A tall and slender woman stood on the shore of a crystal sea. The woman appeared to be young, no more than twenty-five, but she had been alive longer than any man. She was a Siren, and she was immortal.
>>She stood beneath a cloudless sky, wearing nothing at all; her long blonde hair ran halfway down her bare back. After a long day of sweltering heat, she dipped her toes in the salt water, and pressed her heels into the wet, white sand. The cool sand felt soothing to her feet.
>>The Siren’s eyes were blue, as bright as the azure sky above her. She squinted her eyes as she looked at the Sun, feeling the warmth of its rays as it slowly sank in the sky. Soon it would turn the horizon red. Then the night would come, and she would be lonely.
>>The Grecian beauty turned and walked several yards back from the shore. She sat on a silver chair, and adjusted her hair so her long locks hung halfway down her chest, partially covering her breasts. Then she placed her fingers on the strings of a golden harp, and played a heavenly melody. She sang in a language not known to any man, but if any man had heard it, he would have been enchanted instantly.
>>The Siren felt a mystical connection to the crystal sea; it had been her constant companion for countless centuries. As she played her mysterious song, she remembered the many sea captains who sailed by her island, staring at her as she stood naked on the sand. Some of those captains abandoned their ships to rescue her. Those captains were never seen again.
>>When the Siren finished singing, she returned to the water’s edge, and walked to a depth just above her waist. She took a deep breath, then stepped further, raising her hands above her head in a wide V. As her breasts dipped below the surface, she did not swim, but sang a new song, and kept on walking until she disappeared entirely from view.

******

Lucy Bigg arrived at 8:59am for her Monday morning class and sat down in the front row. Lucy was twenty-two, five-foot-four, with short blonde hair, and bright green eyes. She closed her eyes and began to drift away, but not from lack of sleep.
>>The Professor walked in two minutes later, set a stack of papers on his lectern, and stared at the class of thirty students. He rolled his eyes around in circles like a circus clown. The Professor was Alex Forbes, a jolly man with the joy of Santa, and he had the white hair and a belly like jelly to match.
>>A young man with sandy hair that was slicked back with grease shouted to him from the back row: “Sir, are we going to get our tests back this morning?”
>>Mr. Forbes moved his eyes from side to side, and then around in circles again. He let out a loud laugh that was like a river of euphoria. It swept over the room and was so contagious that the rest of the class caught it like the common cold. Several students laughed and snorted so hard they fell off their chairs. The whole room was filled with a tornado of mirth for more than a minute.
>>Then, Mr. Forbes suddenly stopped laughing, and he became serious, like a face on a totem pole. He opened the lecture by reading a passage from Clarissa by Samuel Richardson. He was teaching a course on 18th century novels.
>>As the Professor read the passage, Lucy opened her eyes. She drifted into a daydream, staring blankly into space, and didn’t hear a word he said. In her reverie, she was walking with her boyfriend in a field of tulips. Her boyfriend was six-feet-tall, dark-haired, and handsome. In fact, so handsome that he was voted in a newspaper poll as the sexiest guy alive in Loaferville.
>>Lucy stopped walking, grabbed both of her beaux’s hands, looked into his deep blue eyes, and was awestruck at how much of a hunk he was. He looked like a man on the cover of GQ magazine. His enchanting eyes, engaging smile, five-o’clock shadow, and perfect build caused her heart to skip a beat.
>>Lucy took a deep breath and asked him the most important question of her life: “Bob, will you marry me?”
>>Bob’s jaw dropped four inches down his neck. He opened his eyes wide and shouted: “Abso-frakkin-lutely, Lucy!”
>>Lucy kissed him and jumped for joy. Bob looked up to heaven with a big grin.
>>At that moment, Lucy returned to reality. The Professor was snapping his fingers in front of her face. Everyone in the class was laughing because he had been snapping them for nearly a minute. Lucy turned red with embarrassment.

