Friends and Benefits
Chapter Five
by be287m

I spent the drive back to my place analyzing Sherri’s motives, while she followed in her own car.  I didn’t get it.  I wasn’t paying her any more, at least tonight, but she wasn’t saying ‘thank you’ and walking away.  None of the professional shrinks I had heard of ever extended their hours for free.  I just didn’t get it.

I didn’t say anything while we got settled.  I poured myself a glass of wine and offered Sherri some, but she declined, only wanting water.  We settled onto the couch this time, far more comfortable than the kitchen chairs.

“So why are you doing this?” I asked.

“Because I can,” she answered.

“That doesn’t make sense,” I shot back.  “You could be doing lots of things.  Why me?  Why for free?  Why come back here instead of going to see some other guy who would pay you?”

“You need me.”  Sherri’s face was blank.  No, not blank, controlled.  I glared at her.  It was almost a staring match.  Which she then decided to throw.

“Tonight, Joe,” she said, “it suits me to spend some more time with you.  I’ve made the money I need to make this week and I don’t have any other pressing appointments.  If I wasn’t here, I’d either be home or waiting for the next cold call from the agency.  I didn’t feel like going on any new dates tonight.”

“Why?” I challenged.  My gut was starting to churn and my breathing was getting shallower.  Sherri noticed.

“Why would I want to spend time with you?” she asked.  “You’re an interesting guy, Joe.  You remind me of my baby brother.”  For a moment, old pain crossed her face.

“Besides,” she continued.  “I can help, and it won’t always be for free.  I’ll let you know beforehand so you can decide what you want to do.”

“Thanks,” I snorted.

“C’mon, Joe!  You were just complaining because I wasn’t charging you!”  I glanced over and saw that Sherri was smiling.  Teasing me.  I took a deep breath and smiled back.  I could feel my body start to relax.

“So where were we?” she asked.  “In your story?”

“November of 1991,” I answered.  “Just a couple of weeks before Thanksgiving, when I got a call that wasn’t from Sharon or my parents . . .”

*  *  *

“Hey, bud.”  I recognized the voice immediately.

“Allen!  What’s up?”

“Not much.  My mom moved to San Diego and she wants me to come visit for Thanksgiving.  I thought I’d take a week or two and drive out, stopping in Tucson along the way.”

“That’s great!” I replied.  “You’re welcome to crash here.”

“Good.  That’s why I’m calling.”

“So when do you think you’ll be here?” I asked.

“Mmmm.  I’m thinking the Monday before Thanksgiving.  I’m going to spend that weekend in Las Cruces with this girl I met over Labor Day.  When she has to go to work, I’ll get on the road to go see you.  It’s what, four hours?”

“Closer to six.”

“Okay, I’ll be there mid-afternoon.”

“Sounds good,” I replied.  “Let me give you directions.”

“Let me get a pencil,” Allen replied.  He was back in a minute.  I gave him the information and we discussed logistical issues.  My apartment was too small for a couch, but Allen said the inflatable air mattress would be fine for one night.

We chatted a little bit more and Allen told me about his job hunt.  Apparently bartending wasn’t cutting it anymore, but he hadn’t figured out what he wanted to do next.  I commiserated and told him about my own change of academic plans.  I asked him about the girl he was visiting, but he said he’d tell me the whole story in person.  We hung up a little while later and silence again filled my apartment.  When I couldn’t stand it, I turned on the TV to catch a rerun of ‘Night Court.’

I talked to Sharon two nights later.  My most recent story package hadn’t reached her yet and we mostly talked about our week.  The conversation started to lull fairly quickly since neither of us had had much excitement.  I wracked my brain for newsworthy topics.

“Oh, and Allen called.  He’s coming to visit,” I said.

“Really?”

“Yeah, his mom moved to San Diego.  He’s on his way to visit her for Thanksgiving.  He’ll be here Monday night.”

“How’s he doing?” Sharon asked.

