Stay With Me (16 page)

“Let me know when you want to go for another ride.”

“I will. Thank you for taking me.”

Once she got into her car, he jogged back to the
house. Alan’s timing sucked.

13

Ants Marching

The craft beer festival ran for two days at the
convention center near one of the most popular beaches along the Delaware Coast. Manning Gateway Brewery’s booth left Chris with mixed feelings. On the one
hand, it would probably be fun and give him a chance to learn more about the
industry. On the other hand, it would be another weekend he couldn’t spend any
time with Rebecca. By the end of the festival hours Saturday, Chris missed her.
Every time booth traffic lulled, his mind wandered. He imagined running his
hands through Rebecca’s hair and pulling it behind her so he could kiss her
cheek, her ear, her neck….

His co-worker Ned, a guy in his early forties who
had been with the brewery almost since its beginning, had brought his own car
and headed out by himself. Chris stayed behind at the exhibit while the other
guys used the restroom. He and his co-workers Tom, Eric, and Scott had ridden
together, and they had decided to grab dinner at a restaurant a couple of miles
from the hotel. The crowd had thinned to a few stragglers, and the people from
most of the other exhibits had already left.

He probably had a few minutes to call Rebecca. He
knew he would miss her on this trip, but not to the extent he did. Thoughts of
her preoccupied him, making him fidgety and anxious as he continually
recalculated how long it would be until he could see her. She picked up on the
second ring.

“Hey, how’s it going?” The sound of her voice
brought him the first peace he’d felt all day.

“I miss you.” Geez. He hadn’t meant to blurt that
out right off the bat, but there it was.

“That’s sweet. I miss you, too. A whole lot.”

Chris sagged against a cinder block pillar. At
least it wasn’t a one-sided affair. Maybe a little distance would be good for
them. Absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that. “Any plans for
tonight?”

Her laugh tinkled like a spoon against a full
champagne glass. “Oh, yeah. First a gourmet meal consisting of a frozen burrito
with jarred salsa. Then maybe a walk around the neighborhood before I kick back
with whatever I’ve got on the DVR. And, if I can stand the excitement, one of
those little containers of ice cream. Portion control, you know. What are you
doing tonight?”

“We wrapped up here at the convention center, so as
soon as a few of the guys get back from the men’s room we’re going to have
dinner at an Italian place near the hotel.”

“That’s it? No happy hour or a movie or anything?”

“Nah. No one’s mentioned anything. My feet are kind
of tired from standing on concrete all day. I’m good with going back to the
hotel and crashing.” Looking up, he noticed the other guys making their way
back to the display. “Looks like everyone’s back. I’d better go. I’ll call you
later, okay?”

“Okay. Enjoy your dinner.”

Scott and Eric laughed hard about something. Tom
wore an uncomfortable smile, like he didn’t find it funny but didn’t want to
say so.

“Talking to your girlfriend?” Scott asked.

“Just checking in,” Chris said and slid the phone
back into its holster.

“Don’t you have to check in, Tom? You’re the
newlywed,” Scott said.

“Nah,” Tom said as he rubbed his palms up and down
the sides of his jeans. “Ashley’s cool about things. I’ll call her tonight.”

“Let’s go then,” Eric said and pulled his keys from
his pocket.

The restaurant served authentic Italian, and Chris
couldn’t help thinking Rebecca would like the place. He tuned in and out of the
table conversation. A lot of it centered on some mutual friends he didn’t know,
and the rest revolved around a videogame he’d never played. He hadn’t used his
Xbox in months. There didn’t seem to be time for that stuff anymore, and he
didn’t miss it. The sound of his name brought him back to attention.

“How about it, Chris? You up for some fun tonight?”
Scott asked.

“Maybe. What do you have in mind?”

“There’s a gentleman’s club about twenty minutes
from here,” Eric said. “Thought we’d stop by and pay a visit to Miss Savannah
Sexton.”

