Jolene

"Wait, you played football for Northwestern?" Angie interjected abruptly, cocking her head curiously to the side. "I didn't know that. "

"Oh, well, I didn't really play, not much anyway." Frank gave an embarrassed grin. "I sat the bench 4 years. I think I got in, maybe 30 plays in garbage time. But, hey, it paid for college, so it turned out ok."

Bobby looked to Angie while gesturing toward Frank with a piece of bread. "You could always tell Frank. He was the guy who was studying on the sidelines between plays. Also, the only guy that never went to a frat party or broke a team rule. 'No fun Frank' I think they called him...or maybe that was the nickname I made up." Bobby winked at Frank and laughed. "Seriously, though, you still 'Mr. Serious' or do you do anything at all for fun these days?"

"Mostly, I develop plans to improve the profitability of Prairie, which is tremendous fun, of course." Frank joked, eliciting a deep, foghorn like laugh from Paul and some soft titters from the women. "No, really, I still pretty much just read or play on the computer and Paul and I play hoops and golf and go to the gym some." Frank paused and pointed a playfully accusing finger at Bobby. "But you wouldn't know about that since you spend all your time at parties and in bars."

"Maybe someday I'll grow up and be boring like you." Bobby said with a great smile, ostentatiously raising his bottle to take a drink of beer. "But, honestly, I really can't fathom why I'd want to skip the parties and lay off the booze."

----0---

"Don't you think you've had enough to drink?"

The Prairieland Securities Christmas Party was starting to wind down and Frank and Becky were seated at a table with Jolene, Paul and a pretty little clerk from accounting.

All 3 of them looked away with mild embarrassment from Frank's exasperated and angry challenge. They knew it was coming, he'd been seething for almost an hour as she flirted and made suggestive comments to nearly anyone that visited the table, her flirtations worsening as the evening and the amount of alcohol she'd consumed marched on.

Becky stopped in mid drink, set her cocktail carefully back down on the table, and with some evident irritation, glared at Frank, who was making no attempt to hide his own annoyance.

"I'm not driving, what difference does it make?" She spit out defiantly.

"You don't have to be driving to cause problems from drinking."

"Problems? What kind of problems?"

"Behavioral problems Becky."

"You don't like my behavior? I thought I was being friendly. Weren't you always complaining about how...uh...quiet I am?"

The clerk had been fidgeting with increasing discomfort caused by the hostile interchange, and now, unable to endure any more, silently got up and excused herself with a little nod, walking away from the table as fast as possible. Jolene and Paul were equally uncomfortable, but made every attempt to act casually unconcerned about the escalating argument on the other side of the table, failing miserably in the growing tension. Sensing their anxiety, Frank lowered his voice to an angry hiss in order to make his points.

"Friendly is fine, Becky, but you've gone way overboard tonight. The way you've been dragging men out onto the dance floor and flirting with them...and the jokes and innuendos you've been subjecting us all to...it's just ridiculous. My God, you embarrassed Bob Thomas and Steve Annanias in front of their wives with that mistletoe kissy-face crap so much that I thought they were going to leave the party early. Come on now, you're drunk, and everyone knows it and it's causing problems. You're humiliating me and tomorrow you're going to be embarrassed when...or if...you remember what you've done tonight."

"Embarrassed? I'm embarrassing you? You're embarrassed of your wife?" Becky's voice had become loud and challenging.

"Hold your voice down Becky, shit, people are looking."

"Sorry, I don't want to embarrass you any more than..."

Jolene couldn't take it anymore and in a soft, steady, parental voice, interrupted. "You aren't yourself right now Becky. How about if I take you to the executive lounge and you can have a nap..."

Becky turned to Jolene with fire in her eyes. "I don't remember talking to you or asking for your opinion. This isn't your problem, so how about if you butt out, ok, Ginger?"

Stung, Jolene sucked in a sharp breath, almost as if she'd been physically struck. "Look, Becky, I didn't mean to..."

Becky dismissed whatever she was going to say with a wave of her hand. "Can it Jolene. Look, I'm sorry if my husband objects to my trying to get a little attention, but I guess I wouldn't expect someone like you to understand that people like me have to put a little effort into it. I mean you walk into a room like this with your thick red hair and your perfect face and your big-ass tits and men fall at your feet, but we lesser mortals have to do a little more than bitches like you so that we can...

