Cheapskate in Love (26 page)

He imagined he was dancing with Donna in the ballroom of the
famous Waldorf Astoria hotel in Manhattan, with a crowd of other young people.
In his mind, everyone was whirling and twirling around, trying to out-dance him
and Donna, but they were the best dancers on the floor. They were raising smoke
all over the place. They were on fire. They were hot and unstoppable.

“
Ow
!” cried Bill, as he turned too
quickly for the comfort of his lower back. He fell onto his couch, holding his
hand back there. His dancing for the day was over. The momentary pain, however,
could not erase the happy expectation he had for next Saturday. On that day, he
would see his darling Donna again.

The next morning, on Monday, the first of five long days
before the Saturday he could hardly wait for, Bill brought cupcakes to the
office as a surprise treat for his coworkers. Infrequently, he did this when
his personal life seemed to be on the up and up; an irrational, exuberant,
abnormal urge would seize him, and, to share his momentary contentment, he’d
splurge on something he knew his coworkers would eat. When he placed the box of
ten cupcakes, each topped with a thick inch of frosting, on a table, he invited
them all to help themselves. Claire had not yet arrived, but Katie and Debbie
jumped up and hurried to the cupcakes, oohing and
aahing
and examining the assortment. Matt watched them. He wasn’t a cupcake aficionado
like the women. However, if there were any left after lunch, he would claim it
was a waste to throw out such fat and sugar mounds and finish them off, even
the crumbs.

“This beats the oatmeal that I was going to have,” said
Katie, taking her choice back to her seat. “Thanks, Bill.”

“Three-day-old cupcakes are better than oatmeal?” remarked
Matt with some rancor. He was slightly envious that the women were cooing over
a gift from Bill, whom everyone knew was tight with his money.

“These are fresh and cost four bucks
each
,” responded Bill, without any hostility. “And there are plenty
more. Help yourself.” He sat down with a cupcake, too. Matt couldn’t answer
such generosity with more negativity, so he looked fixedly at his computer
screen and pounded out email text on his keyboard.

At her desk now with a cupcake, Debbie held it before her
face, as if it were an apple stolen from the Garden of Eden. “I really
shouldn’t. I really, really shouldn’t eat this,” she said with a mixture of
dread and desire in her voice. She was thinking of all the calories the cupcake
contained. Abandoning herself to her fate, she pulled the cupcake to her lips
and took a big bite. The sweet temptation disappeared quickly with a few more
bites, destined to reappear on her hips after digestion.

Late as usual, Claire entered the office and immediately
perceived the box of cupcakes. “Cupcakes! What’s the special occasion?”
Cupcakes were usually brought into the office for a birthday or other
celebration.

“Linda and him got engaged,” deadpanned Matt, looking at
Claire. Bill ignored the comment. He had told them all he was no longer talking
with that former girlfriend, and he didn’t want to tell them again.

“Bill, I’m so happy for you. Congratulations!” Claire
exclaimed. Everyone knew that Bill was an inveterate flip-flopper in regard to
Linda. It was entirely possible that there had occurred another revolution in
their relationship, and they were now engaged.

“I’m going to be his best man,” proclaimed Matt, smiling
broadly at his lie’s success.

Claire looked intently at Bill, who was still ignoring their
exchange. “Wait a moment,” said Claire. “Bill, are you engaged?”

“Of course, he’s engaged,” butted in Matt. “A man who buys
cupcakes is happy about something big. And what is bigger to Bill...”

“No, I’m not,” denied Bill.

“...
than
being engaged,” said Matt,
trailing off lamely.

“I should have known our creative department was at work
again,” huffed Claire,
tiffed
at being so easily
deceived. She picked up a cupcake on the way to her desk and started her
morning routine.

Although she had plenty of personal emails to attend to,
Katie could easily relate to her coworkers when the subject was cupcakes. She
wanted to know why the little cakes had appeared. “So what’s the special
occasion, Bill?” she asked.

