Lovers and other Liars

I’ve got a plan.”

Marcus looked at his friend with a mixture of intrigue and doubt. He had known Rendon for his entire life and had been his best friend since middle school. Marcus took another sip of beer and laughed at Marcus with mild amusement. Rendon always had some cock-eyed plan, and they never worked. They did, however, provide Marcus with a lot of entertainment.

“And I’m ready to help you out, buddy. Tell me whatcha got,” Marcus got up and retrieved another beer from the refrigerator. He knew this would require beer, but then again, everything required beer.

“Help him out with what?” Ophelia was just coming down the stairs and had only heard her brother’s part of the conversation.

“You look like an old lady, sis. What the hell?” Marcus looked at his sister with distaste.

“They’re called curlers, and this is called a bathrobe,” she retorted. Marcus shook his head.

“That thing looks like it’s older than you. Have some decency, Oph,” Marcus opened a bag of Cheetos and promptly ate half of the bag in less than a minute.

“You’re a dick,” Ophelia said. That pronouncement didn’t stop her from sitting beside her brother and scarfing down the rest of his Cheetos.

“Hey! My plan?” Rendon said.

The siblings looked at Rendon and laughed. Rendon was a little hurt that they did nothing to hide the mocking timbre of their laughs, but he proceeded anyway. He was not to be deterred by a couple of non-believers.

“My plan,” he continued, “is to date twelve women and marry one of them by the end of next year.” Rendon pulled out a much-abused sheet of paper from his back pocket and laid it on the coffee table. Marcus hooted, raised his beer bottle in a mock toast, and drained it in one go. Ophelia looked at Rendon thoughtfully before smiling.

“Wait!” Ophelia jumped up. “Don’t move. Don’t discuss this until I get back.”

The two men looked at Ophelia with some surprise. She was never demonstrative or forceful, so this imperative startled them. They did as she had commanded, however.

Ophelia returned with a pot of coffee, three cups, and a bottle of Lynchburg’s finest liquid. She poured the coffee and added a generous dollop of the bourbon to each cup. Ophelia sat down and sipped her doctored coffee, grimacing slightly at the taste. The two men shrugged and did the same.

“Ain’t it a little early for you to be drinkin’, sis? It’s not even eight,” Marcus said.

“You’ve been drinking all morning, Marc,” Ophelia replied.

“Hell, I been drinkin’ all night. I ain’t stopped,” Marcus boasted.

“You gotta go to work,” Ophelia said.

“And the best way to avoid the hangover is to keep on drinkin’. Trust me.”

Ophelia and Rendon nodded. He was the expert.

“So, the list…”

“Lemme see that,” Marcus said, snatching the list out of Rendon’s hand. He looked it over briefly and handed it to Ophelia. She took a little more time in reading the list, her lips pursed and her brow furrowed.

“I done slept with all of them women, buddy,” Marcus said. He made himself another special coffee.

“You’re a slut, Marc. And a drunk.” Ophelia said what everyone knew, but she liked saying it out loud anyway.

“Exactly! You know what they’re like. What makes them tick, so to speak. You can be my inside man and give me the information I need to woo these ladies. See? A great plan.” Rendon sat back, sipping his coffee, frowning, then setting it down. Coffee and whiskey wasn’t something his stomach cared for at this hour.

“I don’t think…” Ophelia began.

“I accept!” Marcus jumped up, spilling his coffee. Ignoring the mess, he continued.

“I will be your wingman. All these women love me!”

It was true. Despite sleeping with practically every willing woman under the age of forty (and, sad to say, not all of them single ladies), Marcus had the uncanny ability to leave them still wanting more of him, despite his alley cat ways.

Ophelia stood up, rag in hand. She smiled wanly at Rendon.

“I can help a little.”

Rendon nodded in agreement.

“Sure. Talk me up. Make me look good,” Rendon said. He then turned immediately back to Marcus.

The trio talked for a few more minutes before the men had to go to work. It would be a rough day for Marcus; cattle ranching was tough work, and he would be hung over by noon. Rendon didn’t feel sorry for him. Marcus always weathered the storm and came out just fine. Rendon wanted to be jealous of Marcus’ recuperative powers but he couldn’t. It was simply too much fun watching him suffer.

The men got into Rendon’s incredibly old pickup truck. Rendon, though, paused before starting the truck. He turned to Marcus, his eyes holding a peculiar intensity.

“Now, let me tell you the real plan…”

**************

“Jeanette. No. Sophia. No. Marylou. Hell no.” Rendon tossed the list aside and pouted a little. The first three women had not worked out at all, and Marylou laughed at him when he asked her out.

“You didn’t knock boots with any of ‘em?” Marcus was buttoning up his shirt, getting ready to go out. It was Friday night. No more need be said on this point.

“No. And that damned Marylou just laughed in my face! She knows how to make a man feel small,” Rendon said.

“What was that about a small man? We talking about Marcus?” Ophelia ran lightly down the stairs.