Becky stopped speaking suddenly as Frank grabbed her roughly by the arm, hard enough to make her wince. He pulled her toward him and then harshly whispered into her ear.

"Stand up; I'm walking you out of here right now." She lurched to her feet as Frank yanked her up and half stumbled, half followed him as he pulled her out of the room, cornering her roughly against a wall in the outside hallway.

"I've had enough of you and your behavior Becky. I've had it. It's one thing to be cold and withholding and moody at home, but this kind of...public acting out...is way over the line, do you understand?"

She nodded weakly. "Frank, I..."

"Shut up and listen Becky, because I'm tired of this shit." Frank set his jaw and took a few deep breaths before starting again. "Now, if you ever, under any circumstances speak to a friend or colleague of mine like that again, I'm going to go berserk. Understand?"

Becky nodded.

"And, specifically, if you talk that way to Jolene again, I'll...I'll...well, you just better not do it because I'll be unbelievably pissed and I don't know what I might do. In fact...in fact, I don't want you talking to Jolene at all, under any circumstances, ever. OK? Never again. So, if I hear that you have spoken to her or yelled at her, if she tells me she got a nasty phone call from you or a snide remark at some event or anything at all that upsets her, I'm going to go ape shit and you...will...not...like...the results. Got it?"

A tear was dripping down Becky's cheek, but she refused to answer audibly, only nodding numbly.

"Let's go, I'm taking you home and putting you to bed."

--0---

"So tell me," Bobby asked Jolene, talking while he continued to masticate a rather rubbery piece of desiccated chicken. "Here at Prairie, what, uh, do you do?"

Jolene wrinkled her brow slightly. "I work with Net Solutions..."

"Right I got that...but...you're mostly at Prairie...right?"

"Oh, yeah, that's right I guess, I do spend a lot more time there than at NetSol these days. I'm working on the web product...helping to lay out the Personal Investment webpage for Prairie. They..." She motioned to Frank and Paul..." tell me what kind of features their customers want, and I help get it incorporated into the page. Mostly trying to make it easier for small, individual investors to trade in their accounts."

Bobby finally swallowed, washed the bite down with a large gulp of beer and looked at Jolene again. "So, uh, how long you been at it...making Prairie more friendly for the little guy?" He asked, bringing yet another bite to his mouth.

"Oh, gosh..." She cocked her head and rolled her eyes to the left, thinking for a moment. "I guess, what, just a little over a year now. Is that right Frank? About a year?"

Frank nodded. "Yeah, that's about right. We began working together on the initial stuff last March, but really started getting ramped up in early summer."

"You a programmer then?" Bobby asked while chewing.

"Not really. I've got a graphic design degree. I lay things out, mostly, try and make the page friendly. I do write some of the code, but the hardcore software guys at NetSol write the really tricky stuff."

Bobby finished chewing another bite, wiped his mouth with his napkin and then cocked his head, scrutinizing Jolene with a look of appreciation and curiosity.

"You know, I swear I've met you somewhere before, but I can't quite place it. Which is unusual for me because my memory is never better than recalling any time I've spent with a pretty girl." Frank snorted at his comment and Bobby's face split with a huge grin.

Jolene shrugged her shoulders and raised her hands, palms upward. "Not sure where we could have met, really. I've never worked with the Peoria office. I got my degree at Loyola."

"I'm pretty sure I know." Angie offered, giggling. "I'll bet lots of guys think they know her. Jolene is the girl in the NetSol commercials."

Bobby sat back. "Huh?"

"You know, the commercials where some nerdy guy is all upset because his business is struggling...and then the hot redhead comes in and fixes his web page and the guy gets rid of his glasses and turns into a super happy, successful business hunk..."

Bobby's eyes opened widely in recognition. "That's right. I knew I'd seen you. Crap, I almost wanted to start a failing business just to see if I could get you to come in and fix it."

Everyone at the table groaned and laughed. Bobby smirked and continued.

"So, how did you get into the commercial?"

"Well, I was helping in advertising at the time and I got caught up in the production side of the commercial. They were auditioning some actresses and the director saw me and, well, one thing led to another and I ended up with the part."

"You must have done some modeling or something like that too, I mean..."

