Love Is A Four Letter Word

Love is an enigma that can't be fully defined. Poets and philosophers write about it. People are willing to bet their very existence on it. Every race and culture throughout history embrace it. It is the driving force of all mankind. Science says it's nothing more than chemistry or hormones, and the faithful claim it's a gift from God.

As for myself, I've avoided the "L-word" at all cost, believing it would make me act as stupid as my friends. I've watched time and time again how people dedicate their love to one another, only to end up bitter and broken. No thank you, I'll pass.

People accuse me of being cynical. So be it. At least I'm not divorced, and crushed under a landslide of child support and alimony. I approach every relationship for what it really is and never try to project more than what is actually there. I believe all relationships eventually run their course. A guy I've worked with for years recently asked me if I was going to ever settle down, and get married. I told him no. Actually, I told him hell no! I think marriage is a great institution, if being institutionalized is your thing.

My name is Alex McKinney and I'm a thirty-two-year-old confirmed bachelor. I reside in Silicon Valley and work as a systems analyst for a major corporation. I live very comfortably in my condo with Grover, my two-year-old Labrador. Okay, I believe he loves me, but that's probably because I feed him... a lot.

I had recently broken up with my girlfriend of six months and I was temporarily between girlfriends, but I wasn't worried. The pond is always stocked with fish and I considered myself to be a very accomplished fisherman. Life was good. Let me reword that: life was fucking awesome! But, what I didn't know at the time, everything in my life was about to change.

*****

The dealer called and informed me my Tesla was ready to be picked up. I left work early and went to the dealership. As a confirmed environmentalist, I was excited to get this all electric and lower my green footprint.

After driving a Shelby Cobra for years, I thought the lack of a roaring engine would take some time getting used to, but that wasn't the case. When I pushed the throttle the first time, those thoughts quickly disappeared. The acceleration was instant as the car lurched forward with incredible power.

My saleswoman must have seen the huge grin on my face. She smiled at me and asked, "So, what's the verdict?"

I looked up in her beautiful face and replied, "Hmmm... That this car is almost as hot as you?"

"Very good answer. Remember, you can always call me if you have any questions." She handed me her business card.

I looked at her card, took out my phone and punched in her number. Seconds later, her phone chirped. She looked at the screen and said with a chuckle, "What is it I can I help you with today, Mr. McKinney?"

"You said to call if I had a question. Well, I have a question."

"Are you always this confident in yourself, Mr. McKinney?"

"No, not really. I think it must be the car. By the way, my Dad is Mr. McKinney, you can call me Alex."

"Are you hitting on me...Alex?" She leaned forward, making eye contact and giving me a nice view of her cleavage.

"Me? Hitting on you? Absolutely! You're gorgeous!" I replied with a smile and a wink.

"Not that smooth." She laughed lightly. "So... what's your question?"

"How would you like to see the Kings-Warriors game tonight?"

"Are you kidding? That game has been sold out for weeks."

I held up two tickets and said, "I just happen to have an extra ticket."

"Are you asking me to go out with you, or are you trying to sell me a ticket?"

"I'm asking you to go—but the thing is, tip-off is in less than an hour."

She thought for a second or two and replied, "I'll grab my purse and coat."

She had a quick talk with her supervisor and rushed back. When she got in, I got a great view of her shapely legs. I put the car in gear, and we sped away in style. I thought, fishing is easy if you have the right bait.

*****

"How did you know?" she asked.

"Know what?" I said, feigning ignorance.

"How'd you know I'm a Kings fan?"

"I'm a psychic."

"More like psychotic... How'd you know? Have you been stalking me?"

"Nothing that sinister. When I signed the contract with you a month ago, I couldn't miss the Kings poster hanging in your cubicle."

"Well, that kind of makes us even," she replied.

I looked at her, puzzled and asked, "Even? How so?"

"The same day you came in and signed the contract, I checked you out on the web. You're single and have never been married... A graduate of Caltech... and earn a good income. Plus, you own your own condo and have almost a perfect credit rating."

"Hmmm. Did your sources tell you I'm an intolerable bore and a notorious Warriors fan?"

"No, but nobody's perfect. Did you really think I'd just hop into your car without knowing something about you?"

