“Nothing
is as certain as death and taxes.”
(Meet
Joe Black)
The movie
dragged on about certainties in life: Paul Murray stifled a yawn and wondered
again how he had let Peggy drag him out to the movies. He was a busy man and
movies did not usually make his schedule unless the movie was a prelude to sex;
and in this case it was. Peggy was his regular girl- though he kept others on
the side whenever got bored of her. She was good enough for a laugh and in the
sack, but Paul always liked to keep his options open. Peggy Milsap sat to the
right of Paul in the darkened theatre, desperately trying to hold back the
tears as Brad Pitt steamed up the screen. Paul glanced at the tearful Peggy
then back to the screen to watch Mr. Pitt confess his love to another beauty
that one could actually conceive of dying for. Not that Paul would have died
for anything- or anyone for that matter. He certainly would not have died for
Peggy even though he believed he loved her, but only occasionally, in moments
of weakness. He was instantly grateful
he hadn’t married her, although he had nearly asked a year ago- another moment
like that. Paul knew that he would never dare marry Peggy or any other woman,
he could not afford such a character flaw in his life.
He stifled
another yawn wanting to look away from Brad and his all to beautiful partner
engaged in the love scene. He looked to his left at the couple, five or six
seats down, all snuggled together as they watched the movie. Disgusted, he
looked back at Peggy, wondering if he could stand such an entanglement. His
thoughts turned to why he thought they were still together. He found no reasons
intellectually, so he appraised her physically instead. Peggy for the most part was a plain woman in
appearance, slender and small. She had a round doll-like face with a narrow
nose and small mouth framed by straight black hair. Her mouth was sweet to kiss
but had left no lasting impression. On her thin nose rested a pair of
full-rimmed glasses, librarian size and shape. Peggy only wore them when she
went to movies and to read. She reads too much Paul thought, as his eyes
wondered on down. He glanced briefly at her slim arms which were crossed under
her breasts- the only feature that held much interest and longing for Paul.
Paul
admired Peggy’s breasts, which were pushing hard against her tee shirt. Her
nipples protruded against the flimsy bra that Paul made her wear when they went
out. Paul smiled, Peggy’s breasts were small and hard; he realized at that
moment, in the dark, that was why he stayed. Paul sat satisfied with this
newfound answer. A new feeling rolled over him and he looked back at his sole
reason for staying, something stirred deep down inside of his being. Paul
purred.
This
purring noise was deep “guttural” sound-like that of a lion looking at his next
meal. Peggy gave him a look of real surprise. Her face had reddened from her
tears and now a fresh blush came into her cheeks and she almost smiled. Her
smile froze on her face, like a tongue on frozen metal, as she saw where Paul’s
gaze was glued. Her frozen smile melted into a grimace of disgust, her arms
quickly cutting off his view.
“Paul!” she
hissed almost to loud to be a whisper.
“Paul!” she
repeated low but with sharper inflection.
Paul snapped out of his reverie
like a rubber band freshly sprung. He looked into her icy expression.
“Yes my
sweets?” He managed to choke out.
“Would you
get me a Pepsi” She quickly added, “diet please.”
“Okay
Honey.”
Paul
instantly felt a surge of relief to escape Brad Pitt. He secretly wished he
could escape Mr. Pitt forever. Paul rose quickly to his feet only to receive
hisses and muffled threats as he blocked the screen for the couples in the rows
behind.
Jerks! Paul
thought- Brad Pitt isn’t even in this scene, but he stooped anyway as he
sidestepped towards the aisle. Reaching the aisle, Paul quickly strode for the
lobby and certain freedom.
He was just
about to push through the doors when he nearly tripped over someone. Pivoting
as he stumbled, he stared into the frightened eyes of a woman.
It was Caitlin Marshall.
Paul
reached out and grabbed Caitlin’s left arm and yanked her towards him and the
doors. They both burst out into the spacious lobby of the theatre. Paul angrily
held onto her arm as he walked into the lobby as if he intended to throw her
out. Paul realized he wanted to.
A man in a
maroon blazer and tie spun around from the concession counter as the pair came
out.
“Just what
the Hell!” Paul began, turning on the woman.
“Is
everything okay?” A voice questioned over his shoulder.
How had he
gotten there so fast? Paul thought in frustration and a little fear.
“Would you
mind your own business.” Paul snarled without turning, still glaring at
Caitlin- who stood like a girl needing desperately to go to the bathroom.
“Are you
alright- Ma’am?” The manager said as he came around Paul’s blocking mass. He
immediately noticed Paul’s grip on Caitlin’s arm. He looked back at her face,
which was torn between embarrassment and pain. Caitlin opened her mouth to
speak, but Paul cut her off.
“She’s
fine. So why don’t you go away and sweep the floor.” Paul stopped; spittle ran
down his chin. Fear hit him hard as the manager turned on him.
The manager
stood half a head shorter than Paul, squared build and wore an expression like
that of an angry pitbull.
A lump rose
in Paul’s throat.
“This is my
theater, sir, and I was addressing the lady- who I am sure will be better when
you let go of her arm.” His voice was quiet, his tone deadly.
“Or?” Paul
was still determined to stand his ground.
“Or-“
continued the manager, bringing his clenched hands forward.
“I’ll dismantle you,” he said
smiling, “piece by piece.”
The
finality of the threat sunk into Paul who found him staring at the calluses on
the manager’s knuckles. He gulped for air like a man drowning, letting go of
Caitlin’s arm. He raised his arms defensively in front of him with his hands
spread wide.
“Oh,” he
breathed. “Sorry, didn’t mean to cause a scene.”
Paul
managed a feeble smile.
“Of course.
No harm- no foul.” The manager grinned. He turned to face Caitlin, who stood
less awkwardly, rubbing her arm.
“Steven A.
Lowe, Ma’am.” He extended his right hand. Caitlin took it feeling the security
in it. A profound look of gratitude came over her.
“Thanks.”
She said. “Caitlin Marshall.”
“If you
need anything else,” Steven said with a genuine smile, “I’ll be right over
there.”
He pointed
across the lobby to the concession stand. Caitlin nodded-the color coming back
into her cheeks. Steven turned to look at Paul, who stood palely in place.
“Behave.”
Steven said as he walked past Paul, in a tone low enough for Paul to think that
he was the only one who heard it. As Steven walked back to the concession stand,
he gave a shallow wave to the other employees to get back to work. Marcy, his
assistant manager, gave him thumbs up to show her approval of Steven’s actions.
Rabble,
Steven thought, wishing he had kept the policeman- security guard there for
weeknights. Rabble came on weeknights, and there always seemed to be trouble
when the rabble was here.
Steven
sighed and shook his head as he looked back at the couple. He wondered what a
woman like that would be doing with a man of that character. The man appeared
to be behaving. Steven looked at the beautiful woman trying to remember her
name.
