Bizarre Love Triangle

All Rights Reserved © 2000 by Timothy H. Sexton

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system, without the permission in writing from the publisher.

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Some of the names used in this book belong to real people that I know. The characters therein are not meant to resemble their actual personalities or physical being in any way, shape or form.

ISBN: 0-595-15838-2

ISBN: 978-1-4697-6464-1 (eBook)

Printed in the United States of America

Contents

FOREWORD

PART ONE

1988 DESPERATION AM

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

PART TWO

MYLES TO GO

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

PART THREE

ESCAPE FROM MONKEYLAND

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

EPILOGUE

  1

  2

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

This book is dedicated to Mark and Julie Kochinski, Suzanne Sanders Peterson, Karen Damron, Julie Zaben Cooper, Trish Powell, Amy Willhauck Kreitzburg, Wayne Hicks, Dorraine Smith Relova, Regina, Mark and Lyn Keaney, Bob Ullrich, Teresa Lucas, John Patten, Shaun Williams, Paula Reibel Kimmich, Carol James Shaw, Billy Brykczynski and to many other members of the Escambia High School Class of 1980 in Pensacola, Fl. without whom this book might not have seen the light of day.

It is also dedicated to my mother for making me a reader and to my wife for making me a writer.

It’s often safer to be in chains than to be free.

Franz Kafka

FOREWORD

I wish to give my thanks to the rock bands New Order and Gang of Four for their inspiration. I urge all of you to search out their albums and buy them. I want to thank Leon Trotsky. I also want to thank Woody Allen for making the film Zelig which was the diving board from which I did a jacknife into the water that became this novel. I got the kernal of an idea for this novel in 1983. Finished my first final draft in 1988. And finally got it into shape for publication in 2000. Even so, I think it’s still a work in progress and there may come a day when I will republish in its final, completed form.

Or not.

PART ONE

1988 DESPERATION AM

CHAPTER ONE

Solomon saw his wife belly-dancing.

True, he’d been awake less than fifteen minutes, and the shower was stinging his eyes, but there could be no question about it; Leigh was actually belly-dancing. Rubbing the steaming water from his face, he pushed back the curtain just to be absolutely certain.

The unmistakeable snapping sound of castanets had announced her arrival and her outstretched arms had followed, leading her into view. And what a view! A diaphanous purple material barely concealing her legs draped out of a wide gold band that hugged her hips, tracing the sensual curve of her belly. Its lack of modesty was more than matched by her top: Gold coins dangling from a bra that actually came very close to achieving its intended job of camouflaging her breasts. Her face was obscured behind a veil so that only her blue eyes were visible, peering at him enigmatically.

Her hips swayed tantalizingly back and forth, the only sound her jangling coins echoing off the tile. As she twirled around and arched her nude back, he noticed that underneath the sheer silk she wore nothing. She drew closer to his pruned, proffered finger then, just as she was within reach, she pulled away. He thought he saw a smile curl beneath the veil as she faded into the haze of the steam.

Appearing again out the vapor, she rounded her arms above her head, castanets clicking. Solomon was hypnotized by the sight of her sensuously rippling stomach. She inched her way closer, bending forward, then sharply back, beginning to rotate her head, her neck, her shoulders. Her eyes softly shut and soon her whole torso was gyrating to some unheard strain.

Around and around she twisted, coins rattling and veils fluttering until she suddenly stopped directly in front of her husband. She held her hands behind her back as she slowly lifted her shrouded face and stared obediently into his eyes. Bringing her hands gradually forward, Solomon saw that the castanets had been replaced by thick cakes of soap. Try new Sheik Soap. Your harem will love you for it, Leigh Solomon said.

Solomon saw his wife in her bathrobe.

He blinked several times. What did you just say?

She picked up a rag and held it under the water. I asked if you tried that new soap I picked up for you. It’s supposed to be good. And it’s got the most adorable commercial.

