Chapter 7
Bernie Meets Eddie Boyle
It was a rainy Sunday; Bernie was just sitting around the off-campus apartment, watching The A-Team on NBC with George Peppard, and Chicago-born actor Mr. T. with two other girls, Frannie and Meg. Val was out on a date with Joe, and Bernie was more than a little jealous with the knowledge they were getting very serious about each other.
Eventually, she got hungry, and got up to make herself and the others some spaghetti. As she stirred the sauce, she idly wondered if Eddie Boyle was going to call her again. They had met two weeks earlier at the library, and had had one date. She had allowed him to feel her up, even let him touch her breasts before calling a halt to his fevered hands, by telling him she had to get back to her place and study for a major test the following morning.
Only by promising him further leeway on their next date did she get him to stop. Bernie hadn't intended ever seeing him again, but as time passed, she grew horny, and with Val shying away from any further fooling around, her thoughts had returned to Eddie.
With Cyndi Lauper's "Girls Just Want to Have Fun" belting out of the speakers, the phone rang, and Frannie raced to answer it, and in a disappointed tone called Bernie to the phone. It was Eddie.
"Hey, how ya doing?" he asked, his Jersey accent evident to anyone within normal hearing.
"Lower the music!" she yelled, and into the phone breathed, "Doing good, and you?"
"Can't complain...Say, the reason I'm callin' is I wondered if you'd like to go play some tennis with me and some friends. A couple couples...ya know?"
"It's raining, Eddie," she told him, careful to keep her voice level and not show that she thought the offer a dumb one.
"It's indoors, Bernie."
She was glad he wasn't there to see how red her face had gotten. How foolish she was to think him a fool.
"All right," she said. "Give me twenty minutes to change and I'll be waiting downstairs."
"Um, it's at three, Bernie...that gives us; let's see...two hours before our court time is set."
Bernie made a face, wanting to kick herself for making yet another dumb mistake. But Eddie didn't appear to think anything of her ill-timed remark.
"So, when do you want to pick me up?"
"An hour and a half?"
"Sounds good. I should tell you, I'm a lousy tennis player."
"I'm no world class player either," he replied. "So, I'll see ya then."
Yeah," she said, and tried to kick her behind with the heel of her left foot.
Would she ever learn to either say the right thing, or keep her mouth shut?
CENTER>****
The tennis went much better than Bernie thought it would. Eddie wasn't a good player, but neither were the others, the guy was named Kenny; the girl, Debbie. Bernie's having played on her high school team, although as an alternate, served her well.
Basking in the accolades of the others on her fine play, Bernie had that one drink to many in the bar that the group had retired to following the match. The weather continued to worsen, but no one seemed to pay much attention, and everyone agreed to grab a taxi and head for Kenny's condo. His affluent parents had purchased it for him.