K&T, LLC Ch. 03

Our table was ready, as usual. Sean poured for me and himself, but not for Sheila. That struck me. How long had they been dating? Sean had never mentioned her before last week. In any event, Sheila asked for a small amount of the wine. It was to toast me, as the sister she had never had. As corny as that sounds, it was delivered with full sincerity and I was genuinely touched. It was so strange. She was treating me like a girl, and I was responding. What was worse, I had to ask, "Are you being careful already?"

Again, Sheila refused the usual path. Most women either proclaim their pregnancy or take offense at any mention of the possibility. Sheila simply smiled a little sadly. "I wish, but it is not possible yet. Give us a week or two. I am certainly ready. I felt like having Sean up against the wall, after our meeting this afternoon." Woh. Not a sheltered rose after all. Sean was more than ready to add his part. He sprayed the table with his drink. That made me feel better. Sean is no slouch in the verbal cut throat.

While he recovered from coughing, I said, "I'm glad someone can shock him like that. Sean has become a bit jaded. Against the wall? Seriously?" Finally, a point for me. Sheila turned vivid red, while Sean looked insufferably smug. "Sheila is very limber." I thought Sheila might pass out from blood loss. I was beginning to understand what they had going, which was a huge relief. The kind of women that Sean used to date would never stoop to doing it dirty. That was yet another point on Sheila's tally. Somewhere along there I quit counting.

The food came and we gave it the reverence it deserved. Sean had ordered the traditional Valencian paella. Originally, the dish was done with game and snails. Fresh water mussels were a bit of a stretch, but I was not going to be picky. Sheila had clearly never eaten paella before, but still ate only a small portion. If she had not looked genuinely stuffed, I would have felt slighted. She must eat like a bird.

After dinner, Sean had them box the leftovers. The flight was not for another hour, so we had a chance to sit and talk. The obvious subject was the wedding, but it never came up. Instead, we talked politics and Ebay. On one hand, it was appalling to find how disinterested Sheila was about national political events. On the other, it was shocking how plugged in she was to the local scene. In Sheila's world, politics was about the influence of individuals, not organizations and corporations. That was background.

Ebay was another story. I knew a fellow junky when I met one. It started with my "look." I told her that the T-shirt was from the band's Last Curtain Call tour. Sheila found that interesting. When I said it had come from an online auction, she became avid. We discussed goth and metal influences on urban fashion. As an anthropologist, studies of fashion is part of my toolbox. It was surreal having the focus turned on my own college life.

That led to Sheila's own outfit. For a woman that clearly devoted time, money and effort to her appearance, Sheila was shockingly dismissive of her linen suit. She blew it off with, "I had it made in Hong Kong", as if that was uninteresting. Even online tailoring is made to order. Then, I discovered that she had purchased it five years earlier—and it still fit. Sean showed a knowing smirk, then he flipped his head toward the restrooms. For the first time in my life, I was invited to powder my nose.

Once in the lady's room, Sheila took off her jacket, then unbuttoned her shirt. Underneath was an ecru silk foundation, with boning in the sides. It was beautiful. I had dated girls that wore corsetry as fetish wear. This was something else entirely. Sheila said that it enforced her diet, which was obvious. Suddenly, her tiny plate of food did not seem so picky.

Without meaning to, my hand went out to touch the fabric. Sheila permitted the intimacy, which was something that kept me up all night. At the time, I discovered that what I had taken as B cup tits, were actually much heavier, more like mine. I am a 44D, but Sheila was maybe a 34, more likely a 32. On her thin frame, D cups would be massive. I thought, why hide them if you have them? Then it hit me—Sheila did not like her breasts.

Right there in the restroom, I went into full scholarship mode. The clothes were not decorative, they were defensive. I could relate. The excellence of the fit and fabric helped her to stay faceless, like chameleon coloring. The tight fit was comforting, supportive even. Another coin dropped.

I know a bit of about human nature and psychology. It is impossible to be a good social science major without picking it up. That said, I was not a trained therapist. Insight, like I had just reached, would usually take weeks or months of interaction. I was not either talented or experienced enough to pick it up in a few minutes. That meant Sheila was showing it to me. Damn she was good.

