No, but I'm hopeful

No, but I'm hopeful

I'm Jason McKenzie, 32 years old, graduated from high school when I was 18, had my first piece of ass when I was... well, never mind, that doesn't matter, and I never went to college. Why? I started bussing tables in a restaurant when I was 16 and I'm still at that same restaurant; only now I'm the manager. It's the only job I've ever had.

It's a nice restaurant and the owner, Benjamin (Benjy) Wright, lets me do pretty much what I please; that's partly because he's rarely here. He spends a lot of time bouncing between this restaurant and his other three and traveling. He travels, he says, to sample wines from all over the world so he can serve them in his restaurants. My restaurant is the smallest and in the smallest city.

I'd been the manager for almost three years. I had an assistant manager who had been here the same. In fact, he was hired to replace me when I replaced the last manager. As manager, I don't work nights... okay, that isn't true; I don't generally work late nights. I usually get to the restaurant around 10 in the morning and leave around eight in the evening. The assistant manager, Gabe Paulus, gets to work at six in the evening and works until the place is empty, cleaned, and ready for the next day. That's usually around one or two in the morning.

We don't have any Michelin Stars, but we serve a good meal at a fair price and the owner prides himself on his wine selection. Our wine prices range from $24 to $268 a bottle. We sell very few of the latter.

We also have a piano player on Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday evenings. We include Wednesday's because it's our slowest night of the week and it seems to help bring in diners.

We are open for lunch and dinner and have lots of repeat customers who generally seem to have favorite times to come. We had one couple who came every Wednesday. They came to eat and dance. The gentleman never had more than two cocktails or two glasses of wine during the course of the evening, and his wife never more than one. "She's a cheap date," he said more than once. "It's not that I'm a cheap date," she would counter, "it's just that I have a very low tolerance for alcohol and more than one drink makes me totally and uncontrollably, drunk".

Their names were Louise and Sidney Thompson. They were a couple of years older than I, and taught at our local university. He taught History and she taught English Literature; not that it matters.

I knew this about them because every evening before I leave for home, I walk through the restaurant doing my 'meet and greet'. The Thompsons had been regulars for almost four years and, as both assistant manager and manager, I would usually take a little time to chat with them and others. They always left good tips for their servers and I would occasionally 'comp' their meals. On those occasions, they were particularly generous with their tips.

Another thing I sensed about them was that one, or both, had money.

Louise and Sidney had an aura of quality about them. To my knowledge, I didn't know any other college professors and if everything I'd heard about how underpaid they were was true, the Thompsons weren't living on professorial incomes. I would occasionally hear them talk about vacations they had taken or wanted to take. Hers invariably involved ocean voyages. Apparently, she and her whole family loved them and cruised as often as they could.

Another thing I noticed about Louise was she didn't like being teased. I witnessed it on a couple of occasions when Sid would tease her about some small thing.

"If you know she hates it, why do you do it?" I asked him once.

"I can't help it," he laughed. "I know she's going to be pissed, but it's like a moth being drawn to a flame. I know it's potentially fatal, but I can't resist it."

I laughed and went on about my business.

I really like my job, but it has a major disadvantage: working until eight or later every evening except Sunday and Monday has eliminated any meaningful social life for me. I've had dates and managed to get laid occasionally, but it has not been nearly as often as I would like. I've thought about changing jobs, but I don't know how to do anything else. As I've already mentioned, this is the only job I've ever had.

I do get four weeks of annual vacation and I use them to attain my principal goal for vacations and that is to get laid as often as I can and I'm not necessarily particular about the age, ethnicity, social status, or wealth of my partner. The only requirements are that she be available, willing, and a happy, joyful participant in the activity and absolutely NOT an employee or customer.

Needless to say, I mostly live a life of celibacy.

Then they stopped coming and it was It was three months before I saw one of the Thompson's again and it was on a Thursday, not the regular Wednesday, and it was Louise, alone. I am careful when I approach a customer to chat. I try to do it after they've ordered their meal or just after they've finished eating and are just sitting, relaxed, and enjoying an after-dinner drink or music on those evenings we have it. But that evening, Louise was just picking at her food and seemed off in 'lala land', so I stopped.

