WTP6

Within These Pages...Episode VI

“Are you free for dinner tonight?” Sam asked as she poked her head into Donna’s first class of the evening. Caught off guard and in front of several gym members who knew this was the boss’s wife, Donna couldn’t think of an excuse quick enough.

“Ah, sure. I don’t have any plans for later,” she replied.

“Great!” Sam said, “We’ll decide where later.”

“Ok,” Donna responded with more enthusiasm than she felt. She hadn’t experienced any problems with Sam and was beginning to think she was just paranoid. There was nothing wrong with going to a bar with Sam after work.

********

Patrice and Isaiah agreed he must tell their boss of Peggy’s harassment. If he got the jump on her by filing a complaint first it would take the wind out of her sails and cast doubt on anything she says afterward. Her complaining after the fact will seem more like retaliation than the truth. Patrice will be kept out of the picture unless it is absolutely necessary to involve her.

Patrice decided it would be best to tell Greg of the situation before any rumors filtered home. She would pass it off as nonsensical office chatter. That way if any thing did get back to him he would already be apprised of the situation and know to disregard it.

Greg had been rather quiet lately and they hadn’t been spending a lot of time together. She attributed it to both of them working so hard and taking care of the children. She gave him a very condensed version of Peggy’s harassment against Isaiah and openly scoffed at the idea of a relationship between her and Isaiah. Greg’s reaction, however, was far from what she expected.

He was seated at the kitchen table reading the newspaper and drinking his morning coffee. He’d listened carefully to her tale and reflected on it for a few moments before speaking. “So, are you having an affair?” he asked.

Shocked by the question, Patrice put down the dishtowel on the countertop and turned to face Greg, “That’s not even funny, Greg,” she replied astonished he would even suggest it. The smile faded from her face as she watched him studying the dark liquid in his cup. His brow was furrowed and she could see the muscle in his jaw working overtime.

“Do I look like I’m laughing?” he remarked caustically and took a sip from his coffee cup.

“He’s a kid and he certainly wouldn’t be interested in someone like me,” she replied and turned back to the sink. She picked up a glass and returned to washing dishes.

Greg put the cup down slowly on the table. This conversation was far from over. He is not a ‘kid’, Patrice. He’s a grown man and he’s obviously attracted to you,” he said too quietly for her comfort. He pushed back his chair from the table and stood up before continuing. “Did you encourage him? Are you attracted to him?” he asked.

“No, Greg, I’ve never thought of Isaiah as anything more than a friend,” she replied as she rewashed the same glass for the third time. Panic was setting in. She never thought Greg would challenge her explanation and now she was floundering to remain in control and not give away any hint of impropriety between her and Isaiah. “I told you. It was just insignificant office chatter and sometimes people make things out to be more than they really are, that’s the only reason I told you,” she finished weakly.

Her husband walked up behind her and leaned on the counter to study her face. “Pat, you are and have always been a bad liar. If this situation was as insignificant as you want me to believe, you wouldn’t even have mentioned it.”

She tried to interject and he put up his hand to stop any further protestations on her part, “I don’t know what’s going on at that office or with you and this other man, but I will tell you this. I believe you aren’t sleeping with him, because cheating on someone takes a certain amount of guts and you, you don’t have it in you. So whatever you think is happening or going to happen with the two of you, you better get over it and quick.” He took the glass from her hand rinsed it and put it in the dish drainer before he turned and cupped his hand under her chin. He lifted her face so she could see how serious he was, “Because where there’s smoke there’s fire. You’re a beautiful woman. You are my wife, and I will not tolerate you giving my pussy away. Those pretty legs of yours better never, ever open up for another man. Cause if they do, it’ll be the last dick you ever get,” he released her chin and slapped her purposefully on her butt, and then walked out of the kitchen.

