Disclaimer: Oh it's still not mine. You know that.
A/n: A very, very big thank you to those of you who took the time to review. It means so much to me to hear what you think.
As Easy as Pie
A story by Ryeloza
Part One: The Bet
Chapter Three: Day Five
At six forty-five, Tom arrived home feeling pretty damn proud of himself. In the past two days, Lynette had told him approximately thirty times to be home by six so he'd have a chance to get freshened up and help her finish getting ready for dinner. Tonight they were having the Solises over, but as excited as Lynette claimed to be, stress and frustration were about the only feelings Tom sensed from her. There had been threats made and Tom was certain that showing up forty-five minutes late would keep him in the doghouse, so to speak, for a few days. It was the perfect solution to keep him in the running for the money since Parker was back in his own bed. Even if he couldn't win, there was no way he was going out first.
At six forty-six, after receiving three big, enthusiastic hugs from his boys and asking where their mother was, Tom went from feeling arrogant to horrifically guilty in the time it took Preston to sagely say, "Mommy's sick. She's in the bathroom throwing up."
This was why he wasn't devious. It always blew up in his face.
"Go upstairs and get your pajamas on," Tom ordered. Taking a night without a bath as the prize it was worth, Porter and Preston made a run for the stairs before he could change his mind, nearly wrestling in their eagerness to get upstairs. Parker scurried behind them. Once they were all out of sight, Tom headed toward the bathroom where he found Lynette clinging to the toilet like a lifeline.
"Oh, honey," he said, walking up behind her and laying a hand against her forehead; he could tell just by touching her that she had a fever and he sighed. When Lynette was down and out their entire lives careened off course no matter how hard he tried to fill the void. The truth was that they were a unit; they worked best together.
Lynette knelt back from the toilet, leaning her head against Tom's leg as she said, "I feel terrible."
"I can tell. You done puking yet?"
"Don't say that word." She paused for a second and let out a shaky breath. "I'm done."
Tom hooked his hands under her armpits and gently hoisted her to her feet, wrapping an arm around her waist to keep her steady. Slowly they made their way through the kitchen, upstairs and down the hall to their bedroom. Lynette promptly collapsed on the bed, her face wan just from the short walk. "How are you doing?" he asked as he sat down next to her. "You gonna be sick?"
"No."
"Okay. I'm going to draw you a bath. You'll feel better."
Lynette moaned and he took it as a thank you. With a quick couple of pats on her thigh, he stood and went into the bathroom to start the water. Just as the water level reached the proper height, he heard the doorbell ring and it suddenly dawned on him that they had dinner guests tonight.
"Are they early?" asked Lynette as he came back into the bedroom. She'd sat up in bed and already stripped completely naked. Despite the fact that she looked like death warmed over, and even though they had people waiting at the front door, Tom openly ogled her for well over a minute. He was abruptly reminded that he hadn't had sex in five days, a fact that seemed much more horrible now than it did five minutes ago.
The doorbell rang again.
"I'll get rid of them," he said in lieu of reaching out to grasp her breast. It was a hard choice to make, but he was sure it was the right one.
Well, pretty sure at least.
Gaby rang the doorbell again and Carlos fidgeted like a boy in church. He'd gone into work this morning at six because of an emergency and when he'd arrived home after a twelve hour day he'd been less than thrilled to be reminded of this dinner tonight. All he really wanted to do was to crawl into bed with a bucket of fried chicken and watch television until he passed out. Gaby hadn't been on board with the plan.
"Stop squirming," she barked, slapping his chest. "God, Carlos, you act like I'm trying to make you eat my cooking."
"At least I could eat your cooking in bed. Why do we have to do this?"
Gaby glared at him. "Why do you have to whine? I told you how annoying that is. If I wanted to deal with a baby, I'd get knocked up."
"I'm not whining," he argued, well aware that he was.
"You've been whining all week. And you've been working all those weird hours. Is something going on that you're not telling me about?"
In the time it took Carlos to consider pushing Gaby down on the Scavos' front porch and fucking her until she couldn't see straight, Tom finally answered the damn door. Disappointed and more annoyed than ever, Carlos just scowled as Gaby put on her fifty watt smile.
"Hey," said Tom, reluctantly taking the bottle of wine they'd brought out of Gaby's hands. "I have some bad news. Lynette is sick. I think she caught the flu from the kids."
"Oh no," said Gaby. Her face sagged in actual disappointment. "It's just horrible how germy little kids are, isn't it?"
"Uh…yeah," said Tom. "Anyway, we're going to have to reschedule. I'm so sorry."
"Oh it's okay. We understand. Don't we, Carlos?"
"Sure." He understood. Here Tom was with a guarantee that he wouldn't get laid and he hadn't even had to work at it. It wasn't fair. He was supposed to be the easy competition. More annoyed than ever, Carlos reached out and snatched the wine bottle back, purposely ignoring Gaby's confused gaze. Unfortunately, Tom seemed to pick up on what was going on and he smirked.
