night.  It wasn't like Grady and I had done a lot of socializing with his old frat buddies.  I'd spent too much time working and Grady had been studying and making grand plans for a future that evidently didn't include me.

He shoved his hand into his front jean's pocket and fished around for the keys.  "So you interested in the place?"

Vic said, "Oh, yeah."  I don't think he even sounded that breathy when he was alone with Chris.

I would have elbowed him, but there was no point.  It would be like dragging a kid away from a bakery display, no harm was being done and nothing was going to happen.  His boyfriend wasn't going to be aware and Vic definitely wasn't my boyfriend.

"We'll see," I said.

"Marcella said you were interested in a long term lease." Daniel fumbled his attempt to get the key into the lock; three attempts later and we were in.

I had wanted the place to be cute, cozy, comfortable, and move in ready.  It was cramped, overcrowded, and claustrophobic. It looked exactly the way I wanted my grandmother's bungalow to look in time for Grady and whatshername to move into.  But I knew how steep the deposits were on my grandmother's rental contracts and that she'd have a professional cleaning crew in and my dad and his crew to go over the place with a fine toothed comb before it was even shown to someone.

"I haven't spruced it up yet to rent," Daniel said.

"Ok."

"Keep an open mind," he said. "It could be a great little honeymoon cottage for you two."

Vic started to laugh.  "Absolutely."

I cringed.  Vic was trying to act like we might be together and I wanted to avoid any and all uses of the word honeymoon since God only knew if or when I'd ever go on one.

"Are you going to be doing anything to spruce it up?" I asked.  I doubted he'd be taking the old sunflower wallpaper out of the kitchen or the faded cabbage rose paper out of the living room, but I could always hope. The furniture in the place was a hodge podge, but I was certain the place would be empty when the tenant moved in, so I tried not to let it overpower how I felt about things.

"Clean the carpets. Make sure the roof's in good shape. That kind of a thing."

"Not going to get rid of the wallpaper?"

Vic looked at me and mouthed, "Interested?"

I tried to indicate with my eyes I wasn't, but when I looked to my left, I noticed the bathroom.  It was completely updated.  The tub was the kind with the jets, where you could take a glass of champagne and let bubbles change your emotional state. The rest of the room was done incredibly well: lots of storage, new toilet, beautiful tile, and good lighting.

I wandered into the bedroom, for the age of the house, probably 1920s somewhere, the bedroom was huge and there was closet space.  The problem wasn't so much the wallpaper this time, red velvet, really? And all of the mirrors. Mirrors on closet doors or even behind a room door doesn't bother me.  They can let in light or give you just one more chance to make sure you look ok before you leave for the day.  This room had all of that plus the ceiling was mirrored.  If I ever wanted to stay in bed and do my makeup, it would be perfect.  Especially since it looked like it was a magnifying mirror.  Whoever had lived there might have had a problem with his image of himself? Maybe?

The second bedroom was at the front of the house and was much smaller, but in good shape, no mirrors except over the one dresser.  It even had off white walls and hardwood floors. The window was such that it flooded the room with natural light. This room was decorated like someone had done a beach house in the 80s or early 90s, light paint, driftwood art, and a seashell wallpaper border at the top of the room.

"Marcella didn't say how much you wanted for rent," I said. I'd seen enough to know I wasn't going to rent it, but figured I'd at least be polite about it and ask.

He named a figure.

"Well, thanks." I said, "It's out of my price range?"

"Too much?" he asked.

I nodded.  It was kinder than saying what I thought of the place.

Vic said, "It's a little rough and it needs some work."

"No deposit.  And I can reduce the rent," he said.  He named a new figure. It was still too high for me even without the deposits.  I'd still have to move my utilities and that always cost something.

He named a new, even lower figure. It was now in line with what I had been paying for the apartment and the square footage was much better.  I could spread out a little and feel like I was taking on life on my own terms.  Not settling or compromising.  Again.

"Is this place haunted or something," Vic asked.

"No.  But there is a catch." If Daniel was going for salesman of the year he wasn't going to get the title.  Not by a long shot.

"What's the catch?"

"Louie."

"Who is Louie?" Vic asked.

"Louie comes with the place. He's the one thing I can't negotiate."

