Teddy Bear: A Short Story
Published by Full Court Press at Smashwords
c2011 Linda A. Lavid
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*****
At 11 a.m. Sunday, Ted Blaine sat in the alcove of his rented room. The chores for the week – laundry, shopping, changing the sheets – had been dealt with, leaving only one distasteful task: the dreaded weekly visit from his sister, Meg. As the water boiled, he reached for a package of store-bought cookies, ripped it open, then moved the plastic tray next to her waiting cup. He figured the more he prepared for the visit, the faster she’d be in and out. Never really worked.
He looked out the window and down to the street. The spot where she parked her Cavalier remained empty. His eyes ran up the road. Nothing moved, not a soul, not a car. God, he despised Sunday, the lifelessness of it. He scoured for signs of life, perhaps a shadow or the glow of a lit cigarette amid the dark windows and unevenly pulled blinds of the weathered brick building across the street. But the desolation continued. His glance finally settled on, what appeared to be, piles of coal along the street. Of course the craggy mounds were just exhaust-encrusted snow. Ted shook his head. This hapless view was nothing compared the sequin waters of St. Petersburg. Damn. Instead of returning home to Buffalo, he should have gone west. But then again, wounded animals tended to head for familiar territory.
He sighed and turned his attention back into the room. The door to the bathroom was cracked open. Deep inside his chest he felt the familiar ache – Stacy. What he missed most was her rinsed-out lingerie on the shower curtain rod. What he missed least were her lame excuses for not coming home, two, three days at a time. Leaning forward, he reached for his wallet. He had made promises (often broken) to limit the times he’d indulge. But it was Sunday and the morning had gone by with hardly a thought of her.
Tucked behind his driver’s license was her picture, naked in bed, lying on her side, her head propped in a folded elbow. He ran his finger across the tacky, creased surface. In a drugstore check out somewhere in Tennessee, they had picked up the Polaroid. She liked having her picture taken. Before snapping the shutter, he’d lingered. “Come on, Teddy Bear,” she’d mumbled through a forced smile. “Take the damn picture.” But he took his sweet time. It was only through the viewfinder that he’d have her singular attention, feel a modicum of control, however fleeting.
In the distance a car door slammed. Ted leaned forward and peered out the window. Meg’s solid, squat figure, clothed in a heavy black coat, stepped off the street and onto the sidewalk.
Ted gave the photograph another longing gaze. He followed the curves, the way her body dipped and rose, finally feasting on those full breasts with dark nipples. His calloused hands, she’d said, drove her crazy. Well, now it was his turn to be driven to the edge. Fifteen months and he was still stuck, mired in a lovesick maze, where all his thoughts twisted, turned and backtracked to the six months they had together.
He shook his head. Meg had told him the best way to forget Stacy was to move on, find someone else. There were a couple of candidates – the landlady downstairs and Jennie at the hardware store, both nice girls, not particularly youthful, but nice nevertheless. Ted now thought of another drawback of having been with Stacy. Besides having to deal with her disappearing acts, he seemed hopelessly stuck on youngish women. Damn fool, he told himself. But would he have changed a moment? Simply – no.
Hearing Meg’s familiar steps, he buried the picture in his wallet and went for the door.
“Effing weather,” said Meg in the open doorway, stomping her feet on the small rubber mat. “Every year, I swear I’ll leave. And look at me, look at us. What are we, masochists?”
Ted didn’t want to be part of the editorial “we,” but let it go. With Meg, he had to pick his battles. He extended his hands. “Winter won’t last much longer. Give me your coat. I’ll hang it up.”
She slipped her arms from the sleeves. “Don’t bother.” She gave the coat a heave-ho and tossed it onto the bed. Then, straightening her sweater, she walked to the table and sat. “Chocolate chips today. Are they the chewy kind?”
“There’s a difference?”
“Of course.” She lowered her head and zeroed in. “Usually the thinner they are, the chewier.” Her face scrunched up. “They look pretty thick. Bet they’re like rocks.”
“Sorry,” he said.
“Don’t be sorry,” she said with a wave of her hand. “They’re still good for dunking.”
Ted glanced at the bedside clock. She usually stayed a half hour. From his quick calculation, only thirty seconds had gone by. God, how did this ritual begin? Yes, now he remembered. The first month back home, he was, what was her word? Despondent.
