I arrived exhausted, my face and body drawn out. Removing the work clothes I still had on-I had to rushed to catch the last plane out-then climbing into my favourite aromatheraphy baths in days, I stretched out in the miracle of the foam bath, a tired smile towards him, glad to have reached him. I guess he knew that exhausted and focussed look, the drawl of my slurring voice as I told my stories.
'I never thought talking to people would be so tiring. Jerome, he gave me a two thumbs up today after my speech with the traders. We closed the 5th deal this year.'
He was on the edge of the tub watching me, closed eyes, away from the world. I'd cut my hair short. I was much thinner. He could see that I've fallen even more in love with my job. Tired out but also refreshed by it.
I leaned forward and pulled the plug out, lay back again to feel the water disappear round me. Then I stood on the tiles, my body passive as he pressed the towel against my dark tanned shoulders.
'I know the names of our products in German,' I boasted. 'I know some German.' I'm sleepy now. Can hardly talk. Tell me bout your day...tell me something.'
'I've written a piece on Ferretti.'
'No.'
'My jet black inked history?'
'Yes. Always.'
But I was already asleep, with a smile on my face.
Sitting at the table across the room from me, Ron started rolling up his stash. I was deep in the white linen bed. Mumbling constantly, as if pitching a deal.
I woke at about nine in the morning, the room dark and cold, and slid naked from the large bed where Ron was still dreaming. I climbed into the shower and turned it on but after a minute came out with an idea. Not bothering to dry myself, I unzipped my overnight bag and pulled out my new video camera I'd bought from my work trip. I inserted the memory card and hoisted it onto my wet shoulder. Switched it on.
I began with the room, then returned to the bathroom. A close up of the texture of the towels, a close up of the shower water still running. I stood on the bed and shot down at his sleeping head, soft brown hair, his left arm out to where I'd been all night beside him. My pillow. Back to him, his curved lips, sexy ribs, back off the bed onto floor level, the camera steady, down to his ankles. Walked backwards to take in our clothes on the floor, and then to the table to his stash. Close up on the greens.
I removed the memory card from the machine and buried it under his chest drawers. I packed the camera in my bag then got back into bed beside him.
We were lying in bed, in the sunlight. 'I can't imagine your past,' he said. 'I'm a complete stranger to you. Hometown. 'You don't go back?'
'Not so often anymore. No.'
Our lives together was best in these brief quiet times, lazily, postcoitally conversing. To him I guess I was clear, comforting and sweet, to me he was attached, mysterious, always interesting. Two out of three was not good.
We've met on another ocassion, poker game at Ben's then a birthday party. I was there for the fun, and Ron was there for brotherhood quite by chance.
'I'm sneaking away,' I said. 'Enough alcohol for the night!'
'Stay. I've got plans. I promised myself this evening with the boys. I promise you the best meal at 4am if you come with me.'
We drove to McDonalds. Packed up some chips and nuggets to go.
'Do you even know what you're doing?' he asked.
'Yes. Let's just say I'm aware and not half as stoned as you are.'
'Is that your opening line?'
A lit guardhouse appeared on the side of the housing area and he turned in and parked beneath the blinking lights of the basement. 'I live here,' he said.
We walked up the steps in each other's arms.
'Must be something in the JD. You sure you didnt spiked my drinks?'
'Yes.' he laughed.
'A known aphrodisiac...'
'I'll never sleep with you if you say you don't like Cafe del'mar...grab me a shirt.'
'From the rate of one to ten how much do you want to kiss me right now?'
'Kiss me here. Do you have a difficult past I've to learn?'
'As black as ink.'
'Ink eh. I never wanted to marry a pothead. You're attached, aren't you?'
'Lets just say I walk alone.'
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