Beauty and the Beast

"You mean this is the same guy..." started Wilma.

"Yes, and I want to do something for him. To do something for him as wonderful as he did for me. Well, I can't exactly save him from dying like he saved me, but I can try and make it so that he has a good life."

"And, I'm the something wonderful that is supposed to make his day? Is that what you're saying, Belinda?" said Wilma.

"Yes. That is exactly what I am saying. And, no, before you ask again, he has no idea what we are proposing here," said Belinda.

"Since he saved your life, as you say, why don't you date him?" said Wilma.

"Because she and Charlie are going to get hitched, and you know it," said Sandy. "I told you about that a long time ago."

"Hmm, yeah, I guess that makes sense," said Wilma.

"Yes," said Sandy. "Look, all you have to do is date the guy once or twice. See if you hit it off. If not then not. But, if you do, well, then it's win-win." Wilma was nodding. Belinda was staring with her brow wrinkled. The silence was deafening.

"Okay, a date or two won't kill me, I suppose. Hey—is this guy some short dude that I'm going to look ridiculous with on the dance floor? Does he even know how to dance?"

"No—no. He's a big guy. As for the dancing; he's not great, but he can peddle around the floor a little. You can teach him to dance better if this goes anywhere," said Belinda.

"Big guy? Big as in fat guy big?" said Wilma.

"No-no. he's definitely a hardbody, really. You'll see," said Belinda.

"There's something wrong here. If he's a big guy, ex-army hard body, and can dance even a little; and if he's the catch you say he is; then, why is he not already spoken for," said Wilma. Both Sandy and Belinda looked away.

"Oh ho! I get it. He's ugly, right? That's it. He's shy because his face is a train wreck," said Wilma. "You two are a trip."

"So, no chance. I mean you won't give the dude a sniff?" said Sandy.

"Hmm, I didn't say that. You're not foolin' me, you two. I'm no prize in the face either. Yeah, I'll give the guy a shot. But, if he's shorter than me, you two better start runnin', and I ain't kiddin' about that," said Wilma.

There was hugging and squealing all around as the three women partied.

"So, where do we go from here? How do I meet the dude," said Wilma.

"First, young lady, we go to the beauty parlor," said Belinda, smiling like the thief that got away with the jewels.

******

I saw them enter together, the three of them. They took seats and looked around. The barmaid brought them menus and asked if they wanted drinks. She returned, smiled at me. Yeah it's your girlfriend and her friends," said Cherry.

"She's not my girlfriend. Not that I'd send her packing if she wanted the job," I said, smiling back at her. I could see the tall one staring at me. Not bad looking, but there was something about her.

Belinda, on the other hand, seemed to be trying to not look at me. I had to wonder at that. The other one, the shortest one, was talking animatedly to tall-girl. I decided to just keep washing glasses. If they wanted to talk to me, they'd let me know.

"He's seen us," said Sandy. "He's seen us and he isn't coming over. I think he's planning on letting us be, ignoring us." Belinda nodded.

"That's not going to work. We have to..." started Belinda.

"Look he's heading into the back room," said Sandy.

"Shit! I guess, I'll just have to go in the back and drag him out," said Belinda. Wilma placed her hand on her friends arm as she started to get up.

"Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, Belinda," said Wilma. "Maybe the guy just needs to be by himself. Maybe he's a loner or something."

"No. He's not a loner, but he is lonely. I'll take care of this," said Belinda. Wilma dropped her hand from the other's arm.

I saw her in the reflection from the window in front of me. "Hello, Belinda. I saw you out there. This remind you of anything," I said.

"Huh?"

"The first time I met you. We were actually standing in just about the same places that we are now. I mean the first time we met more or less formally," I said. She knitted her brow, and smiled.

"Yes, I think you're right," she said. "But, Oz, why did you avoid me—us—out there? I wanted to introduce you to my friends. Really."

"No. No. Being around you is kinda hard for me. No offense. I'd still walk over a field of hot coals just to get a smile from you. But, well, let's just say that I'm not into torturing myself. Okay?" I said. She frowned and knitted her brow. "And I know the short one; the one that's even shorter than you. She's in here sometimes with this or that guy."

"Oz, You have got to get by it. Really. I love another, a guy named Charlie Jensen. And Oz, he loves me. I'm more than flattered that you find me attractive. What girl wouldn't be. But, Oz, I am not for you, I can't be.