"You okay, Carlos? You look a little…frustrated."
"He's fine." Gaby not-so-subtly elbowed his side. "Well we'll get going. It was nice to meet you. Tell Lynette we hope she feels better soon."
"Thanks. I will." Tom gave Carlos a parting grin and shut the door. Gaby sighed.
"Well we might as well get you your damn chicken because I'm sure as hell not cooking."
Carlos perked up. "Really? And I can eat it in bed?"
"You can eat it in the bathtub for all I care. As long as you shut up for awhile."
"Oh, babe, I love you."
Karl was pacing the living room like a caged animal, an expression that was especially apt because it was exactly how he felt. He was like a randy gorilla that some twisted zookeeper had locked away from the females. Any minute he was going to bust through the bars of his cage and go to town on the first chick with a nice rack that he found. All day long he was stuck in that office looking at Brandy whose skirts he swore got shorter every passing day. And then the nights at home with Susan…God, even her snoring seemed sexy lately.
"What is wrong with you?"
Speak of the devil. Karl didn't pause in his pacing, but he still managed to take a good look at his wife. Her low cut top was like a beacon of light begging him to just go to town on her boobs. Why the hell was he torturing himself? So what if he was out a hundred bucks? Right now he'd pay that kind of money to have sex.
"I'm horny," he said frankly. Predictably, Susan made a face.
"So what? You want me to just drop my pants right here? Do I have to remind you that your daughter is in the kitchen?"
Karl crossed the room and put his hands on her hips. "Of course not. Let's go upstairs. We'll make it quick. Oh! Oral only." He grinned. It was a technicality, but he was pretty sure he could swing it since they hadn't actually outlawed it. And the look on the other guys' faces when they found out he got sucked off while they waited it out…
"Get off of me," snapped Susan, batting his hands away and stepping back. "I don't know what's wrong with you!"
"I thought we covered that," said Karl stupidly. Susan scowled.
"Do you remember a little thing called romance? You used to lay out rose petals on our bed and light candles. You used to make reservations at five star hotels. Now I wake up in the morning to find you humping my leg."
"Aw, come on, Susie. Don't be like that."
Susan backed further away from him, shaking the dishtowel in her hand as an admonition to stay away. "Don't do that, Karl."
"Do what?"
"Talk to me like I'm crazy. I'm not crazy."
Karl laughed. "You're a little crazy."
To his surprise, she didn't take the teasing with the flattering ease that she usually did. It was a strange moment; he'd never not been able to cajole a laugh from her before and he found that he missed the sound. He must have been off his game or something.
"I'm going to go out for awhile," he said. "Work off some steam."
Susan rolled her eyes and let out a blustery, "Whatever." Without even asking him where he was going, she turned and left the room. Karl was oddly disappointed, but it didn't stop him from grabbing his car keys and heading out the door.
Rex was staring at his wife.
Bree sat primly in a chair perfectly done up—perfect hair, perfect make-up, perfect khaki pants—embroidering something with her perfectly eloquent hands. It really was a marvel how she was always put together; an ability that deserved to be studied even though Rex was positive that no one could emulate it.
He hated it.
When they were first married, he and Bree had lived in a modest apartment while he was finishing his residency. That apartment seemed like a distant dream now. He remembered that he used to come home from work and Bree would have dinner ready just like she did now, but she'd rush to meet him at the door with a big smile on her face. Her hair would be in big, loose, wavy curls down her back; her t-shirt smudged with paint stains from working on the apartment all day. And it was lovely.
But then they'd had the kids and moved into a house and they had neighbors who actually dropped by during the day who, heaven forbid, should ever see Bree in a t-shirt and jeans and gradually she changed. Day by day, year by year, the happy woman he'd married had slowly morphed into this strange, perfect creature. And he was pretty sure that the transformation was irreversible.
Bree glanced at him for a moment, a smile playing on her lips. She was flattered by the attention; he could tell. She didn't know what he was thinking.
"You're staring," she said teasingly.
Rex tried to relax and forget the past. It was harder than it should have been. "What are you making?"
"The Carltons just had a new baby. I had the gift done, but I just had to add the name." She held up the mat for him to see. Her work really was admirable: a vision of fluffy teddy bears and the most delicate little pink flowers. "Angelica," said Bree, going back to her work. "A little overdone for my taste, but what can you expect from people who have a poodle."
Rex, who wasn't sure what one had to do with the other, just shrugged. His indifference went unnoticed, though, as the phone rang and Bree got up to answer it. "If it's my mother," he called after her, "tell her I'm not here!"
Bree was only gone for five minutes, but she came back looking slightly ruffled. It was remarkable how just the wrinkle in her brow told him so much about her mood. "Who was that?"
"Tom Scavo. Lynette's sick. He wanted to know if I could watch the boys for a couple hours tomorrow morning while he went into work for a meeting."
"What did you say?"
"I told him yes. It's fine. I'll just run my errands tomorrow after the luncheon."
Rex frowned. "Tomorrow is my day off."
