Early the next morning Bob was on the phone.
"My word, you and the Ice Maiden are a striking couple. Both papers too. You must have wowed them. Now, have you won your bet? How did you get on? Is she really an Ice Maiden or did I get it wrong?"
Peter was non-committal but Bob didn't notice as he breathlessly continued to ramble on with one of his stories about yet another imaginary conquest.
"That was some weekend. Boy, that Karen has stamina. I'm a physical wreck."
"I'm sorry, Bob, I can't stop. A customer has just come into the workshop and I'm sure she wants me. She's an old friend of yours."
"Who?"
"Mrs. Williams." Peter had noticed her slip into the workshop but Bob didn't wait to hear more. Peter left the office and greeted her.
"Good morning, Mrs. Williams."
"Susie." She corrected.
"There wasn't much wrong with your vehicle, only a loose connection and a dead battery. We fixed both and returned your car." Smiling, Peter tried to keep the conversation on business.
"Peter - about the other night. I've been too embarrassed to see you but I have to pay the account. I'm really not that..."
Abruptly he interrupted her. "You're a lady, Susie." They walked to her car.
"But I don't want anyone to know that..."
Peter's hand on her arm cut Susie's words short.
"Susie, I may have kissed you and behaved irresponsibly but I would never tell."
There was no need for her to worry - Peter was no Bob.
"I drove you home as a friend should. We had a coffee and talked. I returned to work. What else is there to tell? Oh yes, there's no charge. How could I charge a friend who needed my help?" Peter's smile told her so much more than mere words could convey.
"I should've known. You were so gentle and caring. Really I didn't deserve that." Susie's eyes softened. "Thank you for driving me home. I really don't know what came over me. I know that I was terribly lonely, but I'm most grateful that you didn't take advantage of the situation. Thank you, you were wonderful."
Later that morning Peter rang Jennifer's extension but was surprised when her Personal Assistant answered.
"Could I speak to Miss Blake, please?" The male voice was insistent.
"Who is calling?"
"Peter O'Brien."
"I'm afraid she's out." The line went dead.
By the time evening arrived, Peter was feeling more than mystified when he called at her apartment to take her to the dress rehearsal and she wasn't there.
Her eyes were green, unfriendly mirrors when Peter joined her on stage and she played the part of the heroine faultlessly.
Immediately the rehearsal ended Peter headed backstage to collect her.
She'd gone. Peter believed that with the opening night looming this was just reaction to stage jitters. However, each time he called her at the office, she was unavailable.
Until Friday morning!
"Miss Blake, please."
"Who, shall I say is calling?"
Perhaps Peter was suspicious but he answered, "Mr. Brown."
"Please wait."
"Jennifer Blake speaking."
"Jennifer, it's me. Peter."
There was a long silence. Jennifer was clearly determined to say nothing. Peter tried again.
"Tonight's opening night, I was wondering if..."
A frosty whisper cut him short. "I am so glad you won your bet." The phone went dead.
Suddenly Peter felt cold as if frozen fingers clutched his heart. His head dropped and he stared at the floor.
What've I done? His thoughts raced over his times with Jennifer. He sank back into his chair and stared at the wall as if seeking an answer there.
His mind was with Jennifer, Bet? What bet? For heaven's sake what bet?
Trying to sift through the haze of events to solve the riddle Peter thought of their times together. Oh, hell yes! That first night, Bob bet me I'd not get anywhere with Jennifer and I was stupid enough to accept the bet. What'll I do? It seemed a joke at the time. Now what do I do?
Slowly he reached for the phone. Jennifer would understand when he explained.
"Could I speak to Jennifer Blake, please?"
"Mr. O'Brien," Jennifer's Personal Assistant seemed out of patience. "Miss Blake will not take any of your calls. I'm so sorry."
The click of the phone sounded his death knell but he was certainly given no time to feel sorry for himself as he looked up to see one of the apprentices stumble into the office.
"There's a Commander Williams in the workshop, demanding to see you."
