I'm trying something new: having two stories going at the same time. I wonder if I can do it without my mind becoming boggled! Check out my other story, "Overcome," in the "M" rating section. It's a very different type of story than this one.

I've been thinking of this one as "Tudge Fluff" but now that I've written the first chapter, I see that it is not going to be "Fluff" at all. Still a lot of fun, I hope, but not fluff.

I've had this chapter written for a while, but, I wanted to post this now, because it takes place on Tudgeman's birthday, and today is my birthday, so this is my way of saying Happy Birthday to myself!

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Larry Tudgeman formed his first corporation for the distribution of his original computer gaming software while he was yet in college. By age 25, he was worth a million dollars. On his 30th birthday, he was officially a gazillionaire, and as lonely and miserable as a man could be.

Sure, he had friends. Last year his birthday celebration at his San Mateo mansion near Silicone Valley had been attended by over two hundred of his "closest friends." Everyone had the time of their lives. Movie mogul George Lucas entertained the crowd with a sneak peak at his latest blockbuster. The National Enquirer buzzed the complex with helicopters all night long. The Donald even flew in for a quick hello.

This year, Tudge was not in the mood for a big celebration. He woke up on his birthday morning, put his hands behind his head, stared at the ceiling and sighed deeply. Tonight he was planning a quiet dinner with his best friends David and Liz. Maybe that little pizza place they used to go to back at the university. If they could get in there without the paparazzi causing too much commotion.

Wherever David and Liz went, the paparazzi always followed, especially since Liz McGuire had won the Best Actress Academy Award last year. Her husband, David Gordon, was this year nominated for Best Director. Like Tudge himself, they were both incredibly successful, but unlike Tudge, they were also incredible happy.

Because they had each other. Tudge had no one.

Well, he did have…

-

Unexpectedly, his wife Kate walked into his bedroom, as always without knocking. She glanced at him with disdain. "Oh…are you up, already?"

Larry sighed. "What are you doing in here? And why did you not knock? I could have been---"

Kate scoffed. "As if!"

"Kate," he reminded. "You were the one who wanted separate bedrooms, and now you don't even respect---"

"I'm looking for my tennis racket," she explained, cutting him off. "Do you know where it is?"

Larry sat up in his huge bed, leaning against his many pillows. "Now how the hell would I know where your tennis racket is? And what do you need it for anyway? I thought you were having a lesson with Ethan this morning."

"I am!"

"Darling," Larry said impatiently. "Ethan is your golf instructor, not your tennis instructor. Do try to keep your story straight."

"This is a golf lesson, dearest," Kate said, equally impatient. "Ethan says it's good to cross-train. He insists that the conditioning of tennis will improve my golf game."

Larry threw his legs over the side of the bed, groaning. He felt so much older than his thirty years. "Really now?" he asked. "And what other activities does Ethan claim he must instruct you in to improve your golf game?"

"Don't be jealous, Lar," Kate said dryly. "It's very unbecoming."

Larry was not even going to respond to that, because they both knew that the idea of him being jealous of anything Kate did with any of her various "instructors" was absolutely ludicrous. However, she so enjoyed twisting the knife into the corpse of their pathetic marriage.

"You know what, Kate? I don't have your tennis racket. Just get out."

"Oh, damn," she said. "I guess Ethan and I will have to go downtown to buy a new one. Well, ta da! Have a nice day, sweetheart!" she called as she left the room.

-

Larry rose from the bed and walked across the plush beige carpet towards the double doors of the bathroom. When he emerged several minutes later, he heard a distinct knock on the door, then a sweet voice calling, "Rise and shine, sleepyhead! Are you decent?"

He smiled and sighed, looking down at his striped pajama pants. "Yes, Mrs. McGuire! I'm always decent. You know that. Come on in."

Jo McGuire bustled into the room, carrying a stack of folded laundry. "Good morning, Larry!" she sang. "And Happy Birthday! How many years is it?"

"Thirty," Larry answered unenthusiastically.

"Oh! The Big Three-Oh!" Jo McGuire grinned, putting down the laundry, opening the blinds, straightening the bed. "And how do you feel about the milestone?"