“How was work this week?” she asked.
“Fine.”
“Meet anybody?”
Ted put a teaspoon of instant coffee into her cup. “I met plenty of people. That’s my job.”
“Ted, you know what I mean. Any prospects?”
“No, Meg, no prospects. How about yourself?”
Her shoulders slumped. “Remember Jerry, the man who sang in the choir. He seemed interested, then poof, disappeared. I asked the Reverend about him. Apparently, the guy moved to Mt. Morris, wherever the hell that is.” She picked up a cookie and held it in the air. “Let’s face it, Ted. We Blaines are cursed. No way around it.” She then took a bite. “Dry but tasty.”
He sloshed hot water into her cup, then pushed the sugar and milk in front of her.
“Thanks,” she said. “You okay?”
“I’m a big boy,” he said in a level tone. “Stop worrying about me.”
“Well, you certainly landed on your feet.”
Sitting down, Ted stifled an ironic laugh. Here he was fifty-seven years old in a rented room with a job that paid minimal wage and unpaid bills up the wazoo. “I certainly did.”
“Have you thought any more about getting a divorce?”
“Meg, let’s not talk about that. Let’s have a nice visit.”
“Now Teddy – ”
He interrupted, “Please don’t call me Teddy.” He was three years older for chrissake.
She settled back in the chair. “Well, all right. It’s just that I’ve been thinking. In fact, I’ve got the perfect solution.”
“Solution to what?”
“Your life.”
He took a deep breath, thinking of the bottle of whiskey he kept in the cabinet below the sink. He could drink it or simply creep up from behind and break it on her head. “Meg, any discussion about my life is off limits.”
“It’s not only about you. It’s about us. Please listen.”
He rolled his eyes, but kept quiet.
“I think we should pool our resources and move in together.”
His mind seized up. “You’re joking, right?”
“Joking? Of course not. We could buy a double. I’d prefer the downstairs, but we could negotiate – Why are you shaking your head?”
“I’m shaking my head because words escape me.”
“Oh. Anyway, we’re not getting any younger. We can help each other out. I can food shop, fix dinner. You can take care of the outside, do any repairs that come up. And of course this doesn’t preclude either one of us from marrying again. We’ll each have a flat. And, you’ll like this, it would be cheaper. What are you paying here? Seventy-five a week. That’s three hundred a month. Pooling our money, we might be able to upgrade, live in the suburbs. There’s a really nice place next to Marge’s. You remember Marge . . . .”
Her eyes sparkled. She was on a roll. Ted stopped listening, tuned out.
Stacy and he had lived in a motel for six months. They had looked at apartments, but he liked the smallness of the motel room, the intimacy. She was never more than a few steps away, doing the stuff women did – painting toenails, trying on clothes, showering in a steamy haze.
“There’s only one snag. Ted, are you listening?”
“Yes. And what’s that?”
“Now don’t get bent out of shape, but if you’re still married, she’d be entitled to the property. We can’t let that happen.”
Remarkably, a trap door opened. He nodded. “Absolutely.”
Her face lit up. “So you like the idea?”
“Meg, it’s terrific. But like you said, until I’m divorced it’s out of the question. But a divorce costs money. Money I don’t have.”
“I’ll stake you.”
“I can’t take your money, Meg.”
“You can pay me back. We’ll consider it a loan.”
“I’m in too much debt as it is.” His mind raced with other arguments. “I gotta get myself situated. Besides weren’t you talking about getting a condo? Houses can be expensive. We both know that.”
She stared off. “Yes, that’s true, but – ”
“But what?”
She gave him a solemn look, stone-like. “Ted, she’s out there.”
“Who’s out where?”
“That woman, that Stacy.”
Ted raised his hands. “We agreed not to talk about her.”
“But as long as you’re married, her bills are yours. Aren’t you taking a bigger chance by staying married than finally ending it? She already sent you that credit card bill. How many more will follow? How can you be sure she’s not charging her way across the planet? ”
Ted felt he was up against a wall with a firing squad taking potshots. That’s how his sister made him feel, cornered, helpless, with no exit. Trying to remain calm, he ignored her and looked out the window.
“Don’t have any answers, do you Ted? Always in denial. I don’t know why I bother.”
