These Foolish Things

Dedicated

To
the memory

Of

Nancy
Snow Kurrelmeyer

(Aug.
31, 1962 – Feb. 1, 2003)

Best
friend

Soul
sister

and
owner of the foot up my tush that kept me writing

Miss
you every day, Kurly

My
deepest thanks to

Diane
M. Chubb, Esq. Everybody needs such an Aries in her corner.

Susan
R. Drover. Editor. Couldn’t have asked for a better “second pair of eyes.”

Nicole
Baker Smith, MBA. This wouldn’t have gotten finished without your help (Mario).

And
FUBLFA…

Gentle Reader,

This story was completed in 2001. Please read it with the
understanding that the intended time frame is the mid to late 1990s.

“Who’re we playing?” Liz Gardner scanned the ball field as
she dropped her bat and gear bag. Liz loved playing softball in the North End
of Boston. The field was on the harbor and the about late day sun bathed the
surrounding red brick buildings in golden light. A lively and loud conversation
in Italian attracted Liz’s attention to the bocce court near the ball field,
where a hotly contested game was in progress. The air felt soft and warm, a
breeze off the harbor blowing away the stickiness that is a trademark of
summertime in the Hub. Liz’s shirt, like those of the other members of the
firm’s softball team, depicted an alligator in bow tie and briefcase and was
lettered with said “Liti-Gators.”

“We’re playing Brooks, Washburn, Hadley and Dunn,” her
friend Millie Wentworth answered, “AKA the ‘Bad News Barristers’. It’s a stupid
name,” Millie added with a sneer.

Liz stretched a little. “Just remember: people have been
saying the same thing about us. Scouting report. Hey, Corey!”

A red-haired man with a runner’s shape bumped into her from
behind. “Jesus, Liz, you don’t have to yell. I’m right here.”

“Sorry. What’s the lowdown on the Bad News Barristers?”

“Well, Dunn’s been cheating on his wife with Washburn’s
wife. One of their star associates just got busted for possession, but they’re
keeping a lid on it, that’s him over there chugging the beer…” Corey Lewis had
the dirt. If you had to know, you asked Corey. However, sometimes he had too
much information. Like right now.

Millie cut him off. “No. We just want the scouting report
right now, not the scuttlebutt. That can wait till after the game.” Several of
their teammates had gathered for the report.

“Oh. Well,” Corey cocked one hip and assumed a thoughtful
expression. He played up his role as oracle to the fullest. “Let’s see. That’s
not as much fun. Basically, the guys do the playing. The women don’t hit, don’t
run and field like they’re afraid of breaking a fingernail...”

Liz looked at him quizzically. “Why is that?”

“Because they ARE afraid of breaking a fingernail. Honey, they’re
strictly window dressing. Secretaries, receptionists and a bi-curious file
clerk.” The other team was filing onto the field. “Look at ‘em – all show, no
go.”

Indeed, the female members of the Bad News Barristers were
immaculately groomed and made up from perfect coiffures down to immaculately
white designer sneakers.Millie shook her head. “Don’t tell me.”

Corey nodded, “Uh huh. Tokens so that the team can play in
this co-ed league. Plus, they’re sick of the singles bars and this IS the
lawyers’ league. Really choice pickings if you want a sugar daddy.”

Liz groaned. They’d encountered this sort of thing before,
but usually the women either stuck to the sidelines or had
some
skills
on the field. As she buckled on her catcher’s gear, Liz spotted one man drinking
beer with the cokehead and an artificially buxom, bottled blonde woman who was
giggling, tossing her hair and hanging on him.

Liz laughed. “Hey, Corey, who’s the guy getting the display
from the Silicone Queen?”

Corey smirked. “I’ve trained you well. They ARE silicone and
we won’t be seeing HER slide headfirst.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Liz was impatient. “The guy, Corey, the
guy.”

Corey squinted, “Huh. What’s Tyrone Hadley doing out here? I
thought he lived at his desk. Boy, he must really want that tacky little trophy.”

