ROBBIE VON HOOTEN IS A JERK

Aunt Bee

_{Mrs. A leaves her Benz with the valet and hurries up the carpeted stairs to the card room. Every Tuesday afternoon she and her three lady friends, Mrs. B, Mrs. C, and Mrs. D meet for their weekly canasta game.}

_{“Girls, I have the most exciting news,” Mrs. A burbles as Mrs. D deals the cards. “My husband played tennis yesterday with Robbie Von Hooten!”}

_{News travels fast. The other three ladies have heard he and his wife are renting a villa in their country club for the summer. Each is familiar with his name, although none have ever watched his inane sitcom.} 

_{“I saw his wife on the treadmill in the exercise room.” Mrs. C says.}

_{“Too thin and much too young for him.”}

_{“What were you doing in the exercise room?” Mrs. D sneers}

_{“I donated my Architectural Digest and Elle magazines for their rack.”}

_{“Anyway,” Mrs. A continues, “My husband invited Robbie and his wife Alice over Saturday night for cocktails. Well, Alice called this morning and said they would come. She sounded really nice. I want you and your husband’s to join us.”}

_{Simultaneously, Mrs. B, C, and D dig into their Louis Vuittons for their cell phones and speed-dial their beauty salons. Mrs. D also cancels a previously made date for that evening.}

_{Mrs. A enters her twenty-eight foot purple and white living room wearing a new dress and spins around for her husband’s approval. The soft tones of music of the fifties and sixties can be heard over the clink of glasses. The room is already filled with the invited guests moving about juggling drinks and canapés. The women air-pecking each other, exchanging pleasantries, eyeing each other’s dresses and jewelry, their husbands slapping backs. While Mr. A takes care of the cocktails, his wife moves about seeing that empty glasses are refilled and things are functioning smoothly.}

_{Robbie and Alice Von Hooten arrive. Robbie’s nails are polished, his sideburns too long. He seems to cast himself as an expert on everything. He and his wife, Alice, an anemic blonde half his sixty years are dressed alike - both in blue designer jeans and white silk shirts, gold chains peeking out of Robbie’s chest hairs. There is a look of resignation about Alice that is often seen in people who are constantly being upstaged.}

_{The guests spring from their seats to meet him and he is immediately surrounded, introductions made - polite nods and smiles from the men. Robbie pretends to listen, but isn’t really interested. There isn’t any “A” list parties these summer days, not even in Boca Raton. But, like an actor he is always on. He kisses the woman’s hands; Mrs. A, B, C, and D are instantly charmed. There is no more carefree chat from the women - all on their best behavior, pretending to be unimpressed with the famous comedian. Alice holds out her thin, limp hand, feeling a little adrift among people who know each other already.}

_{As Mrs. A continues her flurry of hostessly duties, she observes Robbie regaling her guests with ribald stories of insider show biz gossip.}

_{Mr. B finds having a conversation with Robbie is more like listening to a monologue. He leaves the group and heads to the bar.}

_{Robbie leaves also, goes over to talk to Mrs. B who is admiring a Miro and wondering if it is real. He drapes his arm possessively across her shoulder. “How long has it been since you’ve been to Shangri La?”}

_{Mrs. B catches herself, calculating the well-toned body, full head of black hair -- briefly wonders what it would feel like to…. pushes the wildly inappropriate idea aside, angry at herself for having felt a moment of weakness. She gives him a blistering look, unlinks herself and snaps, “Bugger off.”}

_{“Tsk. That’s harsh.” Robbie reproves, his breathe tickling Mrs. Brown’s ear. He floats away with an amused expression. Throughout the evening he does not once approach his wife, although she seems watchful of his every move.}

_{Mrs. A beckons him over to the array of cheese and fruit arranged in her Lenox china on the buffet table.}

_{“How do you manage to keep men away from you? You’re such a gorgeous woman,” he murmurs to Mrs. A.}

_{Mrs. A laughs, nearly spraying her white zinfandel into his face. “For someone in show biz you’re a bad liar.”}

_{Robbie looks as if he is about to say more on the subject but Mrs. A cuts him off, does an eye roll that may have injured her. “If you’re thinking about penciling me in as your next al la carte, forget it.”}

_{“I was pinning my hopes on you. Everyone needs an al la carte.”}

_{“Maybe. But why would I choose you?”}

_{“A simple no would do, Robbie says, stuffing a wedge of Edam into his mouth.}

_{“At last, a good idea!” Robbie says and sniggers like a naughty boy.}

_{Mr. A walks over and takes a position next to his wife, who thinks he looks jealous. This thought thrills her. It has been years since her husband has shown jealousy.}

_{Alice Von Hooten is sitting alone on an antique loveseat, the least comfortable chair in the room. Mr. B glimpses a cloud that seems to pass over her face, perhaps for thoughts of whatever distress her private life holds. As a small gesture of courtesy, he walks over to her.}

_{Alice gives a friendly nod and pats the cushion beside her. Mr. B takes the empty seat.}

_{“Anything wrong?” he asks, licking mustard off his fingers.}

_{“You’re supposed to be having a good time.” Without waiting for her reply he falls into conversation with her. “Tell me why you and Robbie decided to join our country club.”}

_{She tells him she used to be a rising tennis star, giving up her career to follow Robbie around to his gigs. Their mutual love of tennis is the reason they’ve decided to spend the summer at the Bougainvillea Club which is known for its high level of tennis.}