******

Bob stood before a door. Behind that door was his boss, Mr. Butt, a man he always dreaded to meet with. But there was no escape for Bob. He had been summoned, and he knew he had no choice but to face the mean man. He knocked three times, his heart fluttering with fear.
>>“Who is it?” Mr. Butt said from within, irritated at being interrupted.
>>“It’s me, Sir,” Bob said with a frog in his throat.
>>Bob opened the door and sat on a wooden chair across from a big black desk. He was wearing a white, French-cuff dress shirt and navy pants, his armpits dripping like a maple tree tap in spring. He placed his sweaty palms on his knees.
>>Seated behind the desk was Mr. Butt, a middle-aged man with a receding hairline, and a rapidly expanding waistline. He was a big man with a belly like a minor planet, a perfect sphere from drinking five-hundred beers a year. Some of the buttons on his white dress shirt appeared ready to pop.
>>Mr. Butt didn’t look up when Bob entered his office. The company President was captivated, making complex calculations with his calculator. Bob waited patiently for the fat man to finish.
>>Mr. Butt was the founder of Thorne, Horne, and Butt, the largest accounting firm in Loaferville. Like Bob, he had dark-brown hair and stood six-feet-tall. Unlike Bob, Mr. Butt was not handsome, although he might have been when he was Bob’s age nearly thirty years ago.
>>Bob fidgeted in his seat for what seemed like five minutes. He wondered if his boss forgot that he was there, so he made a little cough.
>>Mr. Butt looked up. “Oh, Allen, it’s you,” he said with a sigh.
>>“Actually, I don’t like being called Allen anymore, Sir.”
>>“Oh, right. I forgot.”
>>“My voice mail says Bob A. Hule now.”
>>Mr. Butt stared at Bob and cracked a smile. “Bob A. Hule. Yes, it suits you perfectly.”
>>“Thanks for letting me leave early on Friday. I had a fantastic weekend. I went to the coast with . . . a lovely lady.”
>>Mr. Butt looked back down at his calculator. “I thought you had a migraine headache. How did you drive?”
>>Bob gulped. “She drove actually. My headache only lasted three hours.”
>>“Did you tell Agatha to deduct a half-day from your sick leave allowance?”
>>“No, I haven’t, Sir, but I will.”
>>Mr. Butt finished his calculations, then looked across his desk with an icy stare. “Let me get straight to the point with you, Bob. Do you still want to be the managing partner in Varsity?”
>>“Oh, yes. Definitely!” Bob said enthusiastically. “I’ve wanted to be a partner in this firm since the first day I started.”
>>“Do you understand what is required to assume that position?”
>>“Me? I can handle any position, Sir,” Bob said with a smirk. “I’m a man who has what it takes.”
>>Mr. Butt didn’t like the look on Bob’s face. “Then why aren’t you doing it?” he asked sternly.
>>Bob’s smile turned upside down. “What ever do you mean, Sir?”
>>Mr. Butt slapped his right hand on the desk. Bob was so startled, his butt lifted two inches off his chair.
>>“You get here at ten to eight every morning. That’s good. You barely take a lunch break. I like that. But at five o’clock on the nose, zip, you’re out the door. You’ve got to work the extra hours it takes to prove you want that promotion.”
>>Bob felt the accusation was unfair. “But I read at home every night, Sir. For at least an hour . . . sometimes two, or even three.”
>>“I’m glad to hear that,” Mr. Butt said sternly. “Studying at home is a basic requirement for all our employees.”
>>Bob was baffled. “So what’s the problem then?”
>>“The problem?” Mr. Butt opened his mouth so wide, the gold crowns on his back teeth were in full display. “The problem . . . is there hasn’t been any additional output in your performance! If you want to advance your career, you should follow my example, and work a couple of extra hours like I do each day.”
>>“I’m sorry, Sir,” Bob said meekly. “Lucy, my fiance-- she really wants me to spend time with her.”
>>“That’s not my concern,” Mr. Butt said, cold as ice. “What concerns me is your duty to the company.”
>>Bob nodded like a good Boy Scout. “Absolutely, Sir. I understand duty.” He nodded again. “Totally.”
>>“So what are you going to do about it?”
>>“I’ll put in more time. Right away, boss.”
>>“I didn’t ask you to put in more time.”
>>Bob scratched his head. “You didn’t?”
>>“No. You have to choose to do that on your own. I have nothing to do with your decision.”
>>“I understand, Sir.”
>>“Understand we never had this conversation.”
>>“I won’t remember anything you just said, Sir.”
>>Mr. Butt looked down at his calculator. “You can go now.”
>>“Will do,” Bob said, standing to his feet. He turned, tripped over his chair, and his chin hit the floor.
>>Mr. Butt looked down at the fallen man, and smiled for the second time. “I hope that girl doesn’t distract you from your most important priorities.”
>>“No, I’ve been balancing . . . them very well,” Bob said, rubbing his carpet-burned chin. “Lucy is a real beauty. I love everything about her.”
>>“Yes, I’m sure you do,” Mr. Butt said, not believing him one bit. “Marnie’s best friend is Brenda Bigg. You’ve made one hell of a financial move if you can marry into that family. Victor is rich.”
>>Bob was filled with bliss. “Yes, I know. I’m so in love.”
>>“Yes, well . . . aren’t we’re all . . . with something,” Mr. Butt said under his breath. He returned to his calculator. “I’ve got lots of work to do, Bob. Can you do one thing for me?”
>>“Sir, you just name it. I’m your man.” Bob stood to his feet like a soldier standing ready.
>>“Get out of my office and get back to work!”
>>Bob rushed out of the room like a rat, gently closed the door, and bolted down the hall. When he was about to enter the little boy’s room, he suddenly stopped, and turned his head ninety degrees. His Don Juan radar had been activated.
>>The most gorgeous woman Bob had ever seen stood smiling at him at the end of the hall. He knew dozens of beautiful women, but this one topped them all. She was tall, slender, had long blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and wore a peach-floral strapless dress.
>>The Siren began to sing in a language Bob had never heard before. Although he didn’t understand a word she said, the song mesmerized his mind. He stared at the stunning Siren, enthralled not only by her beauty, but even more by her voice. He walked toward her like a man in a trance, but when he was five feet away, she suddenly vanished. He squinted, rubbed his eyes, and smacked his forehead, but she was gone like a ghost. Then he remembered the reason he had been running down the hall, and bolted back to the little boy’s room.