Solomon dried his face and looked at his wife again. "Were you just in here in some kind of belly-dancing costume?

No, but I like the idea. Any suggestions on where I can get one?

I know this is going to sound crazy, but I could swear I just saw you in some kind of crazy costume doing a belly-dancing routine.

Hey, you supply the clothes and I’ll provide the dancing. Bringing the washcloth to her face, she felt the heat prickle her skin. Your mother’s right, you do take showers too hot. She told you cold showers are better for you. Now are you trying that new soap or not?

I like my old soap. It’s manly yet, I like it too.

The commercial’s very good. It’s called Sheik Soap. Isn’t that cute?

Did you say Sheik Soap?

Yeah. So?

What’s the commercial about?

Who wants to know? she asked, lowering her voice to a seductive purr.

Grabbing her arm and pulling her closer he said, Tell me. What’s it about?

Leigh pulled herself free. All right, already, just calm down and I’ll tell you. She kissed him lightly on the forehead. It’s about this guy all dressed up in these gorgeous long flowing robes and he’s on a horse roaming the desert—Sahara, I guess, lots of sand everywhere—riding days and nights looking for his love. Then he finally finds her and she looks up at him and says, `Boy, could you use a bath, here try new Sheik Soap—’

Is she a belly dancer?

You got a thing for belly-dancers lately, don’t you?

Please?

No. No belly dancers. Sorry.

I know it sounds crazy, but it seemed so real. And then I turn around, I mean I don’t even turn around, and there you are in your bathrobe. He shrugged.

She lifted the hem of her robe off her thigh and rubbed it between her fingers. Not exactly as sexy as a belly-dancing costume. Disappointed?

Pretending to look underneath the length of teal terry-cloth material she held in her hand he answered, Not at all.

She threw the robe down in mock anger, straightening it prudishly and shaking her head disapprovingly. None of that for you. If you’re going to be having visions of exotic women in erotic clothing, then you can just forget all about getting any from me. And as for your hallucination, I think I might know just the cure for those. With that she reached in and turned the hot water off, then quickly dashed out of the room.

Hey, that’s cold. Maybe it was the heat, he thought. But he just couldn’t stand cold showers. The hotter, the better. Maybe it was some leftover fragment of a dream, but that didn’t make much sense seeing as how he’d been awake for some time when it occurred. Truly a uniquely strange experience.

Enjoy your shower? He was sitting on the bed drying off when Leigh followed the smoky aroma of sausage drifting in from the kitchen. She came to the bed and stretched herself on it, one hand propping up her head. He pushed her hair behind her ear only to watch it fall back. Seen any more belly-dancers?

That was so bizarre. I could describe to you in the smallest detail exactly what you were wearing. You aren’t hiding any costumes in the closet are you? Maybe I’ve somehow gotten the power of seeing into the future. He sprang off the bed and disappeared into the huge walk-in closet, whistling the theme from Twilight Zone.

You won’t find much.

I’m looking for my blue suit, thank you very much.

Seriously, I like the idea of a belly-dancer. You know I’ve always liked those outfits. Like I Dream of Jeannie. We could get me a Jeannie outfit and you some long, flowing robes. I mean since it was your idea in the first place. She heard him rummaging around in the back of the closet. Look to the far left, she advised. When she was satisfied there would be no reply, she went up behind him. Here, let me. Go get some breakfast before it gets cold. She kissed him and he surprised her by grabbing her around the waist. Her robe rode up past her bare behind and he looked down and whistled. That belly-dancer must’ve really got to you. Sure you wouldn’t like to get me a Jeannie outfit?

I can think of worse Christmas presents now that you mentioned it, he answered.

She suddenly kissed him hard on the mouth. Sometimes, you have a way of very pleasantly surprising me, you know that, she breathlessly said at last, casting a glance backward at her exposed rear end. She kissed him again before unloosening herself. This is the hardest thing in the world for me to do. I just want you to know that and duly appreciate it later when the time comes. I’m telling you to go eat. Now. I know you don’t want to be late.

