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of seminars and retreats, corporate team building events and strategic planning,
working dinners he and his alcoholic banker friends. Any excuse to flee his marriage.
He pet Kipling and mumbled,  I m supposed to meet with Mitzie again.
 Really? I thought you had decided.
 I have decided. She wants to talk and she s persistent. She s everywhere I turn. I
think she finally understands what prenuptial agreement means and she s filled with
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remorse.
 I think remorse depends on who did what to whom, don t you?
 Maybe, but I think that prenup was the smartest thing I ve ever done. Thank you.
 Me too. And you re welcome. Porter better not marry again. He needed to accept
that he was a player an aging preppie player and his next cuckolded wife would
snip his dick off.  How did it go today?
 Good. This time he changed the subject without diving into any detail, which was
fine by me.  Anyway, you ll miss me when I leave, Holden. That s a fact. That was the
extent of our exchange. Kurt swung by as usual and they and their precious dog left to
go spend the evening on a barstool.
I peeled the paper wrapper from a wheel of Camembert as Adam arrived on the
back step. He knocked politely and I waved him in, but he didn t wave back. He waited
for me to open the door. I ground my teeth, tossing the cheese onto the counter. Why
couldn t he simply come into the house?
Why can t you go out, Holden?
I stalled in the doorway, snappish words dying on my tongue. The yard was
infused with soft light as the sun sank over the hills in a gorgeous splash of astonishing
pastel. Rivulets of pink clouds streaked the horizon. Down along the property line, the
stone wall and thorny rose hedges were bathed in purple and orange light. Buds
softened the vines. The birds of spring called to each other from the thicket. On the
patio crocus lined the bluestone. The flowers a bit higher than they were this morning,
and a bit more colorful; the light hit the grass making it nearly blue.
It all cheered me the cool fresh air, the hint of lawn clippings and pungent mulch.
It made me feel younger.  Come in. I said it more nicely than I d started to.
Adam trailed me into the house and attended to his shoes. The police hadn t
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L.B. Gregg
returned his boots. His words were careful.  Where s your& friend. John?
 He s indisposed. Honestly, I hadn t heard a peep from upstairs.  Actually, he s
sick as a dog. He didn t vomit in the car, did he?
Adam shook his head.  No. I cleaned it anyway he was ripe.
 Thank you.
 I wanted to check in with you. See if he needs that ride down to Waterbury. He
didn t meet my eyes, but I read disapproval in the tightness of his jaw and the stiff set
of his shoulders. It made me smile.
Ever the host, I made him a Tangueray and tonic, and settled a plate of cheese,
crackers, and grapes on the counter at his elbow. Surely, he could find nothing weird
about Camembert.
 Thank you, Adam. Not yet. How was the ride this morning? You never said. I
asked this casually.
Oh, who was I kidding? I asked it pointedly. John and I had been together for years
and sick or not, he was a horny goat. Hell, I was too and Adam was just trying to do
his job.
 He was all right, I guess. He was quiet. He asked me if we were involved.
I laughed. How droll.  He would. Did he hit on you? A more sophisticated
response would have been a calm You don t say.
 I& don t know.
 Believe me; you d know if John Paige was hitting on you. I pictured John s sure
hand landing on Adam s lean thigh as they drove my fancy car through the twisting
back roads of Northwestern Connecticut, the wind in their hair. It didn t matter that my
car wasn t a convertible I saw it clearly. I nursed my drink. I d like to put my hand on
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In And Out
Adam. I d grip his knees, spread those long muscular legs and run my thumbs along
the ticklish white skin of his inner thighs until my hands met in his hot heavy crotch.
Adam interrupted my fantasy, which was for the best as I was in danger of turning
into Xavier Wroth again. I wouldn t know. I don t know when someone s interested. I
told you I have a problem with jokes and reading people s faces, you remember?
I nodded. He d grown rigid again. It was a tell of epic proportion. He picked at the
skin of a grape but he didn t eat anything.
 Okay. What gives? Something is bothering you.
He nodded.  You should probably know this. I can t read most cues. I can t tell
what people mean unless they say it plain. I can t differentiate between someone joking,
or making a pass, or just fucking with me because they re dickheads. It s difficult. I
would have no idea if your friend hit on me. And, say I thought he was, if I got it
wrong, if I misread it, men don t take that well. Do you understand? They aren t
insulted they get violent. That s why I spend a lot of time gardening. Plants are easier
to understand.
 Not for me. They re about as easy to understand as women.
He smiled and actually shook his head in reluctant amusement. Beautiful, beautiful
thing.  That one I got.
 I see that. I smiled back, feeling like I d won a prize.
 Anyway. I ve been taken advantage of in the past and had some trouble. It s why I
don t really act on my& inclinations. I can t because I m never sure if I read people the
right way and things don t generally end well.
 I bet they don t. So, you ve made overtures and gotten your ass kicked?
 Basically. Yeah. I hate to think of myself as passive, but I have to be. I have never [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]