Cold Paradise

“Not so good.”

“And then you actually married Dolce-well, sort of, and against all the advice I could muster. And now she’s out there stalking you with a gun, and frankly, I wouldn’t give you good odds on making it back to New York without taking along some excess baggage in the form of lead in your liver. Now, I ask you, what happens when you start thinking about marriage?”

“All right, I get into trouble,” Stone said gloomily.

“Stone, you’re my friend, and I love you, and that’s why I can say this to you: You’re not cut out to be married. Never in my life have I known anybody who was less cut out to be married. Marriage is very, very hard, and believe me, you’re not tough enough to handle it”

“Callie is an awfully nice girl,” Stone said mistily.

“I’ll grant you that.”

“I think it would be nice to be married to her.”

“I’ll even grant you that, up to a point. As far as I can see, the only thing wrong with Callie is that you’re thinking about marrying her.”

“What, you think I’m the kiss of death, or something?”

“I didn’t say that, you did.”

“The sex is wonderful.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Dino said. “Let me tell you something somebody told me when I was young and single. This was a man who had been married three times. He said to me, 'Dino, tell you what you do: When you get married, you keep a piece of chalk in your bedside table drawer, and every time you make love to your wife, you take out the chalk and make a hash mark on the wall. Then, after you’ve been married for a year, throw away the chalk and keep an eraser in your bedside drawer, and every time you make love, take out the eraser and erase a hash mark.'”

“What was his point?” Stone asked.

“His point was this: ‘It’ll take you ten years to erase all the hash marks.'“

Stone laughed in spite of himself.

“So, pal, my point is, if you’re going to get married, you’d better have something going on in the relationship besides sex.”

“I knew that,” Stone said.

“No, you didn’t,” Dino sighed. “You still don’t.”

“No, I do, I really do.”

“Tell me this,” Dino said. “What makes you think she’d marry you?”

“Well…”

“You think all she’s looking for is a great lay? Not that you’re all that great.”

“I could offer her a pretty good life,” Stone said.

“Yeah, sure. You’re traipsing all over the country, doing this very strange but oddly entertaining work. You think she’s going to like that? You going to take her along when you have to drop everything and go to Podunk, Somewhere?”

“Why not?”

“Because women get rooted in their homes. I guarantee you, a month after you’re married, you’re going to find that your house has been totally redecorated.”

“I like the way my house is decorated,” Stone said. “I did it myself.”

“Yeah, but Callie doesn’t like it.”

“She hasn’t even seen it.”

“You think that matters? She doesn’t like it because you decorated it, dumbo. She won’t think of it as her home until she’s changed all the wallpaper and carpets and had a big garage sale and sold everything you love most in the house.”

“You really know how to make marriage attractive, Dino.”

“I’m telling you the truth, here.”

“Did Mary Ann redecorate your place?”

“No, she sold my place one day when I was at work, and I had nothing to say about it. Then we bought one she liked.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“This conversation is making me tired,” Stone said.

“I don’t blame you. Reality is always tiring.”

Stone drained the last of the wine from his glass. “I’m going to bed.”

“Good idea. The very least you should do about this marriage idea is to sleep on it. For about a month.”

“I think I could sleep for a month,” Stone said, yawning. “I could do that.”

“Then go do it, pal,” Dino said. “I’m going to finish my wine and look out at the night.” He settled himself in a big leather chair and turned on the TV.

“Good night, then.” Stone went to his cabin, undressed and got into bed. He stared at the ceiling, thinking about Callie redecorating his beloved house, until he fell asleep.

Then, seconds later, it seemed, Dino was shaking him.

“What?” Stone mumbled sleepily.

“Get up. You gotta see something.”

“Jesus, Dino, what time is it?”

“A little after two.”

“Don’t you ever sleep?”

“I was sleeping, in the chair in front of the TV. Then I woke up.”

Stone turned over and fluffed his pillow. “Then go back to sleep.”

“Stone, get out of the fucking bed right now and come with me.”

Stone turned over and tried to focus on Dino, then he realized that his friend had a gun in his hand. He sat bolt upright, now fully awake. “What’s wrong?”

“Put your pants on and come with me.”

Stone got out of bed and put his pants on, then padded along behind Dino as he led the way to the afterdeck.

“Look,” Dino said, waving an arm.

“Look at what?”

“Look at the shore.”

“What about the shore?”

“We aren’t tied up to it anymore.”

“Huh?” Stone looked quickly toward where the seawall behind Thad Shames’s house should have been. It wasn’t there.

“We’re adrift,” he said.

“That’s the word I was looking for,” Dino said. “Adrift!”

“Why?”

“How the hell do you think I know? What do I know about boats?”

“This is crazy,” Stone said. “The engines aren’t running. Where’s the crew?”

“Ashore, probably drunk,” Dino said. “What do we do?”

Stone grappled with that problem for a minute. “We stop the yacht,” he said.

“Great. How do we do that?”

“Come on,” Stone said, “let’s get up to the bridge.”

“The bridge,” Dino said, following Stone at a trot. “I like that. It sounds real nautical.”

56