What Do You Think of Fred Now, Quiet Man?

The son with the famous mother was holding a cocktail party. My mother was exited to go and I was not really exited to go.

Nevertheless, we went.

My mother wanted to arrive as early as possible. So I tried to get ready early. My Mom was ready before I was and waited patiently for me to drive her.

I was wearing a basic black cocktail dress with pair of shoes I had worn before. I did not have time to bronze my now pale legs or decollate, but I figured the black on white look was good enough.

I had a wrap for the chilly October night to cover my plunging neckline and bare arms. As I was driving, I thought why did I not slather on my new high gloss fuchsia lip gloss that looked liked hot pink vinyl in the store? Probably because I had on electric blue liquid eyeliner that had sparkles in it and it did strike me that I should cool it on the lips. Fortunately, the lip gloss, if not globbed on, was quite subdued. The liquid eyeliner had gone on in a perfectly thin line that did not look anywhere near Moulin Rouge.

As I parked the car, I had to hang on to the damned open toe black satin pumps because my heel kept coming out of the shoe. I have some damned narrow heels which really irk me.

My Mom was behind me, smiling. She really enjoyed these get togethers.

We entered and being so early, we joined a handful of people.

The wait staff had taken our drink orders. My Mother, a fan of the strawberry daiquiri, but being unable to find one made as good as those from her youth, was told daiquiris were unavailable. So we both ordered merlot.

The merlot was good, at least to my uneducated palate. I just go by does it taste good or not? That is my guide.

As what I call the snacks came by to temper the effect of the merlot, I decided to get a tiny plate and go to the table to bigger and better snacks to pile on crudités. I had decided to not eat anything off of that table that would necessitate a trip to the gym.

I went and found one of those tables you need to stand at and watched my Mom talk her little heart away to all she knew. I did not see Quiet Man or Fred, so I chomped away in peace.

A couple joined me as the room began to swell with people. These two were of the type that did not meet a snack they did not like. They were nice enough, but hard to engage in conversation other than the usual droll: “Where are you from?” “What do you do?” “How do you know the son with the famous mother?” for when they provided answers to these type of questions, they would say no more, except stand there and think of more of the same mundane inquiries that never led the conversation to any other level.

I had on my wrap due to it being chilly in the room. I was thinking why did I have on this thing, which had large pom poms all over its edges. They bounced off of each other every time I raised the merlot to my lips or snatched a snack from the wait staff. The wrap was not doing a good job either of staying in place to cover my decollate.

I could feel the woman at my table thinking what a slut or something to that effect, especially after she asked me what I did for a living-I am a professional, what are you? I vastly prefer the more feminine garb that the mandatory suit.

I was thinking she was a freaking nerdy, pseudo-preppy, middle aged woman who did not know how to dress for a cocktail party. If that husband of hers took a look, I am sure she had it in for him later on that night.

As this was all occurring, I glanced around the room. I had finished snacking by then, just wishing those two would leave my table. They did not. I then spotted Quiet Man and Fred across the room. They were alone and did not bring Ricky or Berman, which I was hoping they would. Made them seem sort of stag-ish, in a way.

Quiet Man towered above the people around him. At first he looked lost, then engaged, then disinterested. Fred was off blasting some poor soul with his over abundance of enthusiasm.

I think they saw me. I saw them. At this point, the couple at my table had found some semblance of how to carry on a conversation, when I just wanted them to shut up. I answered them, while looking around the room, thinking how am I going to get away from them without being too rude? Why I felt this way I don’t know. I usually would just up and leave.

As I made my way through the crowd, I was stopped by the best friend of the son with the famous mother. Having Quiet Man on my mind, I literally did not even see him. He had a broad smile as he grabbed my arm to say hello.

I met this best friend at an earlier event that Fred and Quiet Man did not attend. He was quite engaged to have met me, but he never called me. I did not care either since I cannot stomach a man who drones on and on about their child. I know this sounds terrible, but since I do not have a child, it’s why I can’t date men in those situations.

I made my way back to the entrance. There was only one bathroom I found out and it did not have stalls. So I had to wait.

I made small talk with a gentleman who was standing by himself. I did not want to encourage him, though he was nice enough.

