Ate Gets Her Man

By 7:15 Friday night Kathryn was a wreck. Sophie the seventeen-year-old high school senior from four doors down had come to babysit Tommy. Dennis Morgan was due at 7:30 and Kate's dress was too short. It was the simple black dress she had purchased just after her marriage some eight years before. It was too tight and too short. Why did she think it would fit after eight years?

She was almost twenty pounds heavier. Sure it was all muscle, but the dress hugged her body like a second skin. And it was a good five inches above her knees. It used to be a comfortable five inches when she was twenty-one. Now she was twenty- nine and the dress made her look like a tramp. But she had deliberately worn her four-inch pumps. She didn't wear heels because they made her too tall. The expensive, high fashion heels had been an uncomfortable extravagance intended to make her ex-husband happy on their honeymoon. Their purpose this evening was different. She wanted to look down on Dennis Morgan. Intimidate him, and make him feel inferior.

She feared all she had accomplished was to make herself seem desperate. It was - after all - the first time she had been out with a man in six years, and she was nervous. At exactly 7:30 Denny showed up. She was out the door before he could stroll up the front walk.

"Wow!" he said.

"You got a problem, Mr. Morgan?" she asked.

"No, no, it's just WOW," he said.

"It is not attractive to go about with your mouth open," she said.

Denny shut his mouth but walked past her toward her front door.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"To say hello to your son and tell him when I expect to bring his mother home."

Before she could stop him, Denny rang the doorbell. It was Tommy, not Sophie who answered.

"Hello, you must be Tommy," Denny said.

"Yes," Tommy said in a small shy voice not quite expecting someone like Denny to be at the door.

"Hi I'm taking your mother out for dinner and maybe a dance or two after, but I intend to have her back by midnight if that is alright with you," Denny said.

"I guess," Tommy said.

Denny then held out his hand and Tommy shook it, relaxing as he did. By this time, Sophie had come to the door.

"Hi Denny," Sophie said, a big smile breaking her face as she ushered Tommy back into the house.

"Was that necessary?" Kate asked.

"Yes, as I hear his mother dating is a new experience for him. I wanted to make him as comfortable as possible."

Denny walked over and opened the Honda passenger door. She had to step up to get in, a bit of a trick in the heels. Her skirt rode up as she did. Denny was transfixed. He closed the door and hurried around to the driver's side.

When he got in, he tried to settle himself behind the wheel, but he was compelled to speak.

"You are so beautiful," he said.

"Oh, please," she said.

But the sincere way he said it got to her she had to harden her heart and remind herself how deceitful this man was.

"I have to say your choice of transportation leaves something to be desired," she said.

"Ok, so there are no misunderstandings. I have a lot of property, but I'm normally cash poor. I have no credit rating because, well just because. So I drive the car I can afford. I was saving to buy a Mercedes, but it cost $75,000 and at the last minute something came up."

"Sorry, I am really not that shallow. We are going out on a date so I am going to try and put my claws away and be a civilized human being. So, starting over, thank you for being on time," she said. "And thanks for taking the time to put my son at ease. You are right, this is new to him and it made him a bit nervous. More than you know, because his father is coming to visit tomorrow for the weekend, and he is very excited and on edge."

The explanation about the car set her back a bit and reminded her that there were things missing from the financial disclosure. But why cash poor? Everything Morgan claims to own was cash-generating. Bars are a cash business, so are rental properties, and his beer business should be producing income. So where did it all go?

Denny drove them to Belle Claire on the Southeast side of town. As restaurants go, it was both popular and ultra-expensive. As the name suggested, it had a French cuisine, or in this case French Canadian. Its owner-chef was Charles Trudeau. Charlie, as he is now known.

The parking lot was not paved. Negotiating it in four-inch spiked heels was difficult. Kathryn once again cursed the thought that made her think the heels were a good idea. Denny was not intimidated by her need to lean on him to get across the gravel lot. She felt his masculine strength and her physical reaction to it felt almost like a craving. She knew, where men were concerned she was an addict always on the verge of a slip.

Entering the magnificent Victorian building with its twin turrets she walked a little easier, but could feel the exaggerated sway of her hips brought on by the shoes.

