Chapter 2: Bohemian Rhapsody
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Second story in the tales of the cohort of recent college graduates employed by fictional Shield Insurance, a huge nationwide insurance firm located in the small factory town of Wanowee, Wisconsin. Even more than the first chapter, this is a basically character-driven romantic/erotic bit of fiction rather than a "quick wank" story.
It is partly inspired by many of the people I met while working emergency room security in college. Some (definitely not all) of the staff and the cops and ambulance drivers were amongst the best people I have known. Some of the patients and their friends and families made indelible impressions on me. Twenty years later, I can still see them. I was a good shoulder to cry on, and somehow it showed.
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April Price cursed as she dropped the razor to the floor of the tub. Brigid was waiting to get into the bathroom to clean up for her overnight date with Ollie, at nice a hotel in Lake Geneva no less. April's little hands just wouldn't seem to obey her desire to get done quickly so that she could get out of her roommate's way. Finally, she finished shaving her legs and turned on the shower to wash off the shaving cream. April couldn't resist the urge to make it a full-shower. No time to play with the hose on the showerhead tonight, though, just a quick scrub. Besides, she didn't want to use up all the hot water—again.
April finally emerged from the steamy little bathroom, wearing only a towel on her head. Brigid, a big bath towel draped over the shoulder of her naked body, just couldn't resist a playful slap to April's round little arse as she passed through the kitchen. "And sure, there's ar little bohemian wench, always cleaner and more well-shaven than any rosspot yer like ta see! Except fer that beautiful ginger minger down there!"
"Told you, I'm a poser, Bridgey," she said and walked on through the living room and into her bedroom. As the shower came on in the bathroom, April rummaged through her dresser for a nice pair of black panties and matching bra. She liked her bra to fit snugly; even after five years of having pierced nipples, she loved to see the way the little rings showed against the tight fabric.
Not that anyone was likely to see the piercings, not with the way things had been going of late. Brigid finding Ollie had buoyed April's hopes for a bit, but that was old news now. It had been some time since April had seriously believed in the notion that she was going to find herself a man in Wanowee. April dropped the towel from her light brown hair and went to work with the hair dryer for several minutes before she walked to the closet and slid into one of the many flowing dresses she kept there. She went to the jewelry box and picked out her favorite crystal necklace. April checked her ensemble in the mirror. It was a weekend, so she didn't need to worry about office rules. She slid a tiny stud into her left nostril and a small hoop into her brow. She looked basically the same as she had in college the past five years, maybe a little fuller in the bust. Her dress was only moderately low-cut, but since it seemed everyone was taller than her anyway, it gave an adequate peep to interested parties, should there be any.
April walked over to the canvas in the corner of the room, squeezed a little orange onto her palate and added a few licks of flame to the picture of nude Greek women dancing around a pyre while Dionysius leered down from an elevated throne of twisted grapevines. It was an eternal project, never quite finished to her satisfaction. No matter how much orange and amber she added, she could never capture the heat of the women's frenzied lust. She knew the missing element was in the expressions of Dionysius and the women, but she was so far from being able to capture it that she never even put a brush near their faces. She had even tried to find inspiration playing with her battery-operated friend while watching her own expression in the mirror, but it was never genuine enough. She finally grimaced and put the brush down, double-checking her hands to make sure they had no paint on them.
With a heavy sigh of resignation, April grabbed her big bag with the long strap and headed toward the door. "Have a good time, Bridgey," she called to the bathroom door. "Please do something I wouldn't do!" With that, she stepped into the unseasonably warm late October night. She hit the steps at sidewalk level and turned left, then right, then back left. Feeling like a fool, she kept heading to her left, no idea where to go. She was in the "wild" town of Wanowee, Wisconsin. Where the hell was there for a faux bohemian girl to go?
