The Hot Flash Club Strikes Again (14 page)

“That’s good,” Tank yelled. “I’ll run interference on the cold air for you.”

His gloved hands twisted the handlebars and they took off, pulling away from the curb, slanting to one side, then straightening. Faye felt as if someone had put a hallucinogenic in her wine—everything was so vivid, so intense! It was like riding naked, Faye thought, everything was frighteningly close. She was so unprotected. Tank turned a corner. The cycle leaned like a sailboat heeling in the wind.

“All right back there?” Tank yelled.

“Yes!” she yelled back. It
was
just a little bit exhilarating. The cold air stung her eyes and slapped her cheeks. Lights, shop windows, cars, pedestrians, streaked away in a kind of dream. Between her legs, the machine throbbed like a purring animal.

“Little more?” Tank yelled, or she thought that was what he said.

“Okay,” she yelled back, and Tank rounded a corner, heading along a residential street leading to Route 128.

Faye’s breath caught in her throat. Not Route 128! It was eight lanes of traffic racing like the Indianapolis 500. He
had
to turn around, take her back to the bar . . .

Faye clutched Tank tighter, closed her eyes, opened her mouth to scream, and she felt a change in the wind. She opened her eyes. They were on the highway, with cars on either side of them. Without the insulation of a car to protect her, the noise was astonishing. It was like being in a coliseum with a roaring mob, or on a runway with a 747 coming in for a landing. Her exhilaration turned to fear. Only inches away, hundreds of pounds of hard metal sped past. The cycle was like a gazelle caught in a stampede of elephants. Her stomach turned. She gagged.

“Enough!” she shouted.

“Hell, yes, it’s
fun
!” he yelled back.

Great, she was trapped on the back of a motorcycle with a deaf man.

Which ear was his good one? “Stop!” she yelled. “Tank! Stop! I’m scared!”

He lifted his hand in a thumbs-up sign and she nearly fainted to think only one arthritic hand was keeping them on track.

She burrowed her head against his back and began to pray.

Soon she felt the cycle tip sideways. Terrified, she waited to feel the impact, the scrapes along her skin, the breaking of her bones—but they straightened. They went down an off-ramp and were back on the sane streets with their blessed speed limits. Faye relaxed a little. Now she didn’t have to throw up. But she really had to pee.

The ride back to the bar took forever. The reverberations of the cycle between her thighs shook her bladder so hard she felt like a washing machine about to overflow. The only good thing about it was, she had to concentrate so hard on not leaking, she didn’t have a chance to be afraid.

Finally they were back in O’Malley’s parking lot. Tank steered the cycle to a stop and turned off the engine. The machine quieted, then slept. Faye unclenched her hands, surprised they hadn’t hardened into claws from her fierce clutching.

“Have to use the bathroom!” she said urgently, ripped the helmet off her head, thrust it at him, and rushed to the back door of the bar without waiting to see whether Tank followed.

Her legs were trembling. Her entire body was trembling. The bar bathroom was not the most hygienic one she’d ever been in, but she sank gratefully onto the commode. Not only did she have to pee like Niagara Falls, her body also responded to the ride with a gush of diarrhea.

Well, maybe she’d lose some weight.

She washed her hands and nearly screamed at her reflection in the mirror. The helmet had mashed her hair flat against her head, pushing it into pads on either side of her face. She took her hair down, fussed with it, stuck it back in a sloppy bun. Her hands were still shaking.

Back in the bar, she found Tank at a table with another glass of wine waiting for her and his own mug of beer already half gone.

“How’d you like that?” he asked.

“It was wonderful until we got on the highway,” Faye said truthfully. “Then I was terrified.”

“Yeah, it’s a rush, isn’t it? Like flying.”

“Have you ever been in any accidents?”

“Oh, sure.” He rolled up the sleeves of his denim shirt to show off a long, jagged scar. “Broke this arm, one time. Another time, broke my back. Another time—”

Faye gulped her wine. She was glad she hadn’t asked him about accidents before he offered her a ride. As she listened to his litany of injuries, she decided he was the oddest combination of daredevil and crybaby she’d ever met.

“. . . gonna be needing a woman in my life,” Tank was saying.

His hand was back on her shoulder. His face was coming close to hers. His onion-beer breath hung in a mist right in front of her nose; she had to inhale it or stop breathing.

