Chapter 66: Bowling, Anyone?

When Jon and I got back from the store (he stopped me from buying a 6’ tall cutout of The Flash. I called him a party pooper), I went into the kitchen to help the other girls get dinner going. First, though, I had to talk to Stephanie. “I need to talk to you,” I said to her.

She could see the terror in my eyes, and without saying anything, she grabbed my hand and took me down the hall to her room. “What’s up?” she asked.

I was full of nervous energy, and pacing the room. “Remember that conversation we had in PMs with Jon about why we women go nuts for him?” Steph had that same “oh shit” look I had. When she confirmed she remembered, I said, “well apparently so does he.”

Steph groaned. “Oh God,” she said. “Is the closet big enough for both of us? I’m so not going back out there.”

I stopped to look at her. “If we don’t he’s going to know something is up.” He’s been really good about being a gentleman about the whole thing. He’s had ample opportunity to razz me about this in the days I’ve been working for him."

"Working for him?" Stephanie's eyebrows went up.

"It helps get me through the day," I said, rolling my eyes.

“Oh God,” Stephanie sighed. “You’re right about Jon, but that doesn’t make facing him any easier. Maybe if we don’t say anything he won’t either.” She shook her head. “I just don’t know that I can look at him now.” We made for the door, and Steph stopped, a hand on the knob. “If he figures out this is bothering us, he’s not going to let it go, is he?”

I shook my head. “Nope.” Then I grinned. “But, you’d get to see the Jon I’ve been dealing with.”

She said, “No thanks,” and we went back to the kitchen.

A short time later, Steph went in the other room to see what was going on, and Ang had motioned to her. Steph turned around and motioned to us, and by the time we got our asses out of the kitchen, Ang had disappeared with Richie close behind. What the hell? Well, whatever it was, I wasn’t going to miss it. We crept up the stairs in time to hear Ang tell Richie that her suitcase was heavy, and someone of his advanced age should be careful so he doesn’t strain himself. I had to clamp a hand over my mouth to keep from laughing.

Richie flexed his biceps (swoon) and sucked in his gut and smiled. He put both hands on the case handle, and used all his might to heft it up…right over his head, making him spin around and fall to a heap in Ang’s bed. We couldn’t help it, we laughed our asses off. I was actually leaning on Lucy, I was laughing so hard. Richie whipped his head around, glowered at us and we had about three seconds to respond before Ang barrel-assed out of the room. She ran down the stairs, and Richie ran after her, laughing like a madman.

David yelled at him to be careful so he wouldn’t hurt anything, and we were all pounding down the stairs, so as not to miss a thing. Jesus, I nearly died when Richie made to grab Ang. He should know better. David gave me a look. He knew better, having grabbed me in the hallway at the hotel in Newark. I smiled and laughed out loud when six feet of big man went flying through the air to land on the couch.

Lucy gave a little shriek and went to make sure her man was OK. She yelled at Ang, saying she could have hurt him, but even as Ang was explaining that it was a controlled throw, I was shaking my head ‘no’, having recognized what she did. She did say the couch would have taken either Richie’s or David’s fall.

“Him or me?!” David asked affronted. “You where going to throw me too? Some fan you are!”

“Sweetie,” Ang said, “it depended on who pissed me off quicker, Richie won. Be grateful.” She pecked his cheek and sashayed back up stairs to retrieve the bag full of presents.

David looked at me and said, “Could you have done that to me? That night in Newark?” I nodded. It was a standard self-defense move. “Thanks for not,” he said, and kissed my cheek.

Ang came back down with her bag and doled out presents. She had made all us girls cashmere sweaters, dipped low enough that David’s eyes darkened just looking at it. Thank you, Ang! There were also T-shirts for us. Mine was adorable; it was a maternity T in red, with black lettering that spelled “Joker’s Woman” and had an arrow pointing to the baby was and it said “LJ Baking”. Sam got a similar one. David’s T had an excellent copy of his Joker tat on the front, and my Triple-G one on the back. David got the biggest present of the bunch, much to Richie’s chagrin. My eyes bugged out of my head. I knew she had bought him some shirts, and there were two in the dressing room on Saturday that I’d seen, but I didn’t know there were this many!! I was going to make some remark to her, it was on the tip of my tongue, but she threw me a look, and I refrained. I’d embarrassed her enough for one lifetime. Ang said the gift was from the two of us, me and her, and I didn’t contradict. David pulled out shirt after shirt; all of them with beautiful designs on them, but none of them gaudy or nausea-inducing. Girlfriend done good.