Those I knew congregated at the entrance. As I was talking to the wife of a judge, Quiet Man passes me on his way for a smoke. He is a chimney.

He did not greet me, nor I him. I just kept talking.

As I re-entered the room, Fred greeted me warmly as usual. I was holding my wrap on my arm.

“Hello, Muse!”

His usual greeting.

“Oh, hello Fred!”

My usual reply.

Fred was smiling and laughing. I had to hear about all the local muckety mucks he had already talked to.

Quiet Man came up next to me. I believe I embraced him hello as I did Fred.

Quiet Man steps back from me.

“Muse, that dress,” he said as he stared at me, “it is so becoming on you.”

He stared at my satin high heels with the bejeweled adornment in the middle of the shoe.

“Yes, Muse, you look wonderful in that dress,” piped in Fred.

“Can I get you a drink, Muse?” asked Quiet Man.

“No, I don’t need one, Quiet Man,” I replied.

“Fred?” inquired Quiet Man.

What was this, Quiet Man joined the wait staff?

“Yes, Quiet Man, I will take one more,” ordered Fred.

I think Fred was belting down some Johnny Walker Black on the rocks and he was not eating any snacks.

Quiet Man returned with a new drink for Fred, who handed him his glass with half of his previous concoction.

Fred was not making much talk, except for who he was going to talk to next.

Quiet Man was busying himself getting drinks for Fred and taking glances of me in that dress.

Then the son with the famous mother was making a speech. Fred and I stood together with Quiet Man at my side. I saw my Mother opposite me in the encircled crowd, applauding and smiling. She looked so young and cute I thought.

The room quieted down while the speech was made. Fred was listening intently with his right hand in his pocket and the drink in his left. I had the wrap in my hands. Quiet Man had his drink, complete with a tiny straw, in his right hand, while his left was pocketed.

When the boring speech was over, we had to listen to a second one, and then that was it, thank goodness.

The son with the famous mother had hired a professional photographer to go around and snap photos of the crowd. Fred called him over to take photos of he and I. I hate having my photo taken. Fred asked the photographer for his card. Then we took another photo with me in between Fred and Quiet Man.

At that time, another man was trying to get my attention, and Quiet Man had gone to fetch more drinks for the luscious Fred.

The man was so obvious. He was old as well. I was disinterested, but he was on it, trying to talk to me.

By that time, Fred had to go to another party, which he had told me about before. He was telling Quiet Man that he wanted to get there, two towns over, by 8 pm. Quiet Man was shooting for 8:30, but Fred was not having it at all.

Fred then asked me if I would go with them.

“Muse, you want to join us?” he inquired.

“Well, yes, Fred,” I answered wondering why I was invited because when he first told me about it, he did not ask me if I would join him.

“I have my mother, but maybe she can get a ride home,” I pondered.

“Oh, wonderful, Muse,” said Fred.

My mother had made her way to where I was with Fred. And the older man who was bending at the waist to see if I was talking to anyone, made his move as I finished talking to Fred, who was behind me at this point.

I could not get a word in edgewise with this fool. I decided to introduce my mother to him because she could talk to him non stop. He gave me his business card and asked for mine, which I did not have with me. He was an attorney and a muckety muck from the other side of the county.

Quiet Man returned and Fred was ready to go. We all walked out with my Mom. Fred said he would follow me when I dropped my Mom off at home and then I would ride with he and Quiet Man.

Quiet Man had a bunch of magnetic bumper stickers in his hand on his way out the door. He was going to put them on Fred’s LEXUS SUV, that monstrosity of a vehicle. Fred was driving and he really did, as previously, remind me of Plankton on Sponge Bob. The similarities of personality in that regard are remarkable.

As we were driving, I told my Mother that I was going with Fred and Quiet Man to the party of another. She was so exited and thought she was going. I told her could I please for once, go somewhere without her? I regretted it when I said it, but since she had no idea about Quiet Man and I, and I was surprised they invited me to join them, I just could not have my Mom with me.

As I pulled into her driveway, I guessed she did not have her key to her house. I offered to give her mine, but she refused. She was standing in front of her garage, smiling and waving good bye to me as I got myself into Fred’s SUV. I felt very guilty. I also knew she was going to break into her own house or something in her cocktail outfit because she refused to take my key. She did not want to hold us up. Quiet Man jumped into the back seat. Fred was driving.