Larry sat down in the velvet chaise by the patio doors, as he did every morning for his "Good Day Chat" with his housekeeper. He thought for a moment, then said, "Last year was easier."

"Lizzie said the same thing when she reached thirty last March. She said when she hit thirty she instantly began to hear her biological clock ticking. I know she really wants a baby."

Larry smiled and said gently, "And I know you really want a grandchild."

Jo McGuire fluffed the pillows on the bed, then yanked the spread at the corners, forming a perfectly flat surface. "Yes…but…her career is going so well now. It would be a shame if she had to…."

Larry considered the dilemma a moment then offered, "I'm going to see them tonight. If you like, I could talk to David…"

Jo McGuire smiled gratefully at her employer but said, "Oh, Larry! I think I put enough pressure on them, without even meaning to. Thank you for the offer, though." She went to the closet and pulled some clothes off the hangers, laying them on the bed.

"Well, how about Matt? I'm sure he and Melina will give you some beautiful grandchildren," Larry said encouragingly.

Jo laughed. "I'd like to see them tie the knot first! That boy does not seem ready to settle down."

"Well, if anyone can tame him, you know that Melina can."

"Oh, I know," Jo agreed.

"How's his business going, anyway? What is it? Private Investigator?"

"He loves it!" Jo exclaimed. "You know Matt. Always looking for trouble, always able to find it. Here's your blue shirt, your black pants. Every day the same outfit! I don't suppose I could persuade you to think about wearing something a little different for a change?"

Larry shook his head. "I'm too busy to think about clothes. Besides, somebody told me once that I look good in a blue shirt, that it brings out the blue in my eyes."

Mrs. McGuire smiled at him knowingly. "And who said that? A girl?"

Larry nodded. "A very special girl," he revealed wistfully.

"Could it have been…Kate?"

Larry scoffed. "No! The only thing Kate has ever told me I would look good in is Divorce Court."

"Then why don't you do it?" Jo asked. "Sometimes you seem so unhappy, Larry."

"I'll do it someday," he sighed. "I just don't have time for it now."

"But it doesn't need to take any of your time!" Jo insisted. "If you have a good lawyer, she would do it all for you."

"She?"

"You remember your old friend from school? Veruca? I hear she's become an excellent attorney, has her own firm and everything. I could have Lizzie give her a call."

Larry waved a hand. "Someday, perhaps. Right now, I'm not in the mood for Kate's hysterics."

"But I would imagine Kate would also like to have a clean break of it too. Then she could move on to any new man she wants."

"She's already moved on to any new man she wants," Larry said sourly. "She carries on with a half dozen of them at a time, as far as I know. And I let her. I don't care. You know Kate. She likes to have her cake and eat it too. She likes being Mrs. Larry Tudgeman, wife of the celebrated Computer Software King. If I'm the King, that makes her the Queen, and being the Queen is a very comfortable position for Kate to be in."

"You let her take advantage of you. You know that."

"I know that," Larry agreed.

Mrs. McGuire sighed and shook her head. Over these past few years, she had come to love Larry like her own son. "Perhaps someday," she suggested, "if you were properly motivated…"

"What kind of motivation are you talking about?" Larry asked suspiciously.

"Perhaps if there were someone in your life, someone you loved, someone you wanted to be with, as much as she wanted to be with you…" Mrs. McGurie suggested.

Larry laughed derisively. "Who might I find to fit that description?"

"Any woman," Mrs. McGuire said, completely serious. "They all want you."

"Sure, but they only want me for my money," Larry returned, also completely serious. "Where am I going to find someone who loves me for myself? I don't think that option is open to me anymore."

"That option is always open," Mrs. McGuire said, optimistically. "There is always hope, there is always possibility. What about that girl you just spoke of? The one who likes the way your eyes look when you wear a blue shirt?"

Larry sighed wistfully. "That girl is long gone. I don't even know where she is anymore."

Mrs. McGuire picked up the laundry basket in the corner and straightened the hairbrushes on the top of the oakwood dresser. "She's still out there," she prophesized, before leaving the room. "I know she's out there for you somewhere, Larry. I just hope you make the decision to go find her. There's no reason in the world why a rich man can't be as happy as a poor man."