Making his way out the closet he looked back at her glowing, expansive smile. Which turned into a mock scowl as she gestured with a fanning motion for him to leave. When he did Leigh reached for his blue suit without even looking. She left the closet and laid it on the bed.

Solomon was in the kitchen fixing himself a second cup of coffee and brooding over the day ahead. One definite appointment and two meetings with Cosmo-reading receptionists who would try to rouse themselves into checking if Mr. Whoever was seeing anyone today. In the two weeks since he’d quit, he’d had nine interviews. All of them amounting to nothing.

Finishing off his toast, he looked up to see Leigh’s arm and leg embracing the wall. As she pirouetted through the doorway, he saw she was swathed in an array of multi-colored veils, tucked into her G-string panty and cupless bra, billowing in opposite reaction to her movements. This time her face remained uncovered. She slinked her way to the table and circled him, losing a few scarves along the way, then feigned a move away and fell backward across his lap.

Good enough for now? she asked, pulling a stray veil off her face.

Good enough for anytime, he answered, starting to pull her cover away from her.

That’s a good way to become a eunuch if the sheik ever caught you. Don’t you know better than to mess with a member of the concubine?

He followed her as she raced behind the kitchen counter.I know you don’t want to hear this and I’m really sorry to have to say it, but I have to start getting dressed. I’m running late. He then reached over and kissed her before turning to leave, taking most of the top of her makeshift ensemble with him.

Leigh shrieked in surprise and chased him. You dirty little sneak! she cried, jumping onto the bed and watching him dress. Idly, she began stripping off the veils. Who’s it today?

Essence Rare Perfume.

Ooh, I hear everyone who works there gets an ounce of perfume every Christmas.

And where did you pinch that little nugget of information?

Some television talk show, I think. I don’t know. Think they’ll hire you? She flipped over onto her stomach, her legs grabbing behind her for the scarves.

I don’t know. Could be. I haven’t heard any bad things.

You sound like they’re the one being interviewed. Laughing, Leigh rolled onto her back and completed the stripping process. Clad only in her haughty bra and panties she sat on the edge of the bed, back straight, knees spread, tiptoed on the floor. Solomon knotted his tie and turned around to reach for his coat. Like what you see?

I wish you wouldn’t do that. I’ve got an appointment.

Do what? she whispered, falling spread-eagled onto her back.

That voodoo that you do so well. Now come on, I’ve got to get going.

Don’t I do anything for you?

Definitely. But this just isn’t the best of times to be doing it. He reached for her hand. Now what are you going to be doing all day?

The usual. Clean up. Watch some television. Maybe a little drawing if I feel inspired. Dis, dat and de utter ding, she answered as he pulled her to her feet. When they reached the front door she held him and kissed him deeply before straightening his tie. If you’re not worried about making a good impression, at least don’t make a bad impression. And don’t let them make you feel defensive about quitting.

I’ve no reason to be defensive. I was completely in the right.

See, that sounds defensive right there. She kissed him again. Drive safely. She hid behind the door as he went out, watching through the crack till he got to the elevator door. Then she opened the door and jumped out. Do good and you can have this when you get back, she shouted, doing a fairly credible imitation of a shimmying stripper.

CHAPTER TWO

Try as he might, Solomon could never accustom himself to the amenities of interviewing. The requisite give and take would uncontrollably begin to shift to his opponent’s advantage. By the time he could make even a dent toward regaining it the match was lost and he was forced to let the weight of his accomplishments carry him through. Fortunately, that weight was a heavy one.

Well, Mr. Solomon, in reviewing your resume I must admit that you seem eminently qualified for the position, his unfairly favored rival in this tug-of-war said. Like everyone else in the building he reeked of a seriously questionable odor. The hallways were redolent of a hospital for the terminally attractive.

Thank you.

