As she approached the car she felt a mild twinge of disloyalty for having conspired against her husband, even though her deception was of such an innocent nature. Then she peered into the car and was startled to see Brad Grogan seated at the wheel.
Giving her one of his ingratiating grins, Brad leaned over and opened the door for her. "Hi, Linda! Our demonstrator couldn't make it. Sudden emergency in his family: his son chewed up his draft-card and got poisoned from the ink. He should 'a burned it, of course, but who can get a kid to conform these days? Anyway, I figured, what-the-heck, if you want something done right, you've gotta do it yourself. So here I am, okay?"
Frowning, Linda tried not to absorb his confusing logistics about draft-cards and ink, while she hesitated and wavered there on the curb. But then her sense of decorum got the better of her and, smiling perfunctorily, she got into the car. As she climbed in, she glanced towards the back-seat and, with considerable surprise, saw that the entire rear-portion of the car had been made up for some sort of camping expedition.
"All our display-models are set up like that," Brad told her quickly, taking her hand and firmly helping her into the car. "That's a portable mattress we've got spread out back there. It folds up real neat and compact. But it shows how comfortable it'll be once you start taking the kids on camping-trips and you want to sleep out. It was all David's idea," he added hurriedly, "I guess he's got plans for you guys this winter…"
Mentioning David had eased her feeling of uncertainty, and smiling primly, Linda settled down in her seat and let Brad close the door. "Well… All this is really very naughty of David," she said with a sigh. "But so endearing too…"
Brad shifted his body a little closer to hers, and she felt a tremor of alarm as she sat next to him and sensed the muscular heat of his presence. She'd always found Brad a disturbing and exasperating man, and was never so pungently aware of this antipathy as now, planted so physically close to those rangy, sprawling legs of his. He was big and gruff and mulishly aggressive, so utterly lacking in the gentler, more chivalrous qualities of her dear husband. The proverbial bull-in-the-china shop, that was Brad Grogan; and she doubted that he'd ever change. However, since he was being considerate and thoughtful at the moment, she decided to be civil and make the best of it. For David's sake. It needn't last very long, at any rate.
Brad gave her a sidelong glance, his sulky black eyes thirstily drinking in the bright afternoon loveliness of his prisoner. Aw man! What a hunk of art-work! What Dresden perfection that would soon be all his to lick and flick from limb to limb! He wondered how she kept looking like such a sweet young untouched kid, when hell, she had to be in her late twenties and had kids of her own. Married Innocence! That's what it was about her, a brand-new kind of sex-appeal that made him feel hot and holy all at once… made his balls want to sing an operetta-duet every time he looked at her. Ooh Christ, he could hear 'em now… especially the base notes… "Isn't she a beauty?" he said.
Linda turned and met his heavy-browed gaze, a bit startled, until she realized he had to be talking about the car. "Oh yes, it's lovely, Brad. Very much like the one I would have chosen myself next year, although I'm not in the least disappointed that David didn't want to wait that long. Poor darling, he's always thinking of something new to make us happy."
Brad took careful note that she'd said "us" instead of "me", which convinced him how shamelessly David must be neglecting her in the pursuit of his fresh amours. He started the motor, his eyes darting simultaneously downward at her legs, loving the way girls' skirts slid half-way up their thighs these days whenever you got one of them in a sitting position. He couldn't wait to get his busy eyes and fingers up there. "I'll… uh… drive the car around a few blocks, let you get used to the rhythm of it. Then you can take over and give her a whirl."
Linda was about to say she'd like to take the wheel immediately and thus save time for them both. But they were already in motion, and she didn't want to make an issue of it. Just wanted the whole interlude to be over with, as briefly and painlessly as possible.
Brad drove in silence for a few moments, softly humming a tune under his breath. Linda began to feel a new, uneasy tension, a nameless fear hovering in the air between them. She found it difficult to keep her mind on the performance of the station-wagon. It occurred to her that she'd never really been alone with this man before, a thought which she found most disquieting, to say the least. She stole a glance at his profile. Such large, rough-hewn features, she thought. A crude face, really, with that fleshy brute-mouth, the unkempt mass of black hair. Preposterous Latin-Lover type, she supposed, despite the fact that he was part Irish. And those tight Mod-slacks looked ridiculous on a man as large as he. God, how his thighs bulged out as he slumped there on the seat! And he smelled strongly of tobacco and bourbon, the latter much to be expected, of course, after all that Joyce had told her about his drinking habits. That poor, victimized woman, what she must have gone through! Linda was suddenly appalled to find herself wondering what Brad and Joyce had looked like nude and dually applied on their bed. Somehow she couldn't imagine this scene; for Joyce was so pretty and elegant, how could she ever let a thug like this make love to her?
To rid herself of such fancies, she forced herself to talk. "I'm so glad you and David still see each other, Brad. Old friends shouldn't lose touch."
"It's good to hear you say that, Linda," said Brad; "especially after that house-to-house smear-campaign you and Joyce launched against me during the divorce."
Linda glanced sharply at him, greatly relieved to see a good-natured smile on his face, considering how hostile his tone had been. "Joyce and I grew up together, Brad. I had to choose loyalties. You must see that."
"Of course I do, Linda," he chuckled softly. "And I'm not bitter about it any more, really I'm not." He fell silent again, continuing to drive slowly through the town.
"Well, I'm… glad to hear that, Brad," said Linda. "And I… I always knew you'd be much too mature to bear anyone a grudge."
He turned and flashed her a quick smile. "You always knew, Linda? Hmm… That sounds like you've given me a lot of thought."
"No, of course not," she said. "I mean, well… yes, at the time, we all did…"
"All you gals ganging up on one lonely guy," he laughed. "Whew! I can hear your witchy-war-cries now: let's get Brad Grogan and run him out of town! And to think…" giving her another fast look… "you did it all with your tongue…"
An icy tremor of panic shot through Linda as she saw his foot press farther down on the accelerator, increasing their speed. "Honestly, Brad, you say you're not bitter about all that mess, but yet you… you keep mentioning it…"
"Yeah… How about that?" he laughed, but mirthlessly now, his tone low and surly. "Makes me a pretty contradictory bastard, doesn't it?"
She winced. "You needn't be profane, you know."