Southern Comfort

I woke relatively early, showered and went to the loft to make coffee and breakfast. I carried a heavy tray downstairs and stood beside the bed as I called his name. After the third try to wake him, Bob finally grunted with his face buried in the mattress. He reached for the place where I had slept and finding it empty, he groaned.

"Bob, come on. Wake up!" I insisted still balancing the heavy tray in my hands.

"I'm dead and I'm in hell, right?" he moaned as he slowly dragged his hand to his temple and rubbed at it with his fingers for a moment. He seemed to drop off to sleep again.

"Bob, I have coffee and breakfast," I coaxed quietly. When he didn't respond, I shouted, "Wake up!" He jerked his head up and winced as he blinked his eyes open.

"This tray is getting heavy," I scolded.

"Okay, okay, I'm awake," he pronounced as he flopped over onto his back and settled against the pillows with his eyes shut again. I sighed heavily.

"I hear you," he mumbled. "What time is it?"

"A little after twelve. Do you want coffee?" I asked. He nodded still languishing against the pillows. I placed the tray on the center of the bed and lit him a cigarette. I set an ashtray on his stomach and proceeded to pour us each coffee. I handed him one mug and he sat staring at it.

"

Why

are we up at noon?" he muttered.

"Because it's Saturday, and it's late. I have to go soon," I replied crawling onto the bed beside him.

"You can't go," he said as he shook his head and moaned again. "I think I'm dying."

"You're not dying and I have to go," I scoffed at him. "Do you want something to eat?"

"Yes, I

am

dying, and no, you can't go. I don't want anything to eat. I want to go back to sleep," he complained. He opened his eyes at last and squinted at me. "You've had a shower already?"

I nodded and sipped my coffee.

"God, how do you do it?" he mumbled. "I'm seriously dying here, princess. I think you tried to kill me. Let's just go back to bed, please? I promise, I'll get up in...six hours or so," he mumbled as he reached to set the ashtray and coffee aside. He rolled to his side and made another attempt to go back to sleep.

"Get up, Bob!" I demanded giving his shoulders a firm shake. "If you'll eat something you'll feel better."

"You're not going to stop until I get up, are you?" he asked with a sigh of resignation. He sat up and plumped the pillows behind him. Then he eyed the tray of food for a second. "Did you cook?" he asked sounding surprised. He lifted the lid of the tray and burst into laughter.

"Leftover Chinese food?" he howled. He grabbed his head again and winced.

"Well, if you'd go to the fucking grocery store once in a while," I began.

"Why? I don't cook. I eat out," he informed me.

"That's why you're getting Chinese for breakfast," I snorted at him. "Where are my clothes? I need my jeans so I can get dressed and get out of here."

"They're in the closet, but you can't go yet," he said again.

"Here, eat!" I said trying to hand him a plate. He opened his mouth to protest and I stuck a fork full of egg foo young in it. "Mmmm. See? It's good, isn't it?" I bounced up from the bed and began looking for my clothes.

He gripped the handle of the fork protruding from his mouth and gave me a look. "Has anyone ever told you how fucking annoying you are in the morning?" he growled between chews.

"Not more than once," I snipped. "I guess that's why you don't want me to leave."

He shook his head and swallowed. "It isn't that I don't want you to leave. I wish you would, so I can go back to sleep," he retorted. "The alarm is on. You can't leave until I disarm it."

"Oh. Well, then all the more reason you need to get your ass up and let me out." I was pulling on clothes as quickly as I could.

He cocked his head at me and frowned. "I'm really starting to remember why I spent the last sixteen years single," he said sounding thoughtful.

"Would you like to spend the

next

sixteen years single, too?" I asked sweetly.

"I wasn't having much of a problem with it. Jon's right. You're a pain in the ass. Why don't you go back to his house for awhile?" he asked. "You come in here with fucking tequila which I don't drink, and you break my furniture, and you won't let me sleep. Give me one good reason why I would want you to stay."

"Because I come in here with tequila that you

did

drink, by the way. I

helped

you break the furniture. I didn't do that all by myself, mister. And, I don't let you sleep your life away," I sniffed in response.

"Alright, I'll concede that point, but you're still a pain in the ass," he said with a scowl.

"You knew that before you decided to fuck me, so don't go playing the injured party now. Just deal with it like a man, and stop whining."

