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Show 187 wishing someone would ask him to play i t . Empty wine bottles had been kicked out of the way under the table, and gorged ashtrays lay here and there on the floor, and a haze of smoke hung between eye level and the c e i l i n g . It was legal smoke, however. Lorin knew there would be no pot. Simon was t e r r i f i ed of being arrested for having pot in his apartment and absolutely forbade anyone who came to his place to have i t on his or her person. The distinctive feature about the apartment, apart from the people who visited i t , was the presence of diagonal zebra stripes on the bedroom walls and c e i l i n g, though they were scarcely perceptible. They had been Simon's despair when he moved i n , and he had immediately painted over them with an Ivory latex (without the manager's permission), but they s t i l l showed through f a i n t l y, and he was thinking about giving up the apartment on their account because they made him dream about iron bars crashing on his head. S i t t i ng there, his back to the wall in a crowded room hung with paintings better than his own, especially the conch s h e l l , the woman he lived with circulating happily in the next room to make him miserable, the friend with whom she made him miserable s i t t i n g in plain view across from him entertaining three groupies, Lorin concluded i t was a mistake to have come. Simon just then stepped over Lorin's feet, carrying a bottle of wine in either hand, and stopped when he saw who i t was. "Lorin. I didn't see you come i n ." " I 'm sorry we were l a t e , " Lorin said. "Yvonne had a rehearsal." "Did you get any wine?" Simon asked, looking at Lorin's empty glass. " I t was in the kitchen." Lorin put his hand over his glass. "Yes, we did. Thanks." Simon appeared to remember the bottles he was carrying. "I was just bringing in some more from the bedroom. Could I pour you some?" |