Quiet Man told me later that my Mom, to him, looked as if she was thinking, please take care of my girl. He told me this after my mother was killed. I thought at the time, and told them, look- she looks as if she is sending me off to the prom or something the way she is standing there, waving to us.

So, Fred is driving.

He maneuvered the SUV as Plankton would drive a tank to take out Mr. Crabs. I was feeling guilty about my Mom, but Fred’s wide swings on curvy roads darted my attention to grabbing the “oh shit” bar above me.

Fred was worried that Berman was waiting for so long.

Berman? Yes Berman. He was meeting them.

So we arrive. Fred parks without any mishaps. We go in and find Berman. We go to where the party WAS because it was over with and it looked like it was not that exiting.

So there were the four of us: Fred, Quiet Man, Berman and myself.

I decided to introduce Fred to an attorney I know because Fred wants to sue, sue, sue someone who sued him and lost.

So this attorney had his eyebrow raised looking at me with Fred and then at Berman and Quiet Man who where on the other end of the room by the door. I was looking at this attorney who was sitting with a bland and plain looking female who was not his wife. He was pretty shocked to see me.

When Fred finally stopped talking the attorney not with his wife’s ear off, Quiet Man decides that we will go into the pub restaurant. The boring event was in the pub’s party room around back.

I was not thrilled to be sitting in that place in a cocktail dress.

We all walked in and the raunchy waitress at the bar, looked up at us as did every other wheat-hawker holding up the bar.

So we sit down in what they term their dining room. It had those chairs you see in cheesy fish joints, you know the kind: made of wood, low curved back with a handle hole in it and held in by spokes.

Fred decides that we can’t sit in the first of the identical tables by the glass over looking that oh so fabulous parking lot abutted by the road. We had to sit in the third of such tables. It made him quite satisfied.

I was sitting next to Fred, Berman was across from me and Quiet Man across from Fred.

We ordered drinks. They came and we started to drink them.
Fred was again drinking his Johnny Walker Black on the rocks. I can’t remember what I ordered. Quiet Man had some kind of brandy I think. Berman had a soda.

So there I was, sitting with three men. Fred had on quite some jewelry on him that night. He showed me his bracelet that looked like something Wilma Flintstone would wear. The thing was huge and covered with diamonds.

“Look, Muse,” pointed Fred, “This is 23 carat gold. Rose gold. And it’s covered in like a gazillion diamonds,” well I made up the gazillion part because I can’t remember what he said.

I never saw rose gold or 23 karat gold before, but it did have a very dark coppery rose color. It was very gaudy.

As Fred was showing off his man jewelry, the bracelet catapulted off of his wrist and smacked Quiet Man on his face.

We then had to have a conversation about Quiet Man’s friend who is the best jeweler in the next city. I mean, Quiet Man, is there any one you don’t know?

Fred was very receptive to Quiet Man’s offer to have the bracelet fixed. These two interact so weirdly with each other.

“Oh, thank you Quiet Man,” purred Fred.

“Yes, my friend will fix,” said Quiet Man in that strong accent he sports.

Berman was sitting quietly to himself sipping his soda. He made mention of that he was definitely going to stop by my office to see me. Ok, Berman whatever floats your boat was what I thought of that.

As Fred was sucking down his second hard liquor drink, Quiet Man, was egging him on.

“Well, tell her,” he said, ”tell her.”

I was like WTF are they talking about?

“Oh, no, no Quiet Man, I can’t!” replied Fred.

“Can’t tell me what?” I demanded.

I had my wrap half on and half off. I was fiddling with the pom poms and the stupid things started to shred! I decided to shove it behind myself.

Fred was acting really weird and so was Quiet Man, but he really was pushing Fred.

“Tell her what is in your heart,” pushed Quiet Man.

What on earth are they talking about as if I was not really there?

Here was Fred and Quiet Man, two married men, talking like two high school boys.

What was Fred going to tell me? What?

Finally, Fred got up the courage and blurted it out: “Muse, I love you.” He did not even look at me, but stared into his Johnny Walker Black.

OMG!

“I told you Fred liked you,” beamed Quiet Man, ”and you did not believe me!”