“‘Talk about favorites!” Richie whined. Jesus, he really is just a big kid.

“Yep,” David said, “live with it Zannykins.” Christ, talk about kids. David yanked Ang up off the floor where she was sitting, doling out the goodies, and planted a smacker on mouth. She was speechless for a minute, but Jon saved her.

“So where’s the chocolate, then?” he asked, breaking the tension.

Ang dug a couple boxes out of her bag, and Richie complained that it wasn’t enough. Lucy elbowed him roughly, but I knew he wasn’t kidding. I also knew that Ang had more than that. Sure enough, she sent Richie up for the other case and you could hear his gleeful shout all the way downstairs.

“Looks like a good day for presents,” Jon said, and I shot him a warning look. “What?” he said. “I’m just saying.”

When we girls went back into the kitchen, I pulled David’s CD from my pocket and showed it to them. They were wonderful; being really nice about what could have been an embarrassing thing for me. “Shit, Hath,” Ang said. “These are marvelous. He did a good job.” I blushed and told them how I outed myself with Jon and ended up showing him the CD. He was very gracious, and I hoped he wouldn’t tell anyone.

We had a delicious dinner, and had almost just as much fun cleaning up as we did making the meal. After dinner, we were going bowling. Lucy had arranged for us to have a “private” evening at the back room of the local bowling alley, which had four lanes, an air hockey table, an honest-to-goodness, old-fashioned jukebox and our own waiter. Too bad we wouldn’t be out in the general population; it would have been fun to see the guys bowl with a big audience. Oh well. I'm sure someone will see them, and there'll be some to-do, but we'll have our private party in peace.

I had brought my old uniform from when I bowled in college, half a lifetime ago. It was fantastic. We were called the Bowling Poodles. OK. Keep in mind I went to college in the late 80’s, and had the big, super-permed hair to prove it. I mean seriously, my hair was curly, big and high – real high. Remember the SNL/Bon Jovi skit from 2007 where Amy Poehler was the girl from Burlington, MA with the “wicked” high hair? Yeah, hers was low compared to mine. I actually used so much Aqua Net back in the day that I may be single-handedly responsible for the hole in the ozone layer. Sorry about that.

SO, that’s why we were the Poodles. There were four of us: me, Sara Brannigan, Renee Markow, and Joanne O’Neil. We each had matching outfits, but done in different colors. We bowled every Wednesday night my Junior and Senior years, and by the time we graduated, our combined average was 250. Not bad for a bunch of prima donna girls. It’d been some time since I bowled for real, but I threw a few games in the days before the trip, and I averaged 180. Not too bad at all.

We girls had spent some time on the boards trying to figure out what we would do Monday night. When we finally decided on bowling, I excitedly pulled my outfit out of my cedar closet, and tried it on. It still fit, and looked good, if I do say so myself. The blouse clung provocatively, and if I wore the push-up bra, I could be totally distracting to David, who throws a mean ball himself. I had the outfit cleaned and pressed, and packed it to come along on the trip. When I left for the hotel on Saturday morning, I left this outfit in Lucy’s closet, so it’d be ready for tonight.

Once dinner was all cleaned up, we girls excused ourselves to go get changed.

“Changed?” Tico asked. He and Hugh had come for dinner, and were joining us for the night out.

“Yeah,” Lucy said, “You don’t think that we would go out without a costume change, do you?” The guys rolled their eyes at us, and Ang stuck her tongue out at them.

Jon looked at me and nodded. “Richie, we have something for you, too, in case you want a costume change yourself,” I said, and motioned to Jon, who flipped Richie a folded-up T-shirt.

When Richie shook it out and saw what was on it, he burst out laughing. “Ang ratted on me, did she?”

I smiled, and Ang sunk deeper into the couch she was sitting in. She was gonna kill me later, but here goes. “She was mortified truth be told, but was very generous in her description,” I said, winking at Lucy and smiling at the chuckles in the room. “Girl, if what she’s saying is true, it’s a wonder you can walk.” I went over to her and spanned her pelvis front-to-back with my hands. “Jesus, does he poke your lungs?”

Richie told me to shut the fuck up and asked if I was planning to wear a bra tonight. I smiled at him.

“I probably will. A pushup if you must know.” Tico gave a cat call, and everyone laughed. “Although, darlin’, I haven’t yet decided on panties or not.” I went to stand in front of David, and smiled. “David prefers easy access, you know, and Luce says our private party room has its own bathroom.” I licked my lips at David and winked over my shoulder at Richie. This was my realm; he was not going to win this one.