"Yes the shoes were a bad idea," she thought.

They walked up to the entry lectern manned by a cute little pixy of a woman with shoulder-length blond hair. The shoulders were bare beneath the hair. The hostess' dark blue dress was strapless and form-fitting.

The hostess smiled and said, "Hi Denny, so nice to see you. Got your table ready."

The hostess then proceeded to step back and step down off the box she had been standing on. If she was still standing four foot nine, it was only because she was in six-inch heels. She was a perfectly formed little human being, and as she led them through the large main room of the restaurant Kathryn had to suppress an urge to run the other way. Kate felt like an alien creature as she towered over the hostess and her own date. She swore that she would never again wear heels.

As Denny followed the two women, he suppressed a smile as much as he could. He had forgotten just how small Trish, who worked the hostess station was. It wasn't just the height difference. Kate's ass was making a circuit like an errant pendulum on a Grandfather clock. "God the woman has curves," he thought.

Kate gladly slipped into the chair that Trish pulled out as they reached the table. It was only seated that she realized they had been placed in the center of a wide room. The main dining room was created from most of what had been the first floor of the Victorian house. It was a superb architectural accomplishment eliminating almost all the interior walls of the building for replacement with supports that seemed to rise organically from the floor.

Kathryn was center stage with no place to go. Every pair of eyes in the room on her, watching her, appraising her, and no doubt judging her.

"A quiet, intimate meal he'd said. The lying SOB," she thought. But she said, "What a nice little restaurant, can't think why I have never been here before."

Denny smiled, playing the game right back. "Yes, a quiet family-run place."

"And here I thought it was the most expensive restaurant in the northern tier," she said.

The waitress made her appearance at that moment.

"Evening Denny, and you Sergeant Keenan," said the waitress, whose name tag declared she was Nicole.

"Evening Nicky," Denny said.

Nicole passed Kate a menu, saying "The special tonight is the Beef Bourgogne Montreal. I highly recommend it."

At that moment, the sommelier and a busboy came with a wine bucket and stand.

The Sommelier held up a bottle of Champagne. "2002 Mr. Morgan, compliments of Mr. Dodge," he said, nodding his head toward a gentleman several tables over.

Denny waived and then excused himself to say hello to Mr. Alan Dodge, president of Tyler County Bank and Trust.

"I suggest you order. Knowing Denny, he will be making the rounds for a bit," Nicole said.

"Fine, I will have the special," Kate said.

"Good choice. Tell Denny he is having the same," Nicole said.

The Champagne poured and the dinner ordered, Kate tried to relax, but it was difficult with the feeling that everyone was staring at her.

Nicole returned with a bread basket containing what looked like fresh baked French bread. She brought butter and olive oil poured generously into a dish with rosemary.

"You know by morning every single woman in town will hate you," Nicole whispered in Kate's ear.

"It's just a one-time thing," Kate whispered back

"Sure, and that is why you came dressed to kill," Nicole said. Then smiled, shook her head, and walked away.

Kate tried to reassess her actions. She was dressed in her best, wearing a pair of come-fuck-me pumps. She needed to get a grip, put this evening back on an investigative footing. She was wavering like an alcoholic holding a tumbler of scotch.

Denny worked the room filled with the elite of Tyler County like a professional politician. He was pumping hands and slapping backs. No wonder Frank Simons was nearly beaten by him.

A tall, barrel-chested man a good forty pounds overweight appeared, dressed the way you expect every good Chef to look even though they so rarely do. Kate judged his age to be late forties or a bit older. "Good evening Mademoiselle, and thank you for gracing my modest restaurant with your presence," he said on approaching a seated Kate.

He did not wait for an invitation but sat down in the seat that Denny had vacated.

"I'm afraid your date may be a while, but I expect you know how politicians are," he said.

"I didn't actually realize that Mr. Morgan fell into that category," she said.

"But, of course, he is the standard bearer of the persistent if not loyal opposition," Charlie Trudeau said, laughing with pleasure at his own humor.

"I'm trying to understand him," Kate said.

"Good luck to you Mademoiselle, it would be like understanding the Mountains or the Forest. The Morgans are a rare group not driven by standard values. It takes time to understand them," he said.