"Good evening," I started, "we've missed you."

She smiled. "Good evening, Jason."

"You've barely touched your food. Is something wrong with it."

"Oh, no, it's great as usual. I'm just a bit off tonight."

"Where's Sid?"

"I don't know. We're separated."

"Really?" I hesitated. "Would you like to talk about it?" I had no reason to think she did. After all, I worked in a restaurant she occasionally frequented; I didn't even consider myself a friend, much less someone she would bare her soul to.

"It's okay, but thank you. I'll be fine."

With that, I finished my meet and greet, said good night to Gabe, and went home.

Over the next several weeks, Louise came in more and more often and our chats got longer and longer. So long and frequent that Gabe told me that the staff was beginning to talk about it. "Not in a bad way, Jase." He and most others called me Jase instead of Jason. "They think it's cute." And he laughed.

"Cute? What do you mean cute?"

"They just think maybe you and she should date... or something..."

"Something? What kind of something?" I wasn't sure I liked the idea of the staff talking about me like that.

"Come on, Jase. Everyone likes you and thinks you deserve......"

I didn't let him finish. "Stop. Let them know that I am perfectly content. Now, good night. I'm going home."

I didn't hear any more about what the staff thought, but every time Louise came in, someone came to my office to make sure I knew it. After several weeks of that, she asked if she could talk. I sat at her table and she told me that she and Sid were getting a divorce. He apparently had a gambling addiction and it reached a point that he couldn't, or wouldn't stop. So, she gave him a choice; stop or get out. She came home one day and he and his stuff were gone. She told me the only thing he left was his collection of wine. "He liked wine, only I was never sure if it was actually the wine or its' cost," she said. They had a relatively large collection and she had no idea why he left it. "He could sell it and have more money for gambling."

One Wednesday evening, she came in relatively early. The piano player had just started. She and I chatted for a few minutes and I went to my office. It was just after eight and I put on my suitcoat. I started to find Gabe to tell him I was leaving. I was met by one of the servers who told me Louise was drunk and couldn't stand, so she was sitting with her head on her table. Just then Gabe came up.

"Want me to call her a cab?" He asked.

"No, hell, I was just leaving. I'll take her home. Get her keys from her purse and put her car in our lot. It will be off the street."

"How will I know which car.....?"

"Push the red button on her key fob," I said.

"Crap," he said. "I should have thought of that..."

I laughed. "Maybe you should be waiting on tables instead on being manager."

He laughed. "Maybe I should. I wouldn't have to work as hard and I'd make more money."

He helped me get Louise to her feet. I started for the back entrance with her while he went out the front. It was one of the very rare times we've ever had to help a customer out of the restaurant so we were the center of attention. It was drizzling slightly as I got her to my car and I heard a horn on the street going beep beep beep, so I assumed Gabe found her car.

He parked it next to mine, put her keys in her purse and handed it to me. "You might need this," he said.

In my car and out of the drizzle. I opened her purse, got her wallet, took her drivers license out, found her address and put it in my GPS. My car was six years old and I hadn't used the GPS more than a dozen times. I started to put her license and wallet back in her purse, but she started to moan and fell against the door. I put her license in my suitcoat handkerchief pocket and pulled her back to a sitting position not bothering with her seatbelt.

The voice in my GPS got me to her house and the only surprise was that it wasn't in a gated community. It was on the lakefront in one of the oldest and nicest areas of the city. Every year the residents on that street went all-out on their Christmas Decorations and the rest of us would drive through the neighborhood just to look at them.

I pulled into her driveway, took her keys, got out and tried until I found the one that opened her front door. I propped it open then went back for her. I opened her door and she literally fell out of the car and hit her head on the driveway.

I half carried, half dragged her to one of the two sofas in her livingroom, lay her on it, put her purse on the floor beside her, walked out, closed her door, made sure it locked, and went home.

The next morning on my desk was a phone with a note. "This was on the floor under the drunk lady's table."

I waited for her to call, but she didn't that first day, but she did the next.

"Jason," she said when I answered, "this is embarrassing, but is my car there?"