Tears trickled down her cheeks. She couldn’t believe her husband had just threatened her. Greg had always been a bit possessive, but he’d never threatened her or hit her. She wasn’t cheating on him and never had. This side of Greg frightened her and she hadn’t see it come out in a very long time. His violent streak was something he left far behind when he moved away from the hood many years ago. She knew a little about it because he told her of some of the things he’d done in his past. His eyes had been so dark just now, and cold. Cold like there was nothing inside him, an unfeeling, uncaring emptiness. An emptiness that told her he was very serious about maintaining everything he possessed and she just realized she was one of those possessions he would not share.

She waited until she heard the front door slam before she moved from her position at the sink and sat down at the kitchen table. Her legs were weak. She needed Portia and she wanted so badly to talk to her. With trembling fingers she picked up her cell phone and punched the speed dial number for her sister. A recording reported that her calling party had traveled outside the coverage area. Now frustrated as well as frightened, she laid her head down on the kitchen table and cried.

******

Brad had a solo dinner at one of the cruises themed restaurants. He was still avoiding the main dining room. After dinner he decided to stop by the ship’s dance club to see what was happening. The club was dimly lit and the music was loud. It was still relatively early and the room wasn’t overly crowded. Half the people were dancing and the other half were hanging along the fringes swaying in place to the rhythm of the beat.

He took his time checking out the possible dance partners, although he honestly didn’t feel much like dancing. He smiled as he spotted a familiar face at the bar across the room. Uncertain what he would say to her, he proceeded across the room and took the bar stool two seats away from Portia. He ordered a Tom Collins and waited for an opportunity to make an introduction.

Portia sat at the bar listening to the music played by the DJ on an elevated sound stage. Her fingers beat a staccato rhythm on the stem of her martini glass. She wasn’t sure why she had even bothered to come here. The music was good and she was tempted to dance, but hadn’t seen anyone she wanted to dance with. Most of the men in the room were unattractive or too old for her taste.

Twenty minutes passed, and Brad continued to watch her. His glass was empty and he still had not said anything to her. He knew that cold frosty look in her eyes. How many times had he seen it in his own reflection in the mirror? She didn’t look too friendly and he wasn’t sure he was ready to get put down in the middle of this club for hitting on the wrong woman. He ordered another Tom Collins, and swiveled around to check out the gyrating bodies on the dance floor.

A man eased his way through the dancing throng and slipped onto the seat between Portia and Brad. In an exaggerated fashion he allowed his gaze to trail from her high-heeled sandals up the length of her long legs to her bosom. After he finished his leering assessment of her, he turned to the bartender and ordered a scotch on the rocks. He looked at Portia through hooded lids and asked, “Can I get you another apple martini?” accurately identifying the greenish liquid in her glass.

“No, thank you,” she replied and deliberately looked away from him so she did not have to acknowledge his presence.

Undeterred by her aloof manner, he leaned in and asked, “Where are you from?”

She turned her head slightly in his direction, with half closed eyes she looked at him, and replied in a deep husky voice, “Edoras.” The name of the fictional city went completely over his head as she suspected it would.

Brad, who watched the interplay from his position on the next stool, nearly choked on his drink when he overheard her response. He leaned slightly in her direction to hear the rest of the conversation. This was the best laugh he had since he boarded this ship. The gentleman in the middle seat continued trying to entice Portia into conversation.

“Edo…E what? That’s a new one. I’ve been a lot of places, but I’ve never heard of that one. Where’s that?” he asked curiously.

“Northwest of Helm’s Deep,” she replied and took a sip of her martini.

“Huh?” he replied. She fixed him with a cold stare, then turned her back to him and faced the dancing crowd. She tired of the game quickly. What an idiot, she thought.

Her rebuffed suitor thinking this was one strange woman, picked up his drink and moved off into the crowd. Portia downed the last of her martini and stood up to leave. Brad slipped quickly off his seat to intercept her.

“Pardon me, ma’am,” he said politely. He was determined to make a connection with her before she left the club.

Portia stopped when she realized he was blocking her path. He was several inches taller and she had to look up to see his face. He was smiling down at her. She raised her eyebrow quizzically.