Fred was not looking at me, but Quiet Man was.

You love me, I thought? What the hell was this all about?

Ever since I met Fred, all he did was talk about his arranged marriage, his love of blondes, going out with a Victoria Secret model and all that nonsense. Ever since I met Fred, all he did was try and egg me on, encourage me about Quiet Man, and even told me Quiet Man liked me.

“Muse,” said Quiet Man, interrupting my shock and racing thoughts of the ridiculousness of what I just thought I heard, “Fred just told you what was in his heart.”

OK, what is it with these two?

I began to laugh. Really laugh. I was trying to divert Fred’s attention or affection.

“Oh, Fred,” was all I could say.

“No, Muse,” he said, ”It’s true.”

“Oh, Fred it is NOT TRUE! What are you thinking, you are not thinking, Fred!” I said emphatically.

“It’s what is in my heart, Muse. I don’t lie,” he said kinda meekly.

I was beginning to feel uncomfortable. What was wrong with Fred? I did not like him, and he should know that. He should know I liked Quiet Man, that damned married man.

If this was indeed true, which I believed it was not, what have they been saying to each other about me all this time I have known them?

I did not see or talk to Fred or Quiet Man most of the summer. I kept to myself until early September when the rounds of get togethers began. Fred always seemed so disinterested in me, and whenever we chatted in his store, most of the conversation revolved around Fred and his women, his extra marital on goings.

Quiet Man began to chide me for not taking Fred seriously. How can you Muse, not believe him, he told you what is in his heart!

Quiet Man, who the hell do you think you are-Oprah?

I could not believe what I was witnessing at this pub. I looked at Berman who was hovering over his soda with a big toothy dopey smile, also looking in disbelief and giggling about Fred looking into his Johnny Walker black having just told us all what was in his heart.

After a while, Quiet Man announced that he had to go.

“Where are you going, Quiet Man?” I asked. I was annoyed that this was ending up to be such a lousy night. I was still in shock over Fred and kind of grossed out.

“I have to go and collect the money.”

“Money?” I said, “What money do you have to collect? It’s like 10 pm right now.”

“At the club,” he said slowly and calmly.

“What club are you talking about?”

“The go-go club.”

Quiet Man and Fred call strip clubs go-go clubs. As far as I knew, Fred was unable to buy the strip club in the next city. As far as I knew, he does not own it.

“Really? Which one, one in XYZ State?”

“No, in the next city.”

“Oh yes Muse, I bought sixty percent that go-go club for $3.5 Million dollars. And do you know Mr. Wrong bought ten percent of that with me?” said Fred.

Mr. Wrong was a moronic idiot who does nothing all day long and has an overabundance of money, looks like he lives in the ‘70s and is known to love a lap dance, besides being married to Mrs. Wrong who is out to lunch as far as her husband is concerned.

“You and Mr. Wrong own a strip club, Fred?”

“Yes.”

“OK, you know what? I don’t believe you. I want you to prove you own this club. I want to see with my own eyes Quiet Man picking up the night’s receipts. With my own eyes,” I said.

“You do?” inquired Quiet Man with a raised eyebrow.

“I do,” I said emphatically looking Quiet Man in the eye.

“Let’s go!” said Quiet Man, rising from his pub chair.

And that is how we left the pub on our way to the strip club.

Berman was having some kind of issue going to a strip club. He had to follow us to Fred’s store so he could drop off his car. I think Berman was never in a strip club.

On the way to Fred’s store, Quiet Man was sitting again behind me. We had to stop at a gas station convenience store so Quiet Man could get snacks because no one ordered anything to eat with all the drinking going on at the pub.

Quiet Man had to re-supply himself with cigarettes and picked up a bag of Milano cookies. He shared them with Fred. Since Quiet Man was sitting behind me, I heard every crunch of his jaw on those Milanos.

Berman jumps into the back seat with Quiet Man and we headed to the strip club Fred supposedly bought. On the way there, I heard Quiet Man making some really weird and disgusting sounding noises. I finally turned around and asked him, “Quiet Man, what is that noise?”

“It’s me,” he said.

“What the hell are you doing?” I asked him, “because whatever it is, it’s like right in my ear.”