“Pretty good.  We didn’t talk long.  I’m sure we’ll talk more when he gets here.”

“I hope he’s doing well.  I worry about him sometimes.”

“What?  Why?”

“Hey, I still care for him,” Sharon defended.  “We may not be together, but I still want him to be happy.”

“I think he’s happy,” I answered.

“Yeah, well, he’s good at hiding his feelings when he’s unhappy.”

I bit my tongue.  I’d known Allen a while and I’d never had any problem knowing when he was unhappy.  But I knew that if I said so, Sharon would just claim that he was successful in hiding his feelings with me.  Since I couldn’t win the argument, there was no point in starting it.

“Well, maybe he’ll tell me about it if he’s not,” I said.

“I hope so,”  Sharon replied.

“Anyway,” I said, “it’ll be good to see him.  We didn’t really get together often enough my senior year.”

“You were always with Alicia.”

“Yeah.”  My heart sank, thinking of those times.  “I wonder what other friendships suffered because I was so wrapped up in my romance.”

“Well, our friendship hasn’t,” Sharon stated.  “You’ve become a really great friend.”

“You too,” I replied.

“Thanks.”

After a pause, I realized I Sharon hadn’t told me about her Thanksgiving plans.  I asked her what she was doing and she told me she was going to Albuquerque.  We traded a few extended family stories before calling it a night.

The next two weeks flew by.  It was getting cooler; the nice part of the  year for Tucson.  I got back to my apartment by two p.m. the day Allen was due.  He arrived at four.

“Took you long enough,” I kidded him.

“Well, she wanted to go another round this morning,” Allen  replied, grinning.  “She ended up being late to work.”  I rolled my eyes.

“So tell me about this woman,” I asked.  “Is it serious?”

“Nah,” he answered.  “We’re just ‘good friends.’”  I  chuckled.

“Must be pretty ‘good’ for her to be willing to be late to work,” I quipped.

“Ohhh, yeahhh,” he replied.

“So tell me about her,” I asked.

“Her name’s Jenna.  She’s a massage therapist, going to school part time at New Mexico State.  She was up visiting her sister, who just started at CU, and we met at a party.  She’s got this incredible smile--and a great ass.  We hit it off and, well, she gave me her phone number the next morning.”

“The next morning?  Not that night?”

“Yeah.  She gave it to me when I dropped her off back at her sister’s dorm,” he answered.   I just chuckled and shook my head.  

“So you stayed in touch,” I said.  He nodded.

“We talked a couple of times.  When Mom asked me to come down, I gave her a call and suggested I stop by.”

“And she was all for it,” I mused.

“Oh, yeah.”

“I don’t know how you do it, Allen.”

“It’s a gift,” he replied with a broad grin.  I just started chuckling.

“So this is your place?” Allen asked after a pause.

“Yeah, let me give you the nickel tour.  This is the main room--kitchenette, table, TV, some space to crash on the floor that will be occupied by the air mattress later.”  I led Allen down what tried to pass for a hallway.  All five feet of it.

“The bathroom,” I said, gesturing through the open door.  “The towels on the back of the toilet are yours.”  Two more steps brought us to the last room.

“And the bedroom.”

“You happy with a single bed?” Allen asked.

“It’s the only size that’ll fit,” I answered.  Allen didn’t comment, thankfully.  We headed back to the main room.  Allen glanced around again.

“You need to hang something there,” he said, pointing to the wall where Melissa Etheridge had once hung.  “It’s too big of a bare spot.”

“Well, I used to have a poster there, but it was one Alicia gave me, so I took it down.  All of the stuff that brought back memories of her is now buried in the closet.”

“Smart move.”

“So,” I said, changing the subject,  “we have a couple of hours before dinner.  How about I show you campus?”

Allen gave a non-committal shrug, which I decided to take as a yes.  I locked up and we headed over to campus.  I tried to point out interesting features as we wandered around, but the truth was, I didn’t really know the campus.  I didn’t know much of Tucson either.  How I had let that happen?

