Impasse (6 page)

Thank God he doesn't drink anymore,
Stu thought.
Who knows what he'd be on top of
.

Clay had stopped drinking years earlier after a series of incidents, one involving talking himself out of a DUI from an officer with whom he'd worked when he was a prosecutor. The officer had been disciplined for cutting him a break, but Clay, who'd been three sheets to the wind, had gotten off without even taking a breathalyzer test, receiving only a one-hundred-and-fifty-dollar traffic ticket for an open container of alcohol in his BMW. Stu glanced at Katherine; standing on furniture was as serious an offense as dumping wine on white lace. She was biting her lip, and probably her tongue, but she didn't say anything.

Again—strange.

Clay waved his arms and pointed at Stuart. “Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Stu!” Clapping ensued and continued until Clay held his hands up for silence. “Our friend Stu has reached the ripe old age of forty, but he doesn't look a day over, well, forty. How does he do it? Well, I'll tell you how. He's careful. He follows the rules and takes the safe route every time. Am I right?”

Heads nodded in agreement as Clay worked the crowd. Stu didn't know where this was headed, but he didn't like it already.

Clay continued. “Stu's the guy who walks all the way to the crosswalk, even when no cars are coming. He's the man who won't go in the pool when the lifeguard's not on duty. When he uses a gas station bathroom and it says ‘customers only,' he feels obligated to buy a pack of gum. He's the sucker who buys the extended warranty just in case. Let's face it, he's a bit of a pussy.”

Stu suffered through giggles and murmurs of agreement.

“So, Stu…,” Clay said, turning his smug gaze upon him. “Now that you're forty, there's something that I need to give you. Indeed, I'm going to give you something you've needed for a long time. I'm going to give you an adventure.”

“A trip to Disneyland!” someone shouted from the crowd.

“No, no. Nothing so pansy-assed as fifty-five-mile-per-hour upside-down roller coasters or as tame as mobs of screaming children. No, sir. We're going to Alaska!”

A puzzled silence fell over the room, and over Stu.

“Alaska?” Stu said finally. “On a cruise, or, like, with a fishing guide?”

“No guides, my friend. No all-inclusive meal plan. Just you, me, and the last frontier. Nothing but a single solitary cabin.”

“Out in the wilderness?”

“Wouldn't be much of an adventure if the cabin were in downtown Fairbanks. Our friend Reggie Dugan is helping arrange it. I've got the airline tickets in my desk. One week in the wild. Knowing you, you'll want to make a detailed list of things to pack.”

“But I have to get my calendar from the office and schedule the—”

“No, you don't. I'm going to get you
out
of that office.”

Stu looked around, openmouthed. Katherine's eyebrows were raised practically to the top of her head, and her lips were pursed tightly. Dugan stood right behind her, watching the show with a self-satisfied grin. Others murmured excitedly. Besides his wife, they all seemed to think that taking Stu far away and dumping him in the middle of nowhere was the greatest thing ever.

“So are we talking next summer then?” Stu asked, trying to appear game.

“We leave in three days,” Clay said. “You're welcome.”

 

CHAPTER 7

When Clay offered to help Katherine carry out the garbage at the end of the evening, she knew it was time to face him. The industrial-size green plastic trash can was tucked behind a worn wooden fence beside the garage, where the two of them would be concealed.

After the incident in the basement, she'd set out to avoid him during the party—at first. Oddly enough, he'd left her alone too; and, after the intensity of their encounter, she wondered why. He was patient, it seemed, waiting to see what she would do, biding his time. She began to feel as though he were ignoring her, so she had purposefully brushed against his hand once at the punch bowl to see if he would flash her a knowing look. He'd only turned away as though he'd forgotten that he'd sent her on a mission.

But he hasn't forgotten.

No words were spoken on their journey to the garbage, but he was marching her to a secluded location, and when they got there, it would be time to report in. She wondered how he would react to her news.

Katherine opened the garbage can, and Clay slid the bulging plastic trash bag inside. When the lid thumped closed, she stood facing him, waiting for him to ask. But he just waited too.