Jolene held her hands up in protest, interrupting Bobby. "Oh, I'm way too curvy to be a model."

Bobby snorted. "Where I come from, there's no such thing as a woman who's 'too curvy'. It's hard to believe you didn't at least give it a go."

"Honestly, I really never considered it. The NetSol commercials were the only thing I did. I guess I didn't want to get so caught up into trying to be a model or something that I lost sight of my career in graphics and found myself on the outside, looking in."

---0---

"Where the hell have you been? It's almost midnight."

Becky stood in the entryway, her hand holding the still-open front door, nervously opening and closing her mouth, unable to produce any sound at all, let alone words. She was wearing her black anniversary dress, stockings, high heeled shoes and plenty of makeup.

"Well?" Frank repeated aggressively. "I'm waiting for your shitty little excuse again. Really, I'm just dying to hear why you stagger in this time of night with your messed up makeup wearing that dress...your...what did you call it? Your 'magic' dress."

Frank took a step toward Becky and raised his eyebrows expectantly, his large frame dwarfing her as she cowered by the door. She was taking her breaths in great, fearful, spasmodic gasps, anxiously looking back and forth, trying desperately to avoid Frank's intense and aggressive gaze. To Frank, she never seemed so small, so vulnerable or so treacherous.

"Seriously, Becky. I'm waiting. I want to know." He took a deep breath. "Who were you with tonight? Huh? Honestly, that's all I really need to know, because, I've got a very, very good idea what you've been doing."

Becky finally closed the door and took a half step toward Frank, shaking her head frantically.

"No...no, Frank. It's...it's not what you think. It's not..."

Frank laughed bitterly. "Spare me the clichés please. It can't possibly be anything other than what I think Becky. It can't. So, just tell me this, who the hell were you with? That's all I really want to know now."

"Frank. No. It's not...I can't...I can't tell you..."

Frank crossed his arms and stared Becky down, taking in long, deep, angry breaths through flared nostrils.

"I've had it Becky. I'm not an idiot and I'm not a wimp. You're acting strange and guilty all the time and can barely tolerate touching me, let alone having sex. You're staying out all fucking night wearing...wearing a dress that is supposed to be reserved for seducing your husband on special occasions. And...and this..."

He reached into his pocket and produced several sheets of lined stationary, pink in color, badly wrinkled and covered in writing. Becky gasped. "What...where did you find..."

"I found this...confession...in the bottom of the trash yesterday. I have to say it's cleared a lot of things up for me. I will say this, I agree that the only way to save our marriage would have been to stop your affair..."

"Noooo...that's not..."

"...but it's too late now Becky. Too damn late. Because I'm done. You know what? I don't even care who it is anymore. I'm done. We're done."

Frank made a slashing gesture with his hand across his throat as he finished speaking and then picked up a large suitcase and started for the door. Becky tried to grab him, but he pushed her away as roughly as he could without actually hurting her. Seconds later he was backing his car out of the driveway, making his way as quickly as possible to the nearest liquor store.

---0---

"So," Jolene said, catching Bobby's eye by peering around a waiter who was refilling water glasses. "You must have some interesting stories about Frank from his High School days. Maybe something that Frank has...neglected...to tell us."

Bobby laughed and leaned back in his chair, looking thoughtfully at the ceiling. "You know, I think I might just have a story or two like that."

He looked down and smiled knowingly, motioning to Frank with his right hand. "And if Frank is squirming over there, it's because he knows I know where the bodies are buried, so to speak. Yeah, I think, I may be the one guy in this room that could stab a hole in the shroud of perfection everyone at Prairie and, uh, NetSol seems to think he has always worn." Bobby gave Frank a mischievous look. "You think Frank?"

"Come on Bobby, be nice." Frank warned, shaking his head in mock disapproval.

"Oh Frank, Frank, Frank, Frank. You know I would never embarrass you. Much."

"Let's hear something good." Jolene demanded, giggling.

"Well, there was the time he very nearly burned down the schools equipment shed when he modified a model rocket with some fireworks..."

"Oh, I've heard that story, at least Frank's side of it." Jolene said, looking archly at Frank.

"OK, then, has he told you about the famous night got trapped alone in the basement of..." Bobby's voice suddenly tailed off as he looked to Frank and noticed his smile had become forced, and his eyes carried a look of apprehension. Jolene didn't notice the awkwardness, though, and pushed forward.

