One Saturday morning in late September David told Linda he wasn't in the mood for his usual golf-game, nor did he have any particular interest in going into town to watch the Forty-Niners play football, which should really have piqued her curiosity, since he was an avid football-fan and the new season had just begun. Instead, she blandly assumed he preferred to remain at home and watch some other team play on television.
"No, dear, I'm trying to say I'll be free to drive you to the supermarket today," he said. "We haven't shopped together in ages, and it used to be such fun."
"Why, David, how very sweet of you!" Linda accepted his thoughtful gesture with a blinding domestic beam, rushing over to lend him her cheek; and without collateral, thought David, kissing it, and remembering that Joyce Grogan also shopped at this market every Saturday and knowing he was desperate enough to hope he could manage a few words with her.
David made a point of taking little Larry and Janice along on this brief drive, trusting that their caterwauling in the back seat would keep Linda sufficiently distracted while he tracked down her dear old sorority-sister. As they pulled up to the shopping-center, amidst screeching brakes and kids, David knew that the devils were with him, because he caught a glimpse of Joyce heading towards her Thunderbird at the other side of the lot, a delivery-boy carrying a load of groceries for her. Observing that Linda was too busy corralling the children to notice anyone else, David let them all out of the car, saying he'd join them after he found a place to park. Then, when Linda scurried off with her brood and shopping-list, David quickly drove across the lot towards Joyce's car. He parked at a safe distance and waited until the delivery-boy placed a large box of groceries in her back-seat and departed.
Joyce was just about to drive off when David got out of his car and ran up to her, calling her name. "Joyce, please wait a minute, I've got to talk to you…!"
She turned, and when she saw who it was she frowned, then gave him an icy stare, but lowered her window and waited until he reached the car. "Good morning, Mrs. Grogan," he said loudly, in case anyone nearby could hear him. "Lovely day, isn't it? Bet you're as glad as we are that the kids are finally back in school…"
"Will you lower your voice, you clod?" she said in a hoarse whisper. "You're about as subtle as a drunken lumberjack in heat! What the hell do you mean by accosting me right here in town?"
He stared at her, overwhelmed by her slashing vivacity, the hot green eyes and russet hair, the bouncy nude memories… "Accosting you?" he tried to laugh this off, she had to be kidding! "Oh Joyce, I'm sorry if I'm not being very discreet, but I've got to see you again. Why haven't you returned my calls?"
Joyce fidgeted nervously in her seat and kept glancing about to see who was listening. "If you weren't such a sniveling amateur, you'd know what my silence meant," she hissed at him. "I received several other calls after I saw you, David, all of which provided partners who are far better equipped than you to cope with a woman of my seasoned standards. In short, they're stud-professionals, baby, and they know exactly what to do without being taught…"
David looked woebegone and felt about three and a half years old, as he stood there, shifting from one foot to the other. "But dammit, Joyce, you said I was doin' real good. Remember the way you kept swishin' around when I kissed it? God!.. you seemed so happy!"
"Will… you… Shut up!" This time Joyce's whisper was so savage it sprayed a little, and she darted her eyes thither and yon like an incensed paranoiac. "You damned pervert, do you realize where we are?"
"Oh hell, we're in a parking lot," he muttered, "and there isn't a soul around at the moment…"
"We are in Hillsborough, David, which is where we happen to live. And if you'd retained your sense of values, you'd know this is hallowed ground for me and I cannot afford to have it desecrated by your foul-mouthed insinuations!"
David kept staring at her lovely foul-mouth as she spoke, unheeding and urgent. "Call me at my office Wednesday morning," he said quickly, seeing she was about to roll up her window.
"Oh, you maniac!.. can't you get it through your head that you're much too close to my home and children? I have a clean reputation to uphold in this community, and I mean to keep it that way."
David watched her face go pale, watched her sparks fly out at him in the morning sunshine… "Oh Joyce, you are really too much, you know that? You practically tore my pants off to get at me, and now you're reading me the kind of riot-act I haven't heard since Sunday School…"
Joyce started to breathe rather hard and fast, and standing on his toes, David could just make out the big fat knockers swelling out and in and out… as she snarled, "I'm warning you, David Fortune, don't ever speak to me in this town again, unless we happen to be part of a family-grouping… playing bridge or around the pool, or doing something else that's similarly loyal and neighborly. I don't know how sick you have become, dear heart, but I, for one, do not spit, shit, or fuck where I eat!" With that, she closed the window and drove off.
David wandered dazedly into the market, where he helped Linda pick out some fresh cantaloupes, squeezing a pair of melons so fiercely that he broke a nail.
On the following Monday morning Brad Grogan telephoned David at his office and offered to take him to lunch that day. David felt instantly grateful for this opportunity, and, in a strange way, felt closer to his old friend than ever; for now he knew first-hand what the poor guy had gone through, married to that raving virago. And, like a pair of combat-weary soldiers, they'd fought a common enemy and had gone down in flames together. Man, they'd really been there!.. hit by the same missile-spray. Maybe they could find some meager comfort in comparing notes, although something told David that in this case perhaps he shouldn't burden his comrade with too many of the details.
"Been wondering about you, boy," said Brad, after a waiter had taken their order. "Thought it was about time for a little progress report. How've you been making out?"
It suddenly occurred to David that if he was careful not to mention Joyce's name he could, after all, tell Brad everything. A real man-to-man cleansing of the soul. Jesus, how great it was to have a buddy at a time like this!
"Oh wow, Brad… are you ready for this?" he preambled. "I hooked on to the most gorgeous sex-freak in captivity! And I mean to tell you this gal was such a pig for it, she couldn't get enough… pow, pow, pow!.. 'til I thought I'd bust a gut!"
"No shit." said Brad, with rising interest.
David felt a weird sense of power, being able to say so much about Joyce and still keep her identity a secret from her ex-husband. "But you know something, Brad…?"
"No… What, old-Buddy?"
"I'm too goddamned naive for my own good…"
"Uh huh… that's what I always said about you," Brad's smile was brilliant, downright captivating.
David leaned across the table for a stage-whisper. "I made the mistake of wanting to see her again. Imagine trying to have a big romance with a cock-hungry broad like that. I guess grownups don't play that way, eh, Brad? They just hop right on to the next one. Safety in numbers and all that cynical jazz. That's how you cats operate, so I guess I'd better get the hang of it. Except… maybe I'm too old to start playing that way, too damned sincere and idealistic to love 'em and leave'em the way you do huh. Brad… you old Tiger you!"
Brad was staring at him, his smile slowly dissolving as he leaned across the table, nearly knocking his forehead against David's. "Answer me one question, Dave…"
"Shoot," said David; tiger-to-tiger hookup now.
"When you saw it was Joyce showin' up for that date, why the fuck didn't you walk away from her?"