******

Bob had only been inside his stall thirty seconds when two of his co-workers walked into the washroom. They laughed like teenagers when they heard the loud sound of flatulence that went on and on like a wild winter wind. But after two minutes, the winds of Bob ceased, and the toilet finally flushed.
>>Bob left feeling much better, and weighing a pound or two less. When he entered the hallway, he collided with Bill Gune, a fellow tax accountant in the firm. Bill was six-foot-two, pencil-thin, had curly brown hair, and was pushing forty.
>>“In trouble with the Boss again?” Bill asked.
>>Bob showed no sign of being shaken. “No, not at all. Everything’s fine, man. Couldn’t be better.”
>>“I heard you’ve been going in there a lot lately.” Bill wanted to know everything about everybody. “What were you two talking about?”
>>“Oh, nothing major,” Bob said, acting cool. “He just had a few questions to ask me. In fact, he needed my advice.”
>>Bill felt envious. “Really, eh? I wish he’d ask me . . . Hey, have you heard the latest?”
>>“No -- what?”
>>Bill covered his mouth with one hand. “A little birdie told me Thorn, Horne, and Butt is for sale.”
>>Bob had no interest in Bill’s rumours. They were usually wrong. But he decided to play along.
>>“Oh, yeah? Who told you that?”
>>Bill looked around to make sure no one was within earshot. “My source is Agatha,” he said as if he had just sold her out.
>>“Don’t believe a thing Agatha tells you, Bill. The woman has no clue. Butt-head would never sell this firm. He’s making too much moola.”
>>“I don’t know,” Bill said, confident that the rumour was true. “Someone else in the office . . . heard the boss on a telephone call.” Bill nodded his head up and down like a kid wanting candy.
>>“You pay too much attention to office gossip, man.”
>>“Fine,” Bill said, feeling slighted. “I won’t tell you any other rumours I heard.”
>>“That’s fine by me. I gotta get back to work.”
>>Bill took a deep breath. “Yeah, me too. I’ve got a huge pile of files on my desk. I’ll be here late tonight -- again.”
>>“You’re always working late, Bill. Why do you do that?”
>>“Hey, I don’t mind. I love my job. Besides, I got nothing else to do.”
>>“You need to get a life. Get a girlfriend . . . or something.”
>>“Yeah, I know, but I’ve never been too lucky with the ladies. I need to start going to the gym like you do.”
>>“Yes, you do Bill. Yes, you do. You’ll never meet the woman of your dreams until you build your body.”
>>Even though Bill was ten years older, he looked up to Bob as if he were his big brother. “I wish I had your charms, man.”
>>Bob smiled proudly. “Doesn’t every man alive? Seven years straight! Winner of the Loaferville Sexiest Man Alive Trophy.”
>>Bob pulled back his sleeves and showed off his large biceps. Bill stared in awe at the strength of his hero.