Because I’d spent last year either getting my brains pounded out by the schoolwork or pining for Alicia.  I needed to get out more.

Once we got to the west end of campus, Allen and I wandered into the little shopping area that had grown up there.  A handful of restaurants, all cheap, plus the usual assortment of t-shirt and memorabilia shops.

“Hey, a poster store,” Allen pointed out.  “You need one.  Let’s go in.”

“Sure.”

We wandered in, glancing at the framed prints on the wall and occasionally thumbing through the bins of unframed posters.  Allen stopped at a bin labeled “humor” so I pushed on back toward the end of the store.  I saw it hanging on the wall just a few feet from the counter.

It was six vertical panels, in blues, greys, and blacks.  The left three were of James Spader’s face.  The next two were of him with Andie McDowell.  The final panel was Andie alone, looking sad.  Of course the title, sex, lies, and videotape, filled the bottom half.  I studied the expressions.  Both looked haunted.  Both looked familiar.

“You like it?” a feminine voice asked.

“I’ve never seen this version,” I answered, not pulling my eyes off the poster.

“It’s the European Quad.  They didn’t hang it over here.”

“Really?” I asked.  Then I turned and saw her.

She was standing behind the counter.  Dark hair, big wide eyes, Hispanic features.  She was grinning at me.  I smiled back.

“Really,” she said.  “I asked the owner to order it because I liked the movie.”

“You did?” I exclaimed.  “I loved it!”  She smiled even wider.

“Did you know that they rehearsed it, like a play, before they started filming?” she asked.   “That’s part of why I liked it.”

“I thought the script was great,” I replied.  “Good characters.  Incredibly tight dialogue.”

“Garbage,” she said, quoting the first line of the movie.  “I can’t stop thinking about all the garbage.”  We gave each other the silly grins that only newfound mutual fandom inspires.

“Hi, I’m Allen.”  Somewhere during our dialogue, Allen had appeared at my shoulder.

“Oh, and I’m Joe.”

“Tina,” she replied, giving a small nod of her head to Allen before turning back to me.

“I also loved the line about not wanting more keys on his key ring,” she said.

“That was a good one,” I added.  “Not as good as ‘get your balls in the air and get over here.’”  Tina laughed at my exaggerated voice, trying to mimic Laura San Giacomo.  Allen cleared his throat.  Tina gave him a quick glance before turning back to me.

“It’s only one hundred and fifty dollars, framed,” she said.  My breath caught.

“Uh, I’ll have to think about that.”

“Okay.  Feel free to look around.”

The phone on the desk rang and Tina picked it up.  I turned back to the poster and admired it for a little while longer.  Tina’s phone call was taking a while so I started thumbing through a nearby stack of movie posters.  Allen was wandering back toward the door.  Tina glanced up, but was still busy writing down the order.  I wanted to talk with her more, but I also didn’t want to interrupt her.  Eventually, I let the posters drop and followed Allen out.  He looked at me quizzically, but didn’t say anything.  We headed back to my apartment.

“What are you in the mood for for dinner?” I asked.

“Anything but Mexican.  I had plenty of that over the weekend.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet you ate well,” I joked.  Allen just rolled his eyes.

“Well,” I began, “the only non-Mexican non-fast food restaurant I’ve been to is the Bluebird Café.  It’s general American food and it’s pretty good.”

“The only one? You need to get out more, my man.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, feeling a little guilty.

We headed out to dinner, which Allen enjoyed.  Afterward we found a bar with a pool table and played a handful of games.  We got back to my apartment before it got too late.

When we got there, Allen threw his bag against one wall and I dragged the wadded up air mattress out of the closet.  We spread it out on the floor and Allen turned to me. 

“So, do you have a pump for this thing?” Allen asked.

“Yeah, under the bed.  Why don’t you get it while I check for leaks?”  I mentally kicked myself for not checking it earlier.  

