Threeway, ch. 7, Mandy In. Mandy Out. Mandy In. (Pt. 2 of 3)
In which Mandy looks for a soft landing with Kriegman. "Threeway" continues in serial form with a link to buy the book at the bottom of the post. To catch up on prior segments, start at the bottom of the blog. Enjoy. Tell your friends.
THREEWAY: A Short Novel for a Long Season
by
STEVEN LUBLINER
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, dialogue, and descriptions are the author’s creations and are not to be taken as true. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. All incidents depicting, suggesting, or referring to public figures or other historical persons are also fictionalized and are not to be taken as true.
Copyright © 2016 Steven S. Lubliner
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 1530971292
ISBN-13: 978-1530971299
CONTENTS
Acknowledgments
Prologue: The Personal Is Political i
1 Fillmore Pipp’s Boner 1
2 Big Mel Kriegman 16
3 Hi and Bye, Connie and Herb. 32
4 THE BROWN BAGGERS!! 40
5 Mittelpunkt 43
6 Mandy 51
7 Mandy In. Mandy Out. Mandy In. 66
8 Authenticity 75
9 Momentum 79
10 Brother Paul 88
11 Inevitability 98
12 Win. Lose. Repeat 108
Epilogue 112
Chapter 7: Mandy In. Mandy Out. Mandy In. (Pt. 2 of 3)
A week later, Mandy was asleep in her hotel room bed, when the phone rang at 8 a.m. She woke with a start, kicked the heavy covers off, and slid over to the phone. It was the front desk.
“Good morning, miss; this is your wakeup call. Please remember that checkout is at noon.”
“You have the wrong room,” she said sleepily. “I didn’t ask for a wakeup call, and I’m not checking out.”
“I apologize for any confusion. The responsible party no longer wants the room.”
This made no sense. Then, it did. The responsible party had not sent for her for days. She had told herself not to worry; the responsible party was a busy man. Now, it was over.
Mandy was out the door in an hour.
“Do you need a cab, ma’am?” the doorman asked. Mandy didn’t need nothing from him. He was nobody.
Walking to the Metro, Mandy wondered what happened. Had she done something wrong? She usually did. No. Not this time. This time, for sure, she hadn’t. She’d been agreeable and was not looking for controversy. Pipp could have kept on with her in their casual way, maybe not forever, maybe not even until he left office, but certainly longer than this.
Pipp did not see himself as a Brown Bagger, a cruel mess maker for its own sake. Were he that, he’d have had Mandy thrown out the next day. He just needed something different from her now. Because being a monumental force for good had been so hard, he now hungered for the historic blunder, the great sin of hubris that would make him intriguing and would someday sell books. That affair with Mrs. Simpson? Yalta? Munich? Fate had not been so kind. As a surrender of power that historians might long scratch their head over, “The Parting with the Sex Tape” would have to do.
As Pipp had hoped, she decided to make him pay. She could have called the papers, the TV news, or the major online blogs; most would have dismissed her as a crank, but surely one would have said, “Sex tape? Bring it down. Let’s have a look.” She could have led the charge, but she had not been raised to do that. Some man would have to take the reins.
Taught about Mel Kriegman by the information man at Reagan’s Airport, Mandy went to Kriegman’s web site. Under the “Contact” link, she selected the subject “Other” and typed, “I’m in a sex tape with the president. Do you want to see it? Write or call if you do. I don’t want much money. I’m just mad.” The message was passed up the line to Donaldson, who mulled it over. That the writer did not want “much” money was both enticing and troubling. It suggested she might be hard to deal with in the usual ways.
Donaldson rented a hotel suite in D.C. for the day. When Mandy got to the room, Donaldson was there alone with Kriegman. She told them some of her life story, and she told them about the affair, which sounded plausible enough.
“How come we’re in a hotel room, anyway?” she asked. “I mean, why aren’t we at your office?”
“Lots of people watch our office. This is more discreet.”
“You like the room?” added Kriegman, unhelpfully.
“I’ve seen better.” Her look said she knew what was coming. “Is this where I’ll be staying?” Donaldson bristled.
“You said you didn’t want money.”
“No, but I need a place. He’s got to keep me somewhere.”
“Mr. Kriegman is not keeping you. If you have something, please share it when we come back, and then we all go home.”
“Where’s that?”
“Where’s what?”
“Home.”
“You’re not going home with him.”
“I meant my home. Where’s my home?”
Donaldson took Kriegman into the next room to discuss how badly this was going. When they came back, Mandy was taking off her clothes.
“Stop it!” Donaldson ordered.
The old Kriegman would have told Mandy to get dressed, and let’s be cool. The new laissez faire Kriegman pulled it out and started towards her. Donaldson grabbed his arm.
“Pipp’s married, Roy. I’m not.” He tried to work himself into readiness. Had Kriegman been married, Donaldson would have assumed she was a plant, and things wouldn’t have gotten this far. Still, he held Kriegman back. This saved him from two kinds of embarrassment.
“Get dressed, Miss, and show us the tape,” Donaldson insisted. Kriegman sadly concurred.
“Yes, Miss. Please.”
Now, Mandy was bothered. Something was fishy here. She got dressed and bolted from the room.