The fuse was now lit. Feeling a slight burn, he challenged her gaze. “Bother Meg? Bother with what?”
“With coming here every Sunday, trying to cheer you up. You know I could be doing other things. Takes almost two hours out of my day, my day off mind you. And for what, to see you moping around? Sometimes, I think you want to get back with that slut.”
“Don’t call her that,” he said.
“Slut’s being nice.”
“I think you should leave.”
“You’re throwing me out?” She hauled herself from the chair. “Fine. I’m going. But not before I say one more thing. Don’t you roll your eyes at me.”
Ted got up, took the half-filled cups to the sink, and turned on the tap. As the sink filled with water, he squeezed in some dish detergent. To calm down, he focused on the billowing foam and began to count.
She was behind him, hovering. “It’s over Ted. Get a life. That whore certainly has.” Suddenly, the cookies he had bought sailed past him and splashed into the water. “Ha,” she added, “Now it’s your turn to clean up MY mess. Have fun.” Seconds later the walls shook from the slamming door.
Like wreckage from a ship, cookies bobbed in the water. Ted reached in. Scalding his fingers, he grabbed the plastic tray and lifted it out. An idea struck. The molded compartment could be recycled, maybe used to hold sponges or soap. And for the first time that day, he smiled. Sundays were now officially his, to do as he pleased.
~~~
By midweek, Ted still hadn’t filled the unexpected, but welcomed void, left by his sister. However, on Saturday afternoon an opportunity presented itself. During a breather at the hardware store, while sitting at the cash register, his eyes fell on Jennie. At that particular moment she was down the plumbing aisle sizing up plungers. Earlier in the day she had asked him about her bathtub drain. He had given her his opinion but now wondered if he should take to another level.
Ted watched as she moved, slightly slumped in jeans and a sweater. Jennie, middle-aged, was nothing like Stacy and Ted wasn’t sure if he could make the transition, go from surf ’n’ turf to macaroni ’n’ cheese. Still, Jennie was not without charm. She smiled plenty and, no matter what the weather, seemed always upbeat. Compared with Stacy’s moodiness and incessant whining, Jennie’s personality was liquid sunshine.
Jennie turned toward him, holding up a gizmo that looked like a cross between an air pump and a plunger. It was an ingenious invention that coupled air pressure with suction, but besides being expensive, it was cumbersome to maneuver. He got off the stool and walked down the aisle.
“Listen, Jennie.” He pulled out a heavy duty plunger. “Don’t spend the extra money. This will do the job.”
She bit the inside of her cheek. “I don’t know, Ted. I already have one of those. It doesn’t seem to work.”
He turned the plunger upside down. “Not all plungers are created equal.” He showed her the underside, where the molded rubber bottom folded into itself. “Bet yours is one of those single-edged ones. They’re worthless. But this baby here. Well, if you want suction, you got it.” Once the words were out, he felt heated, partly from embarrassment, partly from he wasn’t sure what.
Her eyes twinkled. “That’s what I need all right.”
He blurted, “Listen, if you can give me a lift, maybe I could stop by tomorrow and give you a hand.”
She smiled. “Sounds great. What time should I pick you up?”
“Tomorrow morning. Say around eleven?”
“Sure thing,” she said.
Suddenly, Ted had a date of sorts.
As the shift wore on, he avoided her and by the time he left for the day, he felt vaguely remorseful. After all, he was still a married man. But that was only part of it. Bottom line was, and as Meg had deduced, he was still holding out for Stacy. However, later that evening, unwinding from the work week at the corner tavern, he calmed down. He was unplugging the woman’s drain, for chrissake. Nothing more.
At 10:30 p.m. he returned to the rooming house. Betsy, the landlady, was waiting. “You have a visitor.” She leaned toward him. “A woman.”
Ted immediately thought of Meg. What had he done now?
“Says she’s your wife.”
Everything seemed to slant. He teetered toward the wall. “My wife?” he echoed.
“I asked for ID. It said Blaine.” Her eyes darted up the stairs. “She’s waiting.”
Ted looked to the second floor.
“Now Ted, you’ve been a fine tenant, but it’s one room per person. If she stays, I’ll have to charge you double.”
He nodded distractedly. “Not a problem.”
