After his conversation with Chester, Mike goes over to see Jessamyn, only to find Molly sitting there too. She and Jesse feel compelled to lecture him about his behavior. Finally fed up, he loses his temper.
“Okay!” I’d had it. “Enough! I’m sorry, okay? I was drunk, horny, happy for the first time in my entire life and a beautiful, sexy woman expressed an interest. No man in his right mind is going to say no. I didn’t force that woman into my bed. Am I ashamed? Not at all. Would I do it again? Hell, yes! Can I remember who she was? No. And I’m sorry. And I’m trying like hell to remember so I an call her and say Hey, thank you! If she wanted me to know who she was, she should of signed her name and left her number. But she didn’t. So quit bugging the absolute shit outta me over this? Please?”
I hadn’t intended to say so much, but the words kept coming like a dam broke. I couldn’t have stopped my mouth from running if someone held a gun to my head. I had to get it off my chest, cause it was bugging the hell out of me how she was treating me.
“And the one last night?” She raised an eyebrow.
“You spyin’ on me?” It came out a lot more accusatory than I intended.
She gave me a look that told me that was exactly what she was doing. Maybe she was waiting for Mystery Date to come back? Anyhow, she gives me this smile of satisfaction.
“Her I remember. Deidre’s mom, Simone. Hell of a looker and a real tiger in the sack. Very aggressive,” I added, raising the mug of coffee Jesse had poured during my tirade. “Knows what she wants and goes for it. Last night, she wanted me. . . . And some this morning. . . .” I took a sip, looking like butter wouldn’t melt and all that.
“Sowing a lot of wild oats, Michael,” was Jesse’s soft reprimand.
“Suddenly, Big Mike’s in demand. And they do not call me Big Mike cause I’m tall and muscular.” My turn to raise an eyebrow and look very self-satisfied.
Jesse burst out laughing. Molly wasn’t happy with my reproof or my none to subtle compliment of my private dimensions. But it got to her eventually and she started to giggle. Pretty soon, we were all whooping it up. Molly was all for pulling down my pants and having a look, but I put the quash on that idea pretty damn fast. Not that I’m ashamed of what I’m packing. I wasn’t gonna share that with two women old enough to be my mother and grandmother.
We settled the question of the motel and I made the reservations. I called Chester with the information and decided to go to the Super Wal-Mart. Molly went with me to help me do some shopping for my mother and company.
“He keeps kosher,” I remembered as we were buying meat and cheese and milk.
Molly grabbed another shopping cart and followed me with the dairy products. It still didn’t solve the storage problem, until we turned into the next aisle and saw some mini-refrigerators for sale. Only a hundred dollars. I could swing that on my credit card. Who knows, maybe Chester would toss me a couple bucks for it later? I got a guy with a dolly to grab that and take two up front for us cause Molly reminded me, good Jewish boy that I am, that I couldn’t put clean food in a tainted refrige. Chester better pay me back or I was returning these after they left.
We finished our shopping and hit the check out. Everything fit into the Jeep like puzzle pieces and we headed home feeling much better about the universe and our relationship.
“Molly,” I said when we were about halfway home. “Would you please, for the love of God, tell me who the woman was?”
“I don’t actually know,” she replied. “I never saw her before. She came with one of the other guests.”
“All this time, you didn’t know either? You made me think she was a friend of yours, or someone I should know! You made me think. . . ! God, Molly. That’s so not fair.”
“I wanted you to think about your behavior from her point of view.”
“What point of view? She told me what she wanted and I happily complied. I was damn compliant and she loved every minute of it. At the risk of offending you, I was balls deep in the woman and she sure wasn’t complaining.”
“Michael!” I’d shocked her. She got all tight lipped again, scowling at me. “I push too hard sometimes.” She said quietly. “I guess I deserved that.”
“And if she had wanted me to remember her, why didn’t she leave her name? Do you leave notes for people and not sign them?”
“Sometimes. But only people I know well.”
I shrugged, making the turn into her driveway.
“I see what you mean. How could you be expected to know?”
“I’m even thinking, maybe I did know her name? Maybe I shouted it out when we were—busy. Maybe I’m a stupid, inconsiderate schmuck?”
© Dellani Oakes 2014