“A nice little woman who likes to cook, and clean, and be a nursemaid, but the kinda nursemaid that wears those cute little short skirts, you know what I mean?” He nuzzled her cheek. “You’d look good in one of them.”

The good news was he found her attractive enough to proposition, if this was what he was doing. The bad news was, he’d obviously proposition anyone.

She pulled away. “Tank, listen, I got cold on that ride. I need to go home, take a long hot shower, and get in bed.”

Tank’s eyes lit up. “Well, all right, then, let’s do it!”

Faye’s jaw dropped. “Oh, I didn’t mean with you. I just met you!”

Tank tilted his head playfully, reached out, and tickled Faye under her chin. “Come on, honey. Shirley told me you’ve been without a man for a long time.”

Faye jerked her head away. “And I like my solitary state just fine!” For the second time that evening, she pulled on her coat and gathered up her gloves and purse. “Thanks for the drinks and the ride, Tank.”

“Sure thing, doll. You take care of yourself. I’ll call.”

16

How was your Thanksgiving?” Faye asked the other members of the Hot Flash Club after they settled at their Legal Seafoods table and ordered their drinks.

Alice was the first to answer. “Bizarre, thanks for asking. Gideon and his daughter and her family came to my house. The kids got bored at the table after two minutes and threw fits until they were allowed to watch television, Gideon had terrible heartburn which gave him the hiccups, and all I wanted to do was play bridge.”

Shirley laughed. “Sounds like a typical Thanksgiving.”

“What did Alan do for Thanksgiving?” Marilyn asked.

Alice kept her eyes on the menu. “He and Jennifer went to her family’s house on the Cape.”

“Do you think Alan and Jennifer will get married?” Faye asked.

“I really couldn’t say.” This was a touchy topic for Alice.

“They should!” Shirley said. “They’re in love! And their bakery is taking off, they can’t keep up with the orders!”

“It would be kind of nice if Gideon’s daughter married your son,” Faye mused. “Then you could both be grandparents of the same children even though you and Gideon never had children together.”

Alice laughed. “Oh, Faye, you think the world begins and ends with grandchildren.”

“You mean it doesn’t?” Faye joked. She turned to Marilyn. “How’s it going with Teddy and Lila?”

Before Marilyn could answer, Alice cut in, “MILDEW: Mother-in-Law Daily Exercises Wrath.”

Faye flinched but kept quiet.

Marilyn smiled wryly. “You’re right about that, Alice. Eugenie’s like someone out of a Greek tragedy.”

“So who got the baby for Thanksgiving?” Alice asked Marilyn.

“I did,” Marilyn said. She brightened. “Want to see some photos?”

Of course they did. After the baby had suitably been admired, Marilyn slid the photo album back in her purse. “They were at my house for three hours, during which time Eugenie phoned twice, missing ‘her little family on this special day.’ We all felt miserable. But it seems fair to me. Teddy, Lila, and little Irene are going to spend both Christmas Eve and Christmas Day out at the Eastbrooks’.”

“You won’t get to see them, even for an hour?” Faye asked.

“No. And, yes, I am disappointed. But I can tell they’re feeling pressured by Eugenie. In spite of all our joking, I feel sorry for Eugenie. Why would Eugenie be so involved in their lives if she were happy with her own?”

Alice laughed. “I’m not sure
happiness
always comes into it. It’s like there’s some kind of bizarre emotional mathematics in families.
Einstein’s
wife’s
theory of relativity!
I know with Gideon’s grandchildren, it’s as if each day has a symbolic weight. One Christmas is worth slightly more value than one Thanksgiving. Birthdays are almost equal to Christmas. Next on the scale comes summer vacation, followed by weekends. If the grandparents aren’t able to see the child for two weekends because the child was sick or something, does that mean they deserve a week during summer holiday? We need a computer to figure out how to divide up grandchildren’s time fairly.”

“It’s not the time I’m concerned about,” Marilyn said, “as much as the, well,
influence,
I suppose is the word I want. I’d like to see my granddaughter interested in ideas, science, literature, music. I don’t want her swept up in Eugenie’s superficial world.” Suddenly she glared at the others. “Don’t start snorting and smirking!”

“Well, it
is
funny,” Faye contended, “how different you and Eugenie are. All she cares about is appearance, and you scarcely realize you have one.”

