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Show Woodworth/191 do? And then she notices. Seems natural he'd be there. So natural that it takes too long to comprehend that it isn't right. At all. "Aren't you going to ask us to join you?" Gary asks politely. He puts his arm around Rachael's waist. His thumb moves slowly, up and down, against her side. She concentrates on that movement. Reminds her of windshield wipers. Warm, flesh wipers. Only the thumb, against a side. Stroking. No eyes. No voices. "Sure, pull up a chair," Warren says, and she snaps at the sound of his voice. Gary shoves Rachael into the vacant chair, and turns without looking at Marty. "Is this seat taken? May I use this chair?" "Oh, fuck," Rachael says quietly. "Wha?" Marty begins. The alcohol freeze is coming again. Must remember details. Understand innuendos. "He was in the back room with a bunch of people. I tried to avoid him, but he saw me. He said that he had tried to call you tonight.. •." A chair drops into their conversation, and Gary climbs into it. He sits between them, so that both he and Rachael separate Marty from Warren. Warren smiles at everybody, a vacant grin. "What do you suppose it takes to get a drink around here?" he asks. He leans over the fence that separates the bar area from the tables. "viss?" he calls, and raises one hand limply. The others sit quietly, their hands in their laps. "Can I help you?" the waitress asks and Marty thinks, irrationally, how smoothly things go when you wish they wouldn't. "JC scotch on the robk^s for me, a gin and tonic for the lady," |