By the time he reached the landing, he was winded. He stalled for a moment, not sure if he should knock. Instead, he ran his hand through his hair, stood straighter and turned the knob.
The only light came from the bathroom. It cast a yellow slice onto the carpet. “Teddy Bear,” came her sultry voice. “I’ve been waiting.”
He saw her silhouette in the bay window, sitting where Meg had sat.
“Stacy?”
She didn’t get up. “It’s me, baby. Been awhile, huh?”
He reached for the pole lamp located next to the dresser and fumbled with the tiny ribbed cap. Suddenly the room filled with soft light. She was wearing one of his T-shirts, the wife beater kind she had called them. Her breasts bulged out from the top and sides, stretching the fabric to transparency. Her tits, like pebbles, looked as if they’d split the material altogether. Her bare legs were crossed. Given past history, he doubted she was wearing anything else.
Planted to the spot, feeling a sense of suspended animation, he asked, “What are you doing here?”
“Paying a visit. Is that all right?”
“I suppose,” he said not quite sure. Instead of getting close, he sat on the bed. “You’re looking well.”
She uncrossed her legs. “Thought you hadn’t noticed.”
His heart revved up. He began to feel achey.
“Is Teddy Bear happy to see me?”
“I,” was all he could manage.
She stood up. His T-shirt fell to her upper thighs. She walked toward him. “Can I sit on your lap?”
He nodded.
She reached for his neck, then spreading her legs, straddled him. His arms closed in on her lower back. She whispered in his ear, “Missed you, Teddy.” Her warm, sweet breath turned him inside out.
She unbuckled his belt. “Now, I don’t want you to strain yourself. Let me take care of you.”
Ted wanted to stop her. Say, listen you just can’t come in here and expect me to act like nothing’s happened. But, well, there was no need to hold a grudge.
At 9 a.m. Ted awoke. Stacy was lying on her back with her head slightly turned and her mouth wide open. A little spit drained out. He let his eyes fall over her body. She was naked and spread out, as usual, leaving him on the edge of the bed. He wanted to reach over and touch her, feel the smooth, warm skin. But at what price? Waking her was never a pleasant task. She wasn’t a morning person. Still, maybe things had changed. Hell, of course they’d changed. She’d coming running back. He leaned over and blew on her tit. Without waking she swatted, knocking his nose. He reared back and waited for her eyes to open. Instead, she rolled over and faced the other direction. He then decided to get up, take a shower and make some noise.
As the water pelted against his shoulders, Teddy thought hard about the situation and who had the upper hand. For once, he felt he held the cards and could make demands, have her tow the line. Not that he’d ask for much, but if she wanted to be with him there’d be certain rules, expectations – no more nights away from him, no more lame excuses for taking four hours to run out for a quart of milk. They’d have to move out of the room of course. Maybe find a rental in a mobile park, at least until he got back on his feet. He could pick up extra work as a bartender on the weekends. She’d have her days to herself and could stay with him at the bar or go back to waitressing a few hours a week to keep busy and bring in some extra cash.
The previous evening they hadn’t had a chance to talk. No questions were asked, no reasons given. Just as well. Why not start fresh? He lathered up, shaved, flossed, then reached for some Old Spice aftershave. It tingled on his face. Rather than dress, he kept the towel around his waist. Maybe she’d be awake and ready for another round. But when he opened the door, she remained dead to the world, snoring like a rhino. He got dressed and headed out for her favorite breakfast, a large double cream Tim Horton coffee and an Egg McMuffin.
When he returned twenty minutes later, she was sitting at the window, smoking and wearing one of his T-shirts. Her hair was mussed as if she had just awoken. But her lips were blood red and shiny. “Hey, Teddy Bear,” she said.
He walked over to the table. “I got you some breakfast.” From inside his pocket he pulled out three extra creams and dropped them on the table.
She reached for the coffee. “You remembered. You’re such a doll.”
He leaned over and kissed her cheek. She smelled like sex. He put his hand on the T-shirt and squeezed one breast. “Teddy, you’re wearing me out,” she said. “I need some coffee first.” He backed off and sat across from her.
“We also need to talk,” she said, removing the lid from the cardboard cup.
Talk? He didn’t like the sound of that. Was this another ploy for money? “Go on.”
