Chapter five
The meal seemed to drag on forever, the boisterous crowd at his parents' table obviously enjoying the camaraderie as well as Millie's fried chicken. Jack swallowed the last bite of his apple pie and took a sip of coffee, letting his gaze drift across the table to Monica.
He'd been trying not to stare at her throughout dinner. The softly scooped neckline of her peasant blouse had gone askew, exposing one creamy shoulder. He found himself imagining what it might be like to draw back the golden silk of her hair and press his lips to the little hollow at the base of her throat. With a woman like Monica Barkley to savor, who would need apple pie?
That erotic thought was followed by a rush of relief. There was no guilt, no feeling of disloyalty toward Jeannie. She would have wanted him to go on with his life. And he knew he was ready to respond again to a woman, the way he felt himself responding now to Monica.
She must have felt his scrutiny. She turned her attention from Paul, her sea-colored gaze colliding with Jack's. He felt his blood quicken as she continued to hold her stare, her pupils darkening, her lips parting softly. Unless he'd forgotten everything he ever knew about women, she was giving him an unmistakable green light.
"Dad?" He jumped as Allie put her hand on his shoulder. For a few seconds there, the whole world had telescoped down into an intimate tableau featuring only himself and Monica. He had almost forgotten they were seated in the middle of a crowd.
"Yes?" He tried to make his expression more fatherly as he turned toward Allie.
"Grandma wants me to spend the night tonight. Can I, Dad? She's going to help me rehearse."
"Rehearse? For what? Your part hasn't even been written yet."
"We're just going to practice. Monica loaned me a real script from last week's show."
"Well, all right," he said, schooling himself to ignore the wave of panic overtaking him. Wasn't it just yesterday that she had been his little girl, more concerned with pizza and her school friends than starring on TV?
"Thanks, Dad," she said, giving him a hug. "I'll just wear the spare clothes Grandma keeps here for me. I'll see you after school tomorrow."
As Allie dashed off, Jack turned back to the table to find Monica smiling artlessly at him.
"Does this by any chance mean you'd be free to give me a lift, Jack? I have an early day tomorrow and really need to go over my lines tonight."
"Sure," he said, his heart racing at the prospect of being alone with Monica. Belatedly he wondered how many burger wrappers and cola cups might be littering the floor of the minivan. Vans were great vehicles, very practical when you had kids, but the last thing they could ever be considered was sexy.
* * *
Twenty minutes later, Jack held the door open for her and Monica climbed into the blue minivan. It was the quintessential family car, she decided, noting a school newsletter on the dashboard.
The van smelled pleasantly of coffee and old french fries. For a moment Monica felt wistful, almost homesick. In her business, she always drove rental cars. They were a necessary convenience, always spotless and had that new-car smell. But they were also impersonal, revealing nothing about the people who rode in them.
Chapter Five: Part Two
Now, for just a moment, as Monica settled back into the seat and fastened her safety belt, she allowed herself to pretend that she was a part of this family, that she belonged with the handsome, intelligent man sitting next to her.
She let her gaze slide over him as he started the car. They'd been trading glances all evening, but she felt as if she could never get enough of admiring those broad shoulders, that tanned jaw, the warm depths of his eyes.
He turned and smiled at her, his teeth flashing in the dusky light.
"Where are you staying?"
She gave him the name of her motel.
"Care for a tour of our little burg on the way?"
"That would be nice," she said.
"Should take us all of 15 minutes."
They drove down the main street of Foggy Bluff. By now, as the glow of sunset was fading from the June sky, most of the stores had closed up for the night. Monica noted a charming mix of locally owned shops peppered with a few larger chain stores. Several blocks down they passed by an old movie house with a darkened marquee.
"No movie theater in town?" she asked.
"There's a new quad cinema out near the shopping mall. There had been some talk about turning this old place into a dinner theater with live plays, but no one was able to raise the money to make the necessary renovations. Last I heard it was slated to be torn down." He shrugged. "I guess that's progress."
Was it? she wondered. Or was it a crying shame? She glanced back at the old building, at the once-grand stone facing that was starting to crumble. The seed of an idea began to take shape in her mind.
Moments later they pulled up in front of her motel room.
She reached over and laid her hand lightly on Jack's arm.
"Tell me, Jack," she began, "if I were to buy the old movie house and turn it into a dinner theater, do you think people would come to my plays?"
He sat silently in the darkness for some time.
"Are you serious?" he finally said.
"Yes. Yes, I believe I am," she said. "But I would need a partner, someone local to act on my behalf when I'm away. Would you do that for me, Jack?"
"Partners?" he repeated, sounding dazed.
"Yes."
She felt, rather than saw him nod.
"Then," she whispered, leaning toward him, "shall we seal our partnership with a kiss?"
The light scent of Monica's perfume filled his senses. Jack didn't want to think about partnerships or movie theaters. With a muffled groan, he kissed her gently at first, but then with a passion that had been buried deep inside of him.
He heard her sharp intake of breath, felt her straining toward him, promising things that he dared not even think about in the confining space of the van. Then, without warning, her body shifted away from him.
"Paul...."
Abruptly, Jack's mind cleared. Had he heard right? Ice began to creep through his veins. "I think you have the wrong guy."
Monica looked at him. "No, you have it all wrong. Look —"
Jack looked up to see Paul, standing outside the van. Monica's blue eyes held mischief as she smiled at Jack. "He was pounding on the ************************************************************ **** Didn't you hear him?"
"Sorry...I had other things on my mind," Jack admitted.
The van door was yanked open by a very rain-soaked Paul. "Monica, I need to talk to you!"
"Good evening to you too, Paul." Jack knew he sounded sarcastic but at that particular moment he didn't care. Then the absurdity of the situation hit him and he felt a chuckle begin deep inside him. Sitting here like two school kids, making out. I must be losing my mind.
He began to feel a little more sympathetic toward Paul. After all, no man would stand in the pouring rain without good reason. "Go ahead Monica. I have errands to run. Be back in an hour or so — so we can talk about your plan." Maybe they would talk. If he was lucky they would do something else entirely. Monica gave him a brief nod as she exited the van.
Jack watched Monica and Paul enter the motel room, and considered going home to write, but knew his mind wouldn't be on his work.
He eased the van from the parking spot, looking enviously at Paul's Mercedes convertible. Driving through town he began thinking about what Monica was proposing for the old movie house. Might not be such a bad idea. Give the town something new. Not to mention that Monica would be his partner. Thoughts of how they had sealed their partnership was enough to muddle up his thinking again.
18-02-07, 02:44 AM
Dad and the Drama Queen
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