“There isn’t one. I just felt like bringing in cupcakes.
Everyone likes them.”

“You’re so sweet,” Katie said, flashing a smile at him. Her
cute, grinning face looked exactly like an emoticon, which she would put in
emails.

Matt couldn’t let Bill’s apparently unmotivated geniality
pass unchallenged. “Will everyone who thinks there is no special occasion,
please raise your hand?”

No one raised
their
hand.

“Your hair looks nice,” commented Debbie to Bill. “Didn’t
you get it done for...What’s her name? Miss Green Card.” Debbie was a bit
distracted, because the box of cupcakes lay in her line of vision, and she was
considering when to raid it again.

“Tanya,” said Claire, supplying the name. Her command of
minutiae explained why she was the chief staff person.

“Bill has to marry Linda,” announced Matt with a straight
face. “Tanya doesn’t have her persistent, sadistic charm.”

“I’m not marrying Linda,” Bill grumbled. “How many times do
I have to say I’m not even speaking with her?”

“Who are you marrying then?” asked Matt, unrelenting.

“I say Tanya,” suggested Debbie. “The haircut and coloring
are too good. That shows real motivation.” She asked Bill, “Did you go
someplace near you? I need a new stylist, but you live too far out.” After
ample nutrition, fashion and cosmetics were Debbie’s secondary concerns.

“I’m not marrying anyone,” objected Bill, who was on the
verge of becoming mad. “And I won’t bring anymore cupcakes, if there has to be
an interrogation.”

“OK, everyone, to work,” ordered Katie, taking charge of the
situation, lest they imperil a chance for more too sweet bakery goods from
Bill. “We want more cupcakes.”

Everyone turned toward
their
computer monitor, looking busy, except Matt, who leaned toward Bill and
whispered, “Who did you meet? Is she good-looking?” The men sat at desks side
by side, behind the women, so their communication was semi-private.

“Donna,” replied Bill with a ready whisper. He was willing
to open up to a guy in secret about his recent conquest. “She’s gorgeous.”

“Really?” said Matt, faking amazement.

“Her picture’s here on the Internet,” Bill bragged,
motioning Matt to come over to his desk. Matt went at once. Since Bill had sat
down, he had been diligently going through the website for Donna’s hair salon,
searching for pictures of her. He pointed out her fetching face and profile to
Matt, who leaned eagerly over Bill’s shoulder, looking at his monitor. “See
what I see?” Bill asked, making an hourglass figure in the air with his hands.
“Are those curves or what?”

Matt nodded, his eyes aglow. “
Mmmmm
.
Nice.”

Since he had discovered the story behind the cupcakes, there
was no need to whisper any longer. He stood up and loudly addressed the rest,
“Anyone want to see
who
Bill is marrying?”

Vehemently and repeatedly, Bill denied he was marrying
anyone, but it was too late to convince his coworkers. Debbie, Claire, and even
Katie rushed to his desk, talking all at once, “Who is she? Where did you meet
her? What does she do? How long have you known her? Is she pretty? Oh, she
is
good-looking. Lucky you. Now tell us
everything
.”

Surrounded and bombarded with questions, Bill, who was
tickled to his toes with Donna and confident of their future, decided that the
easiest truth to tell his coworkers was that no definite wedding plans had been
made yet.

Chapter 28

Two days before Saturday, Stan arranged to meet Bill for
lunch in Midtown with the intention of talking some sense into him about Donna.
Stan wanted Bill to apologize to Helen for his rude words in the social hall
and take her out on a date. Donna, Stan planned to say,
was
another of his pipe dreams, while Helen was attractive, intelligent, and
considerate. She was a long-time acquaintance, he would emphasize, who was
visibly, seriously interested in him. As his friend, Stan would command him to
wake up.