******

A tall, gorgeous brunette in her late twenties sat down at a mahogany desk. Her name was Agatha Blahst, and she was employed by Thorn, Horn, and Butt as a receptionist and switchboard operator. The telephone rang. She answered it on the first ring.
>>“Good morning, Thorn, Horn, and Butt. How may I direct your call?”
>>A woman with a French accent said: “Yes, I am looking for Bob Hule, please.”
>>“Who may I say is calling?”
>>“Genevieve.”
>>“One moment please.” Agatha put the call through. Then she took a mirror out of her purse and put on red lipstick.
>>One minute later, the telephone rang. Agatha answered it on the second ring. “Good morning, Thorn, Horn, and Butt. How may I direct your call?”
>>A woman with a Russian accent said: “I must speak to Bobby the Hule -- immediately.”
>>“Who may I say is calling?”
>>“Tatyana.”
>>Agatha connected her call. Then she pulled a copy of Hello Magazine out of her desk drawer and started reading it.
>>Two minutes later, the telephone rang again. Agatha answered it on the third ring.
“Good morning, Thorn, Horn, and Butt. How may I direct your call?”
>>“Bobby Hule, please.”
>>“Who may I say is calling?”
>>A woman with a Newfie accent said: “Martha, eh. How much does he pay?”
>>“One moment please.” Agatha put the call through. Then she took a mirror and a brush out of her purse and worked on her hair.
>>Two minutes later, the telephone rang. Agatha answered it on the fourth ring. “Good morning, Thorn, Horn, and Butt. How may I direct your call?”
>>A woman with a Chinese accent said: “Yes, I can I talk to Bob Allen Hule. Please.”
“Who may I say is calling?”
>>“Noo Dee.”
>>Agatha rolled her eyes and transferred her to Bob. Then she read several pages of her magazine.
>>One minute later, the telephone rang. Agatha answered it immediately. “Good morning, Thorn, Horn, and Butt. How may I direct your call?”
>>A woman with a German accent said: “That handsome studhausen, Bob A. Hule.”
>>“Who may I say is calling?”
>>“Adalwolfa.”
>>Agatha waited a moment, clenched her fist, then put the call through. She tried reading her magazine, but couldn’t concentrate, and threw it at the wall.
>>One minute went by. Agatha was grinding her teeth. She couldn’t hold back her anger any longer. She got up from her chair and walked into Bob’s office. He had his feet up on his desk and was eating a pickle.
>>“Bob, I just put through calls for you from five different women!”
>>“Thanks! You do your job well.”
>>“Who the Hell are they?”
>>“Um, new clients I’ve recruited.”
>>“New clients? They all had sultry voices.”
>>“Everybody pays, taxes, Agatha. Everybody pays -- even actresses.”
>>Agatha frowned. “I hope they aren’t competing with me.”
>>“Don’t be so insecure, Aggie. You’re my number-one!”
>>Agatha smiled, turned on one foot, and went back to her desk.

******

A young man walked the short driveway to Agatha’s townhouse and knocked on the door. James Thwarp was twenty-four, five-foot-six, and wore horn-rimmed glasses with lenses thick as binoculars. His sandy brown hair was slicked back with grease. He rubbed his thumbs together, then knocked again.
>>When Agatha opened the door, a black cat stepped out between her feet, rubbed against James’ leg and purred. James looked down, then stared into Agatha’s eyes, and stomped on the cat’s tail. The cat shrieked a shrill meow and ran off.
>>“Oh, Angel, my poor kitty,” Agatha said in shock. “My poor baby!”
>>James acted like it was an accident. “Sorry, Agatha, I, I . . .”
>>“God! You’re such a clutz, James!” Agatha yelled. “Do you have my money?”
>>“I’ve got five hundred.”
>>James opened his wallet and pulled out a wad of fifties. Agatha snatched the bills out of his hand, nearly tearing them in two. “That’ll do. I’ll pay you back as quick as I can.”
>>“You were a little late paying back your last loan,” James said, feeling used by her.
>>“James, secretaries like me are very underpaid for the work that we do.”
>>“Just don’t think I have barrels of money to lend you.”
>>“Oh, I think our little arrangement makes my loan worth your while,” Agatha said with a sly smile.
>>James looked around to make sure no one was nearby. “Uh, let’s keep that . . . a secret, OK?” he said softly.
>>“Oh, of course.” Agatha pinched his arm. “I always keep secrets.”
>>James pulled his arm back. “I think you give them away as fast as you’re told them.”
>>“Whatever, James,” Agatha scoffed. “You’d better get going.”
>>“But . . . I thought you wanted to see me.”
>>Agatha shook the five hundred in her hand. “I wanted to see you so you could lend me this money.”
>>“Yeah, but why do I have to go now?” James felt rejected. “I thought maybe I’d -- you know, hang out with you for a while.”
>>“No, Lucy is coming over, and I -- don’t want her to see you here.”
>>“Why? Are you ashamed of me?”
>>“No, not really. But if she sees you in my house . . .”
>>“What?” James felt insulted, and it made him mad.
>>“Well, you know how rumours get started.”
>>James walked away. “Fine then. I’ll leave!”
>>As he got in his Ford Festiva, Agatha reminded him: “Pick me up at seven tonight for the costume party. Don’t forget!”
>>James turned to face her. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be on time. Don’t forget you still owe me five more dates after tonight.”
>>Agatha sighed. “Yes, I’ll do . . . my duty for you.”