“I know what you must be wondering. Where I’ve been? What I’ve been up to? I should have let you know. You were good to me, Ted, the best. I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you. I’m . . . you know, sorry.”
His lips turned into a doubtful smile, as if he’d just heard a joke he didn’t understand. Stacy was sorry? Hell, she’d never apologized before. Maybe she turned over a new leaf, or maybe . . . “You okay? I mean you’re not sick or anything?”
“Hell, no. ”
The tightness in his shoulders loosened. Thank God.
“Listen, I really appreciate you taking care of that bill I sent you. I know it must have been an inconvenience.”
“Don’t think about it. You’re my wife. We have to look out for each other.”
Her eyes shifted to the cup of coffee. Her thumb and index finger plucked at the paper lip. Something was on her mind. Ted moved the chair closer and tried reading her face. She was in another world, miles away. Taking a chance, he placed his hand on her leg above the knee. She said nothing. He felt upward along the smooth inner thigh. Her legs parted easily. How soft a woman could be. Silky. And so very warm.
Whatever preoccupation she had, seemed to have passed. Her eyes fell on him. “Teddy, I’ve got something to say. Well, not say, but discuss.”
He reached farther, parting the moist sticky fold. Her breath caught. Suddenly, it all came back, the desperate, daytime sex they’d had in dingy, chilly motel rooms after endless hours of thruway driving and hard-ons. They had barely known each other. It had been a short two months before he sold the house and they left for Florida. So much changed in so little time. But it was worth every moment to watch her body jiggle and heave. His mouth felt dry. He stood up and unzipped his pants.
“Now, Teddy, slow down. We have to talk.”
“It can wait.”
Her eyes fell on him. “Pooh Bear, you’re distracting me.”
He stepped out of his pants. “That’s the idea, isn’t it?”
“You sure you can do this?”
He laughed. “Does it look like I can’t? Stand up,” he said, pulling her off the chair. He needed to see her naked, to imprint her body into his mind. He tugged at the shirt.
“Slow down, baby.”
His body throbbed. He wanted to take her against the wall, feel hands full of ass while she hung onto him for dear life. He pulled the shirt over her head. Her breasts seemed fuller, her waist smaller. Had she lost a few pounds, been working out? Or was she just happy to see him? He swallowed hard, tweaked her tit, then ran his hands all over. Whatever the change he liked it plenty.
“Teddy – ”
“Listen. Whatever you got to say can wait.” The words came out gruffer than he expected. “Let’s just do it.” He then backed her against the wall, grabbed her legs and heaved her up.
She reached around his neck and straddled him easily.
He look down at himself and slid between her splayed-open legs. It was like cutting into soft butter. Deep inside her, he began to pump. Her hot panting breath was on his neck. She moaned with each thrust and held on tighter. He wanted to last forever, to feel her needfulness for him. He had to slow things down. He stopped and tried to relax. Looking into her watery brown eyes, he said, “Talk to me.”
“You want to talk?”
Yeah, he wanted her to talk. To say how much she missed him, how he was the only one, now and forever.
She didn’t respond. He had taken her breath away. “Talk to me. Tell me what you want. I can give it to you.”
Her hips began move. “I . . . I . . .”
He squeezed her ass. “Tell me baby.”
“Teddy, I want . . .”
He slid deep inside. “What, baby?” he said into her ear.
“Teddy . . . Teddy . . .” Her voice was breathless. “I want a divorce.”
Divorce?
She pushed harder, faster.
He leaned against her, pinning her to the wall. “What did you say?”
“Now, Pooh, you told me to talk.”
He felt himself getting soft. He looked at her face. “If you want a divorce, what the hell are we doing?”
“Now listen. This was your idea.”
His idea? He pulled out and set her down.
“What? You may as well finish what you started.”
He looked around for his pants.
“Now you’re angry.”
“Stacy, get dressed.”
“I will not.” She reached for him.
He shrugged her off. As usual he was being played for a sucker. “Leave me alone. Pack your stuff and get out.”
“Fine. But I need you to sign some papers.”
“I’m not signing anything.”
He zipped up his pants. Some of her clothes were laying on the floor. A balled-up pair of jeans and a top. He stooped down.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. They exchanged glances.
“Who is it?” Ted yelled.
“Ted, it’s me. Jennie.”