“I did it,” she said finally, exhaling. She hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath. She watched for his reaction, but he said nothing. He simply motioned for her to continue.

“I talked to him. Just small talk, like you said.”

“Did it go well?”

“I'm pretty sure he liked me, if that's what you mean.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he felt me up.…” She let the revelation hang in the air. She meant to shock him. It
should
have been shocking, but Clay only nodded.

“Just a pat or an actual feel?” he asked matter-of-factly.

She rolled her eyes and took a deep breath. “Hand on hip at first, then he slid it around to my rump. He left it there while we talked. It was very awkward. Thanks a lot.”

“Did you reel him in?”

“We didn't talk business.”

“Fair enough. I appreciate the effort, Kate. I really do. That wasn't so hard, was it?”

“Says you.”

“You probably just closed the deal for us.”

“What?”

“On his way out he told me he wants a meeting. Congratulations.”

Katherine was surprised. She'd done it, and, like Clay said, it hadn't been that hard. When she'd asked Dugan to follow her to the upstairs hallway, away from the party, she'd been intimidated; not only was he large in stature, he was bold, confident, and no-nonsense. But she was a good talker—that part came easy. It felt natural, even. She'd smiled. He'd laughed. Then his hand had found her thigh. He was smooth; she didn't even notice it move to her rear until he gave it a gentle squeeze. He'd left it there for no more than a minute.
Two hundred thousand dollars per minute,
she thought. She had to hold back a giggle that was equal parts relief and excitement. She and Clay turned to walk back to the house.

“He
is
big,” she said.

“Powerful,” Clay replied. He cocked his head and looked at her. “Did it turn you on?”

“Of course not,” Katherine said automatically.

“Of course not,” he agreed, then he smiled and strode off toward his BMW.

Moments later Katherine slipped inside the house. The other guests had left, and Stu was still banging around in the kitchen, cleaning up. She hurried upstairs and dragged her makeup stool into their walk-in closet, then closed the door behind her. She sat and listened for a moment with her cocktail dress bunched up around her waist before pulling her panties down to her ankles.

As aroused as she was, it took her less than a minute to satisfy herself.

*   *   *

Stu finished up in the kitchen. Doing dishes wasn't his favorite chore—he didn't like getting his hands dirty—but if he left them for Katherine, she would fuss over them for the rest of the night, and there would be less chance of getting some birthday sex. He put the last pan away, wiped his hands, and headed for the stairs.

He still enjoyed sex with his wife immensely. They had a routine that worked for each of them. It was efficient and convenient, and it satisfied both her and him every time. And she kept her body in such magnificent shape. Her flat tummy and narrow muscled buttocks were as much as a middle-aged husband could ask for. Just the thought of them still stirred him. He eased open their bedroom door and stepped inside. He heard a muffled sigh. It sounded like Katherine was inside the walk-in closet. He'd hoped to catch a glimpse of her undressing—always exciting. But the closet door was closed. He kicked his shoes into the corner and pulled off his socks, shirt, and pants. He'd already brushed his teeth in the guest bathroom downstairs—one less thing to interrupt the mood.

As soon as Katherine walked out, however, he knew it wasn't going to happen. Not only did she look surprised and annoyed to find him standing there in his white briefs, but she was wearing baggy pajamas and looked spent. He couldn't blame her; she'd just put on a big party for him. Besides, she'd seemed a bit distracted all evening. He wouldn't pester her, he decided. She hated being pushed when it came to sex.

He smiled instead. “Thank you for the wonderful party.”

“Oh yes, of course.” She walked to him and gave him a peck on the cheek, and then skirted him to get to the bed.

He called after her. “You seem tired.”

“I'm sorry,” she mumbled, confirming that there would be no action.

“No problem. I am too,” he lied. “I'm getting old, you know.”

“I know,” she said.