Allen scrambled to his feet while I began examining the seams closely.  I’d had problems before but knew what to look for now.  I’d gotten two sides checked when Allen came back.

“Joe, when did you take these?”

“Huh?”  I scrambled to my feet to see Allen flipping through a stack of photographs.  Oh, shit!  Sharon’s pictures!  I’d just tucked them under my bed after the last time I’d been looking at them, figuring that was safe enough.  I’d forgotten them and then sent Allen . . . shit shit shit.

“When did you take these pictures of Sharon?” Allen repeated.  “I assume you took them.”

“Oh, uh, after we went out to dinner last summer.  I suggested the photos of her in the dress.  She . . . uh, suggested the other outfit.”

“She looks hot.”

“Well, you should know, you dated her.”

“Yeah, she did have a great body,” he agreed.  “Does, I guess.”

“Yes, she does.”

Allen finished thumbing through the photos, looked at a couple of them a second time, almost studying them, and then set the stack down on the table.

“Well, I’d certainly sleep with her again, if I could do it without all the rest of her baggage.”

“I thought you loved her,” I said.  Allen gave a non-committal shrug.

“Maybe at first.  But near the end, I felt like I couldn’t breathe.  I had to get out.”

“So why didn’t you talk to her?”

“I tried,” he said.  “Anyway, there are plenty of other fish in the sea.  Something you should be finding out.”

“God, I don’t even know how to start down here.  It’s not like I can just throw a party like we used to and have them show up in droves.”

“So ask the girl at the poster shop out.  Tina.”  I just looked at Allen.

“What?”

“Seriously, man.  I saw the way she smiled at you when you were talking about the poster.  Ask her out.”

“I don’t know,” I replied.  “I don’t feel ready.”

“You’ll never feel ready.  No guy ever does.  You just have to ask anyway.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll think about it.”

“Good.”

Allen yawned and glanced pointedly at the air mattress.

“I didn’t get much sleep last night.  Let’s get that thing inflated.”

“Sure.”

With that, we got back to work.  There weren’t any leaks and the mattress inflated fairly quickly.  I got Allen some sheets and one of the pillows from my bed and he started unpacking his overnight bag.

“See you in the morning,” I called, heading for my bedroom.  Allen nodded but didn’t speak.  I snagged Sharon’s pictures on my way out and shoved them in the back of a drawer where they’d be harder to accidentally stumble across.  I slept fitfully that night.

The next morning Allen got on the road early.  He helped me put the mattress away, grabbed a cup of coffee, and was gone.

The phone rang shortly after I finished dinner that night.  It was Sharon.

“How are you doing, Joe?” she asked.

“Fine.  What’s up?”

“Oh, I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

“Well, like I said, fine.  Allen and I had a good visit.  He’s doing well.”

“Good to hear,” Sharon replied.

“Yeah, it was a good visit.”

“So what did you do?” Sharon asked.

“Oh, wandered campus.  Had dinner, played some pool.  Nothing special.”  Actually there was.  Was I willing to mention it?  I gritted my teeth.  I really had to.  While she hadn’t said the pictures were for ‘my eyes only,’ I was sure she’d be pissed that they hadn’t stayed that way.

“Sounds like a low-key time,” Sharon said, while I was gathering my courage.

“Uhh, listen, Sharon, Allen saw the pictures.”

“Pictures?”

“The ones of you, in the teddy.”  I let out a deep breath, but was still incredibly tense.  “I had them under my bed and I forgot that the air mattress pump was there and . . . well, he found them.  I’m sorry.”

“Did he like them?” Sharon asked.  I was surprised--her tone wasn’t angry at all.

“Well, uh, yeah.  The good ones at least.”

Sharon muttered something too low for me to hear.

“You’re not mad?” I asked.

“What exactly did he say?” she asked.

“He said you were hot.  That you had a great body.”

“Glad he still thinks so,” she sighed.

“I thought you’d want every guy to find you hot,” I commented.  Sharon laughed.