Pointedly avoiding his gaze, she said, "Yes, I know."
"Bree, I don't want those kids here tearing up the house. I don't want to deal with it."
"Then why don't you go to the club. You can get in a round of golf in the morning."
"I don't feel like it."
Bree shook her head slightly and made that disapproving tsk sound with her tongue. Immediately, Rex felt his blood pressure rise. "You never think about me," he said angrily. "I never come first with you."
To Rex's further consternation, the comment didn't seem to rankle Bree in the slightest. She just calmly raised her eyes to look at him and said coolly, "I think you have that backwards, dear."
When the doorbell rang that night, Paul honestly considered just ignoring it. He and Mary Alice were sitting in the darkened living room watching television. Zach was upstairs in his room. Whoever it was would go away if they just ignored him. Unfortunately, Mary Alice didn't share his wishes and she promptly answered the door, even going so far as to flick on the lights on her way.
"Karl?" he heard her say, confusion lacing her tone. Paul shrank into his seat, trying to remain undetectable. "Uh, hi. What brings you by tonight?"
"Is Paul here?"
"Of course. Come on in."
To Paul's utter horror, Mary Alice led Karl into the living room and stood with a huge grin on her face as Paul sheepishly sat up. "I'm going to make some tea," she announced. "Do you want any tea?"
"No thanks," said Karl. There was a laughing quality to the words that Paul knew meant that he was amused by the whole situation. Paul felt vaguely embarrassed, but recovered as best he could once Mary Alice left the room.
"What do you want, Karl?"
"Eh, I was just going a little stir crazy at home. Had to get out of the house. I wanted to know if maybe you wanted to hang out."
"Hang out? With you?"
"Yeah. I thought maybe we could go out somewhere. Get a drink."
Paul scratched the back of his neck. "Ah, well, Karl, I'd love to, but—"
"Paul?" Mary Alice called from the kitchen. "Can you come here a second?"
Reluctantly, Paul stood and excused himself for Karl to go see his wife. He had the uneasy feeling that she'd been eavesdropping and if his suspicions were correct, he knew this wasn't leading anywhere good.
"What are you doing?" she asked as soon as the kitchen door swung shut. "You should go out with him! Get out of the house for awhile."
"I don't want to."
"Paul, it's good for you to get out. You need some down time."
He sighed. He wanted to tell her that his down time was hanging out at her at home. He wanted to tell her that a night watching television with her was ten times better than going out with anyone, especially Karl. He wanted to ask her why she was so eager to get him out of her hair. But Paul didn't say any of this because he strongly suspected she didn't feel the same way. To hear it confirmed out loud would just devastate him, so instead he just nodded and left with Karl.
Thirty minutes later, they were sitting at the bar of a place that Paul was pretty certain doubled as a strip club later in the night. Karl was settled on a bar stool that was probably his second home, but Paul felt uncomfortable and instantly vowed that he was having one drink and then grabbing a taxi home. He ordered a beer; Karl a scotch and then they sat in awkward silence.
"So," said Karl slowly.
"So."
"You obviously haven't gotten laid yet."
Paul rolled his eyes. "And you?"
"Oh well, it's been hard to keep Susan off of me, but I'm doing okay so far. I told her she was fat the other day. That bought me a couple nights on the couch."
Paul picked up his beer and chugged half of it down, determined to get out of here as soon as he possibly could. "I can't believe," he said as he slammed his bottle down on the bar, "that Mary Alice would rather I be out with you than at home with her. You're a pig. And she knows it."
"Aw, you mean Little Miss Muffet doesn't like me?" Karl gave a fake sniffle. "I'm hurt."
"That's another thing," said Paul, on a role with the honesty; he no longer cared if Karl knew he didn't like him. "Why all the nursery rhyme nicknames?"
Karl shrugged. "Because all those nursery rhyme characters have Mary as a first name."
"Little Miss Muffet doesn't."
"Huh, really? I always thought of her as a Mary." He took a drink and frowned. "You wanna know the truth? Susan and I got in a fight tonight. Or I should say another fight. Lately nothing I do or say is right. I mean, she used to find me charming. Now it's like I'm a bug she has to scrape off the windshield."
No one could have paid Paul enough money to deal with the drama of a woman like Susan, and he'd often wondered how Karl dealt with it. He'd actually suspected that all of the affairs that Karl was supposedly having was because he couldn't take his high strung wife. Now he wondered if it was the opposite; if Susan wasn't giving him the overdone attention he was used to.
Feeling an actual tug of sympathy for Karl, who was acting like a human with emotions for the first time since Paul had met him, he said, "I lied at the poker game last week. Mary Alice and I haven't had sex in two months."
Karl spit out the drink he'd just taken and started to laugh, making Paul instantly regret his confession. This was the problem with showing an ounce of compassion. It always blew up in his face. Annoyingly, Karl patted him on the back a few times.
"Wow, Paul. You really know how to cheer a guy up. Thanks."
He really hated Karl.