He winced. He'd hoped she would disagree. He glanced at the man in their bedroom mirror. A significant roll of white flesh hung over the elastic band of his underwear, not a grotesque amount, but enough. His shoulders were narrow, and a few gray hairs peppered his otherwise dark chest. Black hair was now growing over his shoulders too, and it crept down his stomach in a narrow line. Clay had called such hair a “treasure trail” once when he'd dated an Italian woman, but on a paunchy male it looked more like the seam on a basketball.

“Do you think I need an adventure?” he said to the mirror.

“I think your partner is an asshole,” Katherine answered from the bed.

Stu turned, surprised. “Why do you say that?”

Katherine didn't answer for a moment. Then she rolled over away from him, turning to the far wall. “He didn't bother to ask me if you could leave for a week, for one thing. A little notice would have been nice. I have a calendar too. You'll miss the closing ceremonies for the farmer's market, my gallery showing, and the mayor's banquet. We bought a table.”

“Sorry. This is unexpected, even for Clay.”

“You don't have to go.”

“I don't want to go.”

“Then don't.”

She was right, Stu thought. He could make some excuse and decline. He stared at his wife's back and considered it. “Will you think I'm a pussy if I don't?” he asked.

Katherine made a snorting noise somewhere between a sigh and a laugh. “It's just not you, hon.” She pulled one pillow between her knees and draped her arms over a second so that she was armored in memory foam. “Get the light, would you?”

Stu turned out the light and groped his way into the bed, where he gave her a kiss on the back of the head. “I love you,” he said.

“Happy Birthday,” she mumbled.

 

CHAPTER 8

Stu stood in front of the boot wall at the Great Beyond, the warehouse-style outdoor sporting goods store the size of a city block on the outskirts of New Bedford. The towering display was designed to look like a climbing wall, and each sample boot sat on a narrow rock shelf that jutted from it. A smiling nineteen-year-old clerk in a khaki uniform stood at his shoulder, eager to help and more excited about Stuart's trip than Stuart was himself.

“I'm going hiking,” Stu said. “It's been a few years, and I don't have any sense for what type of boot I need.” In truth, it had been a few decades.

The clerk bobbed his head. “No worries, bro. How far is your trek?”

“I dunno. Five miles, maybe?”

“What kind of terrain?”

“Alaskan wilderness.”

“Five miles in Alaska? That sounds more like a walk between homes up there than a hike.”

“I just need something basic. It's only for this one trip.”

“If it's really five miles, you can go with the Tenderfoot. It's eighty-five dollars. A solid low-end choice. Good all-around boot.”

Stu pulled down a different but promising-looking pair. Brown. Simple.

“No,” said the clerk. “That's the Urban Explorer. It's more of a groomed trail shoe.”

“Groomed trail?”

“Gravel paths. Packed dirt. Concrete. I think you want something more in an adventure style.”

Adventure
. “That sounds right. What's the difference?”

“Weight. Waterproofing. Breathability. Durability. Traction. Ultimately, blisters.”

“Okay, okay. What do you recommend?”

“Do you pronate?”

“I have no idea what you just said.”

The kid pushed him on the shoulder, and Stu staggered backward.

“Hey!”

“Chillax, man. I just want to see your stance.” He looked down at Stu's feet.

Stu tried to maintain his stance, whatever that was. “Well, what do you see?”

“Trail Quest Extremes would be good for you.” He pointed to a rainbow-colored pair of boots with reflective lettering that promised “Eco-Gel Comfort.”

Stuart turned over the price tag, and his eyes widened. His clerk nestled up to his shoulder to whisper in his ear like his conscience.

“Are you a guy who likes to be prepared, or do you wanna take a chance and go with the cheap ones?”

Thirty minutes later Stu hiked across the massive parking lot of the Great Beyond wearing two-hundred-and-fifty-dollar TQ Extremes. He also carried a sack stuffed full of Hi-Tec brand gear the clerk had recommended, including fifteen-dollar socks, water-resistant pants, and a frameless backpack, and a five-hundred-page book titled
Edwin's Comprehensive Guide to Wilderness Survival.

*   *   *

“Six hundred dollars?” Katherine cocked an eyebrow.

“I thought it best to be prepared,” Stu explained.