"I don't whine. I snivel. There's a difference," he commented before he threw the fork down on the tray. "This food is disgusting! Would you like to go to breakfast since you have me awake now?" I removed the tray and set it on the opposite bedside table.

"I have to work this afternoon. I wanted to go by Jon's first, but I'm not going to have time now," I said as I grabbed his brush and quickly ran it through my hair.

"You're using my fucking brush?" he asked sounding displeased at the idea. "Next, it will be my tooth brush," he snorted. "Why don't you bring your own shit and stay out of mine?"

"Because you hid mine somewhere and I've got to go. Some of us have to actually work for a living," I snipped back at him. "I didn't use your toothbrush. I have one I keep in my purse, thank you very much," I sniffed. "Besides, what difference does it make anyway? Why are men always like that? You'll lick my pussy, but you don't want me using your hairbrush. You have serious issues, Bob," I said shaking my head in dismay.

"That's what they keep telling me," he sighed as he threw back the covers and sat up on the edge of the bed. "If you would come back to bed with me, you could help me work some of them out." He yanked at the sheet and began wrapping it around himself as he stood up.

I had to smile to myself. "It's a little late for you to be so modest, don't you think? I've already seen what you've got there," I teased as I gave his morning erection an interested look.

"Well, the fucking neighbors haven't and I'm not getting dressed just to put you out the door and get the morning paper," he insisted. "Come on. I'll show you how to use the alarm so you don't have to wake me up the next time."

I followed him to the door and he began trying to show me how the system worked. I was in a hurry and had no desire to follow his instructions to the letter. I stamped my foot at him. "Bob, I don't have time for this. Could you just let me out, please? I'm not going to be able to remember the numbers anyway," I huffed at him.

He tilted his head at me and gave me one of those long stares of his. "You can remember this one. It's your birthday. I programmed it last spring so I wouldn't forget. I've gotten so used to it now that I use it on all my shit."

"

Now

, you tell me. To think, I could have been sneaking in here all this time and stealing you blind. You should let a girl know these things, Bob," I said shaking my head and looking at the floor.

He leaned against the door and crossed his arms. "Before you go, I better tell you something," he said in a serious tone. "I called Jon yesterday when you left here."

My head jerked up and I must have looked shocked by his admission. "You did

what

?" I asked narrowing my eyes at him.

His reflexes were quick. He held both hands up protectively as if he was poised to hold me at bay. "Now, don't go getting all pissed off again!" he cautioned. "You were so damned mad when you left that I just thought I should let him know."

"

And

?" I asked suspiciously.

"And, nothing," he shrugged. "He didn't seem too surprised. He said you'd be back and I should call him when you got here. We kind of got busy when you came back, and I forgot to call him," he said looking a bit awkward. "You should probably let him know you're okay."

"Did you actually tell him

why

I was mad?" I asked.

"I didn't have to. He knew already."

"Well, then he knows I'm okay. I'll call him tonight. I don't have time right now to deal with it," I said. "I've got to go. I'm late."

He stepped away from the door and opened it, letting me slip past him. I was half way down the walkway to my car when I heard him call out to me. I turned to see him leaned casually against the doorway still wrapped in the sheet and holding the newspaper.

"I still hate you, you know," he called softly.

I paused for a few seconds and called back, "Yeah, well, I hate you more. So, don't call me again, okay?"

"I won't," he said grinning at me. "If you happen to be hanging out around seven tonight, I won't drop by to see you either."

"Good! I'll make sure not to be there," I said smiling back at him. I gave him a wave over my shoulder and left.

**********

Bob came by much earlier than I had expected. It was only a couple of hours later that he wandered in looking haggard and terribly hung-over. He was wearing jeans which was a new look for him when he eased himself onto a barstool and sighed, "Double scotch neat, and don't go

anywhere

with the bottle." He removed his sunglasses and pressed his fingers against his eyes.

I poured his drink and set it in front of him, placing the bottle on the bar within his reach. There was a light afternoon rush going on, so I continued looking down when I commented quietly under my breath, "You look like hell."

He grunted back at me in an equally quiet tone. "Thanks to you, I woke up in hell." I smiled but I still didn't look up. He picked up the bottle of scotch and poured his own refill before he slid the bottle back across the bar towards me. He eyed me carefully for a moment.

"If you only knew how fucking bad I feel right now, you wouldn't be smiling like that," he admonished. It made me laugh and he propped his forehead against his hand as he murmured, "You're a sadistic fucking bitch, aren't you?"