"Not at all, but remember, I'm a computer geek. I did my research too, Miss Abigail Perkins who graduated top of her class in business management—from Stanford university, who has a passion for playing beach volleyball on the weekends. You've been engaged twice, but never made it to the altar... Should I go on?"

"No, that's not necessary, but what does that prove? That you can operate a cellphone?" She snickered under her breath. "By the way, my grandmother is the only one who calls me Abigail. You can call me Abby."

"What does it prove? I think it shows that we are both cautious about relationships."

"Is that what we've begun, a relationship?" Abby replied.

"I really don't know. It's way too early to tell, but things are looking good so far. I also discovered something else about you."

"And what is that?"

I pulled out my phone and held up a video of her playing beach volleyball. I said, "You look amazing in a bikini."

"God! men! You all have one-track minds. Okay, my turn to ask you something."

"All right. Ask away."

"Without looking at me, can you tell me the color of my eyes?"

I thought a few seconds, staring straight ahead, before answering, "Um, that's easy. Your eye color is... 36 D?"

She playfully punched my shoulder and said, "Just what I thought. Actually, my eyes are blue and I'm a C. You missed badly on both counts."

I pulled my all-electric car up to one of the charging stations provided at the Golden 1 stadium. Abby showed me how to plug it in. I thought, this is great! This car even gets me reserved parking.

*****

We walked sided by side toward the entrance. I wanted to take Abby's hand but decided to play it cool and not be pushy. As we made our way through the crowd, she bluntly asked, "Whose place am I taking?"

"What do you mean?"

"Just what I said. Who were you originally taking to this game?"

"Nothing seems to slip by you, does it? If you must know, her name is Betty."

"What happened? If you don't mind me asking?"

"I don't mind. Nothing really happened. Our friendship just ran its course. It was an amicable break and we're still good friends."

"Well, that's great. I've actually never actually witnessed a friendly beak up myself. So, where are we sitting, the noes-bleed section?"

I led her down to the lower level, where the premium seats were. We were located exactly center court, three rows back. She gripped my arm in excitement. My friends Randy and Marsha stood up to greet us as we found our seats.

Marsha beamed and said, "Who's the hottie?"

"I'd like you to meet Abby. Abby, these are my good friends Marsha and Randy," I said, putting my arm around her waist.

Randy's eyes looked like they might pop out of his head.

Marsha smiled. "You'll have to pardon my fiancé for drooling." She laughed. "Wait... I recognize you. Weren't you on the Stanford debate team?"

"Yes," Abby replied. "But that's ancient history."

"Two years ago is hardly ancient history. I remember you defended the issue of affirmative action very well. I was with the USC team."

"Thanks, but all I seem to remember is how we got waxed."

We all chatted for a while, and watched the warm-ups, when seemingly out of nowhere, my ex-girlfriend appeared, boiling over with anger. She grabbed Randy's beer out of his hand and tossed it in my face before yelling, "You're a fucking asshole!"

She turned and stormed off into the crowd. I stood there, dripping wet with beer and feeling like a fool. To add insult to injury, I saw myself on the crowd-cam big screen.

Abby laughed and said, "Amicable? Still good friends? Let me guess... that was Betty? Geez... I like you guys. I haven't had this much fun in a long time!" Everyone laughed, but me.

When Randy and I went for refreshments at halftime, he said, "Dude, I thought Betty was a knockout, but my God, Abby is incredible! How in the hell do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Do what? Are you kidding? Look at her! What the hell makes you such a chick magnet?"

"I don't know, I guess I'm just... lucky?"

"Yeah? Well, Mr. Lucky, you hit the lottery with this one my friend. She looks like a keeper to me."

The game was a blowout, but that happens a lot with the Warriors. Abby and Marsha chatted with each other almost nonstop since the middle of the first quarter. When the game was over, I suggested we all go out for something to eat, but Abby politely declined, saying she needed to go home because she had an early wake up call.

*****

I asked where she lived and Abby explained she was temporarily living with her parents. She gave me the address and I typed it in the GPS. I thought things were going smoothly between us because our conversation flowed so effortlessly. There was something about her I felt was special. It was something besides her outrageous good looks and obvious intelligence.

When I drove up to her folks' place, I was taken back by how huge the house was. All I could say was, "Holy crap! Nice digs."

