Tgif and Other Short Stories

By Richard V. Martin

TGIF AND OTHER SHORT STORIES is a series of 27 totally unrelated stories. Most have been written to challenge the reader to figure out
the ending before reaching the final page. In most cases the reader will probably be wrong. Not complicated reading, rather it is an easy style for enjoyment. The book contains no profanity, but it is suggested reading
for adults because of some of the stories themes. The brave author would appreciate any comments; positive or negative.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Oct 15, 2012
• ISBN: 9781479726363

Richard V. Martin

Richard V. Martin, better known to his friends as Dick, was born in Pennsylvania and grew up in southern California. He attended Valley Community College and received a designation in public relations from UCLA. His working years included sports and feature writing for the Burbank Daily Review as a story coordinator for Warner Brothers Television Division and a variety of public relations positions for Lockheed-Martin before retiring as public relations director from the company’s facility in Marietta, Georgia. He now resides in a cabin on a river in Ellijay, Georgia.

Book preview

TGIF

Finally, the mechanical monster on the wall of the DeBell Electronics Company registered the hour of release. Ray Reynolds looked up from his paper-laden desk to see his fellow employees already in motion toward the bank of elevators.

It’s about time, he muttered to himself.

Forty hours of routine, monotonous employment had ended. Any illusions of two days of glorious freedom were dismissed as the stark fact of reality paralyzed his brain. Friday afternoon meant the end of office work, but not the end of monotony. This weekend would be identical with those past nugatory and pre-committed days falsely supposed to be full of rest and relaxation. As he swept the contents of the desk into a drawer, several of his co-workers passed his glass-enclosed cubical, departing with wishes to have a nice weekend. He acknowledged their farewells, grinning, not really wanting his associates to realize his innermost thoughts. Most of them would probably spend two days of relaxation and prolific endeavors. How will he spend his weekend? That’s never a problem. His weekends were identical to his days in the office. They were cast in concrete. Routine and monotony governed his static existence as if it were a road map on a loop. Ray gazed into space, not seeing the surroundings, completely lost in his thoughts. Did other people have the same problem, or was it just him? How about his faithful wife of ten years, Karen? Did she have the same thoughts running through her mind? Could it be possible that she wanted to break away from their treadmill? Would she want to divert from her rut on her own, or with him? All these questions raced through his system until the hypnotic state faded away. He grabbed his jacket, turned off the light and locked his door, but once again did more thinking than moving.

He felt it necessary to rationalize his thinking. It isn’t that he didn’t have a happy home life or a prized position at the DeBell Electronics Company, far from it. Ten years of happy married life had given him two loveable children, a wonderful homemaker and best friend in Karen and an enviable job at the firm. Routine, that was his beef. It was the way everything was set into a pattern for him. Everything seemed to be pre- arranged and scheduled. Nothing unexpected or out of the ordinary ever occurred in Ray’s dull life. As an example, tonight would be no different from any other Friday night for the past several years. He would leave the office, walk to Ernie’s Bar on the corner, have one very dry martini and then creep with the slow traffic the forty miles to the San Fernando Valley. At least those forty miles on the freeway would provide a little variation, with nuts all over the road, you never knew what to expect. At home, Karen will have a macaroni and cheese dinner ready, pea soup and salad to start, then peach pie and coffee to top off another Friday meal. It was the very same meal she had when she lived with her parents. Talk about monotony. Then he would sit down and watch the news with the kids climbing all over him while Karen finished the dishes and set up the card table for the day’s highlight, the weekly bridge game with the Bonins. At nine o’clock, they would ring the doorbell, not five minutes before or after, but at nine on the nose. And then four hours of listening to Bev Bonin use that silly cough system to signal her husband.