I chewed on the nature of relationships as we went back to the table. One of the few invariant elements of successful relationships is communication. I knew that Sean was gifted as a listener. His faults tend to be in the other direction. If Sheila was half as good as she seemed, they would make one hell of a team. I felt my lips twitch up a bit. In response, I saw Sheila smile, just a bit. Yep. Sheila was no slouch picking up signals.

All good things must come to an end. Much too soon, it was time to head back to Liberty International and pick up my herd.

Sean:

The trip to Newark was not something I looked forward to. The prospect of dealing with the gaggle of girls Jo was bringing would be bad enough. That paled next to the prospect of Sheila and Jo butting heads. Sheila is no one's patsy, but my sister could plow a deep furrow. In some ways, the two could not have been more different. I knew that they had conversed on the phone, without incident, but Jo in person is a different experience. I loved my sister, but I wished she had learned how to blend in.

She saw me first, so we started with Jo's calling to me across the lobby. Same old, same old. Jo was wearing ancient, mismatched military boots, ratty pants that were once jeans and a torn red and black concert shirt. No bra. Jo was not trying to hide what she was. At least she was only wearing half a dozen earrings and none in her nose. Whatever cut she was wearing was covered with a bandana. Her pierced nipples, clearly visible through the shirt, had small posts, rather than the big rings. Jo was trying for effect, not impact.

She came up and gave Sheila her patented inspection. First the long look over, then a critique. It is always completely fair, but also uncomfortably close to home. Jo is sort of like Debra Winger in Black Widow, but aggressive rather than diffident. Jo nailed the part about Sheila's apartment not being as neat as the office. Good one. I particularly liked the line about our meeting. Cat with milk on the whiskers indeed.

She was doing a good job on Sheila. I pulled Jo into a hug and she tried to break me in half, as usual. We both said "I missed you" at the same time, then laughed about it. But Jo's attention was still on Sheila, who had not risen to the bait. In fact Sheila loosened up a little. Jo noticed and commented on it. Finally, she asked Sheila to say something. Sheila replied with one word, "Luggage?"

That did it. Jo howled with laughter. There is no other word for it. People stopped and stared, which was nothing new. What was different was that Jo had trouble stopping. She was holding her sides before she regained some control. Got any tension, sis? When Jo stopped laughing, Sheila took her turn at bat.

First, she told me to make sure Jo had money for shopping, as if there was a school trip and I was Jo's parent. She told Jo that she had already said more than CC did in a month. Then, before either of us could comment, she reminded us that we had a car waiting. Having been on the receiving end of Sheila's wit, I could sympathize. The cuts were so smooth that you almost did not feel them.

Jo's jaw did not drop, not quite. After she took a second to recover, she asked me if this was normal for Sheila. It was a good question. Jo has survived Ivy League office politics, where the subtle put down is an art form. Even in that context, what Sheila did was impressive. I put it in terms that would sink in fast. "Gerald worships the ground Sheila walks on. He uses words like "professional" and "precise" when he refers to her."

Jo is large, loud and prone to making chaos. Gerald is compulsively neat and organized. They clashed from the moment they met. Jo understands what Gerald does, and respects him for it, but there is no affection lost. At best, they avoid each other. At worst, you can hear Jo all over the house. At the word "precise", Jo's mouth did fall open.

Sheila was the one that saved us, simply by heading toward Baggage Claim. There, we had a while to wait, but the fencing was done for a while. Eventually, the flight went up on the board, so I called George and told him to come around front. As usual, Jo disdained getting a cart, so I lugged a loaded military duffel to the front curb. George popped the trunk and Jo threw her bags in. That concluded round one, which went to Sheila 4-0.

Next it was Avis to rent a people hauler. Then, we had two hours to kill. In Newark, that means only one thing—I was going to introduce Sheila to paella. The family had been going to Case de Espana since Ronald Reagan was President. I had called ahead, so the preparations would already be underway. I hoped we would not be late.

There was an awkward moment at the door, when a teenaged receptionist did not recognize us. Senor Eduardo came rushing out of the kitchen, to rescue things. I introduced Sheila as my finacée. Senor Eduardo bowed and kissed her hand, which was nice. Then he led us to our table, already set, with a carafe of wine.

I poured for myself and Jo. Surprisingly, Sheila asked for a splash. She explained by holding up the glass and saying, "A toast, to the first sister I have ever had." I knew Sheila, so I could tell she was sincere. I also knew Jo. Those words could easily have been flung back. It was a measure of both of them that Jo replied in kind, "My first as well." Maybe I was the only one with a sense of crisis averted.

