LOYD BURL AND THE HOOTER’S GIRL

CHAPTER 9

New Year’s 1988

DO NOT LUST AFTER HER BEAUTY IN YOUR HEART, NOR LET HER ALLURE YOU WITH HER EYES (Proverbs 6:25)

            Have you ever been thinking about someone, and they just seem to appear?

            With about five minutes left until midnight at the Pyramid Club, two cute girls were jockeying for position to share the first kiss of the New Year with me. As pretty as they were, I didn’t really want to kiss them. I suspected that they were drawn to my notoriety as the best player on Whitney college’s football team. This is a rare thing for a punter to be, and not a good sign for a football team.

            Carnally speaking, it would have been very pleasant kissing either one of those girls. Doubly pleasant kissing both. But I say with all humility, I also didn’t want two girls fighting over me. I think I’m being humble anyway. However, one of my favorite authors, C.S. Lewis, once said, and I’m paraphrasing, ‘The funny thing about humility, is as soon as you think you have it, you have lost it.’

            Also, I was still heartbroken over Catalina Clutterbuck breaking up with me ten days previous. And I was still reeling from a passionate kiss I shared with co-worker, Rebbeca, eight days ago. As a matter of fact, it was she with whom my mind was preoccupied. Becky, as she was commonly known, was the beautiful woman with whom I had had a severe crush on for over three years.

            At our company’s Christmas party, I briefly had a mistletoe hat placed on my head by a male co-worker. Although I immediately removed it, Becky, to my surprise, snatched it out of my hand and placed it back onto my head. A second later, her lips were on mine. Although her breath smelled like an ashtray, it was wonderful to have my lips actually connected to that pretty mouth. She could have just eaten a piece of Limberg cheese, and I still would have kissed her. Well, maybe… Actually, no, I don’t think so.

            “Jake, I’m sorry!” she had said breathlessly as she pushed away from me.

            The kiss lingered for around ten seconds, and it took most of that time for my brain to comprehend what was happening. As soon as it did, I was just about to try kissing her like they do in France, when she shoved herself away from me. All I could think to say was, “Why?”

            She was blushing but giggled. “The last thing you probably want right now is to be kissed by an old hag. I had a glass of spiked punch, and it must have went to my head.”

            “Old hag! You’re anything but!”

            She snorted a laugh. “Loyd, I’m almost old enough to be your mother.”

            “Hardly! I’ve never heard of an eleven year old girl giving birth.”

            “I said almost,” she giggled. “Come on, we better get to the party.”

            I grabbed her hand, pulled her to me, and kissed her aggressively. Thankfully, she looped her arms around my neck and for a brief second we actually did kiss like they do in France. Then disappointedly, the door between the office and warehouse clicked open, and Becky pushed away from me so hard that I stumbled backward.

            The vibe between Becky and me at the office party was strange. It was awkward, it lustful, it was tense, it was filled with longing. I bided my time, and when the opportunity arrived, I asked her to talk in private. But once alone, I panicked and didn’t have anything to say, so I just tried to kiss her again. But she stopped me with a sad smile.

            “Loyd, we got carried away earlier. But the reality is, you’re on the rebound, and I’m engaged,” she said dead serious, as she attempted to show me her ring. It wasn’t there. She had taken it off at the warehouse desk, chucked on the surface, and apparently forgot to put it back on. She gasped, and then ran to the back of the warehouse, practically sliding up to the desk. She sighed her relief, picked up the ring, and put it back on.

            I had followed her, reluctantly willing to help her find it. Watching her put it on, and then hold it out in front of her to gaze at it, certainly put a damper on the mood to try kissing her some more. When she was done admiring it, she smiled warmly at me, held out her right hand to shake, and asked, “Friends?”

            “Friends,” I replied, returning a smile and shaking her hand. Then joking, but not really joking, I said, “But if you ever want to be lovers, just say the word.”

            She smiled, kissed me on cheek, and walked back to the office. She had left five minutes later, and I figured I wouldn’t see her again for more than two weeks, as she was going to be on vacation. I was beginning to wonder how awkward things would be when we began working together again. Was it possible to go back to normal? What was normal? How many ‘friends’ have kissed passionately?

            “Hey, you,” a sultry voice said, blending in with the noise of the nightclub as a slender hip covered by a short black cocktail dress bumped into mine.

            “Hey, yourself,” I grinned excitedly as I gazed into Becky’s large, lovely green eyes. I always marveled at how similar Becky’s and Cat’s eyes were, both in color and the almond shape. Not to mention they both had silky auburn hair. But it was these similarities that drew me to Cat in the first place. “I thought you were going to Florida despite your,” the word almost got stuck in my throat. “Fiancée backing out.”

            “Well, the girlfriend that was gonna go with me backed out also. Her grandmother died.”

            “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

            She shrugged. “Oh well, it wouldn’t have been any fun going alone, so I cancelled altogether. Soooo, I decided to go out with a couple old girlfriends to celebrate New Year’s and my birthday.”