“Jesus, Hath,” David said, nearly spitting out the drink he had just taken.

“Why do you all keep saying that?” I asked, throwing my hands up. “You, Jon, Steve, Ang, Steph – you are gonna give me a complex.”

“Hath,” Sam laughed, “It’s just that you just keep surprising the shit outta everybody.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I said, and laughed all the way down the hall to the bedrooms.

“Need any help getting changed?” David yelled, smirking.

“No thanks,” I called back over my shoulder. “Ang’ll do me.” The chuckles and groans followed us down the hall. When we girls got to Lucy’s bedroom, we locked the door, just in case. Pulling the bag from the back of Lucy’s closet, I smiled.

“What is that?” Stephanie asked.

I told her the story of the Bowling Poodles and unzipped the garment bag. Hysterical laughter was the order of the day. The uniform was a hot pink poodle skirt (really, with a white poodle appliqué on it) complete with black crinoline slip, a fitted black short-sleeved blouse with a poodle where the pocket should be, bobby socks with hot pink poodles on them, a wide leather belt, and snow-white keds. I had my saddle-shoe style bowling shoes and my ball all ready to go. The ball was black with flames painted on it, and is the coolest geeky thing I own. There was a black chiffon scarf that I tied around my throat, and a pink and white polka-dot headband to complete the look.

I looked at my reflection in the mirror. “Not bad for being 20 years old,” I said of my outfit. The girls couldn’t stop laughing.

“You know,” Sam said, “the guys are not going to ever let you live this down.”

“What’s to live down?” I asked. “I make this look good. And, it’ll draw attention to us and distract them.”

“Honey,” Ang said, “You do pull it off,” she said, “but hang on.” She reached over and unbuttoned another button on the blouse. “Jesus, you got a push-up on in there?”

“Yeah,” I said, preening. “Too much?”

Ang just rolled her eyes at me. Once everyone was changed, Steph and I grabbed our bowling bags, and she led the chick-parade back to the living room. When I got out there, conversation stopped dead. I instinctively looked for David, but couldn’t find him. Shrugging, I cocked a hip then gave a quick twirl, my skirt rising dangerously high before settling down around my calves. Putting my hands on my hips and thrusting out the girls, I demanded, “What?”

Jon just laughed. “You and David are going to make quite a pair,” was all he said. I turned around, and saw David coming from the direction of the bathroom. He had on the most gorgeously hideous satin bowling shirt I’d ever seen. It was electric blue with lime green piping, and had a huge colorful cartoon Joker on the back. The name “Joker” was embroidered over the pocket. It was left untucked over tight blue jeans, and he had on beat up Reeboks. Wow.

I bounced and clapped like a high-schooler from 1958, and David’s eyes narrowed. “What?” I said, cupping the girls. “They’re slung today.” David laughed at me and my outfit and grabbed my hand, pulling me in to swing-dance with me for a minute, spinning me this way and that and making me laugh.

“We’re ready,” David said, nuzzling my neck, and I smiled. When Ang walked by, he grabbed her too and pulled her in close on his other side. “Let’s go,” he said.

When we got to the bowling alley, Jon asked me to go in and see if our room was ready. I almost did it, too. Instead, I just raised an eyebrow at him. “Excuse me?” I asked. “You are getting too used to ordering me around, and goddamn it all, I’m getting too used to snapping to. And that’s as close to bitching as you’re gonna get.”

Even Sam looked at Jon askance. “This is for all of us, not just you, sweetheart,” she said gently.

Jon had the good grace to look sheepish. “Sorry, Hath,” he said. “Guess you’re doing too good a job, I just figure I can ask you to do things, and they get done.”

“Apology accepted,” I said, winking at him. “I’m actually more mad at me than you. I thought I was a much stronger personality than what I’m exhibiting.”

Jon rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry about that, GSA,” he said. “You’re making me forget you don’t work for me. Fuck it all, I’ve become dependent on having you available to do stuff. And not just fetch and carry, though you do pour a mean glass of water.”

Everyone laughed, and I of course flipped him off. Ang and I went inside to check on our room (someone had to) and I wanted to show off my outfit. I wasn’t disappointed. I got quite a few looks when we went in.

“Help you?” the kid behind the counter asked.

“Private party for Rome,” I said.

The guy checked us in, and told us where the party was. Ang and I went out to the room, and found the waiter. He was a cutie, not more than 25. His tag said ‘Nicholas’, and Ang went over to say hello. She asked him if there was a back door in to the place. There was, and I went to go fetch the others. I snuck up on the van, and zipped the door open, scaring everyone in there.