I got out of the car and walked her to the front door being as gentlemanly as possible.

"Thanks for a very memorable evening." Abby said with a smile.

Feeling extremely confident, I said, "I enjoyed myself, too. When can we do this again?"

Without hesitating she answered, "Never!"

"That's great. I was thinking that Saturday we might—wait... what did you say?"

"Never! But like I said, it was a memorable evening."

"I don't follow." I frowned in confusion. "If you had fun, why not a second date?"

"Alex, I'm sure we would have had fun times together and the sex would probably have been over the top. However, 'fun' was my priority when I was in my early twenties. Six months or a year from now, I don't want to be the spurned ex-girlfriend throwing beer in your face. That's not my style. So, good luck and... goodbye."

She turned and walked inside, leaving me bewildered. The porch light went off and I stood there in the dark, pondering what just happened. I'm not an egotist any more than the next guy, but that was the only time in my whole life I was ever dumped.

I rationalized, Well, fuck her! She doesn't know what she missed. Who needs her anyway? There's plenty more fish in the sea.

****

The next day at work, Randy came in my office with a shit eating grin on his face.

"Hey, boy wonder! How'd it go last night? I expected you to come stumbling in here half dead after tapping that fine tail last night."

I frowned at him and said, "She's wasn't my type."

"What the fuck do you mean she wasn't your type? Wait... did she kick your ass to the curb? She did, didn't she? That's hilarious!" He howled with laughter.

"Shut the fuck up! Don't you have something more productive to do?"

"Nope! Not at all. In fact, this is a historic moment." He walked over to the intercom.

"Randy!"—I attempted to grab the microphone—"You asshole, you wouldn't!"

He beat me to it and flipped the switch. His voice boomed on the loudspeakers.

"Attention, employees... to all that are interested, Alex met his match last night. His date dropped him like a lead balloon. My faith in justice has been restored."

The applause was deafening. I threw my stapler at him. Even my secretary gave him a thumbs up. Everyone but me was laughing. Was I that shallow of a person that so many took such joy in my failure? Maybe it was time to rethink my life? Those thoughts passed quickly.

The rest of the week was a drag. I couldn't believe how this woman had gotten under my skin. For some unexplained reason, I felt a desperate needed to save face. For the first time ever, my confidence was shaken. Who the hell did she think she was?

I knew that all I needed to do was to get back in the saddle (so to speak). I thought about dating and looked through my address book, but my heart wasn't in it. I soon came to the conclusion that there could be no substitutes. Only Abby could right my listing ship.

What I needed was a plan. After her brutal rejection, I knew I couldn't directly contact her. I needed to arrange a coincidental meeting, but that required more information. We had some very sophisticated software at work that I used it to research her financial history. It showed me where she shopped, dined, and traveled. Exploring her social media was even easier. Within a few minutes my research was completed. I was aware that what I was doing was borderline illegal, but without risk there is no reward.

****

Three days later, I was grocery shopping at Trader Joe's, when Abby caught sight of me in the vegetable isle. I wondered how she'd react. She immediately made a beeline toward me. I acted as if I didn't notice her. Her cart crashed into mine and I looked around.

She said, "What are you doing here?"

I looked at her coolly and replied, "Even male chauvinist pigs like me need to eat."

"Ohhh, that was harsh. For the record, I never said you're a chauvinist pig—you did. How are you doing by the way?"

"I'm doing great. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, seeing how we parted ways...I'm aware of how delicate the male ego can be and..."

"You thought that I was maybe... distraught or even suicidal? Well, I did consider slashing my wrists with a razor, but that didn't pan out. I use an electric razor."

"Not funny. Look, Alex, I know we each have different goals for our lives, and that's okay. I like you, but when I'm around you, all my warning signals go off. I need to protect myself."

"Am I really that scary?"

"Actually, you are. Besides, we both know you're not going to have trouble finding someone else."

"So, that's why you wrote me off so quickly? I set off your jerk alarm?"

"No, not a jerk. I just think you're dangerous."

"Dangerous? What's so dangerous about me? I'm a pussy cat."

"Pussy cat? More like pussy hound. What's so dangerous about you? Well, first off, you're too polished in your approach. You're way to confident about your good looks.Then, it didn't go unnoticed to me that your friends expected you'd bag me on our first date. That alone told me a lot. The only thing worse than having a reputation, is when that reputation is true."