He began to laugh and I forgot what he said. It sounded like he was digging the Milano remains out from between his jaw and cheek. Quite gross.

As we pulled into the parking lot of the strip club, Quiet Man had to tell Fred to flash his lights so the door attendants would remove the plastic cones from the VIP parking space. Hmm, I thought, maybe he did buy the place, but why would Fred not know to flash the lights?

We all pile out of the Lexus and Quiet Man helped me jump out of the damned thing because we had experience earlier in the night with me almost falling flat on my face.

We entered into this place which was mostly black. There were couple of young men who where apparently bouncers and a chunky girl who collected a cover charge who had a mop of bright, coppery red hair. Fred was taking out his wallet and Quiet Man marshaled us through after telling those people we were with him. Odd, I thought for owners.

The place was pretty much empty.

The décor was mostly black and grey and it sort of looked like a cocktail room or jazz room, except for the pole at the end of a tiny runway stage in the middle of the room. The bar was on the left as you entered. Over to the right, there was this dais sort of section that had chairs in a row and the facing wall to those chairs where back lit.

We sat down around a tiny round table where you put your drinks.

Berman had to go potty and Fred pointed him to the bathrooms. Quiet Man I think was wandering around and then came to join us. We all sat in a horseshoe pattern. Fred on one end, then I then Berman then Quiet Man. I was basically facing Quiet Man.

We got our drinks and mine tasted watery. I had my wrap on and did not let it fall once. The pom poms one by one started to fall out. I was busily taking their remains and shoving them into my tiny bag I had for the night.

I was getting a little annoyed. Why where we sitting in this place if Quiet Man was to get money? Why was Fred pulling out his money rolls to pay for drinks? Why, Muse, you still have to pay even if you are an owner, it’s not good not to, was his pathetic explanation. He kept pounding the Johnny Walker Blacks.

I had glanced up at the dais and was so surprised. The girls who worked there all where naked with nothing but some g-strings or they had on a sheath over the g-strings. Not one was pretty, most were very plain. I happened to glance over when I saw a girl on girl lap dance, and both girls worked at the club.

“Fred, Fred,” I prodded him, “Look at that!”

Fred did not want to look or did not care. Quiet Man was encouraging Fred about his damned assed heart.

“Muse, I love you, I want to be with you,” he said and a bunch more graphic remarks I don’t want to repeat. I looked at Berman while Fred was yanking on me. Good Lord, he was sloppy drunk!

I tried to distract Fred by bringing up his wife, to which he readily pooh-poohed me about. For about I would say a good twenty minutes I was being groped and pulled by Fred. I looked to Berman for help, but he was so useless. I don’t think he wanted to stand up to Fred.

Quiet Man was watching this and reminding me that I did not believe him about Fred liking me, I did not believe what Fred had in his heart and had opened up to me. Uh, Quiet Man, Fred is married like you are, don’t you know?

Fred began to calm down, telling me if I did not want him or something like that, he would leave me alone.

“Muse, why are you covering yourself up?” he asked.

“I am freaking cold Fred,” I said and touched Quiet Man’s hand as proof of having cold fingers.

Berman pipes in something about religion because I had used my religion and told him I did not want to go to hell for what he was proposing, thinking this logic would breathe some sense into him. Berman and Fred are the same religion and he says that as long as you don’t hurt someone in their religion, it is all OK.

“Really, Berman, is that so?” I asked him sarcastically.

“Yes Muse, it’s true; it’s our belief,” he answered most solemnly.

“Well Fred, I guess you have not realized that you will be hurting Mrs. Fred, or have you discounted that?” I inquired of him.

Fred’s answer was that his marriage with Mrs. Fred, as he has always said, is an arranged marriage. Berman who is good
friends with Mrs. Fred, really could not argue with the logic that Fred was ignoring.

Quiet Man, who had tried to get into his seat, fell flat on his bum while holding his drink, laughing that the seat rolled out from under him.

One of the working girls came over to Quiet Man and sat on the arm of his chair or was bent over him. She introduced herself to me and held out her hand. I felt bad, but I would not touch her hand, not knowing where it had been.

Quiet Man was watching the groping of Fred. He decides to ask me the following:

“Muse, you like girls?” he said with that thick rolling accent of his.