“Shut up, sis. Whatcha been doin’ up there anyway? Scrollin’ through porn sites?” Marcus ducked her slap and sat down to pull on his boots. Two empty beer bottles resided innocently on the table in front of him, winking softly in the light.

“I do what I do, Marc. I write,” Ophelia grabbed the empty bottles and headed for the kitchen. She came back with two beers: one for her and one for Rendon. Marcus acted offended at her lack of brotherly hospitality but he wasn’t.

“Okay. Gotta go knock boots with Jeannette. See y’all sillbits later,” Marcus laughed.

“Celibates, dumbass,” Ophelia said, a little anger in her voice. She didn’t need Marcus to point out that she hadn’t had sex in…well…a decade. She was almost ashamed of her near-virginity at times like this, and that made her even angrier.

“Yeah, that.” Marcus slammed the door behind him and clattered down the porch steps. Neither Rendon nor Ophelia spoke until the roar of Marcus’ pickup truck had faded in the distance. That took some time.

“Isn’t…isn’t Jeannette one of the women on your list?” Ophelia spoke up.

Rendon set his beer down and tossed the list over to Ophelia. She picked it up but she didn’t read it; she had memorized the list the first time she saw it.

“Already been crossed off, so Marcus figures she’s now fair game for him. I reckon he’s right.”

“Marcus is a whore, Ren. Don’t let his nighttime activities affect the way you go about romancing a woman. Just be you…”

“Bein’ me gets me nowhere, Ophie. I get tongue-tied and nervous around these women…”

“But not around me,” Ophelia said. She immediately wished that she hadn’t. Rendon must never know how she felt about him. This thought made Ophelia want to cry but she didn’t. Crying never worked; she had learned that lesson long ago.

“No, I guess not. But I’ve known you all your life. We used to take baths together when we were kids, remember? Your mamma would scrub the hell outta us, make you cry.”

Rendon smiled at the recollection. Ophelia shifted in her seat uncomfortably. She had forgotten that Rendon was the only man outside of her family that had ever seen her in the nude. Even her ill-fated tryst with a boy from high school was accomplished with most of her clothes on.

“Your mamma did as well. Scrub us hard and make me cry, I mean.”

Rendon got up and brought them another beer. Silence ensued. Neither had much to say, and neither cared to fill the silence with meaningless chatter.

“Wanna watch a movie and eat pizza?” Ophelia spoke up after they had finished their beer. They were both three-deep into Coors Light and feeling the effects.

“Sure,” Rendon said listlessly. Ophelia sighed and ordered a pizza to be delivered. Rendon would not be stellar company, she thought, but at least she wasn’t alone on another Friday night. It felt desperate, but Ophelia would take it.

“Let’s look at that list. See what female talent you’re gonna stalk next,” Ophelia wiped the pizza crumbs from her mouth and laid the list in front of them. The top three names had been crossed out.

“How about Ella Mae? She’s cute,” Rendon offered. Ophelia shook her head slightly.

“Hmmm. Maybe. I think, though, that she prefers dumbasses.”

Rendon looked at Ophelia and grinned.

“That’s me. A real dumbass cowboy.”

Ophelia averted her eyes and grabbed another piece of pizza. She chewed on a bite thoughtfully, measuring her words carefully.

“That’s just it, Ren. You aren’t a dumbass. But we won’t argue the point because you do have some qualities that smack of dumbassery. There’s Lola Beth. She’s cute, but a little dumb. Thinks Rhode Island is really an island. Or Fern. I think she smokes weed.”

Rendon looked at Ophelia with a stoic expression.

“You smoke weed,” he said.

Ophelia patted Rendon’s arm before standing up and disposing of the pizza box.

“Yes, But I’m a writer. I’m expected to do all sorts of drugs.”

Rendon laughed out loud.

“Funny! Alright, how about Lillian? She seems like she would like me.”

And so it went. Ophelia offering her insights and suggestions while they drank more beer and disregarded watching “Regarding Henry.” Rendon fell asleep on the couch and Ophelia stumbled to bed.

Marcus didn’t put in an appearance. The boot knocking had apparently commenced.

**************

“Because you’re a coward, that’s why. You always been afraid to take a chance on some gal because you can’t take the rejection.”

“But…” Rendon said before he was interrupted.

“You know how many times I been turned down? Hundreds. I just don’t let it bother me. I know that sooner or later some fine filly’s gonna take me home and do wicked things to my body.”

“Well, I guess I’m a coward, then.”

“Naw. You done went through most all that list ain’t ya’? So what it didn’t work out so far. Which means it really is working out,” Marcus winked at Rendon. Rendon declined to acknowledge it. He wasn’t feeling like his plan – his real plan – was working.

Allison was the last name on the list, and it was a daunting challenge. She was pretty and popular and willing to give almost everyone a chance at romance with her. Rendon had secured a date with her and had asked Marcus and Ophelia to be there on his date, but at a distance. Moral support, he claimed. No balls, Marcus said. Ophelia kept her opinion of the matter to herself.