"Tonight Oz—no—I'm going to be straight with you. Tonight, Oz, I—well I—I was going to set you up with another lady. A nice lady. A lady whose boyfriend just cheated on her, and well, she kicked him to the curb. So, she's a lady who's unattached. Like you, Oz.

"But, like my friend Sandy keeps telling me to do, I am going to butt out of your life. Like you said. I'll be going then." She turned and started walking toward the door.

"Belinda." I said, my voice just above a whisper. She stopped but didn't turn around to look at me.

"Yes?" she said, still looking completely away from me; like she was afraid of what I might say.

"The girl you were going to set me up with, is she pretty?" I said. She finally turned to look at me.

"Huh?" she said.

"Is she pretty? You know like you?" I said. She looked down.

She looked up at me, "She's a good girl, Oz. You'd be lucky to have her if she decided that she wanted to be with you."

"I see," I said. "Not pretty. Well, what the hell. Guys like me. Ugly guys. I guess we can't really be—well—choosey. Will you still—I mean will you still introduce me."

"Oz, I don't know..."

"Belinda, I hope you won't repeat what I'm about to say. But, Belinda, I'm desperate. I mean really desperate. I need a woman so bad. And, well, except for you that one time. Well, it's been forever, actually never... Know what I mean," I said.

"Oz? Oh my God! Okay. But, Oz, you have to promise that you won't hurt her. Not ever. I mean ever," she said. I nodded. She came to me and took my hand and led me out and into the bar.

******

I sat across from her. She was actually okay looking. I was no expert for damn sure, but I thought a little makeup, nicer clothes, and Wilma would look pretty damn nice—pretty damn nice!

"So, do I pass muster?" I said. She smiled.

"You'll do for the moment," she said. "Do I?"

"You know you do," I said. I was bein' real careful with this lady. No mistakes-no mistakes-no mistakes I kept repeating in my head. She might not be Belinda, but she was a woman. Man, if I could only make a go of it with her.

"You're not comfortable around girls are you?" she said.

"I don't know. I'm not shy, really. I just, well, I haven't had a ton of experience. No, that's not being honest. It's not experience that I'm short of, well, not only that; it's getting lucky. I never get lucky," I said.

Fuck! A mistake! I made a stupid mistake. Now she was gonna think that the only reason I'm with her, want to be with her, is so that I can get lucky. I tried to cover myself.

"So, no, I guess I'm not all that comfortable around girls," I said. I was white knuckling the arms of my chair waiting for the put down. I was sure it'd be a gentle put down, but a put down it would most surely be.

"How old are you, Oscar?" she said, seeming to ignore my stupidity.

"Call me Oz or Ozzie," I said. "And I'm thirty-three." She nodded.

"And you've had some difficulty getting lucky? You mean getting women to spread their legs for you?" she said. I stared. I think my mouth was hangin' open, and hangin' open real wide.

"Oscar?"

"Uh-uh—kinda, I guess," I said.

"But you laid Belinda; doesn't that count?" said Wilma.

"Well, yes, I guess so. But, that was kinda different," I said. I was feelin' real uncomfortable now.

"Hmm," she said. "Yes, her way of saying mucho-thanko, I would think." I looked at her and had one of those moments when things become real clear. Yes, Belinda had let me have her as a way of saying thank you. She'd said as much before, but it hadn't registered until Wilma'd said it. Why? Maybe it was Wilma's tone more than her words. Like Belinda fucking me out of gratitude made perfect sense, at least to Wilma. Yeah maybe, I thought.

The waitress arrived and saved me from making an even bigger fool of myself than I already had. We ordered and then we were alone again.

The iced teas that the waitress had delivered some little while before were refilled by a touring waiter with a pitcher. I nodded my thanks.

"Yes, that would be about it, I guess," I said. "She let me have her to say thank you. Sure." She smiled. I took my shot. "So, Wilma, you said I would do for the moment. Should I put in my request for a second date with you while you're still thinking good thoughts?"

"Yes, Oz, I'll go out with you again. I'd love to," she said. I didn't just feel good. I was feeling real good!

"Excellent," I said. A nd we date we did, for six months, and the sex was fantastic.

I rolled off of her. It had been a long night, but without much doubt the best night I'd ever had better even, if possible, than my time with Belinda. Oh, Wilma was no Belinda, but she liked me for me; that made up for a lot of stuff. No woman had ever treated me like she did. I was pretty sure I was falling in love with her.