******

On a sunny Saturday morning a young woman stood outside a yellow bungalow house, looking through the living room window. The woman was Russian, and she had red hair that ran past her shoulders. She gasped: “Oh, my God!” then fainted on the front lawn.
>>A Chinese woman walked into the yard, saw the Russian woman on the grass and ran to her. She put two fingers on her neck to see if she had a pulse. The woman was alive. The Chinese woman was relieved.
>>She stood to her feet, and her attention was arrested by someone moving inside the house. She looked through the living room window and gasped: “Oh, my God!” then fainted on the front lawn. She fell on top of the Russian woman.
>>A woman with long black hair walked into the yard and saw the two women laying on top of each other. She hurried to them, and put her hand an inch from their mouths to see if they were both breathing. Then she stood to her feet and saw someone inside the house.
>>A man was running around the living room, wearing nothing but red Speedo swimming trunks. He had a hairy chest like a Sasquatch and bulging muscles that could out-match any monster. He was the sexiest man she had ever seen. He turned in half circles, then suddenly stopped, and flexed his muscles like a body builder in a competition. He smiled at her flirtatiously.
>>With a French accent, the woman gasped: “Oh, my God!” and then fainted face-down on top of the two women on the lawn.
>>A German woman in her late thirties with spiked blonde hair walked into the yard and stared in shock at the three women dog-piled on top of each other. She knelt down beside them, dialed 911 on her cell phone, but her battery went dead.
>>She looked up, and saw a man moving inside the house. She stared at him through the living room window, put one hand on her heart, and gasped. Then she fainted flat on her back on the grass.
>>Bob saw the woman go down. He hurried to the door, stepped outside, and stared at the stack of ladies on the lawn. “A lot of women have fallen for me over the years, but this is ridiculous.”

******

At eight o’clock in the morning, Lucy left her father’s house, and waited on the doorstep. The sky was filled with dark clouds, and above the roof of the Tudor house, a flock of crows were flying in circles, as if in preparation for an attack.
>>Lucy’s father, Victor Bigg, appeared in the open door with a cup of tea in one hand. He was a handsome, silver-haired man in his early sixties. His smile was debonair, but in his eyes he looked dangerous.
>>“Thanks for staying over last night, Lucy. I appreciate the company with your mother out of town. Why don’t you come over more often?”
>>“I’m sorry. I’m so busy with school.”
>>“How are things -- with that jerk, Bob?”
>>Lucy grimaced. “Bob is not a jerk!”
>>“I’m sorry. How are things with that man who looks like a jerk, who acts like a jerk, but who really isn’t one?”
>>Lucy glared at her father. “Why can’t you accept him?”
>>“Because you are the daughter of a six-million-dollar man, and I believe your boyfriend is a gold digger. There’s still time to change your mind and call this off.”
>>“I will never change my mind! I love him, Daddy.”
>>Lucy turned from her father and ran to her BMW parked in the driveway. Her father followed after her, but as he stepped on the lawn, the black crows above his house changed their position, and expelled their waste on him.
>>Victor looked up and turned red with rage. “Death is coming, you damn birds!”
>>Lucy got in her car, started the ignition, burned black rubber on the pavement, and sped away.
>>Victor hurried into the house and got his shotgun from the rack above his bed. He ran back to the front step and shot a crow out of the sky. When it fell dead on the grass, he laughed.