“Well, sure!  Actually, not necessarily every guy.  There are some pretty creepy guys out there.”

“Yeah, but you can avoid them.”

“True.”

“And anyway, Allen found you hot.  I find you hot.  What more do you need?” I asked.

“My next boyfriend to think I’m hot,” she answered.

“How’s that going?” I asked.

“Dating?  Not well.  No interesting guys in any of my classes.  I’d really like to get asked out soon.”

“I’ll ask you out,” I interjected.  Sharon laughed.

“Thanks, Joe, but I’m not desperate yet.”

“Hey!”

“I don’t want to ruin our friendship,” she explained.  “It’s too important to me.”

“Oh, okay then.”  I still felt shot down, but that took a lot of the sting out of it.

“Allen said I should ask someone here out,” I continued.  “A woman we met yesterday.”

“Go for it!” Sharon exclaimed.

“Well, I dunno.  I’m not sure I’m ready.”

“What have you got to lose, Joe?”

“Not much,” I admitted.

“All right then,” she replied, as if the decision was now made.  I decided to change the subject.

“When do you leave for Albuquerque?” I asked.

“Tomorrow afternoon.  Then back up on Friday, because I have to work Saturday.  This is a quick visit.”

“I’m going to an ‘orphan’s Thanksgiving’ that one of the other grad students is hosting.  I’m supposed to bring wine.”

“Something you’re good at.”

“Yeah.  It’s not like going home, but it’ll be okay.”

“I’m not sure I’m going to make it home this time,” Sharon said.  “My car’s been having problems.  I’m hoping it won’t break down on the way.”

“Oh?  Tell me about them.”

Sharon started to explain her car’s symptoms, but since I have very little mechanical aptitude, I quickly was reduced to speculations and semi-logical deductions.  The conversation then drifted to stories of our old vehicles and learning to drive and a while later, we ended the call.  I read some stories online and called it a night.

I thought a lot about Allen’s and Sharon’s comments the next day.  Maybe I was ready to start dating.  It had been six months.  Time to get back on the horse?

The problem was, I sucked at asking women out.  I got all nervous and my palms got sweaty.  I tended to talk too fast and I always said the wrong thing.  It was a minor miracle that  I’d had any girlfriends at all.

Of course it wasn’t really miraculous.  My high school girlfriend and I had been set up by a mutual friend.  Alicia had come to a party that Allen had organized and somehow ended up sitting next to me when Allen had declared it time for The Blues Brothers.  She’d been the one to take my hand before the film ended.

The thought of asking someone like Tina out terrified me.  Sharon’s idea of ‘friends first’ held a lot of attraction.

I continued wrestling with the idea of asking Tina out all through Thanksgiving.  On Friday, I figured I’d at least walk by the poster shop.  If she wasn’t there, then I could tell Sharon that I’d tried and that would be the end of it.

Walking across campus that afternoon, I could feel the adrenaline kick in.  My pulse was racing, I had to consciously take deep breaths.  I tried to be causal as I strolled by the door, glancing in.

Tina was behind the counter, reading a magazine.

A half block beyond the shop, I stopped and took a deep breath.  I could ask about the poster.  Yeah, that’d get a conversation started.  I turned around and strolled back.

“Hey!” Tina called, seeing me enter.  “You back for the poster?”

“Uh, yeah!” I answered, with a small nod of my head.

“Oh, you’ll love it!” she gushed.  “Where are you going to hang it?”

“Living room,” I answered.  “Main room, actually.  My place is pretty small.”  Tina nodded.

“I know what you mean about small.  My dorm room doesn’t have enough wall space to hang all my posters, even if my roommate let me use her half of the room.”

“So you live in the dorms?” I asked.

“Yeah.  I figured that would be a good thing to do for my first year.  I may move off campus after that.”

“Your first year?  You’re a freshman?”

“Sure am!” she answered.  I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just stood there.

“So how do you want it framed?” Tina asked.