“What?” I said being so shocked.

“You like girls?”

“No, I don’t”

“You don’t like girls?” he continued.

“No I don’t!” I told him, “What, you like boys?”

He was disgusted I asked him that, and told him, well don’t ask me that either. So he didn’t.

The next thing was the girl that was hovering over Quiet Man previously was now behind Berman asking him if he wanted a lap dance. Quiet Man put her up to it and was tattle taling on Berman that he never, ever had a lap dance before.

Poor Berman. His eyes were becoming all bulgy with embarrassment.

“Oh, Berman, just go with her!” I told him, partly for his religious justification for cheating comment he used earlier.

“Go! Go, with her Berman!” I continued.

“Berman, go with the girl!” shouted Fred in some sort of weird camaraderie.

After much goading, Berman went and took his scared self up to the dais. He picked the most remote part of the thing so we could barely see him in the shadows.

We were all watching Berman in shadow. We were hysterical laughing.

“He does not know what to do!” gasped Fred.

“She does!” said Quiet Man.

“Look, he is having a conversation with her and she is now sitting down next to him!” I pointed out.

Finally the girl rips off her sheath and just let Berman have it, and he was melting out of that chair like micro waved butter.

Berman comes back, a little rustled and red faced. He sat back down to where he was sitting and looked a little shaken up and with a nervous laugh.

“Oh, Berman!” I said and began to laugh.

Poor Berman. He was like a little child in the company of Fred and Quiet Man.

So Fred was still pounding his drink. He was now at this point, holding on to me and pulling so his chair would roll closer to mine. I just took his hands off of me and tried to change the subject. He was now acting depressed, almost crying into his drink, pining away that if I did not want him, he would be okay with it.

“Berman, can you believe Fred? He is so drunk!”

“Yes, Muse,” replied Berman, still with the lap dance glow on his face.

Fred grabs me and says,” LOOK Muse, look at Quiet Man!”

Quiet Man was up where Fred just was holding a working girl’s arms. She had on a sheath. They were pretty close together and it looked like he was going to kiss her. I could not believe it, but that is all he did and then started to return to our table.

“Fred, what a cheater!” I told Fred.

“Muse, not Quiet Man! I told you, he never, never, never has been unfaithful to his wife. Never!”

“Are you kidding me? Do you think I am stupid, Fred?”

“Muse, Quiet Man has never touched another woman!”

“You are blind then Fred. He was just hanging on to the girl!”

Quiet Man returns to our company. I was just looking at him and he was just looking at me.

After a while, another girl comes by and her sheath was very short like a mini-skirt. She was standing next to Quiet Man and Quiet Man introduced her or something like that and tells me she is from the same country he is or a neighboring one. Like I care. She was very sweet for a stripper I thought.

She just planted herself there. I was thinking, don’t you have to go and give a lap dance? The club was very empty, just one lap dance being given at that point. Maybe because its Thursday night?

As my mind was wandering about lap dance activity, I looked over at Quiet Man and he had his right hand very high up on that girl’s bare thigh. I was truly amazed.

“Fred,” I whispered.

“Oh Muse, “ he said thinking I was giving in, ”yes, Muse?”

“Look at Quiet Man, Fred. And you tell me he is not a cheater?”

Fred looked at Quite Man holding on to that girl’s leg like it was a tree trunk. That is all he was doing, nothing else.

I was having a sort of debate with Fred about Quiet Man.

“You mean to tell me that if Mrs. Quiet Man saw what he husband was doing tonight, she would not have a problem with it?”

“No,” said Fred, “She never questions Quiet Man. Quiet Man never cheats on her.”

“And you call holding that other woman like he was going to devour her or holding on the a stripper thigh like that would not call Quiet Man into question in her eyes?” I asked.

“No.”

Well Mrs. Quiet Man is stupider than I thought and Quiet Man was totally different than I had imagined. I then was thinking, you know, Quiet Man is not going to collect any money here. He is just a plain old regular. A regular. There was not any other explanation. None.

As Fred and I were huddled talking about the cheater Quiet Man, the girl he was holding came over and asked Fred if he wanted a lap dance.

Fred was taken aback, and flustered. He was refusing her because of me.