"So do you understand Dennis Morgan?" she asked.

"No, but like romancing a beautiful woman, it is time well spent no matter the outcome," he said with a warm smile.

"What a charming man," Kate thought.

She could well believe the story of the circumstances that brought him south.

Charlie was a forty-year-old sous-chef in Montreal when he met a young black woman attending McGill University. Her name was Claire, the daughter of two New York State prison guards.

Claire was only twenty when she met Charles Trudeau. She was a better athlete than a student and a country girl at heart, having been raised in Dannemora, New York. Her sport was cross country skiing, but she also did downhill. She was a black woman who had never dated a black boy until she came to Montreal because where she was raised there weren't any, or none her parents would permit her to date.

At McGill, Claire was very popular, but one night at a University function she met the man running the catering crew for the evening festivities. Charlie was picking up some extra work, trying to save enough to start his own restaurant. This was a dream he had been working on for two years longer than Claire had been alive.

Claire saw him, spoke to him, and decided this was her man. She was fed up with the University, stupid boys who tried to rip your pants off, and city life. Before Charlie knew what hit him he was the husband of a mixed race woman and the owner- chef of a restaurant in Northern New York.

Charlie looked at Kate as he refilled her glass with Champagne, "Now you are wondering if what people say is true," he said.

"Ok, did Dennis Morgan build this place?" she asked.

Charlie pursed his lips, "His money...his architect. My wife's supervision and management, but they did let me have some say over the kitchen," a smile breaking his very Gaelic face.

At that moment Denny returned.

"I leave my chair empty and you fill it," Denny said.

"You leave a stunningly beautiful woman alone in the establishment of a Frenchman and you expect to find her alone when you return?" Charlie asked, shaking his head in disapproval.

Charlie rose and bowed gracefully. "Mademoiselle, it has been a distinct pleasure, but, unfortunately, my duty lies in the kitchen. So I must leave you to this philistine," he said, taking his leave.

Denny sat down and Kate did not give him a chance to slip away again.

"Well Mr. Morgan, are you ready to confess," she said.

"Yes," he said, "I committed a very serious crime and it has been weighing on my conscience.

She was startled and then he gave a wicked smile and she knew he was having her on.

"Oh, and that was?" she said.

"About two and a half years ago I was running for DA and about a month before election day I received a poll that showed the election very close. So in clear violation of the campaign finance laws I donated money without disclosing it, over twenty-five thousand dollars," he said.

Kate thought a moment about what he said and then it hit her.

"You are the most devious, duplicitous snake of a man I have ever known. Not only did you get me here under false pretenses, but you have poor Frank Simons beating himself up over ads that you ran against yourself," she said.

"Now you're not being fair. Frank is a good DA. Maybe not a great candidate, but a good man and a good DA. He deserved to win. What could I do? I only let my name go on the ballot because I was sure no one would pick me over Frank. It was too late to withdraw. I certainly couldn't afford to win. So I cheated," he said.

"To lose! You threw the election."

"Keep your voice down. We don't want to embarrass Frank do we?"

She could only sigh and shake her head.

"I assume you have some excuse for what you did to your wife and her lover."

"Now there you go again, accusing me of a crime I could not have committed."

"Oh, you did it. I know you did it and I will never stop. There is no way you can stop me, Mr. Morgan."

"Denny, everyone calls me Denny."

"Let me make this clear. I am not your friend. You are a criminal and I am an officer of the law. It is my duty to pursue you," she said.

"And how's that working out for you," he said pouring her more Champagne.

She took a big swig from her glass.

"This is very good," she said momentarily distracted.

"Yes the Dom is always good, but the 2005 Rouget we are having with the main course is to die for," he said, "The wine cellar is Charlie's pride and joy. It's not just a matter of money although it did cost a pretty penny. It's that skill Charlie has in knowing what to buy and when."

"You like wine," she said.

"Not particularly, but Claire - that's the cook, Charlie's wife - has tried to teach me, She says only fat old white men drink beer and like it."

"Well, she's right. I love wine. But I will not let you get me drunk," she said.

"Agreed. You drink only what you want. This is my chance to get to know you," he said.

"No this is your chance to man up and take responsibility for your actions," she said.

