I must have dozed off. The answering machine had already picked up by the time I absorbed the knowledge that the phone was ringing. The buzzer beeped and the message started.
"Hi guys," a very familiar low voice spoke out from the box. "It's me. I don't know what you two are up to that has you so busy you can't pick up... Or wait, maybe I do, but let's not go there, okay?"
I laughed softly to myself.
"Anyway, I called to let you know we're going to be a little late. Don't roll your eyes, Joe, you only have to take care of yourselves this weekend. We've got all the kids, plus a couple extra I've never seen before, and both dogs, which are almost more work. Grandma has her yoga class until 9:30, so she can't come over and scare the hell out of them like she normally does either. And to top it off, my darling wife is in the bathroom with morning sickness even though I told her she can't be because she's in her third trimester, which probably wasn't the wisest thing to say..."
I reached for the phone but stopped when I heard Joe leave the bathroom and pick up the hall receiver. He strolled into the bedroom with his hand on the cordless. Half his face was shaved and he still had bed hair and I almost jumped him--he looked so gorgeous.
"Sure, sure," he was saying into the receiver, "let me talk to her."
He winked at me and motioned for me to pick up the phone. I shook my head lazily and he shrugged.
"Hey, sweetheart, how's it going?" He frowned and I sat up. "Your stomach hurts?" He listened and the worry was replaced by amusement. "Even though you know that can't happen in the third trimester."
I rolled my eyes and flopped back down on the bed.
"Well, why don't you try eating some ice cream to settle your stomach?"
"Joe!" I said exasperated. "Is that your idea of sound medical advice?"
He stuck his tongue out at me and walked back into the hall. A few minutes later I heard him hang up. He came back in the room and lay down on the bed.
"Reprieve," he said staring at the ceiling. "They'll be about 45 minutes late, which translates to an hour, hour and half minimum."
"Is she really sick?" I remembered my earlier concern and wanted to make sure I was right to let it go. "I mean we could cancel..."
"She's not sick. You worry too much."
"Oh and you don't."
Joe turned his head and smiled at me. "It's good for her to get out, experience a change of scene."
I snorted. "Watch it. You're beginning to sound pretty new age there, Mr. MD."
"Well," his eyes turned sexy. "I'm a sensitive kind of guy." He leaned over to kiss me tenderly then abruptly changed moods and pinched my ass.
"Ow!"
"Come on, let's shower and then I'll make you one of my bean curd and sprout omelets."
"My God," I groaned in mock horror. "Aliens have come in the middle of the night and replaced the man I love with Richard Simmons."
"Never happen. We're a team, you and me; not even aliens could separate us."
He walked out of the bedroom without waiting for my reaction. He already knew what it would be. He was right: nobody would ever separate us. Not that a couple hadn't tried...
October 1988
The sky was cloudless, the air tangy with the sweet scents of fall and beer. The sun shone down with hard rays, warming my face and hands. It was a perfect day for football. The only problem was: we were losing.
Carl my old roommate and perennial football buddy, moaned in agony as Joe got sacked again.
"Third down," boomed the loudspeaker.
"I can't watch anymore," Carl practically whimpered, than matched his actions with his words and got up. "You want a dog?"
I shook my head. He shrugged and took off trying to beat the half-time mob.
For four years now, we had been watching the Wolverines together. As freshman, far away from home and friends, it had seemed expedient to go to the games together. After a while, it had become a habit and had given us some common ground that we didn't otherwise share. It had been the basis of a friendship that, while I wouldn't call it close, was something I valued.
He had gotten married the previous June to a pretty little blonde named Ashley, who was sassy and funny and I was half in love with her myself. I was surprised and flattered, when he asked me to be one of his groomsmen.
Ash didn't like football, but she had graciously agreed that Carl and I could continue our football affair, as she called it. So Saturday afternoons remained the two of us, up in the stands, yelling 'Go Blue!' and singing Hail To The Victors, regardless of whether the team won or lost.
There was one difference this year. Joe had landed us some killer seats at the 50-yard line. Now, while most of the students were crammed into the edges of the stadium, we sat with the Alumni bigwigs. Joe was so pleased to have been able to do this for us that I never told him I kinda missed the insanity that went on in the student section.
A hand grasped my shoulder firmly.
"Jesus," I said without turning around. "That was quick."
"Mike?" It was not Carl.
I swiveled around in my seat, my mouth suddenly gone dry. There behind me stood Culvert Atchison Montgomery IV, sexy grin and all.
It had been over two months since I'd started my new job at the firm and I'd had plenty of time to check out Cam. Familiarity had not bred contempt. If anything, I thought he'd gotten better looking then when I'd first laid eyes on him. A lot of that had to do with how he acted, as well as the way he was put together.
He was always friendly, always polite when he made a request and grateful for any work that you did for him. He snubbed no one; treated nobody like they were below his notice. He knew everybody's name from the overworked secretaries to the guy who cleaned the washrooms. It was no surprise that I wasn't the only person who'd have jumped in front of him to take a bullet. We probably would have fought over the honor.
My job, as I've mentioned, was research, and I'd be less than honest if I didn't admit that some of the research I'd done had been on Cam. No, I didn't do a TRW on him. But I asked around, casually, and I found out as much as I could without risking a reputation as a stalker.
He was 34 years old, divorced, and the father of two kids, a boy 9 and a girl, 7. He and his ex-wife, Elise, were friendly; he kept a picture of her on his desk along with one of the munchkins. Rumor had it that his ex had left him for another guy; but I didn't buy it. I mean, who could she have found that would be better than Cam? He had been raised in Chicago and was from a wealthy family, but had decided to move to Ann Arbor after the divorce.
His sex life was strictly private. Nobody knew anything for sure, but the prevailing theory was that he was still heartbroken over the breakup of his marriage; he even wore his wedding band. Of course it goes without saying I'd of loved to help him out by licking his wounds and any other body part he wanted me to attend to.
But being the realist that I am, I'd accepted that wasn't going to happen anytime soon. Instead I'd been conducting my own quest for a new love, or a reasonable facsimile of that phenomenon. My results though, had been less than spectacular. I was beginning to be afraid that my senior year would be a relatively celibate one. Joe wasn't having a lot of luck in the love life department either, if his bitching could be believed.
Ironic isn't it? Just as we'd realized settling down has some advantages; we both hit a dry spell. But the problem faded as I looked at the ice blue eyes of the face in front of me.
"Cam! I thought you were somebody else." I said inanely and unnecessarily; the man was not an idiot.