“Gentleman’s club? As in strip joint?” Chris’s
muscles tensed. Not this. Not yet. He’d only been working with these guys a few
weeks.

“No, gentleman’s club. It’s classy,” Eric said.

“But there are still strippers, right?”

“You got a problem with that?” Scott said in that
Mafia don voice everyone imitated.

A dry laugh came from Chris’s throat. “Uh…let’s
just say you can drop me off at the hotel. It’s been a long day.”

“C’mon. The girlfriend’s got you on a short leash,
doesn’t she?” Eric asked.

“No, I just don’t go for that stuff.”

“Or…do you play for the other team?” Scott asked.

Chris wouldn’t even dignify that with a response.
Tom had been quiet. “Are you going, Tom?”

Sounding less confident than he looked, Tom said, “Sure,
why not?”

Maybe because you’ve been married
all of about three months, and your wife wouldn’t be happy to know that the
first time you’re apart, you run out to ogle other women.

Scott jumped back in. Scott, the guy he reported
to. The same one that had a hand in hiring him. “Come on, man. Everyone else is
going. It’s like a work bonding thing.”

Three weeks into the new job, and he had to choose
between violating his conscience and making nice with his co-workers. There had
to be a way out of this.

“Everyone? I don’t see Ned here.”

“Ned doesn’t count,” Eric said. “He’s been married
like, forever, and has half a dozen kids. There’s a lesson there. If you don’t
do this stuff now, your old lady’s never going to let you do it later.”

Scott’s head bobbed up and down in agreement. Tom
had a weak smile pasted on. He wondered if these guys, two of whom were
divorced, had ever thought that maybe the fact that Ned didn’t participate in
these extracurricular activities had something to do with the stable marriage and
houseful of kids.

He knew he was going to have to give them some kind
of firm answer or explanation or they were going to badger him and drag him
along. His parents may have not raised him to have faith, but they did teach
him to respect women. His mother told him never to forget that the girls in
those clubs were someone’s daughter or sister or mother. For that reason, he’d
stayed out of those places in the past, and he didn’t intend to patronize one
now.

“Do what you want to do, but I’m out.” He hoped his
tone would put an end to the coercion.

“You’ll change your mind when you get a glimpse of
the girls,” Eric said, elbowing Scott.

“Whatever,” Scott said, “but we’re not taking you
back to the hotel. It’s in the opposite direction. You can come in and live a
little with us or you can stick your head in the sand and wait in the car. It’s
up to you.” He pulled a credit card from his wallet and laid it on the table
alongside the check as he motioned for the waitress.

Chris couldn’t believe this. They were going to
hold him hostage in a strange town. He could call a cab, but maybe if he went
along he could at least talk Tom out of going in. Tom looked pasty, and Chris
knew he didn’t want to go.

They rumbled into the gravel lot and parked. It
looked as if someone had assembled several adjoining shacks, slapped some paint
on and gone into business. Garish colors covered the windowless walls, some hot
pink, and some sea foam green. The sign above the tallest roof flashed “Live
girls.” As opposed to dead ones? A poster next to the front door advertised the
presence of the voluptuous Savannah Sexton, whose seductive eyes beckoned
passersby to come see what she could do with that red cherry that dangled from
her tongue. It was so cheesy it bordered on laughable. Chris thought it
appeared more like a strip joint than a so-called gentleman’s club.

Eric shifted the car into park.

“Last chance, Reynolds,” Scott said and turned
toward Chris in the back seat.

“Thanks. I’ll pass. I’ve got my iPhone to occupy
me.”

“You just became the designated driver, too,” Eric
said as he opened the car door. Scott exited as well. As Tom moved to get out
of the back seat, Chris put a hand on his arm.

“I wouldn’t mind the company.” He gave Tom one last
opportunity to go home to his new wife without a bunch of uncomfortable
secrets.