Commander Williams - Susie's husband? Do I run? Well, there's not much else that can go wrong now. Peter pushed his thoughts to one side as he strode out of the office.
"I'm Peter O'Brien. Can I help you?"
"Yes, you can."
He was even taller than Peter and he glared down from his pock marked face. His gold braided uniform gave him a most commanding presence and Peter noticed the Navy car waiting at the curbside.
"I'm Bill Williams, Susie's husband." His voice rumbled out of his barrel chest and he reached forward to grip Peter's hand.
His black hair was close cropped and he seemed a walking, talking, gigantic pile of muscles. As he continued talking, Peter realized his glare was really a lop-sided grin.
"I want to thank you for looking after my wife when her car broke down and especially after that affair following rehearsals. It's been hard being a sailor but in three month's time..." The Commander hesitated, slightly embarrassed, "I will be a civilian looking for a job like everyone else."
With his naval cap on his head once more, he turned as if to leave.
"One moment, Bill, if I can call you that - or should I address you as Commander?"
"Bill will do perfectly, thanks, Peter."
"You'll be looking for a job? I may be able to help you."
Peter took him into the office and made a hurried phone call, then, holding the phone to his chest, he quickly outlined a proposition.
"Bill, I am talking to a company that is headhunting and I believe you have the managerial qualifications they need, else you would not be wearing all that gold braid. Would you be interested?"
Seeing the excited look on Bill's face and his firm nod of agreement, Peter gave the phone call his full attention.
Making no further comment to Bill, Peter proceeded with the call that largely involved listening, along with the occasional interruption where he mumbled positively into the phone. When Peter finally spoke up at the end, Bill Williams could only be surprised at the authority in his voice.
"You have an appointment tomorrow morning at 9am. No thanks, say nothing." Peter held his hand up as the Commander tried to interrupt. Peter handed him a card with the details and pushed him out the office as if afraid he had already said too much.
Opening night was on them and Peter took up the challenge with his usual strength, storming onto the stage and gaining the attention of the audience immediately.
Boos, foot stamping and shouts greeted his every word but his voice boomed over the noise so the audience didn't miss a single word. His malevolence and crude licking of lips as he glowered across the stage at the cool, distant, innocent heroine growling, "A tasty morsel" was met with howls of derision and thunderous boos.
The audience went mad and the cast froze, not moving until the noise abated. Only then did Peter stride across the stage to sweep Jennifer into his arms -- and the audience erupted.
Jennifer struggled, her lips remained firmly closed and she refused to look Peter in the eye.
When the villain lay mortally wounded, Jennifer walked across and gave him a hefty kick. Again, the audience went crazy. No boos, but loud cheering, clapping, and cries of 'encore, more, bravo, more, more' as if demanding she kick the villain again.
The stage crew lowered the final curtain and Peter formally congratulated Jennifer for her performance, but she was too busy chatting with the rest of the cast to do more than nod.
Work and performances filled the following days. Nothing changed.
Jennifer played the part of the heroine to perfection while Peter stormed about the stage muttering curses and plotting the success of his dastardly deeds.
Saturday night was the final night and as it approached, Peter seemed to undergo a change.
Tired of Jennifer's kicks each night, tired of Jennifer's coldness, furious at the treatment meted out to him over what had been a very silly bet, he rang the director.
They argued furiously but Peter would not back down to accept the director's demands.
That evening it was almost curtain time when the director called the cast onto the stage.
Glaring balefully at Jennifer, he delivered an announcement.
"Peter will not be the villain tonight. He rang me early today and explained that the situation between the heroine and the villain had deteriorated to such an extent he refused to be part of the play tonight.
"He apologizes to you all. It was not his choice to spoil the evening and the party. I have secured a stand-in and I hope he is sober enough to play the part. Everybody do your best, I'm sure the stand-in will be on time for his first entrance. Enjoy tonight and the party."
Jennifer was ashen. Her anger over the 'bet' gone, dispelled by the feeling of empty panic that replaced it. She couldn't go on without Peter there, couldn't adapt so suddenly to a different actor. She needed Peter as the villain.