How To Win. Lass Small

could handle dogs. He could handle women. He could handle her. Man! How he’d like handling her again. And he about went berserk at the very idea of it.

      He always looked for her no matter where he was going. San Antonio wasn’t that big. There were just over a million people. Eventually, he would get to run into her and then he’d exclaim, “I’m so sorry! Oh. Haven’t we met?” And he’d laugh in his throat in the way that turned her on.

      But he never once saw her. And he figured that she was grieving. She missed him so badly that she couldn’t go out anywhere at all. She was zonked.

      No other woman drew his eyes. He’d thought to date some classy babe and make Kayla jealous. But he couldn’t. He looked at the laughing women and at their bodies, but none of them was Kayla. So he couldn’t. He just couldn’t. He could see no other woman. And he sighed.

      His friends dragged him to different places where things would be mixed up and interesting. He was bored. He wandered around with an empty glass, and even knowing he wouldn’t find her, he looked for Kayla.

      There were men who mentioned, “Saw Kayla at the boxing match. She was on the first row and she was really involved.”

      Unbelievingly, Tyler’s voice squeaked up as he exclaimed, “At a boxing match? She was there?”

      The guy laughed. “Yeah. She’s physical.”

      That froze Tyler’s heart. How...physical had she been...with who all?

      So the TEXAS winter came along. That’s a whole lot like the Yankee spring. But in their winter, the thin blooded TEXANS put on jackets and complained about the cold.

      It had snowed twice in Tyler’s twenty-eight years. One of those times the snow had lasted two whole days before the TEXAS winter warmed enough to melt the miracle.

      The native TEXANS said, “I don’t understand those Yankees who winter down here. Those Winter TEXANS. They complain so about the northern snow! It’s such a surprise and so pretty! How come the Yankees come down here instead of staying up yonder and enjoying the miracle?”

      Now, how was a Winter TEXAN supposed to reply to that?

      And for Tyler, time did pass. He worked hard at his office. When he was out, he found he could catch a glimpse of Kayla now and again. Or someone who might have been she. Someone who walked like Kayla...who wasn’t. Several times in those months, he’d run after a woman and then awkwardly apologized.

      One of those mistakes had grinned and waited for him to make some move to know her. But Tyler’s disappointment had been such that he couldn’t see the woman as a woman. She just wasn’t Kayla.

      Tyler Fuller was a lawyer. The firm Reardon, Miller and Rodriguez had about fifty lawyers downtown. There were branches of the firm in other locations.

      Tyler was in an awesome firm in which he was just a growing mushroom. He was under a woman lawyer who was only eight years older than he. She was Barbara Nelson. And she was not married. Not that marriage would have slowed her down any.

      Barbara’s secretary handed out work and some was given to Tyler. A buck slip or a route slip was on the document for information.

      Through her secretary, Barbara Nelson had Tyler drafting documents, writing briefs, handling the background for labor disputes, Social Security disability petitions and interviews with clients or opponents.

      All the problems were run-of-the-mill except for the persons involved. The problems could be divorce, bankruptcy, or pretrial motions or interviews with prospective witnesses.

      Some days, Tyler might have to go to the police station and check files, or see doctors who had pro or con evidence. Tyler was busy.

      His secretary was from the firm’s pool. And he tried always to get Marian Web because she was so brilliant that she never made a mistake nor did she allow him to make any. She was his mother’s age and tolerant of Tyler. That was clear when she adjusted her commitments so that she could mostly help Tyler.

      Women spoiled him rotten.

      Well, some women.

      His immediate boss, Barbara Nelson, was thirty-six years old. She was a single woman who had control, and she was in charge. She was confident, selective, and she was blunt. She didn’t chew tobacca. That was a plus.

      Tyler had no real qualms about her until his divorce. Then, once, the Nelson woman had patted his bottom! He’d been offended.

      She’d always smiled at Tyler and watched his body when he was walking toward her. His sex loved it. His brain was offended. But she hadn’t approached him until just after his divorce.

      She’d say, “Let’s have a drink after work.”

      He’d ask, “Is this important? There’s batting practice.” Tyler was on the legals’ baseball team. And she wouldn’t find out if what he said was true. That’s why he’d never used the excuse of a business appointment. She could check it out.

      With his baseball-used rejection, Barbara had smiled and told him, “Since we work together, I just thought it would be nice...to get acquainted.”

      He lied to her with great grief-stricken eyes, “I’m going to a shrink. I can’t handle this divorce.”

      So Barbara had half lowered her eyelids as she said, “Let me know when you’re more...open.”

      His sex bulged, his back shivered and his throat clacked as he said, “Yes.” And he got away.

      Again Tyler had lied. He had no notion of ever getting involved with that woman. She terrified him. And he began to understand the slender woman in the secretary pool who wore high neck, bulky clothes and no makeup and kept her face blank and serious with her eyes downcast.

      It was only then Tyler realized—what was her name? It was Martha. Martha never said one word. She had to’ve talked some time. But she had no casual or friendly chatter to share.

      He went to Martha and told her, “Help me. Pretend you and I are a couple. No! I promise I’ll leave you alone. I’m just divorced. I don’t want any ties. Pretend we’re good friends.”

      “Leave me alone.”

      That’s what she said.

      And she didn’t wait until he replied. Martha was brief and finished. She’d said it all.

      Tyler was out on a raft in a dangerous sea and no one but the sharks were aware of him.

      Even men have it rough. That was a revealing and startling observation. Up until then, Tyler had thought men had it all. That men controlled the world and their own lives as they chose. How the world... changes.

      Tyler didn’t have a whole lot of trouble in seeming to be solemn. He simply didn’t laugh. He didn’t join the groups that stood and chatted. He kept to himself, harboring, nurturing his grief.

      So John Reardon, who was the Big Gun of the Firm, called Tyler into his office. That was a shock. Tyler’s mind went over everything he’d done and wondered where he’d fouled up.

      He was on time at Mr. Reardon’s appointment. He sat in the outer office, and the secretary smiled at him. She said, “We don’t see much of you anymore.”

      He looked at her...her name was Nancy. He said, “Yeah.”

      “Mr. Reardon will be free in a minute. He just wants to know if you’re okay. You used to be so funny. Since your divorce, you’ve gotten so quiet that we all worry about you.”

      She was kind to tell him why he was there. A whole lot of knots loosened in his body and he could relax a little. But he didn’t smile. Fortunately, he’d been so panicked that he didn’t yet smile. So he could control it.

      Nancy said, “All of us are worried about you. I thought we ought to have a party for you. A freedom party, now that you’re single again. But Mr. Reardon said, ‘Not yet.’