1 Sunshine Hunter (3 page)

“Who was that, Susan?” Angela asked excitedly. “I told you he was hot!”

“That was Mick, and he’s my date for Saturday night. I’ll let you know
who
he is when I find out myself.” My knees were still weak, but I was happy he had stopped by to ask me out. I especially appreciated he hadn’t tried to force his way to my apartment to see where I lived, but instead chose a safe, neutral meeting place for our first date by suggesting the club. I made my way back to Mrs. Jackson to finish her consultation.

“Is everything alright, dear?” she asked. “You
look a little flushed.”

“Everything is fine, Mrs. Jackson, and you are down another two pounds this week! Let’s take a look at your food diary …”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

By Saturday night, I was a nervous wreck. It had been over a year since I’d been on a date, and I didn’t know what was current regarding dating protocol. Did guys still open doors for their dates? Would he expect me to pay for anything? What about a kiss at the end of the night? Ooh, what if he wanted more than a kiss? I had already showered and shaved my legs, so that natural deterrent was
n’t in place. He would have to drop me back at the club at the end of the evening, so it should be easy to say good-night and leave.

I had chosen a cotton
, cream-colored skirt with a matching top to wear. The skirt was slightly full and had a lovely intermittent lace design. The short top had a v-shape neckline with scalloped edges and frill sleeves. It barely touched the waistband of the skirt allowing an occasional peek of skin. I slipped into a pair of iridescent dress sandals with 3” heels. The shoes gave off subtle hues of pink, green and gray. The overall look was light, summery, and very feminine.

Satisfied with the results, I hopped into the Chevelle and drove the short distance to the club. Mick was already there and waiting for me. The lot wasn’t yet filled with the after-dinner crowd, so it was easy to spot him leaning against a black BMW. He was drop-dead gorgeous. Can a man be drop-dead gorgeous? Mick was. He was wearing a casual, lightweight, flagstone gray summer suit, with a white button-down polo, and charcoal gray slip-on shoes. The contrast of his naturally darker skin tone and thick
, dark brown hair against the gray suit was amazing.

I pulled in, and he wa
lked over to open my car door. He extended his hand to me as I stepped out of the car, and I felt a tingle race down my spine as I slipped my hand into his.

“Susan, you’re right on time … and
you are exquisite
,” he said smiling at me, his fabulous hazel-green eyes sparkling. I could tell he was enamored with me. I tried not to blush. I was almost uncomfortable with his obvious pleasure.

He opened the door of his car and held my hand while I settled myself in. We didn’t say much on the way to the theater
. For me, it felt a bit like an awkward pause.

The Carbide Dinner Theater was considered a medium-size venue. There was table seating on the floor, the mezzanine, and in the balcony. We had a booth to ourselves on the main floor. I looked around at the red room
, and a flood of memories rushed in. The walls and the heavy velvet drapes on the stage were red, the tablecloths and napkins were red, and a small lamp on each of the tables had a red shade. My dad always said it was like a brothel, but I loved it here. When I lived at home, my parents and I had come for many shows. We loved every performance we ever saw, the food was fantastic, and we always had a good time.

Mick ordered a bottle of Merlot for us, and we both ordered the house special of prime rib. I was grateful for the alcohol. It
helped take the edge off my nervousness, and we had a good time talking over dinner. Mick was charming, and I enjoyed his company immensely.

After the table was cleared, the lights w
ere dimmed. Mick reached over, took hold of my hand, and said, “Slide over here, Susan.” He pulled gently indicating he wanted me to move closer to him in the center of the booth. “It’s easier to see everything when you face the stage.”

We resettled ourselves, and the show started
, but I struggled to focus on the actors. I was slightly intoxicated from more than the wine. His close proximity was distracting. The scent of his cologne was earthy and woody, with ever so light citrus notes. I wanted to bury my face in his neck and take a deep breath. I chuckled at the thought. I didn’t want to scare him away.

The show was a musical revue showcasing pop standards written by songwriters Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller. I had no idea who they were, but
I recognized many of the songs from the 50s and 60s era. It was a high energy and very enjoyable show.

M
ick was a perfect gentleman throughout the evening. He didn’t try to touch me, or put his arm around me, or even kiss me.

Until we got back to my car!

The parking lot at the club was crowded, and we had to park at the back. He came around, opened the door for me, and took my hand in his. He continued to hold my hand as we walked to my car. I found the keys in my purse, and turned to him to start the awkward first-date process of saying good-night.

He had
a hint of a smile on his face and was looking into my eyes. I didn’t know if I should say anything or throw myself into his arms and yell, “
take me!
” I opted for sanity, smiled, and said, “Thank you for a nice evening, Mick. I had a good time.”

“I had a good time, t
oo,” he said. “I’m glad you agreed to come.” His eyes never left mine. “Can I see you again?”

I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t expecting the question. He was looking at me with
that amused look again, and I knew he was enjoying that I was suddenly tongue-tied.

“Uhm,” I managed to squeak out. “Uhm.” I shook my head no, but what came out was, “Yes.”

He gave a little laugh, and surprised me by leaning in and kissing me lightly on the lips. It was so unexpected, I didn’t kiss him back. He moved closer to me and kissed me again, harder this time. I took a deep breath. The woodsy smell, his lips on mine, and suddenly I felt his hands on my waist, his fingertips touching my skin just under my short top. Fireworks exploded all throughout my body. I returned the passionate kiss.

It was at that moment
Jerry was walking through the parking lot to go into the club to start his shift. He looked over at us and yelled, “Get a room!” Very mature, Jerry.

But the spell was broken. There was some humor in the moment, and we both laughed, but we were keenly aware of what had just happened between us.

