Deadly Dosage (16 page)

Chapter
25

Lloyd opened the car door for me and I got in. He
slipped in moments later and started the engine.

     “Cold?” he asked.

     “Just a little.”

     He adjusted the fan and vents so more heat blew on
me.

     He backed out slowly and pulled out of the lot.

     “So.” He paused. “Sam seems to know you better
than Brandi.”

     “What makes you say that?” I asked.

     “Just a feeling I got.” He glanced at me. “The
way he looked at you.”

     I felt uncomfortable.

     “Don’t want to talk about it?” he pried.

     “Not much to tell. We were an item for a while. I
broke it off.”

     “Why?”

     “He and I were a mistake from the beginning, and
not worth reminiscing.”

     “Okay. Just seeing where I stood.” He glimpsed
back at me. “The guy still has a thing for you.”

     “That’s his problem.”

     “Brrr, cold as ice.”

     “If you knew him better, you’d understand.”

     “Maybe I would.” He reached over and gave my hand
a little reassuring squeeze.

     “So, these condos. Leasing to pharmaceutical CEOs
or drug lords?”

     “Neither, mostly foreign diplomats,” he grinned.

     I laughed. “Sam and Brandi believed you.”

     “That’s not saying much.” He adjusted the
temperature control. “Let me know if you get cold.”

     We arrived twenty-five minutes before game time,
parking on a floor that allowed us convenient access to the skywalk to the
arena. Naturally, I had to relieve myself as soon as we entered the stadium, so
Lloyd kindly waited outside the ladies’ room.

     I had no idea what to expect on the inside, since
it was my first trip to the Bradley Center.

     Lloyd handed our tickets to an agent, who pointed
to a door a few steps away. He took my arm and ushered me to the door. He
opened it and allowed me to enter first.

     The company box, furnished in shades of orange,
seated around ten. A huge window showcased the ice rink rows below us, and an
oak bar stood opposite the window.

The catered event was casual.
The mini-fridge was stocked with beer and soft drinks. The countertop of the
bar held a tray of crackers and cheese, nachos, pizza and chicken wings.

Two couples, one in their
early thirties, the other in their fifties stood near the bar with drinks in
hand, involved in a lively conversation about the usage of some drug I couldn’t
pronounce. A lone man, nearing forty, sat with his back to them on a couch,
eating nachos like a chain smoker with cigarettes.

     “Hey, Lloyd,” said one of woman near the bar.
“You made it.”

     She was attractive in an exotic sort of way. A
tall woman, with prominent cheek bones, full mouth, and deep set, hazel eyes.
Her blue-black hair was cut severely into a wedge with straight bangs across
her forehead.

     Moving closer to us, giving me the once over, she
said haughtily, “And who’s this little pixy.”

“Essie, Dick,” Lloyd said
charmingly, “meet Sunny Kramer. I met her where my dad is being treated.”

     “Nice to meet you,” I said. Dick gave me a hug
and Essie offered a limp handshake.

     “Well, isn’t that sweet. Are you a nurse, dear?”

     “No, the bookkeeper,” I said, feeling extremely
inadequate.

     “Essie works the northern portion of Wisconsin.
Top in sales. Every year is it?”

She gave a toothy smile
showing off excellent dental care.

 “Dick is her lazy, out of
work, bum boyfriend,” Lloyd joked.

     “And loving it,” laughed Dick. “She supports me
rather well.”

     Essie’s sense of humor wasn’t as well furnished
as her Ann Taylor wardrobe. She didn’t laugh.

     Dick stood an inch taller than her, with
thinning, dirty blonde hair, and twinkling, light blue eyes. Noticeable love
handles sprouted from his hips and hung over his navy Dockers.

     “Actually Dick is the president of his own
company, BlueCad. He supplies CAD services to manufacturing firms worldwide,”
clarified Essie. “He’s just modest.” 

Dick looked embarrassed and
busied himself with the cheese spread.

I found them a rather odd
pair. I liked him and found her cold and distasteful.

     Lloyd turned me to face the other couple. “Sunny,
this is Ken Kowalski and his lovely wife, Karen. Ken is the Director of Sales
for our division, my boss.”

     “Pleasure,” I said, shaking both of their hands.

     Karen’s looked very European, with a long slender
nose, wide mouth, and fair complexion. Her shoulder-length, thick blonde hair
was natural and her best feature. She lacked Essie’s flair for fashion.

     Ken wore an Admirals jersey over faded blue
jeans. To me he epitomized the typical fifty-something baby boomer, trying to
be young and hip.

     “And this, is Fred Johnson,” Lloyd said, steering
me to the man on the couch.

     “Hi, Fred,” I said offering my hand. “Good
nachos?”

     “Not too bad, I’ve had better,” he said. He wiped
his fingers on a napkin and shook my hand.

     “Fred has the southwestern territory. Mine begins
where his ends. Fred and I go fishing several times a year. He has a great
cottage on Castle Rock Lake in Adams County.”

     “Sounds like fun,” I said, though I’d only fished
a few times as a kid. Fishing requires patience.

     Fred seemed relaxed in his environment and I felt
certain it would take a calamity to break his stride.

     He wore his graying brown hair in a crew cut and
dressed much like Lloyd. Their friendship was evident in their mannerisms.

     “Sunny, would you like something to drink or
eat?” Lloyd asked.

     “Sure. Light beer is fine.”

     We walked over to the bar, and Lloyd handed me a
Miller Light and he took a Genuine Draft. Each of us took a paper plate and
piled on a couple of slices of pepperoni pizza.

     “Games about to begin,” said Ken. He and Karen
took seats by the window, followed by Essie and Dick.