_{“No. Robbie already has two sons from his first and second marriages and doesn’t want the responsibility of raising another child.” As Alice speaks these words, sadness comes through in her voice.}

_{“Well, children can split you apart, especially teen-agers.”}

_{“I really don’t miss them. Robbie’s so interesting and intelligent and full of energy. He’s so much fun – he makes me laugh at anything.” Alice smiles, excuses herself to get her third apple martini. She is doing as well as she can, but another drink might help her get though another evening.}

_{At the other end of the room, Mr. C and Mr. D are discussing the Dolphins’ chances of winning their division this season. The two of them disappear into the den to quickly check out the Dolphin- Eagles score.}

_{Robbie plunks down on the sofa, positioning himself a little this way, a bit that, until his thigh is pressed against Mrs. C’s hip. “You need to straighten up. Leaning over like that gives me ideas,” he leers.}

_{Mrs. C had no idea her rotund charms were so potent. She gives a delighted shiver, adjusts her plunging neckline, happy she has opted to wear her uncomfortable pushup bra. Everything female in her responds to the secretly thrilling notion that she has attracted this famous man. She catches her reflection in the Venetian mirror and fluffs her hair.}

_{“I can guarantee a state of the art, mind-blowing gratification.”}

_{The reckless side of Mrs. C finds herself titillated by his answer, but a warning sign from her sensible and cautious side takes over. Her heartbeat slows to normal. “So, you’re as expert at making love as you seem to be at everything else.”}

_{“Of course I am. Lots of women would love to go to bed with me.”}

_{Mrs. C snaps out of her errant thoughts and with a surprising amount of effort, makes her position clear. Her Botox injections keep her from frowning. “I’m not one of them,” she says and leaves the couch.}

_{“Well, I guess that was a no, Robbie says, unruffled.}

_{Mrs. C leads her husband away from the chocolate layer cake and arranges a dish of fresh fruit for him}

_{It is eleven-thirty; the women are in the A’s kitchen helping to Saran wrap left-overs and stack the dishwasher.}

_{“What did you ladies think of Robbie?” Mrs. A asks.}

_{“His wife is very nice,” Mrs. B says and giggles, “But he came on to me.”}

_{“Well­ if you have the notion that he’s some sort of romantic, forget it. He hit on me too.”}

_{Mrs. A flushes. “And I thought I was the one and only.”}

_{“Do you think Alice knows?”Mrs. C asks.}

_{“Of course I didn’t take him seriously. I’ve been around long enough to recognize baloney when I hear it.”Mrs. B scoffs.}

_{“Any woman who believes anything he says deserves to have her head examined.” Mrs. C adds.}

_{“You certainly are the quiet one!” Mrs. B says to Mrs. D who is leaning against the Sub Zero.}

_{Her three companions look at Mrs. D waiting for a response. She is the only one who isn’t laughing. She gives them what she hopes is an enigmatic smile. An odd snort escapes her. She walks out of the room leaving her friends to wonder. In the powder room she studies her face in the mirror. Standing, hands on hips, she says to her reflection, “Why am I the only one left out? Figure it out yourself. Robbie Von Hooten is a jerk.” Mrs. D knows that she really needs to remember that. She looks down at her pricey black Donna Karen, at her not-very-comfortable Manolo Blahnik strappy sandals and sighs.}

      _{The house is quiet again. Mr. A lies sprawled out on the king-size bed, his wife next to him looking wilted. He reaches out to touch her shoulder. “Thanks for being so pleasant to my guest.”}

      _{“He’s very sweet.” Mrs. A assures him in airy innocence stretching for her hand cream on the bedside table.}

     _{It was a nice party,” Mr. A compliments his wife, as he undresses for bed.}

      _{“Yes, it was.”}

      _{“Your Swedish meatballs were a hit.” Mr. A plumps his pillow and immediately begins to snore.}

_{Mrs. B comes out of the master bathroom naked and smelling of Chanel #5 and mouthwash and stretches out on the bed. She leans forward, flinging her hair back from her face, her ribcage rising and falling as she passes her hands over the slope of her breasts and down her stomach, her dark eyes glimmering in the lamplight’s golden aureole.}

      _{“You’re a ravishing seductress.” Mr. B says.}

      _{“Yup,” she answers. “I am, aren’t I?”}

      _{Mrs. C waits silently as her husband strips out of his clothes and lowers himself down next to her. He is conscious of the fleshy folds around her thickening waist, the red marks from her panty girdle printed on her flesh, which negates any romantic urge he may have had. Get with the program,he orders himself to no avail. Let’s focus here. Uh-uh, close but no cigar.}

      _{“Darling, Mrs. C complains, “You’re falling asleep on me.”}

      _{“Must be the cocktails.” Mr. C alibis.}

      _{“I love you, darling. I know I don’t say it often enough.”}

      _{“Often enough? You don’t say it at all.”}

      _{“That was a fun evening. Quite a character, isn’t he? ” Mr. D says as he drives his wife home.}

      _{Mrs. D kicks off her Blahniks. “Robbie? Yeah, I guess.”}

      _{Mr. D glances at his wife. After twenty-odd years of marriage he has developed a talent for reading her mind. “What’s the matter? You look upset.”
      There is a long silence. A tear travels down Mrs. D’s cheek. Her face takes on a look of furious indignation. She blurts, “I’m the only one Robbie Von Hooten didn’t proposition!”}