"Good for you? She said.

"Oh yeah, the best," I said. I sensed her smile.

"I'm glad," she said. "Ozzie?"

"Hmm," I said.

"Ozzie, I'm afraid this is our last time together," she said.

At first I didn't quite hear her. "What?" I said, turning on my elbow, so I could see and hear her. I was smiling.

"Oz, A man, a man I used to know—love—Oz, I'm getting back with him. Please don't misunderstand. You're a great guy. Any woman, and I mean any woman, would be proud to be your girl..." she said.

I was still supporting myself on my elbow, but the smile was for sure gone. "Any woman, any woman? But not you, huh?" I said. "I rolled off the bed, and started gathering my clothes and dressing.

"I'm sorry, Oz—I..."

"Save it Wilma. Oh and thanks for the sex. It really was all that, as the teenagers say." Dressed, I was outta there and didn't bother to look in the rearview mirror, as one might say.

Well, my luck with women was holding steady. Not getting better, not getting worse; just holding steady. I just had to hope that Belinda wouldn't be hearing about my getting dumped again. I really, really didn't need any more of her pity.

******

"You're kidding, right?" said Belinda.

"No, 'fraid not," said Sandy. "Wilma called me last night. She said she broke it off with him last weekend. She let him have her one last time and then laid it on him. She's getting back with the asshole who cheated on her, that Mark Dilfer guy I told you about.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck. That poor bastard can't catch a break. Well, I guess for once I'm going to take your advice and stay the hell out of his way. I tried." said Belinda. "I've sure as hell been damn little help to him so far."

"Ditto that. And, you are finally making some sense. This match making stuff isn't for amateurs. We need to let him find his own way," said Sandy. "Whaddya have on for this weekend?"

******

Marian Kristoff, stood in front of the restroom's mirror and touched up her makeup. Finishing, she took a step back and appraised her assets. Long, fluffed out, tawny-hair; five-nine; one-twenty-five; green eyes, 36-24-38: Pretty, damn pretty, she thought, and sexy too. Turning she made her way to back into the restaurant proper.

Taking her seat across from her three friends, she smiled. "Can't let oneself look drab," she said. "One never knows when opportunity will knock."

"You mean customers," said Belinda.

"If you really want to catch yourself a man, one that's a keeper; you gotta get out of the business," said Sandy.

"Yes," echoed Wilma. "No man's going to want to hang with a woman who's a professional..."

"Escort," finished Marian. "Well, a body's got to make a living. And, being a professional escort does pay the bills. I mean what the hell. All of you are college graduates. Me? Let's just say classrooms and me are not compatible."

"I told you that my dad would get you a job," said Belinda. "All you have to do is say the word."

"Be a secretary? I don't even know how to turn on one of those computer thingys, she said.

"You could learn," said Wilma.

"Or find me a man," said Marian. "That's what I need. I need a man. Bein' a whore is not all that hard, but it is frustrating. You know, I get a half dozen offers of marriage a month."

"Why is that frustrating?" said Belinda.

"Because each and every one of the men who ask me are cheating bastards. And, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt, that even if they did leave their current wives, that they'd be cheating on me within a very short time. Men! Can't trust 'em, can't do without 'em."

"Our resident cynic," said Sandy, smirking in the process.

"Oh, look at the clock," said Belinda. "I have to be going. I'm supposed to pick up dad at the airport. He's coming in on the midnight flight from D.C.

"You should think about that job, Marian. I'm pretty sure you'd meet the kind of guy you're looking for working for the federales."

"Yeah, and the men working there would be looking for someone just like me. You know with an arrest record for selling what all of them are no doubt guilty of buying," said Marian.

******

Some say there are no such things as coincidences. Some say the fate's perversely will stuff to happen. Personally, I have never believed in coincidences or the fates, or any of that. That said, I might have to rethink my thinking and my beliefs.

Amos was coming in at midnight and had called to have me come and pick him up with his pickup truck; he'd left me the keys for the purpose. Amos always travelled back east with a lot of luggage. I pulled into the parking structure and had just gotten down from the truck when I heard the commotion. It was one level down. I headed down to see what was going on.

Three big guys were roughing up a woman and a man: her dress was already ripped and barely hanging from her shoulders. The man was on the ground bleeding big time, and the woman was screaming.