"I'm not being sadistic. You're just so cute when you're suffering," I quipped back. "Did you get all the girl-cooties out of your brush this morning?" I teased.

"No, but I can always call an exterminator if it gets out of hand," he snorted at me. "Can I ask you something?" I nodded still concentrating on the job I was doing. "What

is

that perfume you were wearing last night?"

"Why?" I asked looking up for the first time since he had sat down. "Is it too strong?"

He shook his head and glanced around to be sure no one was listening. "No. But, I can smell it everywhere. It's in my sheets and on my suit. I thought I was imagining it, but it's even on the fucking towels."

"Are you complaining?" I asked.

He shrugged at me and reached for a straw to chew on. "No. I'm not complaining, but Angela might," he replied casually.

"Who's Angela?" I asked. I immediately wished I hadn't.

He started to chuckle. "Did I just see a little hint of jealousy in your eyes?"

"When hell freezes over, Mr. Jones. I don't get jealous. I get even."

"Well, before you get all bent out of shape, Angela is my maid," he explained. He reached across the bar and tapped on it. "Hey! Hey, you! Did you hear me?" he asked when I didn't respond.

"I heard you. I just don't give a shit," I replied.

"Yeah, I could tell," he chuckled again as he sprawled back against his seat. "Have I ever told you how cute it is when you get mad? You have a nasty little temper."

"Do you want another drink or do you just want to sit there and piss me off the rest of the afternoon?"

"Neither. I actually came to ask you to go to dinner with me tonight," he said leaning forward again and speaking in low tones. "Are you interested?" he asked.

"When?"

"Is that a yes?" he asked looking rather pleased. I nodded. "Eight?" he suggested. I nodded again. "Well, that was a lot easier than I had anticipated," he said sitting back again.

"Well, remind me next time and I'll play hard to get so you won't be disappointed," I sniffed at him.

"Do you want me to withdraw the offer now, or just stand you up later?" he scoffed and threw down the straw on the bar.

"You're such an ass," I hissed under my breath.

"And, you're a such a bitch," he said smoothly. "That makes us even, I think." I rolled my eyes at him and smiled. "I've got some things to do, so I'm going to go. I'll see you at eight," he said reaching for his wallet.

"Just get the fuck out of my bar," I snipped at him. "Save your money for tonight. I'm hungry."

"You're buying my drinks now?" he asked cocking his head at me and grinning. "I should be an ass more often I guess." He tossed down a tip. "I'll see you tonight."

**********

It was after eight when I walked into the bar. I had taken my time dressing. My hair was swept up, pinned in place, and adorned by my signature red rose. I wore a flowing oyster-white gown with satin high-heels and accessorized with a small gold and diamond teardrop necklace with earrings to match. The jewelry was a second anniversary gift from my ex-husband.

I paused when I stepped through the door to let my eyes adjust to the dim lighting. I spotted Bob standing at the bar talking to none other than Jon. Jon has his back to me and he was engaged in conversation with Bob. When Bob saw me across the room, he stopped mid-sentence and nudged Jon, nodding in my direction. Jon turned my way and both men just stared as I made my way across the room to them.

I greeted them both at the same time with a "Hi." When neither answered, I asked with a frown, "Is my slip showing or something?"

"Sorry," Jon shrugged. "You just left us a little speechless. You look very nice tonight," he said with approval as he leaned down and gave me kiss on the cheek. He helped me off with my coat and hung it over the back of the chair he was standing beside.

"Thank you," I murmured to him. I turned to face Bob who was still standing there staring with his mouth ajar.

He blinked and found his voice. "You look

so

fucking beautiful," he breathed in awe. He scrambled to retrieve a bouquet lying on the bar. "I got you these," he said as he held them out to me. I took the roses from him and smelled them.

"They're lovely, Bob. Thank you."

"Would you like a drink?" Jon asked as he gave Bob a look that said he was forgetting his manners.

"Yes, thank you. I'll have a glass of wine." I didn't have to tell him what kind. He knew, and he ordered it for me before Bob could regain his senses. Jon handed me the wine a moment later.

"Do you know how stunning you look tonight?" Bob asked as he leaned down to kiss my cheek at last. "Let me have them put those in water," he said taking the roses back from me.

