Ted Slipped a Cassette Into the Recorder
Ted Baxter slipped a cassette into the recorder, the back of his hand casually rubbing against the side of Mary Richard’s leg. Mary moved her leg closer to Ted’s hand. Sue Ann Nivens sat in the back seat, chattering away. Neither Ted nor Mary paid much attention to her. Sinatra’s voice seeped out of the speakers. Ted’s free hand caressed Mary’s dress. Mary swallowed, glancing down at Ted’s hand.
“I love Sinatra,” Sue Ann sighed. “Mother used to tell me about what a big star he was. Scrawny little fellow. The bobby-sockers would swoon over him. What a reputation he had with the ladies? Maybe that was part of his attraction. I saw him on television a couple of weeks ago. Still in good voice though he doesn’t walk so well. Didn’t exactly take it easy in his time. Supposed to have been involved with gangsters. I can’t imagine why. What would they have to talk about?”
Ted looked in the rear view mirror.
“What do you see?” Mary asked.
“A yellow cab,” Ted responded. “I could swear it’s been following us.”
“Oh, how exciting!” Sue Ann squealed remembering her late husband Frank and his BMW. The two of them flying along the expressway. And her mother sitting at home, biting her nails. And her sister stewing in their bedroom, blaming Sue Ann for the new curfew inflicted on both sisters because Sue Ann was still out carousing when she should have been home. And her and Frank parking in lover’s lane. And Sue Ann laughing and her hair thrown back, her arms and legs wrapped around Frank as she wrote poems in her head about how fast love seems to pass through us.
“I hope someone is following us. Mystery is life’s greatest spice.”
MURRAY: What’s going on between Mary and Ted?
LOU GRANT: What do you mean?
MURRAY: You know what I mean, Lou.
LOU GRANT: Okay. I don’t have as much control over this thing as I should.
MURRAY: Ted put you up to that, didn’t he?
LOU GRANT: Don’t be ridiculous. It just popped into my head. It’s the scotch.
MURRAY: What ever he gave you, Lou, I’ll double it.