"He?" I asked.  I think I liked the idea of a ghost better.

~~~
tbc

word count: 1420

wc 348 writing doodle ... there was nothing in the fridge but the bar was stocked - no clue where this belongs ...

When I got home, all I wanted was a cold diet ginger ale to settle the acid in my stomach and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for dinner.  Pb&j may not be.  The format data came in had been changed this week, so the expected time budget no longer worked.  Additional reports explaining why the weekly reports were off target had to be written, distributed, ignored, shredded, and re-calibrated to be more inclusive for next quarter.

Why not leave well enough alone?

My boss likes stress.  More specifically, my boss likes to share stress with all of us.  The more of us he can get on the stress train, the happier he usually is.  Then again, once he's delegated everything and reallocated it, he spends the rest of the day shopping online.  If it glitters he buys it for his wife and daughters.  Last year, he had so many spare pairs of Diamonique solitaire earrings, he gave a pair to every one of his direct reports.  As the only female, I got two pairs, one to wear and the other to share.  Thoughtful, no?  I would have appreciated either a Christmas ham or fifty bucks a lot more, but the earrings are decent and I've worn them a few times.

After I unlocked the apartment door, I dropped my purse by the sofa, stepped out of my pumps, and wandered to the fridge.  I opened the door and saw nothing.  It wasn't like the boxed twelve pack of soda was the only thing missing, I mean the last time the fridge was this empty, Grady and I had moved into the place.  The freezer was also devoid of everything except an old ice cube tray. Even that was empty.

I closed the door, opened it again, and closed it.  I shook my head as I opened it yet again.  It was as though the interior of my refrigerator had transformed into a desert: bright light, vast expanse of nothing, and I even thought if I squinted right, I'd see tumbleweeds could have been moving between the shelves.

~~
tbc

word count 348

wc 1943 writing doodle - Bernie/Daniel/Vic ///

My best friend, Vic Adler, laid on my bed, hands cradling his head, and critiqued each outfit I dragged from the closet.  He wanted to be a celebrity stylist or a designer, but his boyfriend liked living in Oregon and his career should have been based either in LA or New York.  For now, he worked with me at an insurance office and styled his friends if and when it suited him.  As to my closet?  It wasn't that he didn't like anything, he passionately loathed each item that I produced.  When I produced a maroon pantsuit and medium heels, he started to chant, "No, no, no, no," to the tune of Beethoven's Fifth. Subtle Vic is not, nor has he ever been.  If he hated what I thought of as my good clothes, what did he think of what I wore to work every day?

Pretty soon I'd be in the wayback machine section of the closet, and I'd return to the things I haven't worn when I was in college, not that they fit anymore.  I'd paid a lot for them and haven't quite given up hope of wearing them again.  Then again, chances of that would be higher of losing that extra twenty pounds on my hips if I could go to Florida stay on South Beach instead of going on and off  the South Beach diet every thirty minutes.  Hey, I follow the program at night when I'm drinking my water watching exercise videos; I'm not so good when I eat the miniature Snickers bars that I scrounge from the bottom of a purse I was going to give to charity. Pretty soon I was going to have to stop salting the damn purse with candy I don't particularly like from the dollar store.  If I'm going to eat something high in sugar, fat, calories, and sin, I should enjoy it; punishing myself for not looking as pretty as everyone in Grady's family was never going to get me anywhere.

"Bernie, sweet pea, you need to look perfect on Saturday night," he said.  "I mean his message said it was an important dinner, life changing."  He waggled her eyebrows suggestively.  

"Oh, please," I said, "he probably wants to talk about going back to school and getting a degree in eyebrow waxing." I was beyond ready for Grady to get a job, one that paid money.  When Grady and I were both undergrads, I knew I was a workhorse and he was smart, ambitious, and dreamed big dreams.  Unfortunately, he was like a kindergartener, not knowing what he wanted to do or be when he grew up.  He was incapable of dreaming just one dream.  Just as he was about to fulfill his, and what I now thought of as my, dream, he would change his mind.  First it was a masters in computers, then it was an MBA, then he wanted to be able to work internationally, so he moved on to an international MBA, and now we were in law school.  Actually it is wrong to say we because he was the one attending, but I'm paying for most of it so I want my name written on the diploma in lemon juice so I'll know my contribution is there.

Vic fingered his eyebrows and said, "Where can you do that?  Mine never turn out quite right when I do it myself, I over-tweeze." He licked his finger and smoothed his eyebrow.  "And yours could stand to be professionally done for a change."

Probably.  But money had been tight, I was exhausted, and the last time I went to a makeup counter at a department store for a makeover, I looked scarier than a clown in one of those horror movies.

"Life as a living Ken doll must be difficult," I said as I pulled a shirt out and immediately put it on the bed before Vic could say anything.  The shirt had been stuck between two other shirts for probably two years, it now looked like it had been made of seersucker and it was actually a polished Pima cotton.

"Let's just rip the band aid off quickly, shall we?" he asked.  "We'll go shopping."

