Friday, February 20, 2015

Chapter 13: Stay


                                                                
MORE OF SOMETHING MORE,
a story about a salesman trying to establish himself,
 a CEO scheming to buy out his father's influence
                                            and the woman important to each
 


                                                                      13
                        

     Helen felt cold and said to his back, “Stay.” Atom twisted around to train on her his brown eyes and smiled. He fell back into bed where she wrapped arms around him and pressed against his heat.
     She had made the condo her home, though much was in storage, and squirreled personal items into drawers and closets. Maid service helped maintain a tidy, unlived-in look. On her increased salary, she could afford her own place but hated the idea of paying rent when the condo was free. Atom was unaware because he never saw her “at home”. Usually, they made love at his place, but that Sunday night the condo was closer, so he parked his Mercedes coupe in the SOQ spot of the underground garage. The absence of the limousine signaled the all clear.
     Another thing he didn’t know was her intimate relationship with the CEO. Their liaisons often took place after investor parties. Then, Stephen always had someplace to be and left first, which suited her. Even before moving in, she made it clear she’d rather leave in her own car than be dropped off. Now he never offered and she’d sit on the settee in the expansive bathroom, wearing a green silk robe and brushing her auburn hair until he departed. Only then did she prepare for the next day, and sleep.
     But that morning with Atom beside her, she panicked. Monday meant Bill coming over with investor checks. She shook him by the shoulder but he wouldn’t rouse so, bringing knees to her chest, she pressed her soles against his back and thrust. He tumbled to the floor. His head popped up with a look of sleepy astonishment. “You’ve got to go. Hurry!”
     He grabbed his underwear on the way to the bathroom, where he splashed water on his face. He returned to the bedroom to finish dressing as Helen smoothed the zebra-motif bedspread. He tucked a white cotton shirt into pre-faded designer jeans then approached from behind to buss her neck. She pulled away. “Go!”
     Departing with an amused smile and aglow, he thought it just as well: he had calls to make if he were to repeat as Salesman of the Quarter. He ran a hand over his dark hair with the part in the middle. His clean-cut good looks were such that he could have stepped into a business meeting right then but for the clothes. In the garage, he passed the limousine and noticed a thin thread of smoke coming from the window.
     Bill waited for him to drive away before exiting the limo. His eyes winced at the unfamiliar sight of Atom Green leaving early on a workday morning. “From where?” He had an idea and dropped the butt to the ground, adjusted his black tunic, then reached inside the cab for the manila envelope.
     He had gotten used to Helen being in the condo on Mondays, so instead of going in and putting the envelope in the safe, he simply handed it over. The difference was less effort on his part and of no consequence. When she opened the door, he scrutinized her less-than-neat hair, bulging eyes and sweatshirt and jeans.  She took the envelope and shut the door. He thought of the salesman and made the connection. How would Slade take that news, when pilfering a valuable statue didn’t faze him?
     Stephen Slade, seated in a high-backed leather chair, displayed a sneer on his pale angular face. Others did not intrude on his routine. He didn’t offer a chair and gestured with his hand to get on with it. Bill didn’t like what he was feeling so served it raw: “That salesman, Atom Green, is screwing Helen in the condo.”
     “How do you know?”     
     Bill’s black-and-white worldview and the desire to make him squirm erased any doubts he had in the telling. Slade leveled opaque eyes on the chauffeur. His sneer became sinister. “What else?” Bill shook his head and left.
     The CEO in expensive gray suit and burgundy loafers ran his finger on the back wall wainscoting, as though checking for dust. A button triggered the release that revealed the hidden door through which he passed into the corridor leading to the skywalk and the Wayfare Hotel.
     Bearing the confidence of ownership, he punched in the code to enter the condo where the panoramic window admitted a city view. His nose twitched at vapor in the air, which he followed into the bedroom and then the bathroom. Steam still coated the shower walls, but she wasn’t there. He returned to the bedroom and stared at the bed. His mind sketched in the pair of them and he reached to strip away the bedspread. Wrinkled sheets and the thought of another man infected his thoughts. He exploded. “Not on my dime!”
     In a frenzy, he searched for proof of what he didn’t want to believe. What he found was more proof of Helen: silky panties, assorted socks and neatly folded jeans. In the closet hung the dresses she wore to the parties. Though logical her things would be there, the quantity surprised him. To his way of thinking the condo was a workplace but these indicated a private dwelling space --where unwanted people might visit. He had to set her straight.
                    




The next chapter will be posted by March 22. 
 The characters and events in this story are fictitious and do not represent any living person or real event.

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