Again Ray snapped out of his trance and waited for the slow moving elevators to make their stops. He turned to see Barry Vinikour running down the hallway toward him. He shuddered as he realized he would spend the next forty five seconds with this dedicated bed rover. Barry Vinikour was the company gigolo, fancy dresser, swinger, cocks man and avid hunter of any member of the female species. Even worse, a very descriptive and detailed story teller of his hobby. The green-eyed devil of envy crept across Ray’s mind as the elevator opened and the pair entered. The odds were fifty to one that Vinikour’s initial remark would have to do with a sex-filled weekend. He took the odds.

Ray, baby, it’s going to be one of those wild, sleepless weekends. Wait till you feast your eyes on the hunk of honey waiting for me out front.

Ray smiled, not wanting to be rude, but dying to punch the carefree bachelor’s protruding nose. Whatever else Vinikour had to say was lost in Ray’s own thoughts. The ride to the first floor was equivalent in time to a flight to the moon. The pair walked in silence out into the crisp winter air. Ray stopped to let the cool air freshen his burning face. Vinikour waved a fond goodbye and slid into a sleek sports car, pecking the cheek of his latest statistic.

As if by remote control, Ray turned and started his nightly stroll along Temple Street.

Five hundred and twenty steps of rigid and methodical consistency, until he found himself in front of Ernie’s Bar. He paused as if to break his streak, knowing Ernie had his very dry martini already sitting at his favorite stool. Even the neighborhood bartender knew his time-table.

Ray moved through the dark room to the bar. The same people, the same music, he even had a sneaky feeling he received the same glass. Suddenly, he realized that something had changed. His favorite stool was occupied. He wasn’t angry, almost elated, feeling someone was helping him avoid monotony. His drink rested in front of the next stool. So he slid onto it and reached for the martini. As if by magic, the sweet fragrance of perfume eased into his nostrils and for the first time he was aware there was a female occupying his regular seat. He turned, slowly, not wanting to look obvious. He lowered his eyes, observing the well-formed and long legs ever so close.

It seemed a shame to stop there so his gaze moved up the rest of the structure. Next the curved hips came into view, then the slim waist and slightly above that, a low cut blouse playing home to a bust he estimated to be in the 38 inch range. With an eagerness that surprised even himself, Ray continued his panoramic viewing. Up the neck, past the ruby red lips into the return gazing blue eyes. A flush of red crossed his face as he realized she had been watching as he made his inspection. He felt it was necessary to say something, anything, as a matter of politeness to cover the embarrassment. He uttered a greeting which seemed to squeak from his normally forceful vocal cords. As he did, he managed to observe the one point he had missed during the initial scanning. Her hair was a silky blonde, running down her back and glimmering as if covered with luminous paint. She returned the salutation and drained the last drop from her glass. He expected her to look for another stool, but she not only stayed, but she produced a sexy smile.

His mind was filled with illusions of the good old days. A situation like this would be utilized to its highest degree. In his bachelor days he would buy the lady a few drinks and then offer to take her somewhere else. But that was out of the question now. Ten years of marriage eliminated him from the ranks of the wolves. An urge to order another drink hit him, something he hadn’t done in ten years crossed his mind. How about that empty drink in front of the blonde? Hell, he thought, why not?

A couple of drinks later he felt as if he had known her for years. Her conversation value was as high as her looks. Sandy was 34 years old, unemployed and had arrived in town just three days ago. She liked jazz, hated crowds and had always wanted to see Palm Springs. He glanced at the clock above the bar. His monotony had been broken by an hour. This was definitely a personal record. With the warmth of a blast furnace, she mentioned her desire to go to Palm Springs. Damn, he thought, if this was just ten years ago, he sure would have shown her Palm Springs. Suddenly, without planning he found himself offering to drive her to the resort city. Was he crazy? He had a wife, two kids, a home and a road map of monotony to follow. But, this was the chance to break out of the rut.

A voice in his head whispered, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. The voice didn’t let up, just this once, go ahead.

