Playing Games

“That’s the problem…I really don’t know. After what I did…”

“Give it another shot. I mean, this gal is really lucky to have someone so considerate, someone who cares about her pleasure and fulfillment more than he does his own. And I’m betting she’ll be glad to have you back. Just make sure you take a little blue pill with you next time. Okay, sugar? Go on and knock on her door and tell her you want to give it another try.”

“WHAT WAS THAT?” Roxy asked Astrid on the next break. “I mean, he’s sending in the second string. Think the high and mighty Doctor Craig was listening? ‘Cause I’d sure like to hear what he has to say on the subject. Especially since it’s not me being off the wall for a change.”

“He’s in the queue. Just called in,” Astrid said. “And he was listening. In fact, he’s raring to go.”

Roxy smiled. “Should be interesting.”

“Twenty,” Doyle called. “And if you give me the last caller’s name, I’d be glad to stand in for him sometime when he needs that second string.”

“I’ll bet you would.” Roxy laughed. “You and every other guy listening tonight, except Doctor Craig, who wouldn’t even volunteer to stand in for himself.”

“Five, four, three…” Doyle gave her the cue to go.

“Well, Doctor Craig. Welcome back. You’re a little late, and I was beginning to think you were cheating on us, plying some other late-night talk show with your refutable advice.”

“Not a chance, Doctor. Not after what I just heard. Your callers need someone to set them straight—”

He sounds a little tired, she thought. Probably exhausted himself coming up with a response. “Straight? You mean after I bend them, Doctor?” She glanced at her dark-chocolate truffle. Someday she was going to make that man buy her a whole box of them!

“After you bend their ears with your refutable advice.”

“Come on, Doctor. Don’t hold back. Tell me what you really think.”

“I think, Valentine, that you wouldn’t be so excited with the prospect of a pinch-hitter if you were the one committed to the regular hitter. You know, committed as in love.”

Roxy leaned back in her chair and smiled at Astrid. “Sounds like you want to get into my personal life, Edward. Is that what you’re trying to do? Catch a little glimpse of Valentine at home…in the bedroom?”

“Believe me, over the months I’ve caught that glimpse, and I threw it back.”

Wow! Pretty peckish, even for him. Roxy scrunched her nose at Astrid, like she was smelling something bad. “You’re forgetting, my caller was the one who’d already come up with a solution to his problem. At least his problem in the sack. And while that might not work for you, it seems to be working for him.”

“If it’s working so well, then why did he call you?”

“Maybe because he wants some advice on how to set things right between them, sexually.”

“So you told him to go take a pill and all his sexual problems will be over.”

“He wants sex, Doctor Craig. That’s all he asked about. Sex. Not love everlasting or some other storybook fairy tale. He likes the gal, and he wants to know if he should try it with her again.”

“I know we come from completely different disciplines, but tell me, Valentine—would you let your man line you up with someone else if he couldn’t perform?”

Her man…if only. “You’re assuming I’d get myself involved with a man who couldn’t satisfy me, which is an incorrect assumption.” Actually none of them had satisfied her, and she didn’t mean in the physical sense. But that was none of his business. “In terms of an early relationship—mine, yours, my caller’s—you simply don’t know what will satisfy you. You have an idea what you’d like, what you’ve liked in the past, but when you’re clean-slating it with someone new, it’s always a great big question mark. My caller got to that great big question mark and unfortunately he turned it into a great big huge question mark, so I told him it’s worth taking another chance on. Simple as that. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

Roxy winked at Astrid, then continued. “Unless you’re burying your head in the sand, Edward, there are signals, hunches, tinglings telling you this is someone you want to pursue. And tinglings are the best indicators. The kind that start at your toes and don’t stop. Haven’t you ever met a woman and started tingling right away?”

She’d certainly started tingling the instant she saw Ned Proctor standing outside her door. Maybe even before that, when he was so grumpy on the phone. Or even before that, passing in the hall, or watching him through her peephole. Whatever the case, there had been tinglings. Strong ones. Still were when she thought about him.

“But your caller wasn’t talking about tinglings,” he countered.