Alice cocked her head. “Is there a word for what the parent of your child’s spouse is? I mean, they’re not in-laws, are they?”

“Outlaw?” Marilyn ventured. “I’m Eugenie’s mother-out-law.”

Shirley chewed her eggplant parmigiana thoughtfully. “You can’t be an outlaw, Marilyn. Your children are married, you’re legally part of the family. I’m not a mother, aunt, grandmother, I’m not even a stepmother yet.
I’m
the outlaw! Certainly Justin’s ex-wives and children think I am. I’m trying my best to please everyone, and they still think I’m an intruder.”

“Who did you spend Thanksgiving with?” Alice asked.

“Now don’t freak out,” Shirley warned, shooting a look around the table before answering. “No one.”

“No one!” Faye cried. “Shirley, that’s awful!!”

“No, it’s not. I got a lot of paperwork done. I celebrated Thanksgiving the day after, when I took Justin and his three kids out to dinner at the Ritz.”

“The Ritz?” Alice was shocked. “That must have cost you a ton of money.”

“It did. But it was the first time we’ve all eaten together. I wanted to make it special.” With a little shrug of embarrassment she said, “I wanted them to like me.”

“And did it work?” Marilyn asked.

Dismally, Shirley shook her head. “No. They’re all teenagers, two girls from the first wife, the boy from the second, and they all seem to hate each other and their father, and they hate me because I’m connected to him. They were sullen. They were rude. At least the boy enjoyed all his food. The girls just took tiny bites and made faces.”

“Okay,” Marilyn conceded. “You win the title of outlaw.”

“I think you need to be careful,” Alice said. “Taking everyone to the Ritz—won’t that give Justin the idea you’re wealthy?”

“Here we go again!” Shirley sighed. “Alice, Justin is
not
after my money! He knows I don’t
have
any money.”

Alice pushed her plate aside and folded her arms on the table, a sure sign of imminent battle. “Justin Quayle probably thinks you have a lot of money, Shirley. He knows you’re the founder and president of The Haven, which is becoming a
very
lucrative business. If nothing else, the land and buildings are worth a lot. Plus, you get a nice fat salary.”

Marilyn diplomatically changed the subject. “Faye, what did you do for Thanksgiving?”

“I went to the Dawsons’. They were good ‘couple’ friends—when Jack was still alive, we used to do a lot with them. They had a buffet dinner, about twenty people. It was fun, I got to see a lot of old acquaintances.”

“Meet any new men?” Marilyn inquired.

Faye shook her head. “The only other single person there was female.”

“Par for the course,” Alice said. “Face it, the statistics are not in our favor.”

“Never mind the statistics,” Shirley said, “we’re creating our own good luck, right?” She focused her gaze on Faye. “Which brings us to the topic of your date with Tank.”

“Oh, right!” Marilyn beamed. “Did you meet Tank? What’s he like? Are you going to see him again?”

“Oh, yes, I met Tank.” Faye hesitated, enjoying their expectant looks. “He’s very nice. We met at a bar called O’Malley’s on Mass. Ave. We shared a couple of drinks, and he took me for a ride on his Harley.”

“No!” Alice was amazed.

“You actually got on his cycle?” Shirley raised her hand to give Faye a high five. “All right! You go, girl.”

“Weren’t you frightened?” Marilyn asked.

“Terrified. We even went on 128. We must have gone sixty miles an hour.” She smiled at the memory. “You know, it’s one of those things I’m really glad I did, but I don’t want to do it again.”

“So what did you think of Tank?” Shirley asked.

“He’s very nice.” Faye knew she had to be cautious criticizing any of the men her friends fixed her up with. It was kind of a “Love me, love my dog” situation.

“So are you going to see him again?” Alice asked.

“I don’t think so. He was pleasant, in his own way, but let’s just say he lacked a certain je ne sais quoi.”

“You mean he’s not good enough for you?” Shirley asked.

Faye shook her head. “I didn’t say that at all! But come on, Shirley, his world and mine really are different. He wouldn’t enjoy attending an opera any more than I enjoyed riding his bike.”

“I understand,” Shirley conceded.

“The sex thing wasn’t there,” Marilyn decided.

Faye lifted an eyebrow. “What?”

“You weren’t physically attracted to him. If you had been, the rest of it wouldn’t have mattered.”