"No."  Not that I didn't want or need the help, but some of Vic's outfits looked like he was going to be on Dancing with the Stars and he'd merely left the feathers home for later.  Everything he wore was perfectly starched, pressed, and color coordinated right down to his socks.  Possibly his boxers coordinated, but we weren't that close and I didn't feel the need to know him quite that well.  "I'll just wear what I always wear."  It was a basic black wrap dress. It worked for important meetings at work, funerals, dealing with my mother, and when nothing else was clean.  Did I mention it was out of some kind of space age fabric that didn't wrinkle, absorb odors, shrink, fade, stretch, or change it any way?  It was basically a little black titanium dress.  It always returned to its original form.  I loved that dress.  Change the accessories and it looked different. I liked to pretend I was French; one basic outfit you dress up or down depending on the need, the season, or the whim.  Just because I'm of Irish and Scottish heritage means nothing, my heart had always been French.  Sort of.

"I'll buy you something," he said.  "That dress has more mileage than my car."

"You bought the car four days ago and you only live three miles from work.  My shoes have more miles on them than that car." Besides, I owned the black number three times over.  If the manufacturer had made it in any other colors, I would have bought one of each. "I love that dress.  And I don't want you to spend that kind of money on me."

"If you're in a fire, that dress will melt to your body and your skin mars easily.  You have a scar on your thumb from a papercut six months ago. And I'm afraid to use my lighter in front of you in case there's a breeze of any kind."

I shot him a dirty look. Just because he might be right didn't mean he needed to be quite so blunt about it. 

"Come on, it won't cost anything to look," he said.  

I glared at him as I looked for my purse.  I had to dig about twelve inches down the stack of clothes to get to it, but at least it was on the bed. It was pleather, had a lot of scratches on it, and was due to be replaced sometime this winter.

"I still owe you for paying for lunch twice this month," he said.  

"Ten bucks," I said.  "It isn't like you don't buy lunch for me sometimes."  Besides, I tend to feed Vic from the dollar menu, he says it is what he wants and I no longer argue with him.  Vic's a big guy probably around six foot one or two with broad shoulders and a sturdy frame.  My grandmother met him once and she thinks he looks kind of like the old Hollywood stars Tyrone Power or Clark Gable; dark hair, strong chin, dimples, and an ever present cigarette.  "And you've met me at the garage when I've needed a ride in to work."  

"Think of it as an advance against future lunches you'll get to buy."  He winked.  I had a feeling the dollar menu wouldn't be on the menu for much longer.  "I'd like to see  you get your sexy back."

So would I.  When was the last time I felt sexy and not just the kind of sexy after I'd used a fresh razor when I shaved my legs?  Probably about six months after Grady and I moved in together, it had been a weekend of bubbles at a bed and breakfast with a couple of bottles of champagne and an oversized bathtub for bubble baths.  Right after that weekend was over, Grady announced that he didn't want to go into IT, he'd rather be in management and since multi-tasking wasn't his thing, he wouldn't be working while he studied.  

Sure initially it had been my idea that he devote himself one-hundred percent to his studies and the way he presented it it was only eighteen more months.  It didn't sound like it would be nearly six years of footing virtually all of the bills with no end in sight.  If we had kids, would I have qualms about him as a stay at home dad, no.  Well, that's a lie.  We'd agreed whoever had the better career would continue working if and when we had kids.  The way his tuition bills continued to mount, I doubted I would ever feel solvent enough to consider having kids with him.  

In the beginning, there'd been a lot of romance: wine, roses, exotic long weekends.  That was before.  It continued a little when we moved in together.  Then I realized got to pay for all of my supposed treats, I settled for a glorified beer and pizza existence. Somehow I just didn't look forward to going out to dinner and spending a couple of hundred dollars and spend the whole night thinking about the interest charges on the meal and wonder what would be on sale at the grocery the next week.

After I redid the budget and evaluated how money really needed to be spent, I moved our relationship to coupons for two-for-one dinners at family restaurants, matinee movies, and anything that was free within a two hour driving distance of home.  Nothing to sneeze about and definitely lower pressure on my wallet, but it didn't make me want to go out and splurge on lacy undies to have the early bird special.

Eventually all of the matching, lacy undies and matching bra wore out.  Once they got replaced with granny panties and bras that actually offered some support, our sex life stalled.  Last year for my birthday I found a matching set on clearance, it was my present to us.  On the three occasions I'd worn them and made sure Grady was aware, nothing happened.  I know law school is a lot of pressure, but so are two jobs, all of the bills, and all of the responsibility for our home life.

Sexy?  Hardly. 

I dragged the top t-shirt out of my dresser, found a pair of jeans, and evicted Vic from my bedroom.  

"Please, it isn't like you're going to turn me on," he said.  "If you were Grady, there'd be a reason for me to leave."

"You know, I wasn't going to take more than about two minutes to change my clothes, but now, I'm thinking it might be the better part of an hour and three wardrobe changes." It isn't like I haven't known both Vic was gay for years, I just didn't like the reminder that I was an also ran to both his boyfriend Kevin Green and Grady.  My ego was stinging a little and this was my only free night until Grady and I were going to have dinner together.  I wasn't sure if I wanted to pout and lick my wounds or go shopping with Vic.

"Tell you what, Bern, if you get rid of some of that crap in your closet, I'm willing to wait. There are some great women's shelters that need donations."

"That's low even for you." It isn't like I'm against donating to a worthy cause, I want to be the one who chooses when and what goes to charity.  "Out."

tbc and tbe (to be edited)

word count 1943