This time, they went to an Indian buffet restaurant that a
coworker of Stan’s had recommended. Bill had assented to this choice, because
Stan had assured him that it would be inexpensive. When Stan arrived at the
place, however, he found Bill reading the menu posted outside with a worried
look. After they exchanged a few pleasantries, as they usually did, about how
decrepit and near death the other appeared, Bill broached the subject of his
real concern.

“The prices are kind of high,” he complained.

“It’s only three more dollars than the Chinese buffet we
went to last time,” countered Stan, not considering the difference that three
dollars make to a man of Bill’s economical views.

“I spent a lot on cupcakes this morning,” griped Bill. “And
it doesn’t seem like much food. I saw the plates people have inside. The
Chinese place piled more on.”

“If you want to go to the same place...
”
answered Stan, becoming impatient, since Bill was acting more shamelessly cheap
than usual.

“No, no, let’s eat here,” Bill interjected. “If you pay this
time, I’ll pay next time when we go back to the Chinese buffet. How does that
sound?”

Since Stan was never going to argue with Bill for the
distinction of being an equal or greater cheapskate, he agreed to Bill’s
suggestion, and they walked inside.

When they had sat down with their trays to eat, Stan
immediately launched into the speech he had thought about, while Bill forked
food into his face. Stan told him how impressed he had been by Helen, how good-looking
she was, how much she seemed to desire him.

“Forget about her,” Bill broke in. “I’m not talking with her
again. Leaving me stranded at church was a mean trick. Here’s something for you
to appreciate. What do you think about this? Does she have curves or what?” He
handed Stan a picture, which he had printed from the Internet.

“Yeah, she has some round spots,” Stan admitted grudgingly,
looking at the picture.

“That’s Donna,” crowed Bill. “She’s something to remember.
That’s one ski course I want to slide all over.”

As Stan gave the picture back, he joked in return, “Probably
won’t be on your feet for long.”

“I’d keep falling and falling, every time I got up,”
answered Bill with glee, running with the metaphor. “But I’d get up again and
again and go at it.”

“Are you seeing her before the barbecue?” asked Stan, trying
to determine the extent of Bill’s acquaintance with her.

“She’s too busy.”

“Find out any more about her?”

“She has a BMW.”

“Nice,” said Stan. “And you’re driving her to the barbecue
in your rusting jalopy?”

“No. She’s driving. I told her my car broke down again, and
I ordered an Audi...”

“You bought an Audi?” Stan was astounded.

“Of course not. Not yet.
If we have a
great time, maybe.
She likes nice things, so I want her to think I do, too.
I said the new car isn’t ready yet, because all the extras have to be
installed. I told her someone will drop me off at her place.”

Stan was shaking his head in disbelief. Since his friend was
apparently hopelessly infatuated, thinking that lies and deception would lead
to love, instead of trying to converse with him rationally, he realized that
the best means of communication would be ridicule. “I’m sure Helen would like
to do that for you.”

“I’m driving my car,” Bill responded tersely, irritated by
the remembrance of Helen abandoning him. “I’ll just park it out of sight.”

“What happens when Donna drives you home? You’re going to
hitchhike back to her place?”

“I’m staying the night,” Bill said confidently.

“Oh, really? Does she know?”

“She invited me to the barbecue. What do you think?”

“That she wants a party companion, like Helen said. What
makes you think that isn’t true?”

“I know it,” declared Bill dreamily. “This time...”

“You’ve found a sex-worker, who happens to own a salon and likes
driving strange men from barbecues right into her bed,” spurted out Stan
sarcastically.

“Sounds sort of appetizing,” remarked Bill, delighted with
the idea.

“For five-hundred bucks an hour.”

“That’s too much,” argued Bill. “I’ll bring chocolates and flowers.
That’ll be enough for her.”

“Bring your luggage, too. She should let you move right in.”

“I was planning to leave a change of clothes in the car,”
admitted Bill, “in case she wants me to stay Sunday, too.”

“Bring everything. Rent a moving van, and be ready to unload
all your stuff the next morning.”