"It is. It's in our parking lot out back."

"Thank goodness." There was a pause. "I'm so embarrassed. That's only the third time in my life I've ever been drunk. I apologize for my conduct."

"It's fine. Everyone enjoyed the dance."

"Dance?" There was panic in her voice. "What dance?"

"It was fun. The piano player was in the middle of a slow song and you got up, stood beside the piano and started dancing."

"Oh, my God. How embarrassing. I don't remember that."

I laughed. That's because it didn't happen. I just made it up."

"Well, it wasn't very funny Mr. McKenzie, and I don't appreciate you making fun of me like that."

I had forgotten her not liking being teased. "I apologize. I just thought you might appreciate the humor."

"I don't see any humor, thank you. Good bye."

She never asked about her phone and I figured she was in no mood to talk to me, so I went to our bookkeeper. "Call the English Lit Department at the University and leave a message for Professor Thompson that we have her phone and she can pick it up anytime during regular hours. Then give it to Judy." Judy was our receptionist/greeter and knew most of our regular customers. "Tell her who it belongs to so she can give it to her when she comes in."

She came in my office the next day to tell me Louise hadn't called. "No problem. We'll hold on to it for a couple of days."

Judy came in my office the following day. "Mrs. Thompson wants to see you. She's waiting in the bar."

"You wanted to see me?" I asked.

"Yes. I want to know how I got home and thank whoever did it and how they knew where my house was. I also want to know if they know how I got this bruise on my head. Finally, I want you to know that I don't appreciate your inexcusable attempt at humor at my expense and that you won't see me in this establishment again."

Two can play the shitty attitude game. "I took you home. I used your driver's license to find your address. When I opened the car door for you to get out, you literally fell out of the car and hit your head on your driveway thereby, I assume, causing your bruise. There is no need to thank me. I would do the same for any other customer in a drunken stupor. And speaking of your driver's license, I inadvertently left it in another pocket and is at my home. I will see that it is delivered to you as soon as possible. Just let Judy know if you prefer it be sent to your home or the University. As far as you coming back here, that is your decision, but don't let my 'inexcusable attempt at humor' reflect in any way on the good reputation of 'this establishment'. Good day.

"Jason, I..." I never let her finish.

Less than an hour later, Judy told me that Louise had called and said that I could bring her license to her house anytime the next day. Bring it my ass! The next day, I brought her license to the restaurant, called a service, had them pick it up to deliver. "Let me know when it's been delivered." I hated paying to have it delivered, but it was my fault for forgetting it. They called two hours later to tell me she had it.

I took one of my four weeks of vacation. Upon my return, I found that Louise had called twice wanting to speak with me.

She came in on my first day back. I was doing my meet and greet and saw her giving her order to her server. I visited other tables and ignored hers. Her server came in my office just before eight. "Mrs. Thompson just ordered her third drink and has barely touched her food. She is in bad shape. What should I do?"

"Don't give her any more to drink. Ask Gabe....."I didn't finish.

"Ask Gabe what?" Asked Gabe as he came in chuckling. "Ask me to take her home? Not on your life, boss." He only called me 'boss' when he was being funny or sarcastic. "She just made it perfectly clear that you and you alone would take her home."

"Well, screw her. I'm going home."

"Okay," he said, "but come see this before you go."

I followed him to her table. "Come on, Mrs. Thompson. We have a cab waiting for you."

She tried to cross her arms and strike a stubborn 'I'm not moving pose', but she was too drunk for it to be believable. "Not until Jason gets here. He'll take me home."

"But he isn't here."

"Then call him. Tell him it's me and I'm sorry. He'll come so I can apologize."

Gabe was looking at me and smiling. "Goddamnit. Put her in my car." He was still laughing when he parked her car in our lot and tossed me her keys.

"Have fun," he said as I got in my car.

The routine at her house was the same until I put her on the sofa and she immediately rolled over and tossed her cookies on the floor before rolling off the sofa onto the floor with her face in the vomit. She started coughing and choking. I couldn't just leave her like that so I picked her up and her face was covered with it so I carried her in the direction of where I thought her bedroom might be. It wasn't difficult to find. The ensuite door was open so I took her in and sat her on the commode. I thought about putting her in the shower, but decided against it so I took off her blouse and started cleaning her. She was wearing a light blue very lacy, very attractive bra and her flesh was trying it's best to burst out of it.

