Bad Games - By Jeff Menapace Page 0,38
Cristal chilling comfortably at the cabin as we speak.”
Amy opened her eyes. “What?”
“Oh yes. Your man can be quite the devious fellow.”
Amy leaned to her left and planted a big one on the side of Patrick’s mouth. “I love Cristal,” she said.
“I know you do.”
“What about our little moon-lit stroll around the lake?” she asked.
“We can do that after.”
“After what?”
“After the champagne and…”
Amy looked at her husband with an accusatory, albeit playful eye. “The champagne and…?”
“Well, honey, if the champagne happens to puts you in a certain mood, then I can’t be held responsible for that, can I?”
Amy laughed. “You are absolutely shameless.”
Patrick shrugged. “Cozy cabin in the woods? Cristal waiting for us? Kids occupied with good friends? Call me the world’s biggest perv if you must, but I’m just lookin’ to engage in some hardcore lovin’ with my sexy wife as often as humanly possible.”
“Big perv…” And then, leaning to her left once more, she pressed her lips to his ear, kissed and licked the lobe. Whispered, “But you’re forgiven.”
Patrick stomped the accelerator.
25
Lois Blocker had just finished packing away the kitchen. Her husband Maury was making the rounds throughout the cabin’s interior to ensure nothing would be left behind when they left for the winter. Unlike many other residents who were often gone after Labor Day, the couple enjoyed the bracing months of October and November at Crescent Lake. This year, however, the Blockers were leaving early. And for good reason: their children had surprised them with a trip to the Virgin Islands. Just the two of them. Late autumn at the lake was indeed an enjoyable tradition, but sipping margaritas on a sandy white beach in St. Croix sounded pretty darn good too.
“You sure you want to leave tonight?” Lois asked when Maury joined her in the kitchen.
Maury pushed his rimless glasses further up onto his nose and brushed a hand through his thinning gray hair. “Are you forgetting the sandy paradise that awaits us?”
“I mean tonight—this late.”
“I’ve already switched the heat and water off, sweetheart. Might as well just get going.”
“But it’s dark now. I don’t like you driving at night.”
He stood behind her at the sink and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Would you rather drive?” he smiled, reaching around and tapping her glasses, far thicker than his.
She turned and faced him. “Wise guy. I’d rather neither of us drove.”
He brushed a strand of salt and pepper hair out her face. “I want to get home; I’d like to get settled in and unpacked before we start having to re-pack for St. Croix.”
She patted him on the butt. “You know darn well that we’ll both be in bed as soon as we get home. There’s nothing that can’t wait until morning.”
“But if we leave in the morning we won’t be home until noon.”
“Oh and I suppose that means our whole day will be shot?” She kissed him. “Come on, honey, you can leave the water off; just switch the heat back on and we can have a good night’s sleep, start bright and early tomorrow.”
He groaned.
She kissed him again. “Perhaps I’ll make tonight worth your while.”
He pulled his head away and feigned shock. “Lois Blocker! Act your age.”
She giggled. “This is the new millennium, dear husband. Sixty-five is the new forty, you know.”
He smiled. “I am indeed a lucky man.”
“I’ll tell you what; you go switch the heat back on. I’ll be in the bedroom to see if I can’t…set the mood.” She winked.
“Believe me, you’ve already set it.”
She patted his butt again. “Go on. I’ll be waiting.”
“Did I say I wanted to leave tonight? I don’t know what I could have been thinking.”
* * *
Lois had initially intended on attacking her husband the second he walked through their bedroom door. She was wearing the silk nightgown she knew he loved so much and had been giddy with anticipation. But he was taking longer than expected. She now sat on the corner of the bed, her legs crossed, palm bracing her chin. She looked at the clock on the nightstand. He’d been gone twenty minutes. Switching the heat back on should have taken no more than five, ten tops.
“Maury?”
No answer.
She stood, walked to the door, called his name again.
Nothing.
Had he taken a spill in the cellar? She was worried now. She pinched the lapels of her gown together and went to the closet to get her slippers. When she turned around Maury was at the door.
“There you are. I was getting worried.”
Maury was pale.
“Maury?”
Maury flew