******

Agatha stepped out of the shower, toweled herself dry, slipped on a white T-shirt, and a pair of white boxer shorts with black stripes. Then she wrapped a red towel around her head like a turban and darted out the door.
>>Lucy was sitting on a red love seat in the living room. Agatha plopped herself down on the black leather sofa opposite her friend. A pot of Earl Gray tea was set between them on a small table. Angel was curled up in the corner of the living room, licking her wounded tail.
>>“And that’s all he said to you?” Agatha asked with astonishment.
>>“Yes, isn’t it strange?” Lucy looked unsettled. “Agatha, I really appreciate you letting me come over to talk about this.”
>>“Don’t worry about it,” Agatha said, flapping her hand. “My hair can wait until later.”
“What time do you have to go to work today?”
>>“I called in sick, so we can talk as long as you like.”
>>Lucy hesitated for a moment. “I’m not sure if Bob loves me anymore,” she said sadly.
>>Agatha’s eyes narrowed. “Really? Why would you think that?”
>>“He’s never relaxed when we’re together.”
>>“Maybe he has something important on his mind,” Agatha said, trying to reassure her friend. “Have you asked him?”
>>“Yes, and he says . . . everything is fine.”
>>“Oh, girl,” Agatha said, making light of Lucy’s concern. “He’s probably just stressed out from work.”
>>“Agatha, I think he’s hiding something from me.”
>>Agatha got up from the sofa, sat next to Lucy on the love seat, and wrapped one arm around her. “Lucy, my dear,” she said, squeezing her shoulder to shoulder. “Don’t be paranoid.”
>>“We rarely spend any time together.” Lucy put her head in her hands. “He’s always working late, or studying some tax manual.”
>>“Bob’s a busy man. He has a heavy work load. That’s why he gets paid the big bucks.”
>>“Yes, but this is usually the slow time of year. Tax season doesn’t start until January . . . Agatha, I think he’s cheating on me.”
>>“Lucy,” Agatha said, wiping a tear from her cheek. “If you don’t trust him now, how will you trust him when you get married?”
>>“I think he’s only marrying me because Daddy has lots of money. Once we get married, I’ll receive an advance on my inheritance -- almost half a million dollars.”
>>“Well, I’m sure many men would love you for that. But I know Bob wouldn’t.”
>>“Do you think Bob loves me?” Lucy asked, hoping Agatha was right.
>>“I’m sure he doesn’t love anyone else.”
>>“Does he ever say nice things about me?” Lucy’s face brightened a little, like the Sun trying to break through a black cloud.
>>“No, he’s never said a word about you.” The ray of hope in Lucy’s heart quickly faded. “But, Lucy,” Agatha added, seeing how her friend was affected by her words. “Bob and I aren’t great friends or anything. He doesn’t share the intimate details of his life with me. The more important question is -- do you love him?”
>>“Of course I do,” Lucy said, wondering why Agatha would even ask such a thing.
>>“But is he really the right man for you?”
>>“Oh, yes!” Lucy said, remembering the past. “The first few months of our relationship was like a fairy tale. He swept me off my feet and made me feel like a princess.” Her smile turned upside down. “But since our engagement party in August, things just haven’t been the same.”
>>“What are you going to do about it?” Agatha asked, hoping to find out if Lucy had a plan.
>>“I don’t know,” Lucy said despondently.
>>“Maybe you should delay the wedding.”
>>“Oh, Agatha! How could I? I’d be so ashamed. How could I face my father?”
>>“Victor doesn’t like Bob, does he?” Agatha already knew the answer to her question.
>>“No, not at all,” Lucy said, shaking her head. “I’ve fought so hard for Daddy to accept him. He thinks Bob’s a selfish and venal man who will do anything for a buck. If I tell him I’m not sure if Bob loves me, he’ll remind me how foolish I was for proposing to him.”
>>“But how would you face your father if you married Bob, he spent all your money, and then asked you for a divorce?”
>>“Do you think he would do such a thing?” Lucy looked terrified. “You doubt his love for me, too!”
>>“I didn’t say that,” Agatha said defensively.
>>“I’ve got to do something.” Lucy’s hands started to shake. “Deep down I just know he’s seeing someone else.”
>>“Why don’t you ask him to sign a prenuptial agreement?”
>>“No, no, I could never do that. I brought that idea up once, and he accused me of not loving him. I don’t want him to doubt my love for him.”
>>“I hope he hasn’t deceived you. Would you like another cup of tea?”
>>“No. Thank you though.” Lucy touched the back of her friend’s hand. “Please promise me you won’t tell anyone what I’ve told you.”
>>“Oh, Lucy! Why would I? You know you can trust me.”
>>“I know. You’re my best friend, Agatha. You’re the only person in my life I truly trust.”
>>“I’m so glad for our friendship.”
>>Lucy sprang up from the love seat. “I have to go.”
>>“You’ve decided something then?”
>>“Yes, I’m going to ask Bob if he’s seeing another woman.”
>>Agatha followed her friend to the door. “That’s very bold. I hope you get the answer you’re looking for.”
>>“I just hope I find out the truth . . . I’ll call you later, OK?”
>>“Yes, please do. But whatever happens, Lucy, I’m sure it will be for the best.”
>>“Yes, I hope so . . . Bye.”
>>As soon as Lucy was gone, Agatha ran like a rocket to the kitchen, and dialed a number on her wall-mounted phone. “Yes, extension 345 please.”
>>She fidgeted while waiting for her call to be connected.
>>“Hello, this is Bob.” He was sitting at his desk, doing nothing.
>>“We have to talk!” she shouted.
>>Bob pulled the phone back from his ear. “What about?”
>>“Lucy.”
>>“I don’t have time right now. I have a lot of work to do.”
>>“This is important.”
>>“What is it?”
>>“Lucy thinks you’re cheating on her.”
>>“What? Why would she think that?”
>>“I don’t know, but can you come over here at lunch to talk about it? We can practise our lines, too.”
>>“No, it’s too far. Meet me at my place at twelve.”
>>“OK. I’ll be there. I--”
>>Bob hung up before Agatha could say another word.