“Wasn’t he? Something made him want to go back and try again, and it sure wasn’t good sex since he had to bring in the second string. And since you, Edward, are always the champion of hanging around, trying to work things out, which is what I told him to do, I don’t know how you could argue the point. Even though what my caller’s doing isn’t the way you’d do it…” Or the way she’d do it. “He deserves a do-over.” And she was betting Doctor Edward Craig had never, ever had a tingling or he’d know it was worth doing over.

“The way you’d do it, Valentine?”

Roxy leaned a little closer to the microphone. “The way I’d do it, Doctor Craig, is open to a whole lot of possibilities, many of which, I’m sure, you’ve never considered.” Possibilities she wouldn’t mind exploring with her not-so-handy handyman.

“Actually, the only one I consider is love, Valentine. That’s the only thing that comes with all those possibilities you talk about.”

Love? Well, that wasn’t one of her possibilities, no way, no how. But score one for him, anyway. When he was right he was right. Even though she’d never admit it. “You almost sound like a romantic, Doctor. But of course, I know better. You write books that espouse all that academic thinking, and your readers walk away, what? Happy? Enlightened? Glad their pockets are lighter by the cost of a book? Sorry, Doc. You’re still not ringing…or tingling my bell. And I’m sticking by what I said earlier. My caller needs to go back and try again. And take the pill with him, if that’s what it takes.”

“And I’m sticking by what I’ve said time and time again. You’ve skirted around the only truly important issue. But then, you always do, don’t you, Valentine?”

Doyle gave Roxy the slash-throat signal, then a five count into a commercial break. Good timing. The hard and fast rule for Edward Craig’s calls was that she always got the last word.

“What I skirt, Doctor, is being close-minded about issues my callers consider to be serious problems. That’s all we have time for tonight. Thanks for calling, again.” Then she was off. Truffle time!

“Whoa,” Astrid said, stepping into Roxy’s booth. “You two almost agreeing there?”

“Not agreeing,” Roxy argued.

“But getting pretty darn close. I mean, you guys were just a couple chapters off from being on the same page. Good thing you still managed to find a way to argue about it, because the last thing our listeners need is Valentine and Edward in bed together.”

“Yeah, like that’s going to happen. The guy’s a snore. The only thing in bed with him is a pillow.”

“But it was close, Rox. You know it.”

“So I agreed with him tonight…on some points. Big deal. And he was right…on some points. That caller needed a lot more than a little blue pill to fix his problems, but that’s all Valentine can do—hand out the snappy fixer-upper, which is not necessarily the best one.”

“Is this really about that caller?” Astrid asked. “Because you’re sounding more like Roxy than Val right now.”

Yeah, because she was Roxy right now. Roxy tingling over Ned. “Just tired.” And full of expectations and anticipations and not sure what to do with them. “Not my usual self, I guess.”

“Want me to stick in a rerun for the last half of the show so you can get out of here and go find your usual self?”

“Nope. I’m okay. Just pour me a root beer and I’ll do better next segment.” Roxy saw Doyle’s ten-second signal and asked Astrid, “What’s up next?”

“In a nutshell, big-time mamma’s boy, age forty-two. She’s seventy-five. He’s unmarried, two of them live together. He wants a life, she won’t let him have it, and don’t you dare tell him to take his balls back from her like you did last time one of them called, okay?”

She crossed her heart, grinning. “Promise.” And just when she thought she might have some fun. “Welcome to Midnight Special, sugar. I understand you have a little problem with your mother? So before we get started, let me just say one thing.” She really hated mamma’s boys. They were all whiners. Didn’t listen. Made excuses. Got defensive. Horrible on the ratings. Her listeners turned them off, went to get a snack, have sex, grab a beer, or all of the above. “Mamma needs a man, junior. Even at her age, she’s still got it in her. So you go out and find her one, ya hear? Find her one who will give her some good, hot mamma sex and I’ll guarantee she won’t be bothering you about whatever she bothers you about, and you’ll be able to go out and get some good, hot junior sex for yourself.”

She smiled at Astrid, giving her the thumbs-up. Val was back, all the way.