“C’mon,” I said. “We’ve got our own entrance.” Everyone piled out and followed me into our room. After scoping it out, Jon told me what size shoe he was, and sent me out to get them. I actually offered to get them for all the guys, if someone would help me tote them, and Matt offered to come with me. We took everyone’s shoe sizes (the girls too) and went out to the main room. Matt is really very sweet, and Steph is one lucky lady.

When we got back, we walked in on a heated discussion about how we should split the teams. Steph took the decision out of our hands, programming our names into the lanes. We were doing a Battle of the Sexes. Me, Ang, and Queenie against David, Tico, and Matt. This ought to be good.

Jon was going to have me fetch him a drink, but Sam elbowed him. “We have a waiter, sweetheart,” she said. Have I said how much I love her?

We started, and Steph (whose shirt proclaimed her a “Strike Queen”) threw her 12 pound Brunswick down the alley. STRIKE! When David was getting ready to stand to take his turn, I bent over, giving him an up close view of the girls, and kissed him deeply. “Good luck, baby,” I said. He sat there another full minute, then got up and knocked down one pin. Teehee. It was my turn, and I unzipped my bowling bag and drew out a flame-painted ball. It was gorgeous, and a 12 like Stephanie’s.

I stood and dried my hand over the little air blower at the ball return, and stepped up to my mark. I saw that I was bowling against Richie, and Ang’s little devil hopped onto my shoulder.

I made a production of twirling around to ask Steph an inane question about bowling etiquette, but in the process, my skirt flared up nearly to my waist. Richie got a good eyeful of leg, and though he tried to ignore me, God bless him, he couldn’t. On his backswing, the ball fell out of his hand with a thunk. I looked over, and put on a moue.

“Richie, baby, that’s no way to treat your balls!” I exclaimed, to a chorus of giggles. I skipped over to him, bent over to pick up the ball, flashing Jon and Hugh a shot of the girls in the process (Jon clapped a hand over his eyes, Hugh just smirked). I dusted off the ball gently, caressing it with my fingertips. I took Richie’s big hand and put the ball in it, then closed his other hand on top of the ball. “Gently, baby,” I said to him, stroking his hand.

I flounced back to my alley, picked up the ball, and without any further ado, took my three step lead in and slid to the foul line. The ball slid silently from my fingers and glided down the alley. It hit the pins with a resounding SMACK and they all fell down. Richie threw a gutter ball.

Next time I was up, I hurled a strike. Yay, Goddess! The flame ball looks really cool when it slides down the lane. Jon piped up before I could sit down. He slid a look at Sam first. “JEEVES!” he howled, causing me to roll my eyes.

“Yeah boss?” I called over.

“Buff my ball,” he said, smirking.

Dare I? Hell yeah. I gently put my ball down, casting a pointed look at Richie, then sauntered over to stand in front of Jon. Instead of taking the rag from him, I smiled at Sam, who by her smile, knew what was coming, and I grabbed for Jon’s belt. Got it, too. He grabbed my hands and screamed at me. “What are you… NO! STOP! You crazy bitch, my bowling ball.” He yelled at David to control me. Hell, he can’t control me.

David stood up for me. “She’s just doing what you told her to do,” he said, laughing. I blew him a kiss and he winked at me. I buffed Jon’s BOWLING ball, but did it at my waist, so my girls were bouncing all over the place. Sam was hiding a laugh behind her hand, and Hugh had to go to the bar to avoid laughing in my face. Good call. I went to drop the ball in Jon’s lap, but he saw the look in my eyes and took it from me.

Soon enough, the guys “twigged” as Ang would say, and figured out we were playing dirty, and started to retaliate. David stood up close behind Ang and leaned into her a little. She got all flustered and nearly missed. She didn't strike, but was able to pick up the spare. Richie just stood next to me and stared at me. 7-10 split. SHIT! The guys were high-fiving each other, quite pleased with themselves.

Hugh, though, was the best. He bet Steph on the beer frame that she couldn’t strike. Fifty bucks! The other guys got in on it, and Ang and I just shook our heads. Poor Hughie was clearly not aware of what SQ meant. She (of course) threw a boomer and killed the whole frame. Gorgeous. She collected her money happily.

We continued playing dirty, and well, we were dirtier than the guys (big surprise there). We bested them in two games, and headed back to Lucy’s laughing and having had a thoroughly enjoyable day.