Dinner conversation almost did not get started at all. Jo saw that Sheila was not drinking the wine and made the obvious assumption. Rather than take offense, that someone assumed she was pregnant, Sheila turned wistful and said not yet. Again, I know my sister. That shocked Jo as much as anything that had been done or said so far. Then, Sheila said she wanted to do me up against the wall. It was too good to pass, except I was coughing up half a glass of water.

While I was coughing, Jo stole my cue. "I am glad someone can shock him like that. Sean has become a bit jaded." Foul. Low blow, pun intended. Then Jo asked a serious question. "Against the wall? Seriously?" This time I was ready. "Sheila is very limber." Sheila did an excellent rendition of "Death by Embarrassment."

Anything else was lost when the food arrived. I served and both Jo and I watched Sheila have her first experience. It was almost as erotic as the jokes. Yet, Sheila stopped before she cleared half her plate. There is no room in that thing she wears. As it happened, the foundation was relevant the subject that had arisen.

Sheila and Jo are both dedicated online shoppers. Having seen some of the things Sheila buys, I can flatly say that this is a good thing. Jo, not so much. In any event, Sheila mentioned that her linen suit was tailor made in Hong Kong. Normally, this would be a boast. Jo caught that it was not. When Sheila said it was five years old, Jo was becoming incredulous. I knew the reason, so I suggested that Sheila show Jo exactly how she stayed on her diet. I swear, Sheila asked Jo to come powder their noses.

They were gone a while. I brought George up to date and promised him leftovers. I would have faced a mutiny if I had not. The flight would be on time, so we needed to wrap things up, in order to deal with security. I called Senor Eduardo over and settled the bill. Then, I sat.

Just as I was beginning to fret, Sheila and Jo came out. I wish I had a photo. Their faces would be worth a dissertation or two. Sheila was looking as open and vulnerable as I had ever seen. Jo was thoughtful. Underneath that, Jo was profoundly shocked. What the hell had they been talking about?

There was no time to consider. We needed to get back to the airport, through the teeth of traffic. Maybe we were lucky, but I pulled up to short term parking just in time to see George walk into the terminal. We reached the waiting area as the plane taxied to a stop. Sheila came to stand beside me. Jo put on her TA face and went to the exit area.

As promised, there were a dozen grad students: four male and eight female. I wondered how the twelve paired off, since I had six rooms reserved. Jo brought them over to where Sheila and I were standing. Some of the pairings were already obvious, while others would be thrown together. One of the guys was taken by a female. Two others were paired. I wondered how Jo would handle the fourth one. It was none of my business, but such things are an issue with my company.

Jo simply assigned pairings without regard to couples. She even broke the two gay men into different rooms. On second thought, maybe she was taking relationships into account. I was morally certain that some of the females were lesbian. My guess is that those pairs were broken up as well. Then, Jo introduced Sheila and I to them, not bothering with the reverse. She did introduce us to Shandra and Evaine, because they were riding back with us.

Baggage was a chore. Three of the girls had a buggy full of suitcases and a couple others were close. I smiled to myself. Sheila squeezed my hand, meaning she got that byplay as well. Jo trouped the offending girls to the lockers and told them they had 15 minutes to get down to two bags. It was either that or a $500 cab fare. Two of the girls took her up on the cab. One of the others was Evaine. She was elbow deep in a lingerié case when I left. Sheila stayed to help.

I collected Shandra, who was looking quite smug. She had two bags, but both were trunks. I told her that she would need to ship them to the motel, since my car had no roof rack. That stopped her for a moment. Then she pulled out a cell phone and a credit card. Good God, was I ever like that?

By the time the dust settled, six of the students had arranged alternative transportation, though George would be carrying luggage for two of them. They were sharing cabs to make room in the van. Eventually Evaine and a girl named Elspeth climbed into the back of the Mercedes and we headed out. The plan was to caravan, but one of the cabs pulled off at a TGI Fridays. Soon after another pulled into a strip mall, then the third headed toward downtown. Both our girls were staring out the back window as if they had been abandoned.