            Becky introduced me to her two friends that she had known since school days. The three ladies had clearly been drinking, and one of them gave me an example of why they call intoxicating drink ‘conversation lubrication.’ “Becky was hoping you’d be here.”

            “Annie!” Becky scolded with a frown, slapping her friend on the arm. Then turning to me. “I just told them that you said this was a fun, lively place. Plus we were close by.”

            I’m ashamed to say I had several drinks in me myself, and my inhibitions were on the low side. Yet I was sober enough to want to avoid awkward standing around and looking at each other.

            “Becky, will you do me a favor?”

            “Depends,” she replied with a coy smile.

            “Come to the dance floor with me.”

            I took her hand and led our way to the dance floor. Now, I wasn’t a good dancer, I’m still not as a matter of fact, but it was an in-between song. By that I mean some were dancing slow, and some were gyrating by themselves, albeit facing a partner. I could dance slow.

            I put a hand on Becky’s waist, and she looped her arms around my neck as if we’d done this a hundred times. I told her about the two girls that were saying that they wanted to be the first to give me a New Year’s kiss.

            “I can’t say that I blame them,” she said, smiling warmly.

            The music stopped, and the DJ’s voice led the countdown to 1988. “Five, four, three, two, one.”

            Several air horns blew, and confetti fell onto the dance floor. I smiled mischievously and said, “I’m afraid we have to kiss.”

            I had intended just a simple, quick peck on her lips, but Becky tightened her arms around my neck, intensified her coy smile, and said, “Have to or get to?”

            The kiss wasn’t overly passionate, yet it was definitely more than friendly. Feeling embarrassed, I said, “Sorry that wasn’t Bruce.”

            She gazed at me with hooded eyes. “Sorry that I wasn’t Miss Clutterbuck.”

            I shrugged. “Cat’s not here, and she’s not gonna be. She told me to move on.”

            Becky mirrored my shrug, continued her coy smile, and said, “Bruce isn’t here either.”

            Once again I’m ashamed to say I had a pretty strong buzz, so my mind reeled to comprehend a hidden meaning, or not so hidden meaning.

            I took her left hand and lifted it into view. The diamond from her engagement ring sparkled in the dance floor lighting. As people toasted, hugged, cheered, and kissed around us, Becky pulled off her engagement ring and put it into her purse. She looped her arms around me again, and her lips brushed my ear as she whispered into it.

            Her warm breath was more intoxicating than the adult beverages I had consumed. Albeit in a different form. “You told me eight days ago that if I ever wanted us to be lovers to just say the word. Well, I’m saying it.”

            I wondered if she could hear me gulp. “What are you saying?”

            “Word, silly.”

            “What word?”

            “You told me if I ever wanted to be your lover to just say the word. So since Bruce bailed on me not only on my birthday, but the promised trip to Florida, I want to accept your offer.”

            “Becky, you’re engaged,” I feebly tried. It was odd, for we were still whispering in each other’s ears. It looked like we were slow dancing, but there was no music. Thankfully the whole place seemed to be celebrating rather than paying us any attention.

            “I am not married at the moment,” she said, and then nibbled on my ear lobe.

            This made me giggle and squirm, but I managed to say, “You’re going to be.”

            “That’s not your problem. If you didn’t intend to keep your promise, you shouldn’t have made it.”

            “Was it a promise?”

            “You bet it was, young man.”

            Why did I tell her that? Yet I was so glad I told her that! Why did she call me young man?  Yet, as much as I loved her, I couldn’t just use her for sex. I told her as much.

            She snorted a laugh and surprised me by using my old nickname. I wasn’t even aware she knew it. “Pretty Boy Loyd, who will be using who when you fulfill your promise?”

            I sighed with resignation but grinned happily. “A promise is a promise.”

            “You’re apartment is close by, isn’t it?”

            “Yeah, a few blocks away.”

            Eight hours later I awoke to find Becky gone. It turned out one of her friends picked her up at the crack of dawn. She had left me a note thanking me for the night, saying she had no regrets. Then telling me to have no regrets. Then she said that as much as possible, we should go back to being work buddies when she returned from vacation. Surprisingly, we pulled it off, for the most part.

            Then one day in early February, Becky called in sick. Even though I didn’t recall her ever calling in sick before, I didn’t think much of it. After all, it was cold and flu season. But when I arrived home after work, my message machine was flashing. It was Becky requesting me to come see her at her place. I granted the request.

            My pulse quickened, and my mouth gaped open when I saw her. She had a black eye, that was swollen shut, and the left side of her lip was puffy with blood residue. “Becky, what happened!”

            “Well, after a visit to my doctor, I very happily told Bruce that he was going to be a father. But instead of sharing my joy, he very vulgarly asked who I had been sleeping with. You see, even though he said he was very eager to have a couple more children, it turned out he had gotten a vasectomy after his third child was born.”

            “I see,” I replied as realization flooded my brain. “So… Am I the father?”

            She took my hand and smiled fondly at me through her puffy lip. A little breathlessly she said, “Yes, you are. One hundred percent, guaranteed.”