******

Agatha stood shivering outside the door to Bob’s house. The black cashmere sweater she was wearing wasn’t enough to keep her warm, and she felt the cold wind, deep in her bones. She pressed the buzzer a second time.
>>Inside the house, Bob sat at the top of the stairs, writing a letter, and ignored the buzzing as if it were a bee. When Agatha buzzed a third time, he slipped the letter into his pant pocket, trotted down the stairs, and opened the door. He craned his head and looked from left to right. When he was sure no one was watching, he grabbed Agatha by the wrist, and yanked her inside.
>>“Hello, my sexy director!” Agatha said with a smile. She tried to give him a hug, but he pushed her back.
>>“What’s going on with Lucy?” Bob said in a huff. “Mr. Butt-head hates it when I take off early.”
>>“She’s going to confront you today.”
>>Bob looked nervous. “She doesn’t know what we’re doing, does she?”
>>“No, but she thinks you’re seeing someone.”
>>“Wh, wh . . .” Bob stuttered. “Why would she think that?”
>>“Well, you have been a little busy lately with your beautiful S-T-A-R,” Agatha said, spelling out the word. She wrapped her arms around his neck.
>>Bob broke free from her embrace. “Don’t touch me. This is serious.”
>>“Relax,” Agatha said calmly. “There’s nothing to worry about.”
>>“What do I say to her?”
>>“Just deny it.”
>>Bob scoffed at her suggestion. “And that will solve her doubts?”
>>“Tell her you love her then. Show her some affection.”
>>“You think that will convince her?”
>>“I’m sure it will. Just try to act sincere.”
>>“Oh, God -- I hope she doesn’t break up with me.”
>>“Bob, you said you’d divorce her once you drain her bank accounts. If she dumps you, it’s not the end of the world. It’s only money.”
>>“Yes . . . I guess,” Bob said softly.
>>“Then what’s the problem?”
>>“I never thought she would doubt my love for her. What if she finds out?”
>>“She won’t.”
>>“I hope not.” Bob closed his eyes, fearing the worst.
>>“And what if she does? You’ll still have me, your number-one.”
>>“There’s much more at stake here, Agatha.”
>>“Like what?” Agatha barked.
>>“I’ll, uh, lose credibility with the company,” Bob said weakly. “Mr. Butt-head and Victor are best buddies. I can’t let Lucy find out, or I, I . . . could get fired.”
>>Agatha flapped her hand. “Oh, don’t be silly. Mr. Butt would never do that. Your personal life is none of his business. Besides, Lucy is so naive. She’ll never figure it out.”
>>Bob took a deep breath. “I hope you’re right.”
>>They both turned their heads at the sound of the buzzer. Agatha looked through the eyehole.
>>“Who is it?” Bob whispered.
>>“Who do you think it is, stupid?”
>>Bob pulled Agatha from the door and looked for himself. “Why is she here this early? I’m not home from work until five.” He gave Agatha a shove on the shoulder. “Quick! Go hide in the backyard.”
>>Agatha scurried to the kitchen, opened the sliding door, and stepped outside. She sat on a black plastic chair and shivered in the cold October air.
>>Bob took a deep breath and opened the door with a big grin. “Hello, my darling!” he said, his face full of love.
>>Lucy was wearing a white winter coat. “Hi! I went to your office, but you were gone.”
>>“Yeah, I had a headache.” Bob rubbed his forehead. “The Boss told me to go home and lie down.”
>>Lucy closed the door and unzipped her coat. She was wearing a white cashmere sweater. “I have something important to ask you, Bob.”
>>Bob tried to look surprised. “Oh? What would that be, my dear?”
>>“I need to know if you love me.” Lucy’s eyes were like two magnets, pulling him in.
>>Bob squirmed in his shirt and felt itchy all over. “You know I love you,” he said, scratching the back of his hairy neck. “Why else would I agree to marry you?”
>>“I want to believe you love me, but I don’t think you do anymore.”