     Fred stayed on the couch and drank beer. We
joined him in nearby chairs.

     “Know anything about hockey?” Fred inquired,
nodding towards the window.

     I finished chewing the hunk of pizza in my mouth
and swallowed. “Nope.”

     “Can be a bloody sport depending on the team.
Philly is pretty good.”

     “We’ll go to the window when you’re done eating.
Not much to miss right now.”

     We finished eating, listening to Fred talk about
his plans to go ice fishing before the end of the month. Lloyd declined on his
invitation to join him, saying he didn’t want to be far from home with his dad
in the nursing home.

     Lloyd got another round of beers for us and we
joined the others watching the game.

     Ken was shouting at the glass, screaming foul. Apparently,
some guy got hit when he didn’t have the puck. For some reason, it was only
okay to slam into the guy and bloody him up if he had the puck in his
possession.

     Lloyd and Fred explained the basics. Six players
per side: three forwards, two defensemen and the goaltender. The goaltender was
not allowed to go past the red centerline on his side, while the rest of the
players could skate anywhere they pleased. He defended his net, so the puck
from the opposing team didn’t enter and score. It made sense until we got to
the faceoff, and what constituted a minor or major penalty.

     I drank my beer and nodded as if I understood
everything. Their expressions showed I wasn’t fooling anyone.

     Several times, I noticed Essie admiring Lloyd,
studying him as though he were a work of art in a gallery. Dick was oblivious
to it as was Lloyd. Fred caught my line of vision and he winked. He made a
silly face and I choked on my beer.

     Karen reached around and started hitting me on
the back. I managed to cough out that I was okay.

     A hockey puck slammed into the glass partition of
the rink, scaring Karen enough that she jumped and spilled half her drink in
her lap. Dick burst out laughing. I cover my mouth to smother my laugh.

     The beers were relaxing me, perhaps too much. I
grew chatty and touchy-feely, which is never a good thing.

     Soon Dick and I were doing silly dances when the
Admirals scored. Essie wasn’t amused. Lloyd and Fred were pointing at us from
the couch and laughing. Ken and Karen never turned away from the game.

     “Dick! They scored!” I shouted.

     We both jumped up and Dick’s drink accidentally
splashed onto Essie’s arm.

Her face bunched up in a scowl
and she angrily got up and went to the bathroom.

When Essie returned, I watched
her sit next to Lloyd, forcing Fred to move to an adjacent chair. I purposely
got up and went over to the snacks so I could hear their conversation.

“So, Lloyd,” she said, her
voice filled with concealed venom. “Maybe you need to put a leash on your
little friend, before she embarrasses herself further. I don’t think she’s
making a very good impression on Ken, and he can make or break your career.”

He gave her an assessing
appraisal. “She’s just having fun, Essie.”

You tell her Lloyd, I said to
myself making a little platter.

“I’m just saying—” she pouted.
“ Dick always acts like, well, a dick, but he has the finances to back up his
quirky behavior.”

I noticed Fred listened, but
he didn’t volunteer an opinion, though I imagined he had many.

Lloyd’s spine stiffened. “So
in other words, the more money you have, the more outlandish your behavior can
be?”

“Don’t get mad, Lloyd,
darling,” she said soothingly, stroking his arm. “After all, I don’t make the
rules.”

“Excuse me.” Lloyd got up.

I hurried back to my seat and
sat down just as Lloyd approached. “Come to join the dance team?” I asked. I
pulled him into the seat next to me.

“Sure. What’s the score?”

“I think we’re losing.” I
pulled on Dick’s sleeve. “Are we losing?”

“Looks that way. Ken’s pissing
up a storm. He takes this stuff seriously.”

“Hey, Ken, take it easy,
you’ll stroke out,” shouted Dick.

“Bite me, dickball,” Ken said.
“Playing like a bunch of damn sissies.”

Twenty minutes later the game
was in the bag for Philadelphia.

With fifteen minutes to go,
Lloyd asked if I wanted to head out. He wanted a jump on the crowd. It was fine
by me, so I grabbed my coat and we said our goodbyes. Of course, I had to make
another pit stop on the way out. I’ll never understand why guys never have to
pee.

     We walked quickly through the exit and the cold
sobered me up some. It was a short walk to Lloyd’s car. He let me in first, and
went around and let himself in after I unlocked the door. The inside of the car
was icy cold.

     “It’ll be a while before there’s heat.” He turned
toward me. “So, you looked like you were having fun. Feeling a wee bit tipsy?”

     “Hmm. That would be yes, and yes. I didn’t mean
to ignore you. Dick was just cracking me up, he’s so funny. And I liked Fred.
Seems like a nice, straight forward type of guy.”

     “Dick has to have a great sense of humor dating
Essie.”

     “I couldn’t help but notice her sizing you up,” I
hazarded to say.

     “Essie?” He chuckled. “I don’t make enough money
to date her.”

     Huh. Did that mean he would prefer to date her if
he could? If there’s one thing I know, guys always phrase things the wrong way.
That’s how fights began. I had to be sure.

“So, would you if you did?”

“Would I what?” he asked.

“Date Essie?”

“She’d never date me.”

I was getting frustrated. And
I was more than tipsy, meaning that my frustration could turn easily to tears.

“That’s not what I’m asking?”

He looked at me incredulously.
He reached out and took my stubborn chin in his hand. “No, Sunny. She’s not my
type.”

“Oh,” I said. “What’s your
type?”

     He leaned in and kissed me deeply. Then he drew
back. “Does that answer your question?”

     “I’m not sure,” I responded breathlessly.

     He drew me near again, and this time deepened his
kiss and added a bit of French to it. The heat of passion shot through me like
an electrical current.