Millie did a double take. “Hadley? Are you kidding?” She
looked again. “By God, it is. I saw his picture in the Globe a couple of weeks
ago for that huge settlement he got. The Class Action King himself.”

Tyrone Hadley. Liz watched him while she continued preparing
for the game. He was sipping a beer and laughing with the younger man and the
Silicone Queen. Liz had seen a lot of handsome men, had even slept with a few,
but this one was different. He seemed unconcerned with or unconscious of his
good looks. Most of the good-looking men Liz encountered wore their physical
charms like a billboard and a shield, daring those around them not to be
attracted. Liz heard Hadley laugh at something the Silicone Queen said. She
liked the sound as it drifted across the field. It was deep and warm and
masculine. Liz felt a tug in her groin that had been absent for quite a while.

Millie waved her hand in front of Liz’s face.

“Yo! Reel in your tongue, Girl! You’re drooling. Here.” Millie
pressed a beer into Liz’s hand. Liz took a long swallow. “Ask him out.”

Liz made a face. “No way. Even if I thought it, he’d
probably send over a note turning me down.” She sipped her beer. “Very easy on
the eyes, though.”

Millie shrugged, “Like what you see, do you?”

Liz nodded silently. “Maybe he’s gay.” With that, the
Silicone Queen walked away from Hadley and the other man, back arched and hips
swinging. Both were checking out her rear view.

“No such luck,” said Liz, Millie and Corey in unison.

Liz went back to stretching. “Why is that guys can’t see
through that giggly fake act? Why don’t they want someone who doesn’t insult
their intelligence? And why didn’t we learn how to do that?”

“It helps to be waving a big set of jugs around when you do
it.”

Corey interrupted, ”Yours would do nicely, Liz, especially
if you lowered your neckline…”

“That’s not happening,” she snapped. “And you know why.”

Corey looked ashamed. “I’m sorry. I forgot.” He continued.
“¬They can’t see through it because the act is designed to move blood out of
the brain and into another organ men use for making decisions. By the time the
brain re-establishes control, it’s too late and she’s either on to the next
victim or waving the ta-tas at a divorce attorney.” Millie took a thoughtful
swallow of beer. “You and I, my friend, were raised to rely on our brains and
personalities. Life is very cruel. We’re not bleached blonde trophies…”

“Excuse me,” interrupted Liz, pointing to her own head,
“Highlighted hair here.”

“Yeah, but yours was natural to begin with. Don’t interrupt,
I’m on a roll,” Millie replied. “Some smart perceptive son of a bitch will snap
you up any day now.”

“Andy Garcia?” Liz pretended to look hopeful.

Millie made a face at her. “Married. Don’t change the
subject. Not Andy, but there IS a great man out there for you, I know it.”

Liz’s face tightened, “How many years have I been telling
myself that, Millie? I’m not in my twenties anymore. It’s been years since I’ve
been asked out. The only man in my life is a neutered cat and it looks like
it’s going to stay that way. I think I’m better off just dealing with being on
my own than hoping for something that won’t happen.” She’d made peace with
being alone, but it was a bitter, painful peace.

“Hey, did you use that gift certificate I gave you? You know,
the one for the tarot reading?” Millie was deeply interested in metaphysics and
psychic phenomena.

“Yeah. Last night.” Liz started warming up her hands and
stretching her fingers.

“And?” Millie looked around, not wanting this conversation
overheard. The only one still within earshot was Corey and he knew that Liz and
Millie would not hesitate to beat him senseless and then fire him if he talked.
Corey was also into tarot and was all agog to hear this, too.

Satisfied that the conversation was as private as possible,
Liz began.

“Okay. She said that I am fated to meet a dark-haired,
dark-eyed man with a slightly darker complexion than mine.”

Corey smirked, “That wouldn’t take much.”

“Shut up, Corey.” Liz and Millie together.