The Branding Iron was busy, for it was a Friday night and everyone wanted to have a steak and a beer. The wood floors echoed loudly, every loud laugh and scrape of chairs grating on Rendon’s nerves. Maybe this had been a bad idea. He felt like he was at his best when everything was quiet.

Marcus gave him a thumbs-up from across the room. Ophelia smiled and then looked down.

It wasn’t long before Allison stood up and threw a drink in Rendon’s face. Ophelia, shocked, watched from a distance as Allison waved her arms and pointed an accusing finger in Rendon’s face. Marcus, though, left his chair quickly and stood beside Allison.

“What’s goin’ on here? Rendon bein’ a dick?” He smiled at Rendon.

“Bet your ass is he is! Said I was the last girl on his list and he figured we should get married. Married! I ain’t never been the last girl on anyone’s list, buddy! Go to hell!” Rendon looked down.

Marcus escorted Allison from the restaurant, whispering in her ear. They stopped in front of the door to get their jackets. She laughed at something Marcus said and grabbed his arm. They strode out into the night, but not before she gave Marcus a kiss, for all to see.

Ophelia felt like her legs were numb, but she got up anyway and sat across from Rendon. She didn’t say anything, which was what he needed at the moment.

“Did you really tell her that she was the last girl on the list?” Ophelia finally broke the silence. Rendon nodded.

“Oh, Ren. You are a dumbass, aren’t you?” Rendon nodded again.

“I reckon I finished the list, for all the good it did me. The plan was so good…”

“No, Rendon, it wasn’t. You can’t plan something like this. It just happens. To some people, anyway,” Ophelia’s voice trailed off. As bad as she felt for Rendon, she also recognized that she was as bad at romance as he was. Maybe worse. At least he tried.

“Not to me, I guess,” Rendon stood up, swaying gently and trying to decide what to do next. He had made a spectacle of himself, and people were pointing at him. People he had known all his life.

Ophelia grabbed his arm and directed him to the door. They donned their jackets and walked outside, the cold December air smacking them in the face. Ophelia shivered and stood closer to Rendon. They stood there for a full minute. Ophelia was making a monumental decision and Rendon was drunk enough not to notice.

“You’re coming home with me, Ren.”

Rendon nodded and stumbled to her pickup truck, crawling in the passenger side and forgetting to buckle his seatbelt. Ophelia had to do it for him. She was good at it, having had lots of practice with Marcus.

The drive to Ophelia’s house was conducted in silence. Ophelia stepped out of the pickup and breathed in the cold air, hoping it would clear her head. Rendon had somehow gotten the seatbelt unbuckled and was waiting for Ophelia. He seemed surprisingly sober now.

The couple went in and the lights went out soon thereafter. A coyote howled somewhere in the distance, and snowflakes started to dot the landscape. It would be a cold night, but not a lonely one for Ophelia and Rendon.

**************

“Let me get this straight. Your plan was to make me feel sorry enough for you that I would agree to go out with you,” Ophelia looked at her brother and Rendon. One had a sheepish grin on his face. The other had a beer bottle raised to his lips.

The story had to be told, and Marcus told it with a particular glee. How Rendon had planned on dating twelve women and, as planned, getting rejected (sooner or later) by all of them. Allison was the lynchpin of the whole project. She had agreed to stage an embarrassing scene as the final insult to Rendon.

“Allison, huh? I’m surprised you had the nerve to ask her that,” Ophelia sniffed.

“I didn’t. Marcus did. Although,” Rendon pointed a finger at Marcus, “you slept with her first before asking her. Twice.”

Marcus grinned into his beer and didn’t see the slap from his sister coming. It was a soft and loving slap, though, because his sister was in love. Finally.

“Rendon, all of your plans are, to put it kindly, shit. How did you come up with this one? And don’t think I’m not a little put out by you two playing me like that.”

Rendon smiled and shrugged. He didn’t know what to say, except that he had been in love with her for years and didn’t know how to tell her.

“I’ve been in love with you for years, and I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

Ophelia kissed him and sighed into his neck. “Same here, sweetie.”

“Alright. You two get on with your monotonous life. I have a date,” Marcus got in his truck and started it up.

“I think you mean ‘monogamous, Marc,” Ophelia said.

“I said it right.” And with that declaration, Marcus took off to knock boots with some girl. Or two.

They watched Marcus leave and then turned their attention to the front porch. This had become one of their favorite things to do: sit on the front porch and talk, or read, or just be together. Maybe Marcus was right, Ophelia reflected. Maybe our lives are monotonous. She was fine with that.

“That boy may never get married, Ren. He’s such a man whore.”

Rendon sipped his coffee and leaned back in his chair. Ophelia’s hand was resting on the table and he tickled her fingers. She smiled and blushed a little. It was still new to her, this intimacy thing. But she was getting used to it, and, she thought wickedly, she was a fast learner.

Rendon leaned in and spoke to Ophelia, a glint in his eye.

“I been thinkin’ about that. Marcus, I mean. We should get him hitched, don’t you think?”

Ophelia looked at Rendon and laughed.

“Matchmaker Rendon! Well, well, well.”

“No, really. Listen. I’ve got a plan…”