“Fred, go, go with her, Fred,”

“No, I can’t, Muse!”

“Oh yes you can, Fred!”

And after a little bit more encouragement Fred decides to go.

“You will not mind, Muse?”

“No, of course not, don’t be silly, I won’t mind at all.”

I thought it MAY, just MAY, cool him down at bit, being all aroused since he told me what was in his heart.

Fred rises from his seat, straightens out his jacket and so stoically, follows the girl up to the dais.

Quiet Man came and sat in Fred’s chair.

“Oh, hello Quiet Man,” I told him, “Don’t you EVER tell me how much you love your wife!”

He looked at me right in the eyes.

“You are a cheater, Quiet Man!” I accused him.

“I have not cheated on my wife, I love my wife.”

“Really Quiet Man? You love her so much you are groping these girls here? That is how much you love your wife? You love her that you never mentioned to me you where married until I got it out of you? You love her so much that you had no problem chasing me for all those months?” I argued with him.

“Muse,” he said and then he started to laugh a little.

He was sitting sideways in the chair, facing me. He had his legs loosely crossed.

My wrap was a bit open at that point and he reached over to pull it closed. I let him, I don’t know why.

I was thinking what am I doing here arguing with Quiet Man about his wife in a strip club? What?

He may have gone into the wife trusts him explanation. I can’t remember. I just remember him looking at me and myself thinking, as I was arguing with him, how attractive I found him.

I had to shut those thoughts out of my mind.

We continued to chat and I told him I knew he liked me. He just looked at me and looked at me. How weird.

Fred had returned from his lap dance, quite calmed down.

Then he and Quiet Man decided it was time to go, the club was going to close soon.

Quiet Man was not returning back with us. I was upset by this because Fred was pretty drunk I thought but was walking fine. Fred and Berman went out ahead and Quiet Man was helping up out of the chair and towards the door. He asked a young man if he would give him a ride home. The boy said yes. I was thinking, they seemed so familiar this young boy and Quiet Man.

“Quiet Man, you are not coming back with us?”

“No, I am going home. It’s too late to do all that driving, since I live north of here.”

“Quiet Man, I want you to drive, Fred can’t drive!”

“He is OK, Muse, really he is,” as he walked me around the Lexus, “You will be OK.”

He put me into the car and I was nervous about Fred. And with reason.

He was all over the freaking road and highway. He was driving like 90 mph on the highway. I looked at Berman in the back seat. He seemed very calm.

“Fred, do you want to stop at a diner?”

“No, Muse.”

“You don’t?” I asked trying to get him to stop driving.

“No.”

“Aren’t you hungry Fred?”

“No,” he said continuing to drive erratically.

“Berman, aren’t you hungry?” I said to him while winking.

“No.”

“Are you SURE Berman you don’t want to go to the diner?” I said very slowly.

“Oh, I will go” he said, catching on, ”Yes, Muse, I want to go to the diner.”

“Fred, Berman wants to go to the diner, ”I said calmly.

It did not convince Fred to stop. He kept assuring me everything was fine.

Miraculously we make it back to Fred’s store. Berman hops out to his car. Fred anticipates bringing me home. It was about 1:30 am. I felt a little better that I made it back in one piece. Fred’s driving was getting a little better.

He decides to go through town to get to my house. We were chatting as he was driving down Main Street. He took the corner by the diner quiet wide. That was when I first saw the lights. He never saw them.

“FRED! You need to Stop!” I told him.

“What Muse?”

“STOP THE CAR, PULL OVER!”

“What, what?” he said as the car slowed.

“Fred, you need to PULL OVER ONTO THE SHOULDER and stop the damned car!”

That was when he first noticed the red and white lights of the Sheriff’s car. Damn him, was what I thought. He pulled over and it took him a while to put the car to a stop and then he lifted his foot from the brake and the Lexus started to lunge forward. Great.

“Fred, you need to put the damned car in park,” I told him as calmly as I could. By this time the young, chubby and bald Deputy had his flashlight that held like twenty C-batteries in it, shining on Fred.

Fred was beginning to have a melt down. He was scared. I was like, WTF.