"Please be reasonable. You have no case. No physical evidence tying me to the crime. I was in a room full of people at the time, and if you are claiming that I somehow slipped away, how would I know when and where to go? Do you think they called me up and said 'Here we are, come assault us'? So Sergeant, you have only motive. Or you did until you walked into this room with me, wearing that dress," he said.

"So my dress is a bit tight," she said.

"Drink your champagne and consider every man in town has been lusting after you for years. No one has gotten to first base. Now here I am dining with you. I could give Desi a big kiss for the favor she has done me. First she takes a ski bum to bed and then she accuses me of assault. A charge that everyone will now believe my new girlfriend saved me from." He said this with a broad smile dancing on his face.

"No one will believe that. I fought to get you prosecuted. I saw the DA for that very purpose," she said

He only laughed.

"That fellow who ran all those nasty commercials against me? He certainly would have proceeded with any case at all. But he had no evidence. Everything you collected proved clean. You did a great job keeping me out of jail," he said.

"But people will know—"

"The gossip will be fabulous. Oh look here's our dinner," he said.

Nicole arrived with the plates filled with Beef Bourgogne. The Sommelier was next with the Rouget as red as rubies, and poured it into glasses shimmering in the restaurant's amber light. It gave Kate time to think. Would people believe that she was his girl before the attack? No one who really knew her, but how many had speculated that she was a lesbian? Now they could tell themselves, 'See, she was dating a married man on the sly.' He was right - the gossip would be so attractive.

"You are such a snake," she said.

"Are you always this sore a loser? "

"I'm not a sore loser."

"Really, I know nothing about you and you know everything about me."

"Humph, I doubt anyone knows anything about you. You're so completely deceptive I doubt you know yourself."

"Well humor me, tell me about Kathryn Keenan," he said.

The wine was extraordinary and it loosened her tongue. She found herself telling him everything. He was a good and sympathetic listener. She told him all the gory details. She hid them from others, but they came out under his prodding. It was almost as if he knew already, for he seemed to prompt her just where he needed to.

"It's so humiliating, isn't it, to be cheated on and abused? You go through it all by yourself. There never seems to be anyone who can understand the pain," he said.

"Yes," she said, noticing the wine was almost gone and Nicole was clearing the plates.

"The worst part is you still love the person who is causing you such pain and no one understands that. People seem to think you need to take action, as if it's all your fault," he said.

"You're powerless and you feel so worthless," she said.

"How about dessert, coffee, and then dancing," he said, trying to change the subject.

"Oh, I can't get home too late, my ex is coming in the morning to take Tommy out for the day. He hasn't seen him for almost a year," she said.

"Now Nicole will be quick with the order and just a few turns around the floor at the Driscol on Main Street and I will have you home before midnight. You never know, I may yet confess."

"I doubt that," she said, but put up no real protest. She was far too mellow. She was a big woman and could hold her drink, but she had a weakness for good wine and the wine had been very good indeed. 'He is a total fraud and the most duplicitous man I have ever known. Yet he is a good listener and has a strange attraction for me that I can't shake,' she thought

The coffee helped her sober up a bit, but when they got to Driscol's it was Karaoke night. It didn't bother Denny one bit, he dragged her out onto the small dance floor and pulled her in tight. He had a strong but gentle embrace.

Soon the half-drunk singers were singing love songs to them. Kate had her heels off, dancing in her bare feet with her head on Denny's shoulder. She knew what everyone would think. "I'm his girl," she thought

But she knew it wasn't true. This was just a night, a nice night. She'd had a pleasant meal and some good wine with a sexy man. She had to face it, he was sexy and she needed a man. But not him, because he was a criminal and eventually he would slip up and she would have him. Denny Morgan could twist and turn like the snake that he was, but he could not escape her.

Then she was home at her own door and he took his goodnight kiss. It curled her toes, and she realized she was still holding the shoes she had taken off to dance.

______________________________________________________________

The alarm woke her, but it wasn't the alarm. It was the doorbell.

"OH NO!" she thought.

The clock read 8:30, she had overslept. Her head was filled with cotton fuzz. She grabbed her robe and went to the door, thinking, 'The one time Tom Sullivan was early had to be today.'