I fidgeted with my keys for a moment. Mick opened my car door and held it for me while I slid in. Before closing the door, he leaned in and said softly, “
You are exquisite
.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

And that was how it all started.

Since then, we would see each other at the club a couple of nights each week. Mick would sit on a stool at the counter and drink a beer while he kept me company during my short time at work, or we would spend time in the pub playing cards and having a good time with my friends.

Samantha and Larry were delighted Mick and I were seeing each other, and they gave me a thumbs up on the relationship. After a few Saturday night dates, we started spending all day together on Saturdays. He still made my knees weak, my heart flutter, and I still melted whenever he looked at me with those gorgeous eyes.

Our relationship hadn’t progressed to the bedroom. I think he sensed my hesitation to go too fast, and at times I was surprised by his own restraint. His kisses were passionate yet tender, and they set my body on fire. It was hard not to succumb and give in to the urges. When he held my hand, touched my face, brushed my arm with his fingertips … well, it was only a matter of time.

UNTIL TODAY!

A wife? How could I have not seen this? Is that why he was never available on a Friday or a Sunday? Did he have children? What else was he ke
eping from me? I was heartsick. If I weren’t so angry, I would probably be crying by now.

The carport was behind the apartment building. I drove around back and could see Mick’s BMW parked in visitor parking. He was still here. Was he still on the phone with his wife, or was he waiting for me to come back? I had only been gone about 45 minutes. I pulled into my spot, turned off the ignition, and didn’t move. I didn’t want to leave the safety and comfort of the Chevelle. I loved this car. It was a gift from my dad when he and my mom moved to Texas a little over a year ago. After dad retired, he and his best friend, Harold, start
ed restoring muscle cars in Harold’s garage, and this was the car he kept for himself. I thought it turned out fantastic, and I loved the bolero red color.

I looked over at Mick’s car. I contemplated keying it, but instead grabbed my groceries and went into the building.

It was pretty quiet for a Saturday. There were a few muffled sounds here and there from radios and televisions. I was fortunate to live in a building populated by mostly the 50 and over crowd. It made for peaceful living as there was never loud music or late-night parties to disturb anyone.

The grocery bag wasn’t heavy, but I was trudging up the stairs.
My usual pace was to run up them, or even to take them two at a time. I viewed the stairs as bonus training for racquetball, but now, every step felt as though I had a weight around each ankle.

I hated that I felt betrayed in my own apartment, a place where I was so happy, but at the moment dreaded entering. The living room was bright with a colorful sectional adorned by an afghan from my grandmother, a glass coffee table, an entertainment stand, and a healthy Ficus tree occupying one corner. The kitchen was a galley kitchen decorated w
ith a fuchsia/turquoise motif. A small dining area was adjacent with the same accents. The bedroom faced west allowing the late-day sun to stream in through the large windows. The light ivory/green floral comforter brightened the room even more. The second bedroom was my sitting room with a deep, comfortable chair, a floor lamp, and wall-to-wall bookcases filled with cookbooks and fiction I could only hope to someday read.

As I stepped onto the third floor landing, my neighbor across the hall, Darby, was just coming out of his apartment. “Hey, Susan, what’s up?
” he asked. “Did I see Mick with you earlier?”

Darby was the only other single person in our building, and although we had never dated, we often enjoyed each other’s company. He liked my Reuben sandwiches, and I was all too happy to make them for him when we got together to watch anything on Food Network and talk about our day. Mick and I ran into Darby
often, and I knew he was growing fond of Mick. For crying out loud, everyone was fond of Mick; he was so darned charming!

“Ye
s, Mick is here,” I practically whispered. “Darby, I can’t talk about it now, call me later. I’m so angry. I just found out he’s married! I haven’t even talked to him about it yet. I want to kill him! How could he have kept this from me? Did you have any idea?”

“Susan, no,” he said looking shocked. “I had no idea. I’ve never talked to him without you being there, too. I’m so sorry. How did you find out?”

“Darby, really, call me later.” I moved toward my door and said, “His wife called here for him. Can you believe that? I’m going to see what he has to say, and then I’m going to kill him!”

“Take a deep breath and
calm down,” he told me. “I’ll call you tonight. Or I can come over. I just bought a bottle of Jack we can open.”

“Thanks, Darby,” I said with a sigh, “but just give me a call. I already have a headache, and
the whiskey won’t help.”

I put my key in the lock and held my breath
as I turned it and pushed the door open. Mick stood up from the sofa but didn’t say anything. Was he waiting to gauge my reaction? If so, I didn’t want to give him one. I put the grocery bag on the dining room table and started to put the few groceries away.

“Susan,” Mick finally
said. “You didn’t have to leave. Please let me explain.”

“Mick!”
I turned and walked toward him. “How could you not tell me you were married? How long were you going to let us go on? When were you going to tell me? Were you ever going to tell me?” I was practically screeching.

This suddenly felt like Louie all over again. A betrayal, a lie, only this time,
we
hadn’t done anything – yet. I could feel the tears starting to well up in my eyes. I clenched my fists and punched his chest while pushing him back. He grabbed my arms.

“Susan, please. Let me explain. I know you’re mad. You have a righ
t to be mad. Sit down and listen for a minute, and then I’ll go.”

I didn’t want to sit down. I wanted to throw something
at him. I stepped back and stood there, fighting back tears. A wave of sadness came over me, and I knew this was going to be over.

“Susan, just listen,” he pleaded. He paused for a moment to gather his thoughts and said, “My wife’s name is Jenny, and we’ve been separated for six months. We’re getting a divorce, and our attorneys are finalizing everything
right now. The divorce was started before I ever met you, and it would have been over by now, but Jenny owns family property in New York, and there were some issues to be worked out.”