There is one thing, however, that does draw attention to itself and requires further comment.

What would that be? Solomon asked, already knowing the answer.

The man lay Solomon’s resume on his desk and clasped his hands together upon it. He blended into the decor of the office so well that Solomon temporarily lost sight of him amid the pale greens and pinks and framed art-deco landscapes. He smiled, the thinnest pair of lips that Solomon had ever seen on a person slowly stretching farther than seemed possible. At last he spoke. Why did you leave your former place of employment?

Personal reasons.

Yes, I’m sure they were. You understand I must ask this question.

Yes.

After all, you clearly state that it was of your own choosing.

Oh, yes.

You weren’t fired?

No.

Mr. Solomon, I realize this is a touchy subject and I want to make it as bearable as possible. But you must understand the gravity of the situation. Essence Rare Perfume is one of the most respected companies in the country. We could hardly justify employing someone unless we know exactly what their previous employment history entails. Unexpectedly, he stopped, his smile crawling across the eternity of his face once more. In silence, they stared at one another.

Solomon sighed, glancing about the room in querulous scrutiny of its adornments. Then he smiled too, stretching his lips in unconscious parody of his inquisitor. The truth of the matter is, Mr. Torkam, that I resigned from my previous position because they wanted me to do something which I considered immoral, illegal, and just plain wrong.

Torkam leaned closer into his desk. Specify what you mean, please.

Solomon mirrored his movement. Specifically, they wanted me to transfer funds from one account into another. One that had no legal existence. I wanted no part of it.

And so you quit?

Immediately.

He watched Torkam rise delicately from his chair and traverse the geometrically designed desk which had no drawers, unsound support and little visible use besides harboring folders and coffee cups. Commendable indeed, Solomon. I can see your value to any corporation would go leagues beyond the tangible, he proclaimed, clasping Solomon’s shoulder.

Well, I’m certainly glad you think so, sir, he muttered. During moments like these he never knew exactly what to say, feeling frozen to the chair and sensing that an inane smile was hopelessly fastening itself onto his face.

Yes indeed, Solomon. In fact, I’d even go so far as to say, off the record of course, that if you want a career here with us at Essence Rare you could probably rest assured that it’s in the atomizer, as we like to say.

Solomon caught himself absently shaking his head. As much as he dreaded the formal niceties that prefaced an interview he detested the strained familiarity that always accompanied the end, especially the obligatory atrocious attempt at humor. Vaulting out of his chair and extending his hand he said, Thank you very much, Mr. Torkam. I appreciate your optimism, before accelerating towards the door.

Of course, there is one slight obstacle that should prove to be nothing more than a mere interruption of your time.

What’s that? Solomon turned around to find that the previously sedulous Torkam had taken on the heretofore unexpected qualities of a maniacally possessed Reverend from witch-hunting Salem.

Hair flying, finger wagging and eyes saturated with a burning intensity he had not thought possible in the little man, Torkam swooped upon him as a vulture upon a carcass.We don’t trust you,Solomon,he bellowed. We don’t trust you and if it’s one thing we unconditionally demand it is the truth. Reaching for the file on his desk he continued his harangue. You can lie on paper, Solomon. Any scalawag off the street can amble in here and declare they graduated from the upstanding schools you say you’ve attended. And it’s certainly no great hardship to piously claim you’ve worked for any of these excellent companies. But how do we know? How do we know? You won’t fool us, Solomon. We’ll find you out if you’re lying to us. We will find you out!

This last statement descended upon Solomon like a warning from an evangelist to an overzealous critic of the veracity of the Gospels. A blackness irising the terrifying vision from his sight, he collapsed against the door, shaking his head back and forth and recoiling when he felt a hand clasp his shoulder. He hesitantly opened his eyes to see Torkam, hair in place and eyes softly focused, concernedly peering at him. Are you okay? he was asked.

