* * *
Ken Lockheart patted his face dry as he looked into the mirror. "Not
bad," he thought as he studied his choice of attire. At 6'2" and about 195
(give or take a few pounds), he defined the stereotype of the all-American
male. His electric blue eyes were twinkly and mischievous while his
perfect white smile and thick, curly blond hair were a striking complement
to his well-toned muscles. He flexed his arms for a second in the mirror,
admiring their rock-solid strength. Then he laughed at his own
pretentiousness.
He was above all, a decent guy from Ventnor who'd overcome
serious obstacles to achieve some modest success. Though he was the
youngest of four brothers, he was the first to actually own his own place,
a cute two-bedroom townhouse in Somers Point, which he'd impeccably
furnished. And though his current job at the electric company paid well, it
was only a stepping stone to something better- something he knew he'd
figure out along the way. His plans also included finding a good woman
for marriage, having recently broken up with his high school sweetheart
Liz Anne, who ditched him for someone else upon his return from four
years of service in the Navy. Well, at least after four long years, I have some good
muscle tone, he thought.
He hadn't actually planned to go out to a club tonight; he'd just
worked a long shift and wanted nothing more than to kick back on the
patio with a cold beer. But his friends had insisted he meet them over at
Key Largo to check out some of the Philly girls, and after a little
prodding, he'd finally agreed. Ken wore a pair of khaki Dockers and a
crisp teal shirt, both of which he'd carefully pressed, and just a hint of
Polo, his favorite men's cologne. By any standard, he was a good-looking
male. But he was also a deep thinker and an ambitious striver who
happened to stay true to his Catholic roots. All except for the part about
waiting to be with a woman until marriage. But were there any girls these days
that did? He'd yet to run into one.
Ken ran down the stairs and almost crashed into his roommate, an
older woman he'd met when he parked cars for the Taj Mahal Casino, just
after his return from the Navy. Though he'd moved on to the power plant
within a few months, he'd made quite a few friends at the Taj, thanks to
his outgoing personality. Kathy was a black-jack dealer whom he'd invited
to share living expenses after he closed on his home; he didn't trust a man
to keep the place neat. And conveniently, Kathy's long hours kept her out
most of the time anyway.
"Oops, sorry Kath!" Ken apologized, putting his arms on her
shoulders to prevent a fall.
"Where are you off to in such a hurry?" she quizzed playfully. Her
gravelly voice belied her failure to kick the cigarette habit, though she
honored Ken's rule about only smoking out on the patio.
"I'm meeting the guys over at Key Largo," he replied. "I didn't really
feel like it, but they kind of talked me into it."
"Well I think it's great," Kathy offered. "You've been working so
hard and not taking any time out for play. You have to let loose every
once in a while. You're a handsome 25 year-old young man with your
whole life ahead of you. Get out there and have some fun!"
"I plan to, Kath," he promised, hoping to shake off memories of Liz
Anne once and for all.