He excused himself and walked over to the rest room alcove. His eyes scanned the area to make sure no one was within hearing. As he dialed his cell, his mind was working like a computer, calculating, adding and summarizing in seconds and mentally rehearsing. When he heard Karen’s voice he had to pause for a guilty moment. Then he became an author plotting his biggest story. He had to work late tonight and most of the day Saturday. Rather than drive back and forth, he would spend the night at one of the guy’s apartments downtown. Naturally she believed him; she had no reason not to. He had never lied to her in ten years. That was easy, he thought as he walked on a cloud back to the bar. He dropped a few bills on the counter and escorted his companion out.

The pair crossed the street to the DeBell parking lot. His eyes searched the area, fearful that they might be seen by someone he knew, but really hoping Barry Vinikour would drive by. This one tops anyone Barry had ever conquered. He let Sandy walk a couple of steps ahead so his eyes could absorb her sexy walk. It was a well-rehearsed gait which moved with precision and suggestion. The little voice summed it up, you are a very lucky man.

Until they were out of downtown Los Angeles and on I-10 East, neither had said a word. Considering it was a two hour drive, finally each took turns commenting on just about any subject or sighting.

The sun was in it’s final fifteen minutes of display as they reached the San Gordonion Pass. It was then that Ray realized the difference since his younger age of catting around the weekend playground. In those days the area was void of anything and the roadside was littered with cans, bottles and trash as if a giant vacuum cleaner had emptied its load along the route. Now the stretch was heavily adorned with the 150 foot high wind turbine generators. The windmill farms extended for miles providing power to the area. His destination was near and his stomach began to send nervous signals. The voice challenged him, no turning back now. About the same time an aroma of Sandy’s perfume worked its way into Ray’s system again and his mind shifted from nervousness to a full stage of euphoria. He looked toward her, his eyes embracing everything she had to offer and in return he received the best, warmest, inviting smile yet. The little voice in his head didn’t say a word. It didn’t have to.

Finally Palm Canyon Drive offered the threshold to the neon flashes of hotels, motels, stores and everything the resort city had to offer. What a night this was going to be he anticipated as his eyes searched the bright billboards. But, one after another registered No vacancy signs. Damn, naturally it was a Friday night, that is when the crowds invade for their various activities. Not now, not this time, almost came out of his mouth.

Then a hotel sign indicated a vacancy. He practically raced into the parking lot. He flashed a look at his companion and she produced that ever inviting smile which had lured him this far. Confidence flooded him, that was all he needed to close the deal.

He slid from behind the wheel and made his way to the office. It seemed that he was running, and he cut his stride, not wanting to appear anxious, but, damn it, he was.

The clerk pushed a pen and registration slip toward him and Ray began to sweat. He paused as the perspiration formed on his forehead. Then he quickly filled in the blanks and signed the paper. Take that you bastard, he thought as he moved away from the desk with the key.

Have a good night’s rest, Mister Vinikour said the clerk.

As he drove the car to the stairs leading to the second floor, the butterflies again began their rhythmic beat. What was he doing? He thought about Karen, the kids and even the Bonins. What was he doing to his marriage? What was he doing to his life? How does he get out of this? Then he opened the passenger door for his companion and those long, smooth legs slipped gracefully out of the car. Suddenly the emotions shifted and his eyes again betrayed his real thoughts and intentions. Wordlessly the pair climbed the stairs and he and his prey entered the room. Normally Ray would check out a hotel room to see if it was satisfactory for a nights stay. Not tonight, without looking, this was his Garden of Eden. His eyes became riveted on the bed as a final flash of uncertainty touched his conscience and he suddenly became even more uncomfortable.

Again, the warmth of Sandy came through to ease the nervous tension within him.

I’ll be with you in a minute, she whispered as she glided into the bathroom.

He breathed a sigh of relief as his moment of indecision passed.

I must be getting old, this is worse than the very first time taking a woman to bed.

He turned off the light and began to undress. He lay on the bed for what seemed like an eternity, his heart beating with a rapid, thunderous sound. The bedroom door finally opened and his newly acquired mate emerged. He stared at the lovely, naked silhouette, somewhat like a Roman emperor about to indulge in a feast. She slid into bed and as her warm body ignited his, he could think of but one thing, and he shouted it.

