The Trouble With Eden - Lawrence Block [117]
“I don’t—”
“At midnight I’ll ring your doorbell.”
Her tongue teased her lip again. He decided that the gesture was indescribably sensuous. She said, “You must be thinking of someone else.”
“Au contraire. I’m thinking of you.”
“I don’t know what this is all about.”
“Don’t you?” He did a number with his eyes again, then broke it off with a wide smile. “We’ll go to the Inn in Carversville,” he said levelly. “I believe you’ve been there. A friend of mine plays piano there. I believe you’ve heard him play. He plays other things beside the piano.”
She watched him, waited him out.
“His name is Bert,” he went on. “He lives with me. We enjoy living together. We enjoy sharing things.”
She was nodding, taking it all in.
“Sometimes we share a meal, or an evening in New York, or a bed. Sometimes we share a person.”
“I don’t—”
“Of course you do.”
“What I mean is why me?”
“Why, there are several reasons,” he said. “One is that I’ve attained an erection just sitting across a table from you. A rather dramatic one, actually. If you’d care to put your foot in my lap you could reassure yourself on that point. For another thing, I—oh, my. I didn’t expect you to do that.”
“You suggested it.”
“Yes, I did, didn’t I?”
“Do you like this? Yes, you damn well like it. I could get you off with my toes.”
“You are full of surprises, aren’t you?”
“I have very limber toes.”
“You do.” He took hold of her foot and stroked it “I think we should stop this.”
“I think I’m getting as hot as you are. I thought you were supposed to be a faggot.”
“Nobody’s supposed to be a faggot. It’s not something you prepare for at a trade school. No, by George, that’s precisely what it is, come to think. I’ll come by at midnight.”
“No. I’ll meet you there.”
“The Carversville Inn.”
“Yes, I know. Warren? How did you know?”
“About you? Oh, intuition.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet.”
“I’ll meet you there between twelve and twelve thirty. It will be his last set. We can have a drink and then you can come home with us.”
“What’s his name?”
“My piano player? Bert. Bert LeGrand.”
“He has nice hands.”
“Yes, I rather fancy them myself.”
“He has very nice hands,” Melanie said. “Yes, I remember his hands.”
After he had paid the check and carried her package to her car, Melanie got into the little Alfa and sagged behind the wheel. She was trembling uncontrollably with a mixture of excitement and fear. Both emotions had begun shortly after Warren took her to the Raparound, and she felt she had held them both nicely in check. Now, alone, she could give in to them, could hardly avoid giving in.
She started the car. Instead of driving home she headed west on 202, pushing the little red car hard, using it deliberately as an outlet for what she felt. She turned around just short of Doylestown, the greater portion of her anxiety spent in the act of driving. She felt the sun on her face and hands, the wind in her hair. At a stoplight she fished a cigarette out of her bag and pushed in the dashboard cigarette lighter. The light changed. She crossed the intersection. When the lighter popped out to announce its readiness she lit her cigarette, then shook the lighter absently like a match and flipped it over the side of the car.
She had gone almost a mile before she realized what she had done, and laughter immediately overwhelmed her. She had to pull off the road, she was laughing so hard.
When Sully came home for dinner she told him about it, and broke up again recounting the episode.
“You must of had your mind in the clouds,” he said. “I can just picture that. You didn’t go back and have a look around for it?”
“No chance. I don’t know exactly where it was, and it’s all high weeds at the side of the road.”
“Well, they don’t cost much to replace. You can tell him the heating element burned out.”
“Why not tell him I threw it away?”
“Because it’s bad enough I know you’re a nut, you don’t want the whole world to know. I heard of