Ted wiped his forehead. Damn.
Stacy folded her arms. “Jennie?”
He tossed Stacy her clothes. “I’m supposed to do some work at her house. Go in the bathroom and get dressed.”
“Why should I?”
“Dammit. Just do it.”
She stomped off and slammed the bathroom door.
Ted fumbled with a T-shirt. “Be a minute.”
“Okey-dokey,” came Jennie’s voice.
He looked the room over. Besides wet towels, an unmade bed and fast food containers, Stacy’s crap – make-up, boots, underwear – was all over the place. He’d have to reschedule in the hall. He cracked open the door and slipped out.
“Hey, Jennie.” As usual she was smiling.
“Ready to go? You may need a coat.” She glanced down. “And some shoes . . . Did I come too early?”
“No. It’s just that something came up. An emergency you could say.”
“Oh.”
“Listen. I’m sorry. Maybe we could get together tomorrow night after work.”
“Well, sure.”
Without warning, the door behind him flew open. Jennie’s expression froze. Ted turned. Christ. Stacy was stark naked.
“You have a girlfriend and you’re giving me a hard time?”
“Stacy, get back in the room.”
Jennie stepped backward. “Ted, we’ll talk tomorrow.”
“Like hell.” Stacy reached across Ted and grabbed Jennie’s arm. “Not before we have a little tête à tête.”
Ted broke Stacy’s hold. “Lay off.”
Stacy glared at Ted. “Fine. We don’t have to talk here. I’ll just follow her outside. Would that be better, Ted?“ Stacy stepped past him. “Come on, girlfriend,” she said to Jennie.
Jennie shook her head. “But I’m not his girlfriend.”
Somewhere from downstairs a door opened. “Ted,” the landlady’s voice floated up, “is everything okay?”
Great, all he needed was to get thrown out. Ted leaned over the banister. “Not a problem.” He clamped onto Stacy’s arm and spoke between clenched teeth. “I don’t need a scene.”
She hissed into his ear. “If you have nothing to hide, then let me talk to her.”
“You want to talk to Jennie?” He pushed her into the room. “Then cover yourself up.”
“Whatever.”
Shell-shocked, Jennie stood motionless in the hall.
“I’m sorry about this, Jennie.” He looked toward room. “But maybe it would be good to talk to Stacy. If you wouldn’t mind. Just tell the truth. It would help me out.”
“Sure, Ted.”
Ted poked his head through the doorway. Stacy had wrapped a sheet around her shoulders and was sitting on the bed. She glared at him. Ted opened the door wider. “Come on in, Jennie.”
Jennie slipped in and cowered against the wall. Ted closed the door.
“Ted’s my husband.” Stacy told Jennie.
Jennie nodded.
“Did he tell you he was married?”
“Well actually . . . ” Jennie glanced at Ted.
Stacy pounced. “Why are you looking at him? What are you two hiding?”
Jennie raised her hands. “No. No. Ted never said anything one way or another. But there was talk around the store that he was.”
“Hell, yes. He’s married to me.”
“Let’s cut to the chase,” Ted said. “Jennie, are we dating?”
“You and me? No. You offered to fix my bathtub.”
“Ah-ha.” Stacy faced Ted. “She may not be your girlfriend now, but what you got planned?”
Ted shook his head. “Listen Stacy. Jennie and I work together. We’re friends. That’s it. Why do you care anyway? You want a damn divorce.”
“Yes, Ted, I do want a divorce but don’t make it sound like you don’t. Clearly you’re moving on.”
Ted shook his head. “Stacy, I’m not signing anything.”
“Listen Ted. I’ve come all this way. We had a good thing going but it’s over.”
“You come in here and act like everything’s fine. Then throw this at me. Tell me why.”
“Why?” Stacy glared. “Don’t lay a guilt trip on me.”
“Guilt trip?”
Jennie chirped. “I should leave.”
“Wait,” said Ted. “I’m going to go with you, just like I promised. Stacy, you need to calm down. We’ll talk when I get back.”
“No way I’m hanging around this dump. You sign these papers Ted Blaine.”
She let the sheet fall from her shoulders and jumped from the bed.
“Stacy, cover up.”
“Eff-you,” she yelled back.