“Uhh, don’t we just take it off of the wall?”

“That’s the display copy,” she explained.  “You don’t want that one, there’s a scratch in the glass.  See.”  She pointed to a thin line about three inches long that I hadn’t seen before.

“Well we can’t have that,” I joked.

“No we can’t!” said Tina.  “So what would you like?”

“What are my choices?” I asked.

Tina proceeded to walk me through all the various  matting and framing options.  I picked and she made notes.  After about twenty minutes we had the main part of the order form filled in and she turned to the top.

“I’m sorry,” she said.  “What was your name again?”

“Joe.  As in Average Joe.  G.I. Joe.  Joe Schmo.”

“And Joe Cool,” she added.  I smiled.

“And Joe Cool,” I agreed.

“Have to be, to like Soderbergh,” she said, glancing down at the poster again, “he’s going to be a big director some day.  Just wait.”  I just smiled.

Tina got my phone number for the form and did the totals.  I gave her my credit card to pay for the deposit and made a mental note to ask Mom and Dad for cash for Christmas this year.

“Okay.  We’re all done, at least for now,” Tina said.  “It will be ready Wednesday.”

“Wednesday it is,” I agreed.  I turned and walked to the door.

I hadn’t asked her out.  Oh well, I’d see her in a few days.  I could do it then.

Of course, that was Sharon’s first question when we talked on Monday.

“Did you ask that woman out?” she asked, a few minutes into our conversation.

“The woman from the poster shop?  Not yet.”

“Well, are you going to?”

“I’m not sure.  It turns out she’s a freshman.  That makes her 18.  I’m 24.”

“So?”

“That’s a big age difference.”

“No, it’s not, Joe.”

“Besides,” I said, “I ‘m trying to get out of Tucson.  She’s just starting here.”

“What difference does that make?  You’re not asking her to marry you.”

“Yeah . . . ,” I admitted.

“Ask her out,” Sharon urged.

“Okay, I’ll see her again Wednesday.  I can ask her out then.”

“Good,” she replied.  “So, are you coming back to Colorado for Christmas?”

“Wouldn’t miss it. I should be there about two weeks.”

“That’d be great!  When do you get here?”

“I should be there the weekend before Christmas.  The 20th, I think.  My flight back is the weekend after New Year’s.”

“We’re going down to Albuquerque on the 23rd, back on the 28th.  Do you want to get together before then? Exchange Christmas gifts?”  Christmas gifts?  We hadn’t exchanged presents the previous year.

“Sure!  How about Saturday the 21st?”

“It’s a date!  And Joe . . .”

“Yes?”

“The gift I want to get you is a little risqué.  I hope that’s okay.”  I laughed.

“It’s okay with me if it’s okay with you!”  I replied.  Sharon chuckled.

“Oh, it’s okay with me,” she answered.

“Great.  Can I get you something naughty in return?”  I asked.  That brought a full blown burst of laughter.

“Sure!  As long as it’s not too naughty.”  ‘Too naughty?’  I’d have to spend some time thinking about exactly where that line would be for Sharon.  I hoped it would be further than I really expected.

“Okay, I’ll see what I can think up.”

“You’ve got a great imagination, Joe.  I’m not worried!”

The subject changed and we talked for another half hour before calling it an evening.  I spent the rest of the night fantasizing about naughty somethings that weren’t too naughty.  And a few that were.

It wasn’t until the next day that I started to wonder about her motives.  She’d pushed me to ask a girl out and she’d also hinted at a sexual Christmas gift.  In the same conversation.  She enjoyed the erotic stories I was sending her, but had explicitly said she wasn’t desperate enough to date me.  That still stung.

I thought about asking her what was going on, but decided against it.  She could fix the contradictions by not giving me whatever Christmas present she had in mind.  I was curious about that present.  I wanted it.  Just like I wanted to see where things might go after that.  It wasn’t the purest of motives, I knew, but after more than six months, the celibacy was starting to get to me.

-fin-
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