Superman Bill

Fred, meanwhile, was frantically leafing through the log book of shipments from two weeks back, telephoning anyone who was supposed to have received a shipment of engine parts and had actually received two restaurant ovens with grill attachments instead. Fortunately it wasn’t Fred’s mistake. But the shipping clerk who had erred was no longer with the company, so when the angry restauranteur had demanded his ovens and offered Mr. Grieves a pointed suggestion concerning what might be done with the unwanted engine parts, Mr. Grieves had suggested to Fred in rather strong terms that he locate the ovens and affect a transfer of shipments immediately.

Fred had called the receiving departments of three automotive plants, two of whom derived obvious amusement from his quest for ovens gone astray, and had just placed his hand on the telephone to call a fourth plant, when a bronzed hand covered his, preventing him from lifting the receiver. Fred recognized the hand instantly and slowly raised his eyes to gaze into the handsome, grinning face of his younger brother.

"How are you, little brother?" bellowed Bill.

Fred cringed. He hated it when Bill called him that. Even though Fred was the physically smaller of the two, he was also the elder and to him that unquestionably meant Bill was the little brother.

"Let go of my hand," he said patiently.

Bill chuckled and only reluctantly complied, then Fred sat back and stared at his brother in wary anticipation. As he gazed upon Bill’s flawless features, blindingly alight with the usual perfect yet churlish smile, Fred marvelled again that it was even possible they both sprang from the same loins. At six feet, two inches and a muscular 225 pounds, Bill was the paragon of youthful manhood in the community of Upton. As if that were not blessing enough, having graduated from the Business Administration program at Upton College only a few years ago, followed by a physical fitness course, he now owned and operated Upton’s only health and fitness club. He also owned a piece of Upton’s only health food store and worked regularly as a sports consultant with both sporting goods stores in town. At the tender age of 24, Bill Luckinbill was an Adonic entrepreneur who was the envy of many young men in town and, keeping fit and tanned as he did at his own club, he was also the object of much female adoration, despite his recent marriage.

"To what do I owe the dubious honour...," began Fred.

"The usual," interrupted Bill with a crooked smile. He winked as he pulled off his wedding band and held it out toward Fred. "I’m taking a scuba diving course in Florida... be away two weeks. I’m taking the red-eye out tonight."

Fred extended his hand with obvious reluctance and as the ring fell into it, he noted once again that Bill’s ring finger was just as tanned as the rest of him. One would never know Bill owned a wedding band, he thought disdainfully. "How’s Cynthia?" he asked pointedly.

"Okay," replied Bill with evident disinterest. "How’s Mom?"

"Why don’t you ask her yourself," responded Fred testily.

Bill offered a dark look of warning. "You know damned well why. Every time I call she only wants to know if Cynthia’s pregnant yet. Damned if I know why she’s so eager for a grandchild," he complained.

"She wants to take it for a ride in her truck," snorted Fred.

Bill chortled loudly. "Y’know Freddy, Cynthia won’t even call Mom for a recipe anymore, ‘cause Mom only pesters her about how come she isn’t pregnant yet."

"Well, why isn’t she?" inquired Fred innocently.

"How in hell should I know?" said Bill in exasperation. "We’ve been trying... off and on. God knows I’d love for her to be preoccupied with a kid. She just doesn’t take, for Chrissake." Bill sighed and ran his fingers through his freshly styled bleach-blond hair. "Cynthia is enrolled in a cooking course at the new kitchenware shop in town while I’m away. I’ve invested in the place and Cynthia thinks she’s checking out business in the shop and the course enrolment for me, but of course... you never know, maybe she’ll absorb something useful," he suggested a little contemptuously.

Fred, as always when Bill spoke of his wife, was torn between disapproval of his brother’s tone and outright pity. Cynthia had simply been the conquest that wasn’t. An exotic dancer of notable beauty and dubious talent, she had performed nightly at the exclusive night club where Bill spent many of his evenings. During her contract with the club, many of Upton’s leading male citizens had called on her in her dressing room after her evening shows and plied her with compliments, flowers and other gifts. Most, however, had struck out. Not so Bill. Having listened to the woeful stories of the men who’d failed to impress the much admired dancer, Bill had arrogantly strutted to her dressing room one evening intent upon conquest. But conquest simply hadn’t been necessary, for the instant Cynthia laid eyes upon her incredibly good looking caller, she had simply disrobed and invited him to do the same.

Denied the challenge of the thing, Bill had afterwards proposed marriage, hoping to at least establish some exclusivity with Cynthia during what he envisioned as an engagement lasting precisely the length of her contract with the club, at which point he’d simply break up with her. But Cynthia refused him. She considered Upton only a brief stop on her way to the big time where she would doubtless encounter an older, wealthier and therefore vastly more suitable suitor.

So Bill had encountered an element of challenge in his relationship with Cynthia that he could relish. He persisted over the course of several weeks in pestering the woman to marry him. Though she was always pleased to see him whenever he called on her, Cynthia was just as tenacious in her refusal - until she absorbed the fact that the handsome young man was actually well on his way to becoming quite wealthy. Then she evidently decided it was unfair to hold his youth against him and not only accepted his final charming and touching proposal, but hauled the slightly inebriated Bill in front of a Magistrate with such swift suddenness it was only several days after the happy event that Bill realized he was actually married to the most talked about girl in town.

No one knew what changed Cynthia’s mind about making the big time, but to her credit she endeavoured to settle down and become a model housewife, despite the fact that she hated housework and couldn’t boil water, much less prepare the kind of meals Bill expected. Nevertheless, she discarded her scanty dance costumes in favour of a June Cleaver style house dress and did her very best to acquire the skills necessary to be a homemaker.

To his discredit, the libidinous Bill had quickly graduated from roving eligible bachelor about town, to roving married philanderer about town. Cynthia, however, was so busy devoting her energy to her new lifestyle, she had so far failed to notice her husband’s lapses of attention.

"Well, gotta go," said Bill, turning to the door. "See ya in two weeks."

Fred only shook his head as his brother disappeared through the door, then he glanced again at the ring as he dropped it into the paper clip compartment of his desk drawer. He certainly didn’t approve of what Bill was doing, but each time Bill went away, Fred held onto the ring for him. He just hadn’t been able to refuse. He sighed and tried to remember what he’d been doing before Bill interrupted.