“Sorry, man. I wouldn’t have picked this place, but
I’m not going to screw with them. I want to keep my job. Besides, what Ashley
doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

Chris looked away. What could he say that wouldn’t
make him look like an obnoxious moralizer? Tom obviously cared more about being
one of the guys than being a proper husband. “Your decision,” was all he got
out before Tom slammed the car door behind him, leaving Chris in a dark parking
lot where he’d get to watch the seedy comings and goings all night long.

He slid down into the seat, pulled out his phone,
and called Rebecca. She picked up right away this time. He pictured her on her
couch watching TV, her phone nearby waiting for his call. Maybe that’s not how
it was, but he liked the idea anyway.

“Hello, Chris.”

“Hey, how was that burrito?”

“To die for. And your Italian food?”

“Very good. You’ll never guess where I am.” He
watched as an older man, who looked to be in his seventies, exited his
Oldsmobile and headed for the door. Chris shook his head in disbelief.

“Where?”

“The parking lot of…” He looked up at the sign.
“Rocky’s Roadside Lounge.”

“What’s that?”

“Strip club, or as the other guys prefer to call
it, a gentleman’s club.” He didn’t know how that line was going to go over.

“What are you doing there?” At least she sounded
confused, not angry.

“Sitting in the car talking to you while my
co-workers get drunk and stuff dollar bills into scantily-clad women’s
cleavage.” Let her chew on
that
a minute.

“Did they give you a hard time about not going in?’

“Not too bad.” He guessed that was true. It could
have been worse. The real test would come when they went back to work. “Would
you mind keeping me company for a while?”

“Not at all. You’re a good man, Chris Reynolds, you
know that?”

Chris rubbed the back of his neck. Hearing her say
that almost made up for this lousy situation. “You make it easy for me to be
that way.”

“Don’t try to give me credit. Doing the right thing
is seldom easy. I wish you had at least one ally there with you.”

“Well, the one guy who I think would agree with me
was smart enough to bring his own wheels. I had no idea they were going to pull
a stunt like this.”

A comfortable silence hung between them for a few
seconds. A group of six thirty-something guys entered Rocky’s. Bachelor party
maybe?

“Chris, would you still feel the same way about me
if I had, you know, done stuff in the past?”

“What kind of stuff?”

“Worked in a place like you’re at or slept with
other guys.”

Why was she asking? Was there something she wanted
to confess or was she just insecure about his feelings for her?

“That’s a tough question. I love who you are right
now. I don’t think anything in the past would change that. It all made you who
you are today.”

“You wouldn’t see me differently?” She tried to pin
him down, but he didn’t know why or if he had walked into a trap.

“I don’t know. This is all hypothetical. Care to
tell me why you’re asking?”

She sighed. “It’s nothing bad. I just…I’ve been
reading the books you loaned me, and it’s got me thinking.”

“About what?”

“Well, our church was big on abstinence pledges and
purity and all that, and I’m grateful for that, really. I mean, my dad wasn’t
exactly a fount of information on that kind of stuff. He laid down the rules,
and if you broke them you were in big trouble, but he never explained what the
rules were for or made any allowance for mistakes.”

“Uh-huh.” Chris didn’t want to say much; he wanted
her to continue.

“The message I got was that if you sinned, if you
had sex before you married, you were worthless. They even gave examples like
used tissues, chewed up food, and all kinds of stuff to show us how our lives
would be ruined. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad it kept me on the straight and
narrow, but talk about harsh. Didn’t they tell us we had to forgive one another
and that God forgave us? So, why was that like, the unforgivable sin that would
ruin your entire life and make you unlovable?”

“That’s what you were taught?”

“More or less. I think that’s why my dad dressed us
like extras from ‘Little House on the Prairie.’ For the longest time, if I wore
anything more revealing than a burlap sack, I felt dirty.”

Well, that would explain that hideous
whatever-it-was she wore that morning for church with her dad.