She was bent over now, digging through some luggage. Clothes flew. “Where are those damn papers?” she said to herself.
Ted ripped the sheet from the bed and threw it over her like a tarp. She whipped around and lunged for him. “You sonofabitch.”
Ted grabbed her wrists.
“Let go of me,” she screamed.
In the distance, through his pulsing anger, he heard Jennie’s voice. “Ted, someone’s at the door.”
He froze.
Sure enough, there was a faint knock. The landlady no doubt.
“Stacy, please be quiet.”
“Not until you promise.”
“Promise what?”
“To sign the papers.”
“Okay, okay,” he whispered.
Stacy stepped aside. “Well, all right then. I’ll stay quiet as a mouse. I’ll give you five minutes.”
Ted shook his head, then cracked open the door.
“Hello, Ted.”
His heart skipped a beat. Meg?
“I can’t stay mad, Ted.”
His body seized up, his jaw tightened. “This isn’t a good time.”
Meg’s head bobbed side to side, trying to look beyond him.
“Don’t be silly,” she said, and pushed the door against him, throwing him off balance.
The first person Meg seemed to notice was Jennie, standing by the wall. Meg smiled. “Oh, you have company.”
Ted jumped in front of his sister, trying to block any further view. “Yes. Listen, I’ll call you later. We’ll go out to dinner.”
“Dinner? Well, sure, but – “
Ted’s maneuvering wasn’t enough.
“What the – ”
“Hello, Meg,” said Stacy.
His sister’s face transformed, got hard and pale like set concrete.
Stacy looked Meg up and down. “What? Never seen a naked woman before? No, I suppose not.”
“Ted, what’s going on here?” Meg said.
Stacy grinned. “We’re having a threesome. Wanna join us?”
Ted shook his head. “Stacy, shut up.”
Crimson, Jennie said, “I’m not involved with any of this. I just work with Ted. He offered to do some work at my house. I came to pick him up.”
Meg turned to Ted. “Ted, how can you expect this poor girl to stand here and be a witness to this . . . nakedness. My Lord.”
“You’re right, Meg.” Ted said to his sister. “Go home, and I’ll go with Jennie to her house. Stacy will stay here.”
Stacy gave Ted a little cat smile. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
Divorce papers! Now wouldn’t be the time or place. Not with Meg hovering, not with her grand plans of living together. He corralled both Jennie and Meg toward the door. “I’ll meet you two downstairs. I need a couple of minutes with Stacy.”
Suddenly, Meg became immovable. She turned toward Stacy. “I know why you’re here.”
Stacy stepped back.
Meg looked at her brother. “She wants a divorce, doesn’t she?”
Ted’s glance ran between the two women. How did Meg know?
“Ha! I knew it.” Meg pointed her finger. “Conniving little bitch.”
Stacy reached for a towel. “I don’t have to listen to this.”
Meg laughed. “A little late for covering up, isn’t it?”
“Ted, get your loser sister out of here.”
“Meg, how do you know Stacy wants a divorce?”
Meg glared at Stacy. “You tell him.”
Stacy folded her arms.
“Coward.” Meg turned to Ted. “You know why she’s naked? Never wears clothes. She’s a stripper. Venus Luv. Making a small fortune. Found her on the net. She’s got a website.”
“What?”
“Tracked her down.”
“Why?”
“Ted, if you weren’t going to get a divorce, maybe she would. Now don’t get mad, but I emailed her.”
“You what?”
“I told her you were sick and needed a lot of treatments, expensive treatments, that she’d have to pay for. A wifely duty.”
Ted dropped to the bed. “Stacy, is that why you . . . me?”
Stacy shrugged. “I’m an angel of mercy.”
Ted snorted. Pity sex. That's all it was. What a joke. Not Stacy, but him. “Anyone got a pen?”
~~~
Ten minutes later, Meg and Stacy were gone and Jennie was waiting in the car.
Ted slipped into the front seat. “Sorry you had to see that.”
Jennie smiled. “Ted, I would have crawled over hot coals to get that darn drain fixed.”
Ted laughed. Jennie was still liquid sunshine. Clipping on the seatbelt, he then thought of his sister. He’d get the chewy cookies next time.
*****
“Teddy Bear” is included in the following collections: Thirst and Spots Blind. Other books by Linda A. Lavid