“Anyway, she put him at around six feet tall, give or take a
couple of inches, nice smile. Let’s see, very successful, fit, nice dresser,
thick hair he parts on the left, entrepreneurial, drives an expensive car. Um,
great sense of humor, but some darkness, too. What else? Passionate, wonderful
lover,” Corey whistled. Millie smacked him.

“Really big…” Liz let her voice trail off deliberately.
Neither Millie nor Corey said anything, but she could see their dirty minds
fill in the blank incorrectly. “…heart. Gotcha. What did she say? Spiritual
soul mates, we’ve been together in previous lives, I think. The Sox have their
best shot at the Series this year and I was Teddy Roosevelt in a previous life.
By the way, Millie, John Lennon says ‘Ullo,Luv.”

Millie made a face at her. Corey snickered. Liz paused,
searching her memory for the last iota of information from the reading. “There
was stuff about shadows and armor. I don’t remember, it’s probably her standard
line.” She drank some more beer. “Yada, yada, yada, blah, blah, woof.”

“’Blah, blah, woof?’” asked Corey. “What language does this
psychic speak? Or maybe you’ve had enough beer.” He made a grab for the bottle
which Liz deftly kept out of his reach.

Millie stood, hands on hips, feet planted, glaring at Liz.
“Listen, you, this woman is for real. She told me all about John before I even
met him. So if she says there’s a man coming at you, Honey get out your
catcher’s mitt.” Liz held up her glove, grinning.

“Smartass.”

Millie looked over at the Barristers. “You know,” she mused,
“Hadley fits that description she gave you. Even down to the way he parts his
hair.”

Liz looked again. Millie was right. “So? That proves
nothing. How many men could fit that description? And that girl looks like
she’s already staked her claim.” She worked her mitt thoughtfully. “Give it up,
guys. I have.” She continued to herself, “Got burned. I learned.”

“What about that guy you were emailing?” asked Millie, “I
saw those messages; he seemed interested.”

“Turns out he was just passing time at work,” said Liz, “I
asked him for his phone number and he said he didn’t want to go too fast. This
was after 3 months and only contacting me during business hours.” Anger crept
into her tone. “He and his buddies must have gotten a huge laugh out of keeping
me on the hook. I’ve decided it’s the law of diminishing returns and the pain
and humiliation now far outweigh the rewards. I’m done.”

Corey sniffed. “Excuse me, you told me you had a great
dinner with my cousin, Mel.”

Liz laughed. “My dear, Corey, your cousin Mel admired my
shoes and my purse, discussed faux painting with me and got the waiter’s phone
number before we left the restaurant. Don’t tell me your gay-dar didn’t pick
him up.”

Corey smiled and shrugged his shoulders. “I know, I know.
Aunt Hilda’s gonna die when she finds out.”

Corey sat down, putting his arm around her shoulders. “Look,
you’re too great to be alone the rest of your life. And I think you just got
your notice to get out the red dress for party time.”

“Tell you what, you introduce me to him, we’ll have met, the
psychic will have been right and life can go on,” said Liz. “Thank you for the
gift. I was highly entertained. End of story.”

Millie scowled at her. “That’s a shitty attitude. He might
be interested in you. What if he walked over here right now and asked you out?”

Liz snapped at her, “I’d wonder what the hell was wrong with
him that he’d think he couldn’t do better than me. Millie, take a good look at
the woman he’s with. Now look at me. Can you honestly see that man preferring
this to that? I sure as hell can’t. I told you, I’m done.” She worked the mitt
some more, frustration giving added strength to her fingers.

The Bad News Barristers and the Liti-Gators were warming up
on opposite sides of the ball field. Each side, while paying attention to its
own activity, was watching the other surreptitiously. While the Gators were
going easy and slow, the Barristers were throwing hard, especially, noted Liz,
Tyrone Hadley. There was a set, hard look to his face as he hurled the ball.
His partner grunted and yelled, “Jesus, Ty! Ease up, will ya?” Liz had an idea
and motioned Millie in for a conference.