I’m participating in a Boomer Blogging Extravaganza which will take place every Friday. It’s a way to bring attention to the new genre of books called Boomer Lit. Click here, Boomer Lit Friday to go to your one-stop shopping boomer lit blog which will feature snippets from a variety of “baby boomer” novels. It’a a good place to get a taste of what boomer authors are writing about.
Luke’s wife, Kate, has become a successful realtor and the great entertainer. She likes to party. Luke barely tolerates her coworkers and her events, as he is definitely not a partier.
The office parties started out with obligatory hugs, shoulders bumping while maintaining a minimum of body contact and air-kissing, lips puckered up next to cheeks so as not to disturb impeccably applied lipstick. Oh, so sorry to be late, I have that closing on Monday and at the last minute, wouldn’t you know… blah blah. And then the serious sucking up would start. How good you look in green, Kate and that new hairstyle is so flattering, love your house, love your furniture, love your garden, amazing and fabulous and fantastic and awesome.
Everyone sucked up to everyone else, and aren’t we having fun, and aren’t we just the best of friends, and isn’t it great loving what you do, and loving who you work with? And at that point, when the conversation turned to how happy they all were working for the best boss in the world, old Mel would invariably lift his glass and make a toast, and it would go on and on, about how his employees were as dear to him as his family, and how they all were a family, and finally he seemed confused as to whether they were his family or not his family and got teary-eyed and slobbered in his martini glass and had to be helped back down to the couch before he fell down a step into the sunken family room or tipped onto a glass-topped coffee table.
At one of their summer parties where Luke was the bartender and cook and general go-fer, not to mention he’d be in charge of clean-up as well, he happened into the kitchen to get the barbecue sauce for the chicken he was slow-roasting on the grill. Kate was bleary-eyed and stood in back of the bar as several women hung on or around the bar stools.
“There’s Luke!” She slurred, more like thersh. “Don’t you think my husband is cute? In a duh sort of way?”