When we got to the motel, reinforcements were waiting. William and Russell had come to help handle luggage. With the extra hands, our six students were quickly installed. Jo collected the six in the hallway. She told them to be up washed, dressed in work clothes and fed by 8:00 AM. The motel served a cereal and waffle breakfast, if they wanted it. Across the street was an IHOP and a Dunkin Donuts.

It was at this point that it occurred to me that Sheila, Jo and Francine were going to be gone most of the next day.

Siobhan:

I will not dwell on the disaster at the airport. First, I had room assignments. This meant either isolating a couple of unpaired students, allowing couples of mixed sex, or pissing everyone off equally. That was an easy choice. Then there was the baggage snafu. I said two bags only, knowing they would ignore me. Even two bags was too much for our hauling capacity, but I figured on some attrition. When the smoke cleared I was down to one guy and five girls. They were all scholarship students, so cab fare was not easily available. I had hopes at least some of them would be ready to work in the morning.

Sean and Sheila took off with two of my girls. George and I followed with the rest. The cabs with the others followed a ways, but soon peeled off. I hoped they were not hung over too badly. Tuesday was going to be a feeling out day as it was. I was beginning to think that was optimistic. As we pulled into town, with the motel in sight, it occurred to me that I was committed to be with Sheila the next day. Oh fuck.

Sean had arranged extra help for unloading. That was nice. Afterward, I collected my scholarship students and told them to be ready to work at 8:00 AM the next morning. I could see it go in one ear and out the other. Oh damn. This was shaping up to be a cluster fuck. My worry is that it would be one, literally.

Sean, Sheila and I finally headed back to the house. I was about to tell Sheila I was going to be unavailable. Before I could get started, she held up her hand then dialed her cell phone. What the hell? Whoever it was had a speed number. I could only hear her side, but it was enough.

Sheila said, "Gerald, Sheila. How are you set for NCOs? Any Drill Instructors would be excellent. We have a dozen grad students to herd and I am not available. Six came with us. Six are following in taxis. Do the math." Holy shit. Sheila paused, but not long enough for a tirade.

"Oh-eight-hundred. Give them to the Gilberts and sit on them. They can leave on their own dime, but not come back. Siobhan will deal with them back at school." That was an idea I could get behind. I was beginning to like the way Sheila thought.

"Gerald be nice. She is going to be my family and I like her." Huh? What had I done to be liked?

"Tell you what. I have $20 that says she not only dances with you at the ball, but that you will want her to." Sean yelled from the front seat, "Sucker bet, Gerald." Sheila went on, "Fine. Make it $50. Just get our kids dirty tomorrow. All I want is eight hours of hard, dirty work. Hooyah?" Hooyah? Seriously?

"Absolutely. Anyone in military dress will be welcome. They could not fit in better. Good?" Wait. Was she inviting our staff to her ball? That might work. I was really getting to like the way Sheila thought. I almost missed the sign off.

"No promises, but I can introduce you to a genuine Broadway star. She can dance a bit. Night." That had to be Francine Martel. Dance a little. Oh my God.

After Sheila had hung up, Sean told me, "That counts as leisurely. Gerald said Sheila can deliver a 30 minute brief in 15 seconds. I pity the ones that are hung over. Tomorrow will be a forced march. Some will run. After all, what is a couple thousand bucks you never had to earn. The ones that are left will be worth the whole dozen. Watch." Unstated was the part about me being greeted as the savior the next morning.

There was one thing I had to know. I asked Sheila, "Did you make that up on the fly?", referring to her conversation with Gerald. The idea of anyone talking to Gerald that way boggled my mind. Gerald is Gerald. He scowls at his shadow. Sheila simply nodded.

"What the hell do you do for a living?"

Chapter 7 – That's good. Print that.

Interlude: 25th Anniversary

Cindy:

They got the students back to their hotel and checked in for the night. Evidently, Mom's idea was to let them run free, then have them working through hangovers. Mom can be pretty cold when she wants to be. What no one understands is that Mom turned them over to house security and Dad hires ex-military. The back lawn was boot camp.

In the mean time, Mom, Dad and Aunt Jo went to check out the gym where Mom was a trainer. While they were there, they swung by Mom's old photography studio. Even before Justin, Mom was doing editing. I am told that mostly stills from when she worked out a client. Aunt Jo saw the whole Jason shoot. It is one of the things that she says changed her life.