'Okay, okay, I'm sorry,' he said. 'The truth is, I'm in kind of my own situation.'
'What?' I was instantly serious. 'What's up?'
'Felicia has stepped up her phone calls,' he said. We were at a stoplight, and he looked at me steadily.
'Despite the way she acted yesterday? Like she'd never seen you before?'
He nodded. 'Yeah. She's called, like, four times since we left the hotel.'
'You sure you don't want her to call?' I was kind of feeling my way through this, because I couldn't tell what Tolliver was leading up to.
'I definitely don't. You've told me before that sometimes you felt men were dating you because you were so— so different from other women?'
I nodded.
'Well, that's kind of the way I'm feeling.' The light changed, and he turned his eyes to the road ahead. 'We never seemed to have that much in common. She never acted affectionate, or like she wanted to get to know me better. I can't understand her constantly trying to hook up now, again. And then when she actually sees me, she acts like she never was with me. And then she calls me again.'
'You did do the nasty with her. Maybe she really, ah, enjoyed that with you?' I was trying not to sound self- conscious. This was not a frequent topic of conversation between us. Neither of us were kiss-and-discuss types. It was tacky. Plus, not suitable.
'To tell the truth, it was only about average. It was just… sex,' he said, with a shrug. He seemed to feel he had lacked gallantry toward a woman he'd bedded. 'She's a pretty woman, and real intense. In fact, maybe a little too intense. And not all that interested in talking.'
I groped for the right thing to say. 'Like she was using you?' I said, making damn sure there wasn't a hint of smile anywhere in my vicinity.
'Exactly,' he said. 'So, I guess I know how women feel when a guy's just using them to masturbate inside.'
Crudely put, but I understood exactly what he was saying. 'And Felicia's calling you all the time, now?' It was hard to reconcile that with the self-contained and sleek young woman I'd met.
'Yeah, after not hearing from her for months and months, she's in a frenzy.'
Maybe seeing Tolliver had reminded her of how good he'd been? Maybe it had been a long time since she'd had sex, and here was a sex partner whose excellence was a known factor, a sex partner who wouldn't entangle her in any relationship talk?
'How are you dealing with it?'
'At first, I thought about doing it,' he said, looking really embarrassed. 'I mean…'
'Sex is sex,' I said, trying to sound understanding.
'But something about her puts me off,' he said. 'I can have sex with someone I don't, ah, have a relationship with, and enjoy it. But we have to at least like each other.'
'She doesn't like you?' I was hesitant. I'd never heard Tolliver talk about a woman like this, and I have to say, I was a little worried.
'I don't know. I'm not sure I like her, now.'
'Because she's eager?' I wasn't sure I liked the implication.
'No, no. I mean, that's flattering.' He gave a frustrated shrug. 'I'm not one of those guys who only likes women as long as they're hard to get. And I don't think women are sluts if they admit they want sex. It's because Felicia's so…' He floundered, looking for the right words. But he couldn't find them.
Finally he said, 'She's too deep for me. It's like swimming in the ocean, when you're used to a pool.'
That was brilliant, and I gazed at Tolliver with admiration and some surprise. He looked a little surprised, himself.
I didn't know what to say, so I took refuge in facetiousness. 'It's all your fault, Tolliver,' I said. He looked at me skeptically. 'You're just so darn magnetic. They can't live without you.'
He gave me an eye roll. 'Cut it out,' he said.
So the subject passed away, but I didn't forget it, and I thought about it while he watched a basketball game on ESPN. He would know I wasn't dismissing his concern, that I'd keep it under my skin until I had an idea about it. In the meantime, I felt like reading. I'd gotten heavily involved in an old mystery, Marjorie Allingham's A Tiger in the Smoke, and after a page or two I was in the England of decades ago.
When the room phone rang, I was simply irritated at having to put down my book. I was closest, so I answered it.
A male voice said, 'Hey, can we come up?'
'Who is this?'
'Um. Sorry. This is Victor, you know? Morgenstern?'
I could feel my face wrinkle in a frown. 'Who is 'we'?'
'My friend Barney and me.'
I covered the receiver and relayed the request to Tolliver. 'This is weird. I want to talk to him, and here he arrives on our doorstep,' I said. Tolliver was not so pleased. In fact, he looked mildly exasperated. 'Oh, okay,' he said. 'I was thinking about going out for lunch, trying to get some barbecue as long as we're here in Memphis. But we'll see what he wants. You think he's just showing off to his friend or something?'
