Chapter Five

“Migraines? No, I’ve never had a migraine before. I heard they hurt like hell, though.”

“Never? In your entire life?”

“Nope.”

“But… how long have you worked for Henderson?”

“Three years now. It’s weird, but it’s true. I guess I just don’t get headaches.”

“Man, that’s fucked up.”

Angela pushed the bridge of her glasses back onto her nose. “Gosh, Jake. Don’t be jealous that I can put up with Henderson’s crap better than you can. I guess it’s just a gift!”

“Sure,” Jacob muttered, staring at his half-empty glass of lemonade. He didn’t like lemonade – he had ordered a cup of decaf coffee, but Angela had insisted that he drink something cold. He hated iced coffee – that shit was a disgusting rip-off – and iced tea was simply out of the question, so he ordered the only beverage that he could halfway tolerate. Lemonade.

Little specks of pulp floated around in the bright yellow liquid. Fuckin’ gross, man.

“Yep. I suppose it’s just a gift,” he mused.

The outdoor restaurant pulsed with general conversation. Jacob turned away from Angela for a moment to glance around at the happy faces of the Friday lunch crowd. Men and women in business attire chatted about their weekend plans, sipping coffee despite the sweltering Texas heat. A nearby city street bustled with activity – honking cars, people on cell phones, bicycle bells chiming, that sort of thing. Jacob loosened his tie, rolled up his sleeves, wiped his brow and turned back to Angela.

“Wait… no, no – it can’t be a gift. Even Goddamn Mother Teresa had to learn to be tolerant of people. C’mon, seriously. Talk to me.”

She was stunning today. A modest white work blouse, a short gray skirt and some matching fuck-me-shoes adorned her toned body; the weather left her skin glistening and warm, and her cute black glasses kept falling off of her nose. Jacob took another sip of his pulpy lemonade, catching a glimpse of his wedding ring as he touched the cool glass to his lips. He sighed, placing the cup back down on the table and clearing his head as best as he could. She’s just a friend.

Angela smiled at him, that whimsical grin of hers piercing his flesh and digging into his soul. He nervously shifted in his seat.

“Meh, I know it has something to do with my brothers,” she said. “You probably wouldn’t think it, but growing up around three rambunctious little boys will teach you to be tolerant of little jerks with big mouths!”

Jacob rubbed his nose and stared at a nearby traffic light. It was green. “Yeah… yeah, well try living with the exact opposite.”

Angela grinned, fanning herself and gulping a glass of raspberry iced tea. “Oh, right! I’d forgotten about that! Your sisters must have been a handful, huh?”

“You had it lucky,” he said, glaring at the traffic light. Still green. Cars happily zoomed by. “At least little boys are stupid. The three evil bitches I lived with… augh. Scarred me for life, I swear it.”

“What, did they paint you with make uuhhhp? Made you wear dresses?” Angela taunted, laughing as she sipped her tea.

Fuck, she’s beautiful, Jacob thought. He quickly caught himself staring at her, and anxiously glanced at his wedding ring again. You’re just two friends out to lunch.

“Um… no,” he said, almost too seriously. He noticed, and forced a nervous laugh. “Hah! No, but it was pure hell, lemme tell ya. Nothing but constant yapping and grimy boyfriends, you know. Manipulative and just… evil. I mean, I dunno how I’m able to trust women nowadays.”

“You can’t trust me, sweetie?”

Jacob took a deep breath, grabbed his lemonade and drained it. Nasty.

“I don’t wanna talk about it. Let’s change the subject.”

“Fine, change away.”

Jacob sighed and placed his elbows on the table, leaning in close to her. “You know, I’ve always been curious… what the hell do you like in men, anyway?”

“Like, boyfriend men?”

He nodded.

“Uhh…” said Angela, taking an occasional sip of her iced tea. “Well, a melon smuggler is always nice…”

“What? You like breast implants?”

Angela laughed and patted her biceps. “No! A guy who looks like he’s smuggling melons in his arms.”

“Oh,” Jacob muttered, disappointed. He glanced at his own sagging gut. “The meaty type.”

“So what? A girl can’t crave a slice of beefcake every now and then? It’s pretty normal when guys drool over Little Miss Plastic Tits, isn’t it?”

“Point taken,” Jacob said. “But realistically, what do you like?”

There was a long pause. They both stared at the traffic light as it finally turned red.

She set down her iced tea and grabbed Jacob’s hand. “I want someone who knows that there’s more to it than the facts. I want a guy who has an opinion on everything, who can find meaning in everyday life. I want someone who’s fearless… but not stupid, like some people we know.”

They both laughed at that one. Poor Vincent.

“I want a dynamic guy, the sort that can pick flowers and pick a fight. It’s cliché, but that’s what turns me on.”

They were way too close. Jacob could smell her lipstick.

He sighed for the umpteenth time that afternoon. This is wrong. Everything about this is fucking wrong, and you know it.

Their lips were touching. Their tongues were touching.

And Jacob didn’t realize it until it was too late.

Mouths mashing into each other, saliva moving from tongue to tongue, eyes lazily sliding around… and neither of them stopped it.

It felt too right.

“Hey guys,” a perky little teenage waitress said, interrupting their kiss. She was carrying a tray of food. “BLT extra B, aaaand a shrimp salad?”

Jacob and Angela slowly pulled away from each other, embarrassed.

“Yeah, that’s us.”

The girl smiled, gave the BLT to Jacob and the salad to Angela, and scuttled away.

They stared at each other. No more nervousness, no more hesitation. The sophomoric tension had subsided, and their stare was heavy with understanding.

You know what you’re doing, asshole? You’re ruining your marriage, right here and now. You’re fucking ruining ten years of hard work and loyalty.

Jacob broke their stare, glancing at the sandwich in front of him. Bacon was pouring out of the sides.

“Gimme my bacon,” Angela said, smiling wide.

“It never fails,” said Jacob, handing her the plate. She gave him his bowl of lettuce and shrimp. “They always assume I’m too manly to eat a goddamn salad.”

“It’s rabbit food; I dunno how you do it. I’d slit my wrists if I had to do that.”

“It tastes good. I don’t know what to tell you.” He loaded his fork with a heaping mound of lettuce, grabbed a spray bottle of vinaigrette and went to town.

“That is, without a doubt, the gayest thing I’ve seen all day,” Angela teased him, ravaging her BLT like a dog.

He… he couldn’t stop staring at her.

“Where the fucking hell did the blonde bitch and the chubby smartass go? Where?!”

“Ah, Henderson…”

“Excuse me, maggot?”

“Mister Henderson, sir!”

“That’s fucking better!”

“Sir!”

“What do you want?!”

“They um… they…”

“Spit it out! I’m a busy man!”

“Jacob and Angela never came back from lunch, sir!”

“Wh—”

The man turned beet red; a group of thick veins seemed to growl on his forehead.

“WHAT?!”

“I’m…a… horrible… person…” Angela said mid-kiss.

“Shut the fuck up,” Jacob breathed, shoving her into the hotel room and locking the door behind him. “Right now… you’re the greatest person in the whole world.”