Yes, I’m fine. Thank you, I’m fine, really. I don’t know, I’ve just been feeling a little weak today. Excuse me, but what did you say that little obstacle would be? Solomon braced himself for another outburst.

Like I said, you’ll just be required to take a polygraph. All employees are, nothing to worry about. You’ll be sent a notice in the mail. Are you sure you’re all right? Would you like to sit down and rest a moment?

Shaking his head, Solomon slipped out of the office. This was weird, he thought, as he lurched down the hallway. Two frighteningly real flesh and blood hallucinations in the same morning. Until now he’d never had even one his entire life. Definitely strange. He heard his heartbeat echoing inside the immense elevator, his only companions the endless litany of his pallid reflection in the mirrors on either side.

As he made his way through the parking he mulled over a list of things he had eaten that could possibly be affecting him. The only thing out of the ordinary was some new natural cereal his mother had bought him on her latest crusade to make him healthier. Plain old-fashioned wheat: no preservatives, no sugar, no taste. He could just imagine his mother poised in a field somewhere munching on a stalk or leaf or whatever the heck it was that wheat grew on, thinking to herself—Oh this will make that boy healthy. It would be fitting irony if the healthiest thing he’d eaten had mixed up his metabolism so badly that he’d started seeing things. There really wasn’t anything else he could imagine it might be. Whatever it was would have to take a back seat now as he climbed into the car, trying to figure out a way to break the bad news to Leigh. As he gunned out of the garage, he wondered what would be the first words out of her mouth.

So? She hadn’t changed since he’d left, the G-string still seizing her.

I refuse to take a lie detector.

She stood in front of him, muscles tightening all over. What is the big deal with you and lie detectors? You’ve got nothing to hide.

That’s not the point. The point is that they are not one-hundred percent foolproof. What the hell good is a lie-detector that’s not one-hundred percent foolproof? And that’s not even the point, really. If they want to know something why can’t they just come out and ask me? What do they need a machine for? I’ll tell them the truth.

Leigh slipped past him into the bedroom. He followed, finding her sitting on the bed wrenching a pair of sweat-pants over her hips. For that much money, plus the bonuses, plus the benefits it seems like you could do them the small courtesy of putting up with a stupid inconvenience.

You forgot to mention the free bottle of perfume.

Immediately her expression darkened. All right, I admit that I wouldn’t mind receiving some of the little goodies that come with that job. Why not?

No, I didn’t think you would.

She brought her sweatshirt to her nose and sniffed. Beats this smell seven ways to Sunday, she said as she pulled it over her head. Aside from that, it’s relatively close by and a respected business. I’m also thinking of the bills, or do those magically disappear when someone takes a moral stand?

He sighed. I am concerned about the bills. And since we have something in the bank to fall back on, I’m not going to waste my life working for a company that doesn’t respect me and for whom I have no respect. Understand, please.

She went to the dresser and began rabidly brushing her hair. You know what I understand? I understand you’re only thinking of yourself.

That’s not true.

Yes it is, she spat out at him. You always think only of yourself in situations like these. When it’s nothing really important, sure, you’re willing to take my feelings into consideration, but when it is something that matters, something we should both have a hand in, you just go off and make the decision all by yourself. It’s as if I’m not even here.

Well, you’re right about one thing. This is important. This is my career we’re talking about. This is my life. And I’m not going to throw it away and, yes, that is only thinking of myself. But—

I’m going for a walk. I’ve got a lot on my mind.

He stood agape and watched in silence as she left wearing his jogging suit, another gift from his mother. It was amazing how quickly the day had gotten so bad, considering how strangly enjoyable it had started out. He closed his eyes and tried to bring back the memory of the belly-dancer, but was interrupted by the phone.

He picked it up, wondering if maybe it was Leigh phoning from the lobby. He put the receiver to his ear and listened as an infuriatingly monotonous voice with perfect pronunciation introduced itself. "Hello. I’m a computer who has randomly accessed your number. Take a moment to think of the possibilities that could open up. I could access