"
"Why didn't you have an abortion?"
I figured I better level with her. I had already confessed so much, it seemed silly to stop now.
"At the time I was working in a bakery. It was just walking around money but I didn't need much. I was dating almost every night, so my food bills were nothing. And sometimes the guys would give me gifts.
Costume jewelry or maybe a sweater. Nothing really expensive. I never took cash. Never! I had a great body in those days. Everyone said so.
But the fun and games went on and on, and I began to get scared.
I still had the bod, but I was getting a little long in the tooth. You know what South Florida is like-a new crop of centerfolds every year.
I wasn't ancient or anything like that but I began to wonder what was going to happen to me. I'd see a bag lady ooting through a garbage can and I'd get the chills. r I figured I better make a permanent connection real soon.
And then I got knocked up. I know I'm not the brainiest woman in the world-you've probably discovered that for yourself-but I saw the pregnancy as leverage. You know? To get what I wanted, a steady husband and a home. So I picked Greg. I suppose you think I'm a stinker for doing that."
"No, I don't think you're a stinker, Mabel," Dr. Noble said.
She really did have a nice smile. "I think you reacted to your circumstances in a remarkably sensible way.
What you did solved your immediate problems-but it resulted in the new problems you have today. Do you think that's a fair assessment?" guess.
"Mabel, I previously urged that until we can get your life straightened out I would prefer your not making any major changes.
That includes having relations with the man you say propositioned you.
I can't tell you what to do, of course, it's your decision.
But I believe that if you start a new intimate relationship at this time, it will only add to your problems and make a solution more difficult. Will you think long and carefully before you decide?"
"Oh sure, doc, I'll do that."
"And now I think our time is up. See you on Thursday? "
"I'll be here."
I left Dr. Noble's office realizing she hadn't really told me what to do. I guess she didn't want to be blamed if what she told me to do turned sour. Like she said, it was my decision. The way I saw it, it was a no-win situation.
Laura at Hashbeam's had sent me a postcard saying they had a new shipment of sequined T-shirts she thought I might like. So I walked over there to take a look. I was feeling so miserable I had to buy something. just for a lift, you know.
I've played the fool all my life. And I've discovered l'you can know it and not do a damned thing about it. I mean you can be stone-cold sober and still act the fool. You do something stupid and you say to yourself, "This is stupid," but you keep right on doing it. I've decided a man is really a slave to his glands.
At least I am.
"You're an erotomaniac," Chas once said to me. "When the hell are you going to grow up?"
"Never," I said. "What's the point, big brother?"
Wednesday was a rough one at the office. Most of my days are rough, but this was supertough, a lot of unexpected claims, two big deals that fell through, and a nutsy client who stormed into my office screaming his policy was paid up but he just of another premium notice. It took me an hour to calm him down and send him on his way. He was wrong, of course.
By four in the afternoon I'd had it and told Goldie I was going out to the club and she could reach me there if the office burned down or one of our agents dropped dead.
"In other words," she said, "you don't want to be bothered."
"Good thinking," I said.
This golf and tennis club I belong to is a great place.
Marleen hates it but I love it. She'll only go out there for the New Year's Eve bash, but I'm there three or four times a week. I run up some humongous tabs but the company hasn't complained yet since I've done a lot of business on the back nine or at the bar.
It's an unusual country club for Florida because it has absolutely no restrictions. Blacks, Jews, Cubanswe take anyone who can afford the fees. No prejudices whatsoever. My God, we even have members who don't drink.
One of the best things about the place is that a lot of women go there, wives, mistresses, girlfriends, or just wanna-bes. They go for golf or tennis, to have lunch, or to enjoy the free buffet during the Happy Hour. Usually there are more women than men in the bar.
By the time I got out there on that Wednesday, the Happy Hour was in full swing, and there were many, many gorgeous heads, not all of them with escorts. I exchanged greetings with several pals, male and female, and was finally able to belly up to the crowded bar and order a double vodka-rocks. By the time I got that down (ten minutes tops) my rough day at the office was a dim memory and I was looking around for company, something tasteful and friendly.
I didn't find her, she found me, asked me to light her long, brown cigarillo, and that was that. Her name was Laura, and she was a funky lady with marvelous lungs and a raspy voice she used to tell jokes usually heard only in the men's locker room. She was divorced, she said, and had just canceled her boyfriend.
Well, to make a long story short-if it isn't too late-we had more drinks, a lobster dinner at the club, and by midnight we were bouncing together on her king-size waterbed in a ground-floor condo in Boca.
"Pull the drapes, for God's sake," I said. "Or turn off the light."
" Nah, " she said. "This place is totally inhabited by retirees. They take their Fiberall and they're asleep by nine.
No one's going to peek in on us."
What a scrimmage that was! I staggered out of there around three A.M wondering if I should head for the nearest Intensive Care Unit.
I was crossing the parking lot to my Lincoln when a guy who looked like a sumo wrestler stepped from the shadow of a bottle palm and fed me a knuckle sandwich that dumped me on my ass.
"You son of a bitch," he growled. "I see you around here again, you're dead meat."
He stalked toward Laura's apartment, and I had no desire to stop him.
Would an injured hummingbird challenge a rabid rhino?
I figured he was the "canceled" boyfriend, and dear, sweet Laura had left the drapes open, the light on, and had used me to raise his jealousy level.
Well, what the hell. I learned a long time ago that if you're going to drink and cruise sooner or later you're going to get hurt.
I dragged my split lip and loosened bicuspid home to Rustling Palms Estates. Marleen and Tania were asleep, of course, so I stumbled into the guest bedroom and got most of my clothes off before I fell into the sack.
I awoke a little after eleven on Thursday morning, and naturally I had the house to myself. I phoned Goldie and told her I'd be late.
"I already know that," she said.
I tossed down an ounce of cognac, took a hot shower, and then put an icebag on my puffed lip. it didn't look too bad, but my loose tooth was throbbing. I used my electric shaver, dressed, and went over to the Barrows. I hoped Mabel would make me a cup of coffee, and while she was doing that, I could take up where I had left off Saturday morning.
But she wasn't home, so I got in my car and headed toward my brother's studio for our weekly lunch. I stopped on the way to pick up a big pepperoni pizza and a cold six-pack of Bud.
Chas took one look at my face and said, "I bet the other guy hasn't got a mark on him."
" You'd win your bet," I said. "I was overmatched."
We ate warm pizza and drank cold beer. I didn't feel much like talking, but Chas did.
"One of these days," he said, "you're going to get into serious trouble.
Did you ever think of that?"
"It'll never happen," I told him. "God looks after fools and drunks, and I qualify on both counts."