Buy Threeway.
Read the review on Kirkus Reviews.
Read an article about the author.
Review Threeway on Goodreads.
Buy A Child's Christmas in Queens.
THREEWAY: A Short Novel for a Long Season
by
STEVEN LUBLINER
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, dialogue, and descriptions are the author’s creations and are not to be taken as true. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. All incidents depicting, suggesting, or referring to public figures or other historical persons are also fictionalized and are not to be taken as true.
Copyright © 2016 Steven S. Lubliner
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 1530971292
ISBN-13: 978-1530971299
CONTENTS
Acknowledgments
Prologue: The Personal Is Political i
1 Fillmore Pipp’s Boner 1
2 Big Mel Kriegman 16
3 Hi and Bye, Connie and Herb. 32
4 THE BROWN BAGGERS!! 40
5 Mittelpunkt 43
6 Mandy 51
7 Mandy In. Mandy Out. Mandy In. 66
8 Authenticity 75
9 Momentum 79
10 Brother Paul 88
11 Inevitability 98
12 Win. Lose. Repeat 108
Epilogue 112
Chapter 7: Mandy In. Mandy Out. Mandy In. (Pt. 2 of 3)
A week later, Mandy was asleep in her hotel room bed, when the phone rang at 8 a.m. She woke with a start, kicked the heavy covers off, and slid over to the phone. It was the front desk.
“Good morning, miss; this is your wakeup call. Please remember that checkout is at noon.”
“You have the wrong room,” she said sleepily. “I didn’t ask for a wakeup call, and I’m not checking out.”
“I apologize for any confusion. The responsible party no longer wants the room.”
This made no sense. Then, it did. The responsible party had not sent for her for days. She had told herself not to worry; the responsible party was a busy man. Now, it was over.
Mandy was out the door in an hour.
“Do you need a cab, ma’am?” the doorman asked. Mandy didn’t need nothing from him. He was nobody.
Walking to the Metro, Mandy wondered what happened. Had she done something wrong? She usually did. No. Not this time. This time, for sure, she hadn’t. She’d been agreeable and was not looking for controversy. Pipp could have kept on with her in their casual way, maybe not forever, maybe not even until he left office, but certainly longer than this.
Pipp did not see himself as a Brown Bagger, a cruel mess maker for its own sake. Were he that, he’d have had Mandy thrown out the next day. He just needed something different from her now. Because being a monumental force for good had been so hard, he now hungered for the historic blunder, the great sin of hubris that would make him intriguing and would someday sell books. That affair with Mrs. Simpson? Yalta? Munich? Fate had not been so kind. As a surrender of power that historians might long scratch their head over, “The Parting with the Sex Tape” would have to do.
As Pipp had hoped, she decided to make him pay. She could have called the papers, the TV news, or the major online blogs; most would have dismissed her as a crank, but surely one would have said, “Sex tape? Bring it down. Let’s have a look.” She could have led the charge, but she had not been raised to do that. Some man would have to take the reins.
Taught about Mel Kriegman by the information man at Reagan’s Airport, Mandy went to Kriegman’s web site. Under the “Contact” link, she selected the subject “Other” and typed, “I’m in a sex tape with the president. Do you want to see it? Write or call if you do. I don’t want much money. I’m just mad.” The message was passed up the line to Donaldson, who mulled it over. That the writer did not want “much” money was both enticing and troubling. It suggested she might be hard to deal with in the usual ways.
Donaldson rented a hotel suite in D.C. for the day. When Mandy got to the room, Donaldson was there alone with Kriegman. She told them some of her life story, and she told them about the affair, which sounded plausible enough.
“How come we’re in a hotel room, anyway?” she asked. “I mean, why aren’t we at your office?”
“Lots of people watch our office. This is more discreet.”
“You like the room?” added Kriegman, unhelpfully.
“I’ve seen better.” Her look said she knew what was coming. “Is this where I’ll be staying?” Donaldson bristled.
“You said you didn’t want money.”
“No, but I need a place. He’s got to keep me somewhere.”
“Mr. Kriegman is not keeping you. If you have something, please share it when we come back, and then we all go home.”
“Where’s that?”
“Where’s what?”
“Home.”
“You’re not going home with him.”
“I meant my home. Where’s my home?”
Donaldson took Kriegman into the next room to discuss how badly this was going. When they came back, Mandy was taking off her clothes.
“Stop it!” Donaldson ordered.
The old Kriegman would have told Mandy to get dressed, and let’s be cool. The new laissez faire Kriegman pulled it out and started towards her. Donaldson grabbed his arm.
“Pipp’s married, Roy. I’m not.” He tried to work himself into readiness. Had Kriegman been married, Donaldson would have assumed she was a plant, and things wouldn’t have gotten this far. Still, he held Kriegman back. This saved him from two kinds of embarrassment.
“Get dressed, Miss, and show us the tape,” Donaldson insisted. Kriegman sadly concurred.
“Yes, Miss. Please.”
Now, Mandy was bothered. Something was fishy here. She got dressed and bolted from the room.
Buy Threeway.
Read the review on Kirkus Reviews.
Read an article about the author.
Review Threeway on Goodreads.
Buy A Child's Christmas in Queens.
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