I spent the rest of the day doing a few things around the house, and then I walked to Blockbuster and rented Lifeguard again and watched it that night while eating a pepperoni pizza I’d picked up on the way home. Laura called at a little after ten-thirty.
“How was the party?” I asked.
“It was fun,” she said. “I’m happy for Debbie, and I hadn’t seen Sheila and Rebecca in almost two years. It’s always nice to catch up. Right now, though, I’m exhausted, which I think is due at least in part to the change in my usual routine this morning.”
“I told you not to eat that omelet,” I said. “Omelets always make me tired, too.”
She giggled then, a sound I could have listened to all night.
She yawned and said, “I have to get some sleep. I just wanted to thank you again for going shopping with me yesterday. It was nice having someone along to model for.”
“My pleasure, babe. Have fun tomorrow.”
Laura and some of the out-of-town participants from the party were going to spend the day together.
“I will,” she said. “But I’d rather spend it with you. Speaking of which, wanna meet me for an early dinner after school on Monday?”
“Where and when?” I asked.
“Timmy’s, about four?”
“See ya there,” I said.
After we hung up, I read for a while and then went to bed and dreamt about Laura Fleming and sheer yellow nighties. I believe there was also substantial giggle involvement.
Chapter 7
The weather was mild on Sunday morning, and I took advantage of it by stretching out my run a little and then washing the 4Runner in the little driveway in front of my townhouse. The driveway is just barely big enough to hold the car, but it suffices for the occasional washing and waxing. As I wiped the passenger-side doors dry, I pictured Laura stepping up into her seat on Friday. Over the past several months, I’d had many opportunities to observe how graceful she was, whether it be in the gym or at a dressy social event or, well, some other situations we needn’t discuss at the moment. Having said all that, though, I have to admit that on those occasions when Laura wears, say, one of her fitted skirts and 4-inch heels, even she has a difficult time climbing up and into the 4Runner with her usual elan. Not that she doesn’t manage to pull it off, but I gotta figure it takes a good deal of effort on her part. And a few weeks ago, when we’d gotten dressed up for a fancy dinner, Laura had casually suggested that we take her Malibu. Anyway, the 4Runner was six years old and had almost 150,000 miles on it, so I’d been considering trading it in on a new Camry. On one hand, I’d lose the four-wheel drive capability; on the other hand, you wouldn’t need a degree in mountain climbing in order to comfortably access the vehicle. Of course, the big problem with trading in the 4Runner was the macho factor. Would people think I was a wimp if I started driving a sedan? Maybe I could get a tattoo of the 4Runner on my bicep and dangle my arm out the window of the Camry when I drove around town. Flex a little, too. Yeah, that might work.
* * *
After lunch I stretched out on my living room sofa and began reading the Sunday paper, but within a few minutes, I put the paper down and practiced lying perfectly still with my eyes closed. It’s a technique I’ve just about mastered, but there’s always room for improvement.
At a little after four, I called Augie.
“How’s it look for that Hamburger Surprise tomorrow?” I asked him.
He chuckled and said, “Oh, I believe we can accommodate you, JB.”
“You think Anthony will be there?”
“Yeah, he should be. Kid’s in school most days. Doesn’t necessarily mean he’s in class, but other than when he’s been suspended, he’s usually been somewhere in the building, and he doesn’t miss lunch.”
“Second lunch still 11:50 to 12:30?”
“Yep.”
“I’ll come in around noon,” I said.
“Good. Anthony eats second lunch. You can talk to him in my office afterwards.”
“See ya then, Aug.”
After hanging up the phone, I went upstairs and changed into a good pair of jeans and a white turtleneck sweater, threw on my brown leather jacket, and drove over to Angie and Simon’s place. When I got there, Simon opened the door. He and Angie met at UCLA. They were both there on athletic scholarships, Angie for volleyball, Simon gymnastics. He proposed during their junior year, and Angie accepted, with one stipulation: They had to settle in Pittsburgh after they graduated. The fact that Simon, a born-and-bred southern Californian, immediately agreed tells you all you need to know about how much he loves his wife.
As I entered their foyer, I was greeted by Pepper, the family mutt, who raced down the hallway, banged his nose into my knee, and then dashed back towards the kitchen. Usually, he gave me at least one or two minutes of quality time when I arrived.
Hanging my jacket in the hall closet, I said to Simon, “Either the bloom is off the rose regarding my relationship with Pepper, or it’s dinner time.”
“Stick with the Alpo