"You're going to pay for killing my brother," said one of the three big guys. "But, we're going to have some fun with you first."

"Don't touch her," squeaked the man on the ground.

I strode toward the group. I wasn't thinking; I was reacting. All three had knives out and were threatening her. One of the three, walked over to the bleeding man and spit on him. "hijo de puta!" he said.

I couldn't see the woman very well, but I could hear her voice clearly as she pled with them to let her go. There was no doubt who it was. Also, I didn't have to guess very hard to figure out who her bleeding companion was.

"You guys wanna leave the woman alone or would you rather die tonight?" I said, coming at them as fast as I could without actually running. Worse come to worse, I figured, I'd die trying to save her—again. I'd tried to kill myself over her once. Here was another opportunity, I mean to die for her, I mean if I played my cards right—or wrong.

Still, living beat the hell outta dyin', so I was going to go all out on this one, and hope to be the last one standin'. I figured, at the least, that if I could entertain them long enough, she could get away and run for help.

"You want to not be here, asshole," said the one who was clearly the leader as I got closer. I headed straight for him without breaking stride. His two friends were behind him and smirking. Gaging the distance, I drove the toe of my boot into his knee and followed that a half second later with a thumb at and into his left eye ripping it out in the process. His scream was horrific. He fell to his knees covering his face. A chop to the base of his neck ended his pain and his sentient existence. He never even got to use his blade.

I spun and blocked an incoming blade aimed at my throat from the asshole on my right and got ripped pretty good on my left forearm for my trouble, but the guy's momentum committed him past me and I was able to grab the back of his head and his chin and snap his neck as his feet went out from under him; he was dead before I could let his body drop. Two down in less than a dozen seconds. The last of the baddies swayed slowly back and forth in front of me switching his blade from one hand to the other, fear evident in his look. He wasn't going anywhere I was between him and the driveway, his only possible escape route. His only other option would have been to jump from the structure and that was a four story drop: chances of survival less than iffy.

"Go for it asshole," I said. "You got the weapon, not me." He did go for it. I'd underestimated him. He drove the blade into my upper pectoral muscle: Jesus it hurt! But, I didn't back up. Instead I drove into him and forced him back. He let go of the blade that was stuck in my chest as he attempted to slow me down and redirect my body to his advantage, but I was too big for him. We hit the wall together. Summoning every ounce of strength I still possessed, I hefted him up and hurled him over the side of the structure to the street below. Leaning over, mainly to keep myself from collapsing, I saw his twisted body on the street, cars skidding this way and that trying to avoid colliding with each other.

I looked at the terrified Belinda. I tried to smile. "We gotta stop meetin..." her scream was the last thing I heard.

It was dark out when I opened my eyes. The scene around me was a little bit murky. I heard the familiar beep-beep, again. I knew I was in the hospital; I'd survived. It was late at night, maybe the wee smalls, I thought.

I heard some commotion outside my door. A middle aged lady in white came in. "Well, good morning, mister Church," she said. "How are we feeling?"

"Don't know. You tell me," I said. She smiled. Less than five minutes later I had a doctor nodding over my mortal form.

"You'll be fine, now, mister Church. You lost some blood. But, the EMT guys were good. They saved you," he said.

"The woman?" I said.

"Woman? Oh, yes, the one you saved. She's fine. I hear it wasn't the first time you saved her either. That's a story I'd like to hear sometime," he said. "But, not right now. Rest is the order of the day for the moment. You need it, and I'm here to provide it. He nodded to the nurse who hung another bag on the intravenous tree.

******

She was literally sitting on the edge of her seat, her elbows resting on the edge of the bed, her hands covering her face as she listened to the monitor. Nurse Hilda had allowed her in; actually a no-no in the ICU. But, this was a special case the way she saw it.

Every once in a while she'd imagine that he moved, and she'd speak to him, encouraging him.

"Charlie, you've got to survive for us, Charlie. I need you. I need you, I need you, I need you, Charlie."

******

The sun was bright. "You have a visitor, mister Church, said the nurse. Belinda, I thought.

I nodded. "Please," I said, "let her come in."

"Uh, it's a man, sir," said nurse Melba. I know my look must have had her wondering.

Another uniform. The uniform of a lieutenant general. I knew who it was. I'd never met him, but I knew who he was.

"How are you feeling, mister Church," said the man.

"Okay, I guess, General Shafer," I said. He smiled.

"You know who I am," he said.