"Wait!" I protested as I reached and snapped one bud off. I placed it carefully in the pocket of his dinner jacket. Bob looked pretty stunning himself. It was the first time I'd seen him dressed in a black tuxedo. I smoothed his jacket and nodded.

Jon interjected, "He's right, you know. If I'd had a clue how much I'd be missing, I'd have asked you out to dinner myself tonight." He paused before he said, "Speaking of which, we have an anniversary coming up in a couple of months. So, where are you taking me?" he teased with his eyes aglow.

"To bed if you'll let me," I answered quickly. "Why break with tradition?" Jon threw back his head and laughed.

"You're incorrigible!" he said shaking his head. He touched his glass to mine and raised it in a mock salute. Bob was frowning at us both.

"I'm not intruding, am I?" he glowered. He cocked his head at me and said, "Maybe I should have called Angela and asked her to dinner tonight instead."

"It's never too late, Bob. Would you like me to dial the number for you?" I asked sweetly.

He leaned against the back of the barstool and rubbed his head a moment.

"What's wrong, Bob?" Jon asked with amusement.

He lifted his head and looked from one to the other of us. "You know, I knew this wasn't going to be easy, but having you two play tag-team is really starting to get on my nerves. Would you mind terribly if I just take my date and leave now Jon?" he asked.

Jon waved his arm towards the door. "Feel free, Bob. She's all yours for now, buddy. Make the best of it," he said nonchalantly. He handed Bob my coat. I handed Jon my half empty glass.

Bob held up my coat for me as I slipped it back on. "Do yourself a favor, Jon. Don't wait up for us," Bob quipped with an edge of sarcasm.

"I wouldn't dream of it, Bob. She has my fucking key, so she'll probably wake me coming in later," he prodded. Jon was still chuckling when we walked out the door.

Bob was quiet as he walked me to his car. I wondered if Jon and I teasing him had really struck a nerve. I decided to ask. "Are you alright, Bob?" I asked as he fumbled with opening the car door. He didn't answer and he left me hanging until he went around to the other side of the car and climbed in himself.

He started the car before he turned to me and answered my question. "I'm just a little on edge about tonight," he admitted with a serious look.

"Was it something I said?" I asked.

"Oh, that? No," he said waving off the teasing with a laugh. "I want every thing to be perfect tonight and I'm nervous about it. Maybe it's because it's our first real date. I want it to be perfect," he repeated.

I shook my head and sighed, "Okay, but I feel I should warn you about something." He looked at me with a wary look in his eyes. "I don't put out on the first date," I informed him with a straight face.

He burst into laughter. "Thanks for the heads up on that. I'll try to keep it in mind later." It seemed to break the ice between us and he relaxed again as he turned the car in the direction of the French Quarter.

We had dinner at Andrew Jackson's and it was an impeccable meal. Afterward, we went dancing at an old landmark hotel bar. I think it surprised him that I knew more of the old piano bar tunes than he did. I sang along with 'I've Got You Under My Skin' and he just smiled. They played an entire Sinatra set and I knew all the words to each song. He seemed particularly skeptical when I followed him without flaw to 'Heaven', which was more of swing beat.

"You never cease to amaze me," he said in my ear as he guided me across the floor.

"I'm a huge Sinatra fan," I shrugged back at him. "Actually, the whole Rat Pack," I added. "When I was little, I used to swear I was going to grow up and marry Dean Martin," I said with a laugh.

"Really? I never would have guessed that about you," he said. "You are always so full of surprises. I can't keep up with the different sides of you. What did you find so fascinating about him?"

"Oh, I don't know. He was a lot older than me for one thing," I said with a shrug.

"You have a thing for older men?" he asked. I gave him a look. "Oh. I guess that was a stupid question. I sometimes forget that you're only twenty-one."

We finished the last few notes of the song before he suggested we leave the quarter and head back to the bar for a nightcap. On the ride home, he tuned in a station that played all vintage music. He asked me what some of my favorite songs and artists were. I rattled off a long list of more contemporary music, not thinking much about it at the time.

When we arrived at the bar, Jon was still there drinking with friends. The band was playing their last set of the night. As soon as we walked in the door, Bob asked, "Do you mind if we don't sit at the bar?" I nodded and he guided me to an open table in the band room.

When the waitress came over, he ordered an expensive bottle of champagne and then excused himself from the table. I assumed he was headed to the men's room, but instead, he approached the lead singer of the band and spoke with him for a moment. He wandered back over to the table and sat down.