Gus Stevens - Love Me, Love My Dog

“Well?”

“They want to swap, naturally.”

“Oh?”

“Sure. He's been firing blanks with her because they're kind of old hat together and he's hoping another partner will show him he's still a man. Alice… well, she's just hot to jump into bed with someone else most any time.”

“How well I know,” she replied, turning her gaze on the pavement ahead. “I saw that spot on her skirt.”

I swallowed. “She spill booze?”

“Of course,” she said with sarcasm. “Early Times all down her front. Old Donald Brady would be more like it, your own brand of hundred and ten proof.”

I sighed. “What do you think of Sam's offer?”

She shook her head. “I don't think we need them yet.”

I thought she was going to say something more, like we don't need them yet because we've got something better at home, waiting in the parlor. I merely said, “How come you want to get home so early?”

She didn't look at me when she replied, “How come you didn't protest when I got up to go?”

She had me on that one.

Fancy writers talk about cutting the tension with a knife and I'd never understood what they were talking about until we were ready to walk into the house. If I'd had a blade in my hand then I would have been slashing right and left, hitting the target every time.

The place was dark, except for a faint light in the front room and when we entered we saw the three of them curled up in front of the television set. I looked at Amy and she stared back at me, licking her lips, that same glassy glint in her eye… the one she'd had when Buddy Pipp had walked in.

The place looked like a dining room of a busy resort hotel, the coffee table littered with plates and bottles. They'd feasted on sandwiches, pie and soft drinks and, from the looks of the plates on the floor, Alexander had helped lick everything clean.

They hadn't seen us yet and, on impulse, I grasped Amy's hand, giving it a hard squeeze. My wife looked at me and her lips curved in a smile. For a moment I felt a little sad, because I knew she was off on a trip and I knew what had to happen on her journey. Sure, I'd be up to the same tricks, but it was a little hard for me to accept. I'm an old double-standard man from way back, I suppose, but that didn't mean I was right.

I leaned close, whispering into her hair. “See you around.”

She nodded. “I'll think of you often, darling.”

That was good enough for me. She had to have her satisfaction through a night of variety and I couldn't blame her for that. This was a physical thing and she'd assured me that I wouldn't be forgotten, no matter what would be going on in her body,

Clearing my throat loudly, I stepped into the room, pulling Amy behind me. She was a schoolgirl being dragged onto the dance floor for the first time, and I liked her for that, too, but it was clear that her need would prevail. It was best to get on with it.

Heads turned and, stumbling, around, Buddy Pipp got to his feet, an awkward grin splitting his open face like two halves of a sandwich being pulled apart. Trudy leaned back on her hands, gazing up at me, her eyes once again like overheated glaciers. Alexander merely lay on his side, his tail thudding on the floor. He was happy in the knowledge that he had less chance than ever of being left alone.

The young people looked at the litter and Trudy spread her hands, “I guess we got sort of hungry. We always eat through the Westerns.”

“Ah, the late show?”

Buddy nodded, scratching what there was of his chest while Amy watched with a certain fascination. Three Bugles to the Rescue or something. It was pretty good, except for the part where the trooper fools around with the captain's daughter.”

Amy smiled and I watched her eyes frisk his lean body like a police sergeant's hands. “You get bored when the love scenes come on?” she asked, her voice quiet and, I thought, a bit sultry.

He shrugged, plunging his hands into his jeans and, again, his tool and its assemblage of extra parts popped into stark relief. Damn him. He must have possessed a snake the size of a boa. “It's kind of corny to sit around and just watch all the time.”

“I see,” my wife murmured, swallowing and turning to me. “We're home so early, perhaps the children would like a little something to drink before it's time to leave.” She swung back to them. “I know I'm terribly dry.”

I pondered. “I've got soft drinks, all right, and harder stuff for us.”

Trudy was shaking her head, her hand moving in a small circle on her tummy, and I wanted to snatch it away and replace it with my own hand. “No, thanks, because we've had plenty. Even Buddy is full and that's wild. You should see him at the table at home.”

“Your Aunt Charlotte is a good cook?” I asked, thinking of that whisky voice on the telephone.

Buddy made a face. “She's out a lot, so Trudy opens lots of cans. Our aunt is pretty popular, I guess.”

“Yes, I talked to her on the phone. She sounds quite young.”

Trudy raised her eyebrows in a childish imitation of a gossip. “Well, if you think thirty-five isn't over the hill, then I guess she's young. I suppose she looks pretty good for somebody's old aunt. She's a blonde, like me.

“She's been married three times,” Buddy added, grinning like he was proud to complete the dossier on Miss Pipp. “Three guys she went through, got fed up with and then took back her original name. She's our father's sister, I guess.”

“And your parents?” Amy asked gently.

“Oh, they're around somewhere,” Trudy chirped, not at all self-conscious about the way she and her brother live. “They like to take off and run around the country having fun. Dad plays the horses and he's good at it. When he hits big they take in Las Vegas, Miami, other places. Golly, I wish I could live like them.”

Amy settled herself on the couch while I went to the television set, snapping it off just as Dracula's daughter was taking another drink of human blood. We sat silently for a few minutes, looking around, wondering what to do with our hands.

“You're home early,” Trudy said.

“Yes. It wasn't much of a game.”

“Bridge. Huh. That's a funny way to get your kicks.”

My wife turned to Buddy, something like smoke curling out from under her lashes. “You must explain to me how people your age enjoy themselves. Things have changed so in the last five years.”

Five years! I knew Amy was pulling out the stops when she began to lie about her age and I saw Trudy trying to hide a grin, too. Sure, Amy could pass for twenty. She had the face and shape to back her up. But kids knew about these things and the way Amy talked and moved didn't say she was twenty. She was twenty-five, all right, and that was fine with me.

Amy was getting little more out of the tall, skinny Buddy than a series of shrugs, but their mutual interest continued to light the room. This was charisma in action, friends, and those two were turning it on with their high beams. At last Amy leaped to her feet, as though she'd been blessed with an inspiration.

“I know, the pool. You haven't seen the pool.”

Buddy grinned and reached into the pocket of his jeans, pulling something from behind his hip. “I haven't seen it, but I heard about it.” He waved a bathing suit that didn't amount to much more than a jock strap.

“Goody.” My wife was clapping her hands. “We'll go swimming. What do you say?”

“Groovy,” Trudy agreed, also getting to her feet. From her purse popped the two halves of a bikini, the total material no more than that in a handkerchief.

I made a sound in my throat that I hoped sounded adult. “You two go ahead while I settle Trudy's bill. We'll catch up with you.”