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Show 150 grey stoneware coffee mug when Andrea came by for her and honked. She was earlier than usual. That meant something. Yvonne called something unintelligible to him and the front door slammed. He darted to the window in time to see her run out to Andrea's dingy blue Volkswagen and climb in. Andrea said something to her with great animation, waving both hands, and as the car pulled away Yvonne was laughing, her head thrown back, and more than likely slapping her knee. She had a vulgar laugh when she was happy. He took his sweet time getting to the Coach and Seven. If the girl with the bangs was there he was going to take his sweet time getting to her table, too. * * * * * * He hadn't wanted to say so, but if Yvonne had felt like making peace before they'd gone their separate ways it would have been all right. Eventually they were going to have to sit down and talk things out, but in the meantime it probably wouldn't have hurt to clear some of the tension out of the air. All evening and into the night he made sandwiches and served espresso and watched chessboards through a haze of discomfort that he suspected was not necessary. He sat at a table listening to an argument between a rat-faced set designer for a local theater group and a bangled woman of thirty with heavy eye makeup and a bare midriff around which hung a thin gold chain, and all he could think about was that smooth warm midriff and his swollen member pressed against it in a quiet room somewhere, so that when she turned to him once suddenly and asked if he didn't agree he felt as if she had touched him. He said he agreed. He decided he had said the right thing when the set designer turned away, looking pissed, and lit a cigarette. Lorin didn't even know the woman, and wondered if wanting to |