With a tinge of regret, she realized she was headed toward the downtown "Strip" and Mitch's store. Mitch was a cute little man, thirty-ish with a gentle smile and gorgeous blue eyes. But, like most of the men April had ever grown close to, Mitch was as interested in finding a good man as she. For almost as long as she could remember, April had always been known as two things, a New Age hippie chick and a "fag hag." Well, she was certainly guilty of the second charge. She had a sinking feeling she was about to help Mitch close up the store and then settle in with him for a marathon session of GLEE episodes or Mitch's peculiar favorite, BIG LOVE. (What exactly drove a gay man to be captivated by a story of a conservative Mormon with a handful of wives, neither of them had been able to sort out. Perhaps opposites did attract.) At least she got free spiked gourmet coffee out of the deal, and besides, Mitch made her laugh when she wanted to cry.
She was not surprised to find "Beans and Books" deserted when she walked in. "Oh, you sexy beast!" Mitch declared without looking up as he heard the door chime. "How did you end up with me on another Friday night? Viggo Mortensen stand you up again?"
"He could stand me up or lay me down, Mitch. Either way you'd have to peel me off the ceiling when it was over."
"I know exactly what you mean, sweet child. I know exactly what you mean. How many fingers you want?" She held up three. Mitch clucked and poured a healthy dose of Kahlua, peppermint schnapps and a dash of sugar into one of the extremely heavy, but somehow comforting to hold, mugs he made on his own pottery wheel. Then he filled it with his best coffee and topped it with creme. April took a seat by the open window so that a cool breeze washed over her. "I've got to go empty the trash can outside before I lock up. The town puts it there, but do they ever empty it? Sweet Jesus to fuck no!" April laughed and nearly spit her first sip of coffee. Even Brigid's working class Irish-isms sometimes suffered in comparison to the colorful profanity Mitch effortlessly dropped in conversation. Mitch smiled at her and wiped a dollop of crème from her chin. "Great gobs of fellatio, what have you been doing, filthy bitch? Anyway, the frakking trash... I come in to open the store on a fall day and I've got a swarm of bees waiting to greet my customers. I have to empty it at night after the little buzzers settle down. Got stung trying to do it in the morning! Where's my look of sympathy? Thank you! One of these days, we'll have a good hard frost like Motherfucking Nature intended, and that will be the end of it until next year." April smiled and nodded and grabbed a book to skim while she waited.
It seemed he was gone a long time, but she knew he had to go around the corner of the building to get to the dumpster in the alley. She looked out the window after a bit and noticed that Mikey Skardowski was standing across the street, looking toward the store. He had an inscrutable but intense expression on his face. Was he looking at her? She hoped not.
She and Brigid had gotten into quite a feud with Mikey and his friends, Jerry and Teddy (all from her Shield cohort,)after a drunken Packer Opening Night party at Vander Voot's Sports Bar. Mikey had spent the whole night explaining American football to Brigid and then thought he was about to score himself. Brigid hadn't known he was going for that; she thought he was just being a good friend. Embarrassed when he got rejected, he shouted at Brigid and called her a pricktease. Things got worse once he got Bridgey's Irish up. Everyone's night got all banjaxed; April had been in a heavy makeout session with Teddy and dropped him cold to go to Brigid's aid. Except for dear sweet Ollie, the popular crowd that swirled around Jerry and Teddy had turned a big-time junior high cold shoulder to the roommates.
"Oh Goddess," she whispered, looking at the hulking Mikey. "He's going to give me a hard time, because he caught me without Brigid." Brigid's sharp Irish tongue and strong personality kept the brutes at bay most of the time, but April didn't have that kind of fighting spirit. Everyone in this football-crazy town seemed to think Mikey was a big deal because had been a starting tight end for the UW-Whitewater Warhawks when they won a Division III National title, but even he wasn't eager to lock horns with Brigid again. It had become almost comical the way he averted his eyes and tried not to start trouble with them at work. The football hero fumbled for excuses to leave the room when he was alone with one of them. "Oh, April," she thought," not that pun."
Suddenly, Mikey launched himself across the street with an angry look on his face. "HEY!" he roared. April closed her eyes and prayed he'd go away. "Leave the little guy alone, ya pricks!"
What had he said? "Little guy?"
"Oh shit, Mitch!" April whispered and headed for the door. Mikey disappeared around the corner, into the alley. April followed, her three quarters-full mug of hot coffee still in her hand. She rounded the corner to see that two locals had been shoving Mitch around in the alley. One of them knocked him to the ground and kicked him in the ribs, but he stepped back away when they saw Mikey.