To hell with monotony.

A bright ray of sunlight raced through the hotel window, cut its way across the floor and up the bed into Ray’s half-awake eyes. As the wonderful remembrance of the previous night began to form in his groggy mind, he sat upright. His eyes skirted the room and it was obvious that his playmate had departed. He pulled himself out of bed and as he attempted to circulate the blood in his limbs, his eyes fell upon an envelop on the dresser. It was addressed to Ray and a quizzical expression crossed his face as he tore it open. His nervous fingers pulled out a white card. Neatly hand printed was the inscription:

HAPPY TENTH ANNIVERSARY, RAY

ENJOY YOUR GIFT?

LOVE KAREN

CORPORATE LADDER

Tracey Collins sat in the waiting room of the Webb Microdata corporate offices with great anticipation. Just months out of the University of North Carolina, she was glad her first interview was close to home. She would have to get an apartment, but it wouldn’t be an overnight drive from Charlotte. Wait a minute, this is only the first interview, let’s not get the hopes up yet. She was expecting to spend months before someone made her an offer. It was exciting to get a face-to-face interview so soon, jobs were few and far between and the competition was strong. Her friends were busy pouring out resumes and using every social network site to get there names circulating. Tracey had done the same thing, but this call came very quickly. She had read as much as she could find on the internet on Webb Microdata and had rehearsed the answers over and over to the most obvious questions. A door closed down the hallway and a woman walked toward the reception area. She was about twice Tracey’s age and was dressed just the opposite of the conservatively attired young lady. The woman wore a short skirt and a blouse that showed a fair amount of cleavage. Immediately Tracey felt she had dressed too conservatively. Is this the woman doing the interviewing or was she being interviewed.? This job may require someone a little older and wilder. If it is a man interviewing she might be out of the running before she’s interviewed. It was almost a fearful look as the woman paused in front of her.

Good luck, you might just fit in here.

The woman headed for the elevator as the receptionist smiled.

You are next, Miss Collins, second door on the right.

Tracey looked at the sign on the door and thought maybe she was wrong about the interview. It wasn’t a human resources person, it was a pleasant surprise.

Debra Martin

Vice President

Public Relations

She knocked on the door and when it was opened she received another total surprise.

Debra Martin was a drop dead, beautiful young woman, not too many years older than her. Tracey normally didn’t pay much attention to the looks of another woman, but she was stunned with this woman’s appearance. She was dressed conservatively, but had a figure even that attire couldn’t hide.

Come in Miss Collins, have a seat.

The pair exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes and then Debra went over Tracey’s resume.

"You have a degree in Public Relations and a have a lot of extra classes in computer technology. Was that intentional for a job here?’

Not specifically for here, I thought the job opportunities in the internet and technology industries would be greater.

Debra continued to ask questions and Tracey had impressive answers. She was glad she had rehearsed because most of them were what she had expected. Finally, Debra put the resume away and thought for a moment.

I’ve spoken with your references, they all seem surprised you are not into modeling.

Tracey had heard the comment more than once from friends and even family. As she looked across the desk at the attractive woman she didn’t feel as defensive.

My looks are temporary and I want a job that doesn’t depend on them. I want to use my brain and grow and I believe this position in public relations with Webb Microdata will help me achieve that goal. I did a little bit of modeling in college, but just enough to pay the bills.

She thought for a minute to decide if her next statement would help or hurt her chances.

I bet when you were interviewed for the position they made the very same statement about you modeling. You are successful.

Thanks for the compliment. I’ve only had the title for three weeks. Tracey your resume and your answers have been impressive. I’m sold on you. However, there is one more step in the interview process. Because of the nature of the position, Mister Webb himself will have to conduct the final employment interview.

Tracey found the president’s interview almost token. In fact, his questions keyed on her personal life rather than her education. After more than an hour with Debra, this ten minute session was just a chat. She had hardly settled into the comfortable chair when Webb stood and extended his hand.