“Yes?” she said.

“Are you saving ‘the precious’ for yourself or are you willing to share it with a humble human from Gondor?” he asked quietly with a sly smile.

An involuntary smile touched the corners of her mouth, and a twinkle actually appeared in her eyes. She took in the crooked smile on his face and soft brown bedroom eyes, his chiseled good looks, and close cropped hair cut. It pleased her to realize someone else had picked up on her joke. His face was familiar, and it suddenly dawned on her he was the man she’d seen on the balcony the other day.

“I’m rather selfish with ‘the precious’,” she whispered coyly, as she stepped around him and disappeared into the crowd.

Brad smiled as he sat back down at the bar and finished his drink. He would have to find out who she was. She intrigued him. Her eyes were very beautiful when not frosted over with pain.

Portia was thinking of Brad, as well, as she exited the club and headed for her cabin. It was the first time she remembered smiling genuinely in a long time and he was, without doubt, a very attractive man.

***********

Brad spotted Portia in the buffet line the next morning. He had made his way to the utensil station, where he collected his plate and silverware. After placing his order for a Denver Omelet he looked around the room to see where Portia was sitting. He saw her heading to the tables on the outside deck. As soon as his omelet was finished he collected some toast and orange juice and followed her outside. She was seated at a small table, staring out at the open sea.

“Good morning,” he said, as he stopped behind the empty chair at her table. She looked up at him with that coldness in her eyes again. But her eyes defrosted when she recognized him as the man from the club the night before.

“Good morning,” she responded, pleasantly. Picking up her coffee cup she took a sip. He had not moved away from the table.

“Have you seen all the Ring movies?” he asked. Balancing his tray on the top of the chair, he was hoping she would ask him to join her before his food got cold.

“Yes, how about you?” she replied, wondering why he was still standing there. His food must certainly be getting cold.

“May I?” he asked and pointed to the chair in front of him. Finally, the opening he had been looking for. She pointed to the chair and nodded her head affirmatively, as she took a bite of the muffin on her plate. “I read the whole series as a teenager, and I thought they did a great job with the special effects. I’ve seen each one as soon as it hit the theatres.”

“Me, too,” she smiled, “I couldn’t get any of my girlfriends to go with me so I went alone. I actually think I enjoyed it better without the distraction of having to explain what was happening to anyone.”

“Same here. I made that mistake with the first one, but the next two, I saw on my own in the middle of the afternoon. The theater was a lot less crowded. I’ll get the whole series when it comes to DVD, but I didn’t want to miss it on the big screen,” he said, taking a forkful of his lukewarm omelet. Oh well, it was worth the wait. At least she’s having a conversation with me, he thought.

“What’s your name?” Portia asked, realizing he hadn’t introduced himself.

“I’m sorry,” Brad said, earnestly. Wiping his mouth with his napkin he extended his hand across the table. “Brad, Brad Thomas.”

Portia accepted his hand and introduced herself, “Portia Gilliard.” She could see he was surprised by her name. It wasn’t a name one heard too often. More often than not when she said her name someone would make an inane car joke.

“You must take your chance, and either not attempt to choose at all or swear before you choose. If you choose wrong, never to speak to lady afterward,” he quoted, thoughtfully.

Portia was truly surprised by his reverence. “Shakespeare’s Merchant of Venice,” she murmured and then asked, “Are you an English teacher or something?”

“No,” he laughed, “Just a literature buff. I’m an architect by profession,” he said. Then he wondered what he was doing, going out of his way to impress this woman. Quoting Shakespeare? He must have sounded like a real nerd. He took a sip of his orange juice to give him time to collect himself.

“That was really nice. You can probably guess how many men make stupid jokes about driving me,” she said, and then laughed as she realized the sexual implication of that statement. A pink flush crept up into her cheeks and she looked away embarrassed by her own brashness.

Recognizing her embarrassment, Brad changed the subject. “Are you going ashore today?” he asked.

Stay tuned.......

Episode V

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