4

No 3:00 a.m. Cat-Nappin’ for Roxy

NIGHTS LIKE TONIGHT WERE made for the dumper, and Roxy didn’t dwell on the show once it was over and she was home. Done, finito, put to bed and that was it. Edward got all the points, damn him, she got none.

“Get Eddie off the brain,” she muttered, padding over to the peephole for the tenth time since she’d been home. “Time to think about you-know-who.” Except you-know-who wasn’t out there. Worse than that, he wasn’t in her apartment. So, to call him, or not to call? She wanted to. Wanted to really bad. That’s all she’d thought about all night. Probably one of the reasons why she’d hadn’t ripped apart the good Doctor Craig like she should have. But now that she was on the verge of calling Ned, she was actually nervous about going through with it. Nervous, indecisive, weak-willed, just plain chicken. Which was just totally bizarre because normally if she wanted it she went after it. And she wanted it, but her feet were lead. So were her fingers. Couldn’t dial the phone. Couldn’t go across the hall. Couldn’t even open the durn door so she could hang out in the entryway hoping he’d see her. Hi Ned. I’ve just been hanging out here in the doorway for thirteen hours hoping you’d notice me sooner or later. Go figure! No control issues here because she had no control.

“Well, no Twinkies for you tonight,” she said. It was the only decision she’d been able to make since she got home. That, and just giving it up for the night and going to bed. “Good place for us chickens, huh?” she said, plopping down in bed, and looking up at the window she’d superglued shut earlier. “Stupid. Really stu—”

“Rrrooww!”

“What the…” Roxy jumped straight up, looked around, saw the cat. It was in the corner of her bedroom, shredding the seat cushion in her rocking chair with its claws. “Who are you?” she asked, not sure whether to get up and toss the cat out, risking the same fate as her cushion, or simply let it continue wreaking its havoc undisturbed. “Kitty, tell me. What am I supposed to do here? What’s the protocol?”

The cat merely glared at her for a moment, then turned tail and lay down, apparently intent on spending the night where it was.

“You have a home, cat?” she asked. “Someone I should call?” Like it would answer her. “I’ll bet someone’s really missing you right now.” Missing it, like missing a toothache. “So why don’t you run along home.” Cats were supposed to be sweet and cuddly. This one had goblin eyes that glowed pure, luminescent evil in the dark. “Home, you know, the place where people feed you. Where people actually like you.”

No clues on where that was, but suddenly, inspiration hit, and she wanted to kiss the kitty for it…almost. “And I know just how to find out where that is,” she said, picking up her bedside phone. Ah, the lead fingers suddenly work. Punching the numbers she’d memorized the first time she’d dialed them, she was prepared for a ten-ring wait, but amazingly, Ned picked up on the second.

“Yeah, what do you want?” he said, his voice a little gruffer than she remembered his 3:00 a.m. voice to be last time.

“It’s about a cat.”

“Pet deposit’s five hundred bucks,” he snapped. “Write a check, leave it under the office door in the morning.”

“I don’t have a cat, but somebody does, somebody who’s missing one. So do you know who’s missing one? And what should I do about the one who broke into my apartment?”

“I suppose you want me to come over there at…”

“Three-oh-three,” Roxy supplied, smiling. Providence was also smiling a little, it seemed. Serendipity in the form of one cranky cat.

“Three-oh-three…and figure out where the cat belongs. Is that correct, Mizzz Rose?”

So he remembered her voice. Promising…very promising. “You have a list of pet owners in the building, don’t you? This one’s such a sweet little kitty, and I’m sure somebody’s heartbroken over losing him.” Sweet as straight lemon juice with a vinegar chaser. With claws! “And while you’re here, I have this window that sticks. Maybe you could bring your tools.”

And come without your shirt. She glanced at the irritated feline, its claws extended a good two feet and envisioned the cat scratches the beast could rake all over Ned’s chest. “Better wear your shirt,” she said grudgingly. Damn that cat, anyway.

TWO HOURS’ SLEEP. It bit through some of the exhaustion, but barely took care of the beer buzz. Well, Ned, it’s what you wanted.

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