Chapter Seven
We were harassed again on the driveway. I laughed (inwardly) when Norrah haughtily said she was offered a quarter-million dollars for an interview, “Can you beat that?” There was no response, but the pair of journalists were visibly dejected. Stunning the bejesus out of me was when another journalist after brief consideration asked if she’d give it to him for three-hundred grand. Norrah paused in stride only for a second, to process that offer, then continued on to my Tahoe by my side.
As we idled past her nearest neighbor’s house, a man came outside the front door and flagged me to stop. I rolled down my window.
“Evening,” he said. “Hi, Norrah. How you holding up, dear?”
“Fine, William. How about yourself? I saw you give an interview the other day.”
“Yeah, I’ve given three. I don’t know why they even bother, I don’t know anything. All I could do is give character accounts of you, and I wanted to do that, for you.”
“I know, and thank you. You said really wonderful things about me. I appreciate that.”
“You bet. You deserve every nice thing I said. You’ve been a great neighbor. So do you know anything that the rest of us don’t, by chance?”
“No, sorry.”
He nodded. “I hope everything turns out for the best for you. You take care.”
I pulled away smiling at the amicable man, waved at him. I recalled pulling him over a while back for not coming to a complete stop at a stop sign. A California Stop, it’s termed. I wrote him a ticket for it; he accepted it like a champ. I felt like an asshole now. He came to the defense of my sweet Norrah, and how did I repay him? By writing him a hundred-and-fifty dollar ticket. Granted it was months ago, but the guilt was just as heavy. I resolved to give him a free pass on all traffic violations from now on. I had several people on that mental list, each more deserving than the last.
We motored along silently for a few minutes. There was black ice on the road. When I was a kid I remember people saying “Beware of black ice,” and “Black ice is dangerous.” I used to think they were saying black guys. They sound kind of the same. “Beware of black guys.” I’m not racist so I had disagreed with those heads-ups.
I fishtailed a little here and there. I was accustomed to driving on it, so it didn’t faze me. It’s actually kind of fun to slide a bit, if you know what you’re doing. Norrah unlatched her seatbelt and scooted toward me, butted up against the center console and put her arms around my shoulders awkwardly. I glanced over and saw a broad grin and smiling eyes. She reached in and kissed my cheek, then my ear, breathed in it, giving me goose bumps.
“Tickles. Aren’t you a sweetheart,” I asked rhetorically.
She touched my thigh and squeezed. I felt things stirring in my trousers.
“I was thinking,” she said. “I think I’m going to sell an interview. I’ll have a lawyer write up a contract stating that the negotiated price must remain undisclosed. I don’t want people thinking I’m trying to profit from this. And with the money I’ll quit my job. I think it would be great not only because I can take a bigger load of classes at school, but because we could spend more time together. Between your schedule and mine, we won’t have much time together, you know?”
“I think it’s a fantastic idea.”
She smiled and pecked an appreciative kiss on my cheek. “I’m glad you agree. And you know what else I’ll do? I’ll give ten percent of that check to Aaron’s church in Fresno. It would help me feel better about receiving that money. Did you see how hungry he was? I know it had nothing to do with his financial situation, or at least I don’t think it did, but it’s not fair that a man so selfless as he, as virtuous as he, can hardly afford to eat out. Maybe the thirty grand or so given to his church would help him out. Don’t you think?”
I looked over at her, my eyes prickling. “How in the world are you still single? You are such an amazing woman.”
“Single? Is that how you want me?”
“Well, no. I guess I mean how in the world were you still single.”
“That’s more like it,” she said. “You don’t think we’re moving too fast, do you? It seems like we are, but I can’t help it. I’m only following my heart, that’s all. I can’t help it if it wants you.”
“You get sweeter by the sentence.”
“I’m just being frank.”
“Howdy, Frank, pleased to make your acquaintance.”
She slapped my shoulder and laughed.
I parked in my driveway apologizing for my house not being very tidy. It was an A-frame cabin, a cozy twelve-hundred square feet, one story with a loft. We entered my abode with her asking why I don’t lock my door. Many people don’t lock their doors in this community. Crime is all but non-existent, and my neighbors know I’m a cop. I had long gotten into the habit of leaving my doors unlocked. It didn’t seem unusual to me.
I have a bachelor pad, no articles of sophistication to be found. At least I didn’t have posters of chicks in bikinis on my walls. And the empty keg of beer used as a TV stand had been upgraded to an entertainment center a year ago; I was thankful for having done that. I turned on some lamps. Norrah went to the restroom. I used the opportunity to tidy up real quick, put magazines and newspapers away and crammed a few dishes in the washer, pressed down on the full trashcan so it didn’t look overdue to be taken out. I uncorked a bottle of Pinot Noir as she came out of the restroom. I was pouring it into two glasses when her arms hugged around my waist from behind, hands folded together above my lap, her chin rested on the mantle of my left shoulder. What a sweet thing she is. I turned around and began a campaign of kisses. They grew more fevered by the second. I had filled the crotch of my pants and she noticed it, or at least suspected it, because she brought a hand between us, gave it an evaluative touch, and smiled. We took our glasses of red to the couch and recommenced kissing.
“There’s something I need to tell you,” she said between kisses.
“What?”
“I have a penis. But don’t worry, it’s small.”
I burst into laughter. “Well as long as it’s small…!”
“It is. It’s like yours.”
I laughed harder. “Gee thanks!”
She smiled and went in for another kiss. It wasn’t long before we had reached our limit of non-intercourse. Something had to give. It was starting to hurt, those dreaded blue balls. I took a deep relieved breath when she stood from the couch, took my hand and led me to my bedroom in the loft. Oh thank God.
It was a torturous fifteen minutes in bed. I thought I’d only last fifteen seconds, so at least there was that. But as it happened, only one of us had a happy ending and I felt just awful about it. Well I felt wonderful, but awful for her. She claimed not to care, and her smile was sincere.
We were lying naked on my down-comforter, hand in hand, staring up at the ceiling. After our breathing steadied, I asked when she might give that girl a call, Brittney.
“Maybe in the morning. I think I’m going to take the day off tomorrow. Maybe permanently like we talked about. I wouldn’t mind having lunch with her before we have dinner with Aaron. Maybe I’ll learn something useful from her.”
“I think her intention is to learn something useful from you.”
“She’s in for a disappointment then.”
“I wish I was off tomorrow. I’d love to join you two.”
“We were supposed to start the bible tonight.”
“Oh yeah,” I said. “Did you really want to do that?”
“Not really, but we said we would. Let’s do it over a couple glasses of wine. We’ll take turns reading aloud. What do you think?”
“I’d rather employ a useful verse of the bible: be fruitful and multiply.”
“We already did that.”
“Let’s go read.”