Okay, Miss Collins, you’ve got the job.

She wanted to yell, but remained calm and shook his hand.

Thank, you Mister Webb. I appreciate the opportunity to work for you.

There is just one restriction. Under no circumstances are you to date anyone in this company. It always complicates things. If you agree you will be on the payroll effective Monday morning.

Tracey called her parents and her friends. She had a hard time explaining her salary since it was far above what she expected and that she had a private office. She couldn’t tell if her friends were happy for her or jealous.

The next four years were heavenly for Tracey. She was promoted to manager and with Debra’s tutoring and coaching she had gained unlimited experience and confidence.

She had assumed more and more responsibility and had become a full-fledged member of the decision making team. She couldn’t have asked for a better boss.

Her one frustration was her inability to discover what Debra Martin was like away from the office. She decided to bring it up during a one-on-one meeting.

Great job, Tracey. That presentation was a work of art.

Debra’s praise was always honest and inspirational.

You taught me everything I know.

You’re an excellent student.

Debra, I have been here four years and I still don’t know much about my boss’s life outside the office. I don’t know what you like or what you do.

I don’t have much of a life outside the office. It’s pretty dull.

Want to take in a play this weekend?

Sorry, I’ll be out of town.

Again? Your life can’t be that dull.

A few weeks later, the perfect business relationship suddenly went sour. Debra didn’t spend as much time with her as she had in the past. Her patience with Tracey was much shorter and in some cases nonexistent. Debra’s personality changed and she was snapping at people and at some times just plain mean. Tracey was considering having a heart-to-heart talk with her when she was called into Debra’s office late on a Friday afternoon. Maybe she should start packing her personal stuff.

Tracey, here is an airline ticket to Hilton Head. Mister Webb would like you to deliver your presentations to him tomorrow. Take enough luggage because you will probably be there a couple of days.

There was no smile or opening for Tracey to ask a question. Debra’s voice was crisp and formal. But, Tracey did have a problem with the timing.

Debra, I’ve got plans for the weekend and it’ll be difficult to change them.

Perhaps you didn’t hear me. Mister Webb would like you to deliver your presentations to him tomorrow—personally.

Debra bent over the papers on her desk indicating the conversation was over.

It was only a four or five hour drive from Charlotte to Hilton Head, but Mister Webb had scheduled her on a flight. The air time was less than half the driving time and for some reason she felt uncomfortable at not having her own car. As she boarded the small Dash 8 aircraft the negative thoughts guided her emotions. This episode was both confusing and frustrating as she tried to find a justification in Debra’s treatment. She couldn’t think of anything she said or had done to cause the sudden change in conditions. Then it hit her. The presentations were just a prop, she was going to Hilton Head to be fired. Her office was probably being cleaned out this very minute. She wished she had her car. But, at least the ticket was roundtrip.

A limo picked Tracey up from the Hilton Head Airport and provided her with a slow drive though the beautiful area. Normally she would have drawn excitement from seeing the quaint shops in Harbor Town, the picturesque homes and buildings and the magnificent landscaping, but it all evaded her thoughts. Her main concern was what kind of reference she would get from Debra. The limo stopped in a gated community and a man who looked like an English butler in a movie, came out of the building and took her luggage. She followed him to an elevator and after inserting a key he pushed the top button. Neither said a word.

When the elevator doors opened, they were in a magnificently decorated entryway that led into an equally impressive living room. It was obviously designed and decorated by a professional as every piece and color flowed perfectly. It had an ocean feel and nothing tacky, definitely high end luxury.

Mister Webb awaits you on the balcony.

She walked through the room like a tourist and out to the balcony which had a fantastic view of the area and the Atlantic Ocean. Webb was in a silk robe stretched out on a chaise lounge. It was the first time she had seen him out of a business suit. He turned and smiled.

Hi, Tracey, thanks for coming.

Still expecting the worse, she was going to reply she didn’t