>>“What?” Bob blurted. “That’s crazy!” He scratched his itchy armpits like an ape.
>>“The last few weeks we haven’t spent much time together. You’re always busy studying tax manuals, or running off to an urgent meeting with Mr. Butt.”
>>“Things are really hectic at the office, dear.”
>>“But I thought this was the slow time of year.”
>>Bob lowered his voice. “Working extra hours increases the odds the Boss will promote me to Varsity. You understand that don’t you?”
>>“I guess. I . . .”
>>“Lucy, you want to move there just as much as I do,” Bob reminded her. “Don’t you want to get away from your over-controlling father?”
>>“Yes, but I feel neglected. We hardly see each other anymore.”
>>“Lucy, my pretty pigeon! I’ve been working very hard -- and it’s all for you.”
>>Bob reached to touch Lucy, but she stepped back. “Don’t lie to me,” she said sharply. “This is serious. I think you’re seeing another woman.” She stared into his eyes. “You are, aren’t you?”
>>“Oh, come on,” Bob laughed, as if the accusation were absurd. “Don’t be silly! There is no other lady in my life.”
>>“Tell me the truth,” Lucy said firmly, girding herself with what little strength she had left. “Are you in love with someone else?”
>>“No, of course not!” Bob declared. “I don’t love any other woman in the world. That’s the honest to God truth.”
>>Lucy was speechless. “Oh . . . I’m sorry,” she finally said, her voice cracking up. “I . . . I just had to ask you. I don’t feel loved.”
>>Bob gave Lucy a big bear hug, twirled her in a half-circle in the air, and then let her feet touch the floor. He stared at her up and down. “Lucy, you are like a flower that is fully in bloom. I love every single thing about you. In fact, you mean more to me than any woman I’ve ever known. Never doubt that.”
>>“OK. I’ll try not to,” Lucy said with tears in her eyes. “Will you promise not to work any longer than you have to?”
>>“For you, Lucy, I would do anything.”
>>“Let’s do something special tonight,” she said, stroking his hairy arm. “How about dinner at the Three Rivers Inn?”
>>“I can’t,” Bob said flatly.
>>Lucy pouted. “Why not?”
>>“I, uh, have to study some interpretation bulletins.”
>>“Let’s go to Burger Hell and get takeout then.”
>>“I can’t, I . . . um.” Bob’s brain went blank.
>>“Why not?”
>>“Because . . .” Bob froze. He had to think fast. “I’m having dinner with the Boss to discuss . . . a proposal.”
>>“Oh, I see,” Lucy said sadly. “Maybe I should go then.”
>>“I’m sorry, dear.” Bob put one hand on his forehead. “My headache . . . You know, I really should lie . . . down.”
>>“OK. Call me when you’re feeling better.”
>>“I will,” Bob promised. “Just remember . . . my self-sacrifice is all for Varsity . . . and all for you.”
>>Lucy opened the door to leave. “Take two Tylenol, OK?”
>>“Ibuprofen works much better, my dear!”
>>“Yes, you would know. Bye, my love,” Lucy said, blowing her fiance a kiss.
>>Bob caught the kiss and clenched it in his fist. Then he heard the sound of the sliding door in the kitchen being opened. “I’ll call you when . . . my pain has left me.”
>>Bob watched Lucy walk to her car, then shut the door, and closed his eyes, breathing a deep sigh of relief. Agatha tip-toed up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder.
>>“I’ve been working out the last two weeks. Do you want you to see how good I look?”
>>“Sure. Can I get the camera?”
>>“No, no. This is just for fun.”
>>Bob turned and watched her take off her black sweater. She was wearing a white sports bra.“Holy moley!” he said, looking at her hips. “I think you’ve gained ten pounds.” Agatha slapped him hard. “But I like it!”
>>Agatha put her sweater back on, then her shoes, and stomped on both of Bob’s feet. She opened the door and left. Bob fell on the floor, grunting like a pig in pain.

CONTINUED...