Seven Deadly Pleasures by Michael Aronovitz Read Free Book Online

cleavage jumped out to say hello.
    "I want you now, baby," I said. "Shut your damned trap and bend over so I can do the nasty." As soon as it was out I clapped my hand over my mouth, but she read the motion as an act of sarcasm. She jerked up straight.
    "I'm not your slut, Joe. And don't change the subject. Our life together does not just revolve around you."
    "The hell it doesn't! Do you really think that the chump change you make at the boutique even comes close to—"
    "Why, you slug," she said. Her eyes got weepy for a moment, but she fought it off with a quick sniff. I used the pause to the best of my ability.
    "Honey! I made a bet with the Grim Reaper this morning and believe me, I'll be all right by mid-morning, please!" Her "hurt" look went ugly.
    "Stop fucking with me."
    "I'm not kidding! It's a curse! I just need two hours to get myself—"
    She put her hands on her hips, and I jumped tracks.
    "—that blouse makes your arms look fat, you pig."
    Her eyes flicked to high beam.
    "Fuck you, asshole!" She brushed past in a huff. "Today, I'll take the bus and the subway."
    There it was. I had gone from "Mookie" to "Joe" to "asshole" in the space of two minutes. The room still held the muffled ring of hot words and Tina's voice wafted up the stairs just before the slam of the door.
    "And don't chase me down the street, either! It would give our neighbors something else to laugh at, you bastard!"
    I let her go. As badly as I felt about it all, it was clear that this would have to be patched up later over dinner and at the bottom of a bottle of fine burgundy. Wasn't there a really cool Italian place on Berkley that had waiters who played violins at the table? Yes, at the office I would make the reservation, order flowers, and maybe pick up a new piece of jewelry to sneak onto her cloth napkin. I reached into the closet for my double-breasted three-piece and frowned.
    I could not go to work in this condition.
    Still, I had to. Today, the unemployment report on which I had taken a few risky investment positions was being released. The old man knew it and I was under strict obligation to make an appearance.
    "On the first Friday of each month you are to be here when the economic releases come across that news wire service. That means nose to the computer by 8:30 A.M., Eastern time, no exceptions. Pull a no-show, and we will do the rough and tumble in my office like you have never seen! I only want you to show you care."
    But I had to stay home nonetheless, even though I had actually seen the old man issue a pink slip over a principle. If he was awarded my company in this condition, I would be jobless and blacklisted by 9:07. At 10:01 with the curse lifted, it would be easy to rush in with some kind of story to explain my tardiness.
    I reached for the phone by the reading lamp and stopped before my hand touched the plastic. A sudden vision of the receptionist, Jessica McQuade, filled my head, and I drew my fingers back as if I'd been burned.
    Jessie was a strawberry blonde who loved to show off her pretty legs. Two years ago she was a cheerleader for the Philadelphia Soul. Now, she ran the message center at Rollins and Howell in a blur of sheer blouses and short, tight skirts. She never wore panty hose, and it was a special pleasure to watch her kick off a heel, cross knee over knee, and massage her ankle while taking a call.
    I stared at the phone and cursed my newfound inability to communicate. What could I trust myself to say or keep hidden? What words would I have for good old Jess when she answered my call?
    Hi, Jess, I won't be in until 10:00, but while I've got you on the horn let's talk about the X-rated side of my imagination that has me climbing you like a tree.
    I began to pace the floor. In desperation, I tried to figure a way to twist truths without telling lies and felt like an idiot locked in a cage with Rubic's Cube. On my second pass across the room I stubbed my toe on the bed leg and the small spurt of pain