Fred rolls his window down. The Deputy asks him if he was drinking that night. Fred said yes. What an idiot. The Deputy asks him how many drinks he had and he says two. Even more of an idiot. The Deputy starts screaming at him to get out of the car. Fred was having trouble undoing his seat belt and getting out of the high Lexus.

The Deputy pulls him screaming to the back of the car, so the special lights on the car where shining in his face. By this time, there are two more Sheriff’s deputies and a Town Officer surrounding the Lexus.

I hear the Deputy screaming at him and then he asks him to walk the line. He then asked Fred to do the alphabet starting from F. He then asked him to do it backwards. I was like OMG, I could not do it backwards sober. I felt like yelling out to Fred, F G H I J K etc. I was sitting, still seat belted in the front seat wondering what Fred blew, since I saw the Deputy throw down on the street a white plastic tube. I was then making plans on how to bail out Fred, take care of the Lexus and get a ride home. I was so close, about one mile.

I began to furiously call Quiet Man. Damn him, he was not answering his phone. On about the 15th call I left him an urgent message.

Fred gets back into the Lexus. His wife then called. I was like, OMG, what next? Fred is talking to her and telling her basically the truth, except omitting I am with him. He tells her his location which is in the total opposite direction of how he needs to get home. He gets her off the phone and is mad she called. The third or fourth time she called, as he was hanging up on her, he said something about he did not care what she was saying and I saw his phone was still on. She made arrangements with Berman, who she got on the cell, to come and get Fred, since his Lexus was being towed.

I was waiting for the cuffs to come out on Fred. The Deputy said he blew twice the legal limit. I decided to get out of the car since the Deputy was having it towed. I almost tripped because the Lexus was so high up and my skirt was not allowing me a wide leg position to get the hell out.

The Deputy then begins to question me about if I was drinking and where we were that night. I answered him and told him he better back off, I was a passenger and like Fred, name dropped.

He was yelling at me asking me if I lived with Fred. No. Was I Fred’s girlfriend? No. Was he driving me home? Yes. Why did I get into the car with him? Because I needed a ride home.

Fred got off with a warning and a ticket for crossing the white line and having a tail light out. NO JAIL, NO DWI charges. AMAZING.

The Deputy wanted to call a cab for us and I declined. I told him we were going to walk to the diner. We did. Poor Fred, a little bit more sober was denying he drank that much. Yes, Fred you did, I told him. Fred was upset the Deputy asked me such personal questions. I told him who cares because he did not drag your ass to jail. I was blaming Quiet Man all the way to the diner for not picking up his phone and not driving us back home.

We decided to wait outside the diner to see if Berman would show up. The same damned Deputy was driving like a mad man towards us, drives over the corner sidewalk, across the street and slams the brakes on his vehicle in front of Fred. OMG, he was coming to get him. The bald Deputy jumps out of his car and says to Fred, You are not the one causing a ruckus in the diner are you? NO, sir, said Fred.

“Fred, we are going into the diner to wait for Berman. Do you want to get arrested, get OFF THE STREET!” I said as I climbed up the stairs to the diner.

We sat there drinking decaf coffee and iced tea. Berman shows up and we fill him in on what happened. He told us he was also stopped by the same cop that stopped him earlier that day for no registration on his Acura. What is it with these two?

Fred is reviewing the night and how he wants to crush the deputy.

“Fred, give it up. Do you realize that he could have put you in jail? He did you a favor, for WHATEVER REASON," I told him. Finally Berman and I convinced his drunk assed self that he was lucky he did not go to jail.

Fred started to carry on as we got into Berman’s car to my house about how he was unable to drive me home, the bummer of his evening.

Berman pulled into my driveway and Fred gets out of the back seat and I gave him an embrace and kiss on the cheek and thanked him for the evening.

I Am So Sad, Quiet Man

I am going to post more of what has occurred with Quiet Man because it will be taking my mind off of, at least for a little bit, my great sadness and oncoming depression due to my mother being killed by a car the first week in November.

It will take my mind off of the loneliness that is encompassing me and which I am tiring of fighting off at this point.

It may make me stronger to be positive for the work I have ahead of me, the realization that my life will be taking a profound turn, which at now seems for the worse.

It will stop the onslaught of tears if I pre-occupy myself with trivialities, and writing about Quiet Man is quite trivial.