They’re out of town, said Edie Marsh. They asked me to watch the place.
And you are … ?
A cousin, Edie replied, knowing she looked about as Latin as Goldie Hawn.
As soon as the neighbor left, Edie hurried into the house and stationed herself in Tony’s recliner. She turned up the radio and laid the crowbar within arm’s reach. When darkness came, the hammering and sawing stopped, and the noises of the neighborhood changed to bawling babies, scratchy radios and slamming doors. Edie began worrying about looters and rapists and the unknown predator that had slurped poor Donald and Maria like Tic Tacs. By the time Fred Dove showed up, she was a basket of nerves.
The insurance man brought a corsage of gardenias. Like he was picking her up for the prom!
Edie Marsh said, “You can’t be serious.”
“What’s wrong? I couldn’t find roses.”
“Fred, I can’t stay here anymore. Get me a room.”
“Everything’s going to be fine. Look, I brought wine.”
“Fred?”
“And scented candles.”
“Yo,Fred!”
“What?”
Edie steered him to a soggy sofa and sat him down. “Fred, this is business, not romance.”
He looked hurt.
“Sweetie,” she said, “we had sexual intercourse exactly one time. Don’t worry, there’s every chance in the world we’ll do it again. But it isn’t love and it isn’t passion. It’s a financial partnership.”
The insurance man said, “You seduced me.”
“Of course I did. And you were fantastic.”
As Fred Dove’s ego reinflated, his posture improved.
“But no more flowers,” Edie scolded, “and no more wine. Just get me a room at the damn Ramada, OK?”
The insurance man solemnly agreed. “First thing tomorrow.”
“Look at this place, honey. No roof. No glass in the windows. It’s not a house, it’s a damn cabana!”
“You’re right, Edie, you can’t stay here. I’ll rejigger the expense account.”
She rolled her eyes. “Fred, don’t be so anal. We’re about to rip off your employer for a hundred and forty-one thousand bucks, and you’re pitching a hissy fit over a sixty-dollar motel room. Think about it.”
“Please don’t get angry.”
“You’ve got the claim papers?”
“Right here.”
After scanning the figures, Edie Marsh felt better. She plucked the gardenias from the corsage and arranged them in a coffeepot, which was full of lukewarm rainwater. She opened the bottle of Chablis, and they toasted to a successful venture. After four glasses, Edie felt comfortable enough to ask what the insurance man planned to do with his cut of the money.
“Buy a boat,” Fred Dove said, “and sail to Bimini.”
“What about wifey?”
“Who?” said Fred Dove. They laughed together. Then he asked Edie Marsh how she was going to spend her seventy-one grand.
“Hyannis Port,” she said, without elaboration.
Later, when the Chablis was gone, Edie dragged a dry mattress into the living room, turned off the lightbulb and lit one of Fred Dove’s candles, which smelled like malted milk. As Edie took off her clothes, she heard Fred groping inside his briefcase for a rubber. He tore the foil with his teeth and pressed the package into her hand.
Even when she was sober, condoms made Edie laugh. When drunk she found them downright hilarious, the silliest contraptions imaginable. For tonight Fred Dove had boldly chosen a red one, and Edie was no help whatsoever in putting it on. Neither, for that matter, was Fred. Edie’s tittering had pretty well shattered the mood, undoing all the good work of the wine.
Flat on his back, the insurance man turned his head away. Edie Marsh slapped his legs apart and knelt between them. “Don’t you quit on me,” she scolded. “Pay attention, sweetie. Come on.” Firmly she took hold of him.
“Could you just-?”
“No.” It was always bad form to giggle in the middle of a blow job, and Fred Dove was the sort who’d never recover, emotionally. “Focus,” she instructed him. “Remember hbw good it was last night.”
Edie had gotten the condom partially deployed when she heard the electric generator cut off. Out of fuel, she figured. It could wait; Fred Jr was showing signs of life.
She heard a soft click, and suddenly the insurance man’s festively crowned penis was illuminated in a circle of bright light. Edie Marsh let go and sat upright. Fred