Round Rock - Michelle Huneven [76]
All I want to do is kiss him, Libby wrote. He’s such a good, patient kisser. He came to my bedroom last night under the pretext of seeing the upstairs of Billie’s house. (Billie said, I’ll just stay downstairs and read a big, fat book, The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich.) We started kissing and unbuttoning a few things. He was very sweet, checking with me each step of the way. I was practically dragging him on, then he put a hand on my bare breast and the panic hit like someone was standing over us screaming: Toying with this poor sad man—What the hell are you doing?
I said, Maybe this is too much too fast.
Red removed his hand. Fastened my bra and buttoned my shirt.
I need to stick to kissing for a while, I said.
I can live with that, he said.
Red’s body is so expansive and meaty after Lewis’s skin and bones—an armchair versus a wooden folding chair. I know I shouldn’t make comparisons, but just Thursday, three days ago, I was in Lewis’s bed.
Red said, I’m not in any hurry. Two months, six months, whatever you need.
Six months! I said, One month seems like an eternity, considering how much I already like to kiss you.
Red laughed. I think we both need to get used to this idea.
A month, we decided then, for just kissing. A month minimum. After a month, says Red, we can renegotiate.
RED MADE a late-night call to Doc Perrin. “I’ve done something I think you should know about,” he said.
“You’re interrupting Koppel,” said Perrin. “This better be good.”
Overcome by muteness, Red listened to emphysemic squeaks followed by a lengthy sigh.
“Let me guess,” growled Perrin. “You bought yourself a puppy.”
RED RAY! Same shell-pink skin, cornflake freckles. Same barrel chest hauling a gut. “Hey, Redsy!” Lewis, crouching in front of a small fire in the office’s hearth, looked up and grinned. “How ya doing?”
“Thank God it’s you,” said Red. “I smelled the smoke….” He put a hand on his heart and nodded to the flames. “Guess I’m a little jumpy after Libby’s fire.”
As Lewis watched, the friendliness in Red’s face receded. “What?” he said.
“You tell me.”
“I went to L.A. for a couple days. Now I’m back.”
Red waited, hovering.
“I didn’t drink if that’s what you’re so worried about.”
“It crossed my mind.”
“I even went to an AA meeting. Jesus, you should’ve seen it. Rock ’n’ roll. Fashion-model city. Everybody in black leather. I kept spotting people I thought I knew, only they were famous actors.”
Red continued to gaze dispassionately at him.
“What, I can’t take a couple days off?”
Patient and merciless, Red loomed over him, and Lewis, suddenly uneasy, stood and walked around the desk. “Okay, I know I fucked up. And I’m sorry. I had to blow Libby off. We were breaking up. I couldn’t go running to her like nothing was wrong. That would’ve only got her hopes up, don’t you see?”
“What happens between you and Libby is your business.”
“That’s not what you said the other day! You practically guilt-tripped me over there! I couldn’t handle the disapproval.”
“Are you going to leave every time I disapprove of something?”
“I came back, didn’t I?” Lewis was plaintive. “You’re yelling at me now, and I’m staying put.”
“I’m not yelling, Lewis.”
Lewis picked up a stick of orangewood and poked at the fire, which collapsed. “Okay, okay. But I learned my lesson. I can’t go back there. My philosophy professor drank around the clock. I mean, what