The battle of good and evil was taking place in my mind. Evil telling me to take her bra off so I could clean her properly. Good telling me to do what I could the way she was.

Good won.

I cleaned her as well as I could, left her blouse in the sink, put her back on the sofa, left the vomit on the floor for her to take care of, and went home. In bed that night, I fell asleep with images of flesh trying to escape the confines of a lacy blue bra. I decided that I needed to get laid.

I called one of the few girls I dated and slept with. "You must be desperate, coming right out and asking for a fuck date," she laughed, "but you're in luck because I'm probably just as horny as you are." I took two days off and she and I never put clothes on the entire time.

Three days after I had my two-day sex session, Judy knocked on my door. "There's someone to see you." She tried very hard to keep from smiling. She moved aside and Louise was there.

"May I come in?" she asked.

I stood and reached for my suitcoat, but stopped. "Of course." I indicated she should sit. She put her purse on my desk and sat. Then I did. "What can I do for you?"

"You can accept my apology. I've acted like a fool and for no reason."

I looked at her. "Apology accepted."

"Good. Now tell me what happened the last time you took me home and how did I end up with my bra off?" Bra? Her bra wasn't off when I left. "Ooops. Sorry. I mean my blouse."

Why I did what I did next is one of the mysteries of my life. I knew it was trouble as soon as the thought entered my head, but there was no way to stop it. I remembered what Sidney told me when I asked him why he kept teasing her when he knew it was going to cost him. "I can't help it. I know she's going to be pissed, but it's like a moth being drawn to a flame. I know it's potentially fatal, but I can't resist.", but I didn't care. I had to say it. "What do you mean? Your blouse wasn't off when I left."

"Then I must have taken it off."

"You were completely passed out when I left and in no condition to move much less undress yourself." There. I said it. Now all I had to do was sit back, watch, and wait for her reaction.

"Oh my God." She jumped up. "That asshole Sidney must have done it. He knows he can't come in the house. I'll see that his ass is put in jail." That didn't go the way I thought it would and I couldn't let him take the fall, so I told her the truth. She just glared at me for a moment then reached for her purse turned slowly and left.

I sat there for several minutes not knowing if some sort of contest had just taken place and if I had won or lost. Whatever happened, it was over.

I neither saw nor heard from her for two weeks. When I did, it was in the form of a bottle of wine. Not just any bottle of wine, but a bottle of 1967 Chateau Lafite-Rothschild, which I knew for a fact was worth in the neighborhood of $1000. We had never really discussed wine other than once when Sid and I talked about it. The 1967 she sent was a Bordeaux which was not one of my favorites. I was more of a Cab guy, but could never afford anything like she sent. I remembered her telling me that when he left, he left their wine collection so, most likely, all she did was grab a bottle, not knowing what it was or how much it cost, and send it to me.

There was a note. "Jason, please accept this and my second apology. Call me when the bottle is empty. I have more. Louise."

I put the wine in our wine cellar with a note that it wasn't for sale.

After two weeks of me not calling her, she called me. "Did you enjoy the wine?" She asked. "But more importantly, have you accepted my apology?"

"Yes to the latter. As to the former, I put it in storage. It might be too rich for my blood."

"Then why don't you come to my house and find a bottle closer to your taste." I didn't say anything. "Jason, I'm sorry. I did what I always do. I over reacted. I'm trying to change, but I need help. Your help. I'd like for us to develop a nicer, hopefully closer, relationship."

That started a dating cycle. We dated several times and she was fully accepting of my schedule. She even said that for the next semester, she would make sure all of her classes were in the afternoon so we could be together in the late evenings and mornings.

She was a fun date. We never had sex, but her divorce was not final, so there was that.

She called me in early November. "When I need to clear my head or do some serious thinking, I go on a cruise. In fact, my whole family enjoys cruising." I had heard about her family's penchant for cruising. "I was thinking that maybe you'd like to go on a cruise."