"I don't deny I've dated a few women. Admittedly, I've made my fair share of mistakes, but that's part of life. I've never lied to anyone or pushed them to do something they didn't want to do."

"Alex, I have to run. I'm cooking tonight. It really was nice bumping into you."

I watched her walk away, but I knew if she looked back, I still had a chance. When Abby got to the end of the isle, she turned and smiled at me. I silently gave myself a fist-pump. I'd dated dozens of women, but none were like her.

*****

Several days passed after our "accidental" meeting at the supermarket and my life was getting back to normal. My plan was to bury myself in work until all thoughts of her disappeared. It was during an important business meeting I got an unexpected text from Abby. It said, Call me! It's important.

I couldn't immediately return her text, but when I was free, I called. She answered on first ring.

"Alex, I really need your help."

"My help? Isn't that...dangerous?"

"What are you doing Saturday and Sunday?"

"I was thinking I might go on a date." I lied.

"Damn! I really do need your help. I can even pay for your time."

"Slow down and explain. What could be so urgent?"

"My dad and mom are hosting a party for their thirty-fifth anniversary."

"How does that concern me?"

"My ex-fiancé will be there. I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend. My dad and mom are trying to hook us up again. I'd rather die first."

"Can I ask, is this your first or second fiancé?"

"Just so you know, my first fiancé was killed in a motorcycle accident a week before our wedding. That was Jason. He was a the love of my life. This is Todd, the two-timing bastard that cheated on me the night of our engagement party."

"What do you expect of me?"

"Just be yourself and act as if we're an item. That should satisfy my parents and keep Todd at bay."

"Let me get this right... you go from no second date with me, to wanting to spend a weekend together? Why me?"

"Alex, I don't want to puff up your already inflated ego. Let's just say, you can appear charming when you want to, and I think you could pull it off convincingly."

"Be careful, that almost sounded like a compliment."

"Look, smart ass, are you going to help me out or not?"

"What's in it for me?"

"Now you're showing your true colors. Name your price. How much?"

"I'm not interested in your money. Just you."

"You can't be suggesting what I think you are. I'm no whore."

"Whoa, simmer down, filly! I didn't suggest that."

"Then what?"

"How about us just going on a legitimate date? One without all this preconceived bull-crap?"

"I'll give you this much... you don't give up easy. Okay, you have a deal."

I smiled and asked, "What time is the party?"

"Be at my folks house before noon Saturday. Dress nicely, but casual and bring your swim trunks."

"Are you going to be wearing that skimpy bikini?"

"You have a one-track mind." Abby sighed. "By the way, I know you being at the grocery store wasn't accidental. No one drives thirty minutes for groceries—especially when they have one within walking distance of their place."

I paused and said, "You caught me."

"Don't be embarrassed. I think it's cute. There might be hope for you yet."

****

I tapped on the front door, expecting Abby to answer. Instead, a much younger version of her opened the door. The young beauty smiled and asked, "Are you Alex?"

"Yep, guilty as charged. You must be Abby's sister."

She giggled and said, "I am Pennie, but everyone calls me Pebbles. Come on, Abby says she'll be down soon. She's doing her hair." She pulled me inside by the arm.

At first glance, the interior wasn't like I expected. The leather furniture seemed warm and inviting with a large amount of family photos on the walls. A middle age man approached me with a gregarious smile.

"This is Alex." Pebbles smiled. "Isn't he cute?"

I was not sure how to respond.

"Welcome! Abby has said some very nice things about you."

"Thank you, Sir. Congratulations on your Anniversary." I handed him a bottle of wine.

He examined it and said, "Dom Perignon 2009. You know your wine. Thank you. Call me Frank." Then he raised his voice and said, "Ginny, come in here and meet Abby's boyfriend."

Seconds later, a good looking older woman came in and walked up to me. She took my hands, she kissed my cheek saying, "My, aren't you cute?"

"Told ya," Pebbles said, looking defiantly at her father.

I felt suddenly uncomfortable, surrounded by strangers.

Where's Abby? I thought before I smiled and said, "Now I know where Abby gets her beauty from."

"And you're every bit as smooth as she says, but thank you. Every old lady wants to hear that, even if it's not true."