"No, I haven't heard about any lonely basement nights" Jolene said with a laugh. "But you've really got my curiosity up now. Let's hear it."

"It's...really not that great a story..."

"Let us be the judge of that Bobby." Jolene offered with an impish grin. "I think I'd like to hear the basement story and I'll guess Paul and Angie would too.

Bobby looked with slight nervousness over to Frank who shrugged his shoulders, evidently capitulating to Jolene's wish to hear the story. Bobby started again, smiling a little more confidently but still telling the story with some hesitancy.

"Well, ok, then. This is when Frank was a senior and he had this, uh, girlfriend who was a little younger, a sophomore or something. And, so, one night it turns out her parents are supposed to be out of town, bowling I think, and, uh, she invites Frank over to...you know..."

"Oh, I think I've got an idea what she was interested in." Jolene said, watching Frank's cheeks and ears turn pink. "It looks like Frank remembers this story." She added with some pleasure at his discomfort.

Bobby smiled weakly and continued. "Well, anyway...the girl's brothers and sisters were home, watching TV or something, so she and Frank, they go down to the basement where there's a partially fixed up recreation room that has a couch." Bobby paused and took a drink before continuing. "So, it's my understanding that they were spending some, shall we say, 'quality time' together on the couch when, all of a sudden they hear the garage door open and her parents are home."

Bobby's audience was listening eagerly now, laughing and commenting quietly as Bobby's description of the night made Frank squirm. Sensing their appreciation of the story, Bobby continued with more enthusiasm, talking faster and with more energy.

"Now, it turns out that her parents are really, really strict. Super conservative to the point it might have meant buckshot to Frank's ass if he'd been caught alone with her. I mean, she was violating some major family rules by having him over when the parents were gone, that right Frank?"

Frank was chewing his lip anxiously as he listened to Bobby, and nodded in answer. "Oh, yeah. Major violations."

"OK, so she has Frank stay downstairs and she runs up to see what's happened. Well, it turns out her Dad had hurt his ankle or his knee or something so her folks came home early, and he comes limping in and plops himself in this recliner that is right next to the only way out of the basement. There is absolutely no way to sneak past him, so Frank is trapped, completely, until Dad moves, and Dad isn't moving for a while because he decides to spend the whole damn night in the recliner since he doesn't want to walk upstairs with his bum leg."

Bobby stopped to chortle, his infectious laugh spreading to the listeners. He rubbed his watering eyes, and started again, clearly relishing telling the conclusion of the story.

"OK, so, long story short, Frank is stuck. His...uh...girlfriend calls me and I get over to the house and talk to Frank through one of the basement windows. There is no way out, short of breaking a window, and Frank is getting panicked because there's no bathroom and he's starting to feel the call of nature."

"So I have no idea what to do, but the girl, well, she gets on the phone and calls a bunch friends and says they have to come over immediately and her voice is so panicked that 4 of them show up right away."

"Anyway, she leads us all into the house and announces to her Dad that we are there to see her...uh...school project, which she claims is in the basement. So we all go down and hang out for a few minutes and then just walk back up the stairs. Only when we come up, it's not 6 of us, but 7 because Frank is with us too, and her Pop doesn't notice that there's an extra guy. He even waves to Franky and asks him how he's been, tells him he'll be watching the Wildcats come fall. " Bobby paused to laugh.

"The only fly in the ointment was that Dad starts mentioning he wanted to see her school project the next day, so we all got together and in an hour or so made some paper Mache replica of, what, Mount Everest?"

"Mount Vesuvius , Mr. Geography." Frank said with a smile.

"Yeah, that's right. Mount Vesuvius. Damn, I love that story." Bobby said laughing as he took another swallow of beer. "I'll never forget it as long as I live."

--0--

"Did you forget B-ball?"

The sound of the text woke Frank up and he'd found himself more or less fully dressed with his shirt half unbuttoned; his pants and one shoe still on, lying on top of a disorganized mass of rumpled sheets and clothes spilled from his suitcase. His bladder was painfully full, his mouth was sticky dry and he had a pounding headache that was being made worse by the sound of street traffic filtering through the door. On the bedside stand was a quarter full bottle of scotch, and an empty glass as well as his offending cell phone.