Faye looked skeptical. “Perhaps.”

Alice was pondering something. “I wonder—if someone in his seventies dates someone in her twenties, it’s called a May-December relationship. What do you call a hookup between someone who’s classy like you, Faye, and someone who’s more, let’s just say, earthy?”

“I don’t know—a caviar-Chee*tos romance?” Faye offered.

“Well,” Shirley said, getting them back on track, “we’ll see how you like the man behind Door Number Two. Have you spoken to your candidate, Marilyn?”

Marilyn nodded. “He’s ready to roll. His name is Roger Munson, he’s about fifty-five, and divorced. He’s had tenure at MIT forever, he’s a genius.”

“Does he study bugs, too?” Alice asked.

“No, he does not. His field is quantum mechanics. Quarks are his specialty.”

“Oh, yeah, I have one of those,” Alice said.

Marilyn did an eye roll. “Quarks are tiny particles inside atoms.”

“I knew that,” Faye joked.

“He’s not going to quiz you,” Marilyn reminded her. “He’s just going to take you out for coffee, or dinner, whatever. He’s a bit quiet, Faye, perhaps a little shy, but when I brought up the subject of a possible date with a friend of mine, he seemed very interested. I think he might be a little lonely.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Shirley said. “We’re in the holiday season now. Prime time for loneliness.”

“I read in
AARP
magazine the other day,” Faye said, “that loneliness is the greatest fear of both men and women when they get divorced later in life.”

“Is that why you’re being so malleable about these dates?” Marilyn asked Faye.

Faye cocked her head, considering. “Perhaps. Though I certainly wouldn’t be putting myself out there on the line if the three of you weren’t behind me, metaphorically shoving me out the door. I really don’t know what’s more frightening, trying to date again, or facing a solitary life, and I
like
solitude. But you know, I kind of enjoyed my date with Tank. I don’t want to see him again, but I’m really glad I met him once.”

“He made you feel attractive?” Shirley asked.

“Mmm, kind of. Certainly he made a few suggestive moves. But he has so many physical ailments, which he spoke about often, I’m not sure whether he was interested in me as an object of sexual desire or as a nursemaid-slash-housekeeper.”

“What else is new?” Alice asked, laughing.

“The thing is,” Faye continued, “it was a positive experience for me. If nothing else, the entire evening was something completely new, and I know I need that at my age. I don’t want my world to get smaller because I’m afraid to leave what is familiar and safe.”

“I’ll drink to that!” Shirley said, lifting her glass of seltzer.

Marilyn said, “So I’ll call Roger and give him the green light?”

“Fine.”

“Speaking of experiments,” Alice said, “has anyone here thought any more about Project Relative Insanity? I mean, getting those three women together for a session of Jacuzzi and aromatherapy?”

“Oh, I still want to do it, definitely,” Shirley said. “But we’ve got Christmas coming up, everyone will be too rushed. Let’s do it right after the first of the year.”

“I agree,” Marilyn said.

“Me, too.” Faye’s face lit up. “Laura phoned to invite me to fly out for a week, so I’ll get to spend Christmas with my granddaughter.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Shirley said.

Faye smiled. “I know. So what are you doing for Christmas, Alice?”

Alice looked cranky. “I’m spending it with Gideon and his family.”

“You’re not going to see Alan and Jennifer?” Shirley asked.

“Don’t start!” Alice snapped. “It’s not my fault. They have plans to spend a week in Tortola.”

“So did you buy Jennifer a Christmas present?” Faye asked.

“No, I did not, and I don’t expect her to give me one. She knows I don’t approve of this relationship. We never see one another, anyway, so how can I know what she likes?”

Marilyn changed the subject. “Will you spend Christmas with Justin, Shirley?”

“No, he’s flying to Ohio to be with his mother. She’s widowed, and Justin and his brother take turns spending holidays with her.”

“If you’re going to be alone,” Marilyn suggested, “let’s spend Christmas together.”

“Good idea!” Shirley agreed. “But I don’t want to cook, I want to totally relax, and you don’t like cooking, either, Marilyn. Let’s do something completely different.”

“I know,” Marilyn said. “Pizza and an old-movie marathon!”

“Don’t make me jealous,” Alice said.

“And don’t talk about anything important when we’re not there!” Faye added.

“And we’ll all meet again in the New Year!” Shirley said.