“You’re the one who wants to follow up every lead.”
“Yeah, but…”
Tony was surprised at Shahla’s reluctance. It took him several minutes of talking before she agreed that this might be a good idea. But all at once her face lost its frown, and she smiled, like clouds parting to let the sun shine.
She said, “Okay, you’re right. We need to check this out.”
The first part of her e-mail address was “writeon,” which was gender-neutral. Having the word “write” in it didn’t hurt, either. Both of Tony’s addresses, business and personal, had “tony” in them, so they agreed to use Shahla’s. Shahla was able to log into her e-mail from Patty’s computer.
Tony said, “You’re the writer. Compose a note to him that he can’t resist. Tell him you’d like to meet with him on Saturday afternoon. Let him name the place.”
He watched as Shahla worked. She wrote fast and confidently and then made a few changes until she was satisfied: “Hi, Paul. I have read and enjoyed the poems on your website. They have spirituality that I find lacking in today’s poets. As I read them, I am drawn into an ethereal world of promise. I would love to meet you. I heard from another one of your admirers that you live in Las Vegas. Is this true? It so happens that I will be in Las Vegas on Saturday. Can we get together in the afternoon? That would be fantastic. Name the time and place. Yours, Sally.”
“‘Spirituality’ and ‘ethereal world of promise’? What does all that mean?”
“Not a thing,” Shahla said with a smile. “But poets love big words.”
“You’re too smart for your own good. Just remember, if he should happen to reply to this, I’m the one who’s going to meet him, not you.”
“Of course,” Shahla said, her eyes wide with innocence. “I never thought anything else.”
CHAPTER 13
As Tony opened the back gate to the small patio of his townhouse, he saw that all the downstairs lights appeared to be on. Then he heard explosions through the open sliding door and figured that Josh must be watching a war movie on his big-screen TV. He heard raucous laughter and knew that Josh had some of his friends over. On a Monday night.
This had happened before, and Tony thought he had put a stop to it. The rule was that Josh could have friends over on Friday or Saturday nights, but not the other nights. Tony had hinted that he would make an exception for a well-behaved woman, as long as Josh and the woman did whatever consenting adults do behind the closed door of Josh’s bedroom, but Josh never seemed to have women over anymore. Was this the same Josh who had tried to date every coed at the University of Michigan?
Time for action. Tony slid open the screen door and entered the townhouse. He marched through the family room, down the short hallway, and into the living room. The scene was much as he had anticipated. Josh reclined on the reclining chair with a can of beer in his hand. Two men sat on the couch, each with his own can of beer. They were all casually dressed, in jeans and T-shirts touting athletic teams or running events that they undoubtedly hadn’t participated in. If they were like Josh, their main exercise was elbow bending.
Spilled potato chips littered the carpet and were in danger of becoming a permanent part of the weave. The ubiquitous cooler sat on the floor at Josh’s side. Tony glanced at the screen of the television set and recognized a scene from the movie, Saving Private Ryan. Nobody saw him for a few seconds. All eyes were intent on the screen. He cleared his throat, between explosions.
Josh turned his head toward Tony and said, “Noodles. You’re home from the Hotstuff Line. The hero returns to collect his reward for valor.”
Tony knew what was coming and stepped aside as Josh tossed a can of beer to him, so that most of the ice water flying in formation with it missed him as he reached out and deftly caught it with one hand. He had always had good hands. If he had only been taller and about twice as fast, he could have been a wide receiver. He popped open the beer and took a swig.
Josh aimed his remote at the TV and put the movie on Pause. “Noodles, I want you to meet two of my buds.”
Josh named two names that didn’t register in Tony’s consciousness. He did shake hands with them, not bothering to apologize for having a wet and cold hand from the beer, because their hands were equally wet and cold.
“There was a time when Tony would have been here partying with us,” Josh said. “But, alas, that doesn’t happen anymore. Because Tony has been saved. Speaking of being saved, how went the battle tonight? Did you convince any queers with AIDS that were about to blow their brains out not to, even though that’s probably a mistake? And was that underage babe working with you tonight? What’s her name-Sarah?”
“Sally.”
“Sally.” He turned to his friends. “Tony has a tough job. He answers telephones and listens to the problems of people more fucked up than we are, all night. So you think you should feel sorry for him, right? But what you don’t know is that while he’s doing it, he hangs out with these teenage babes who don’t wear any clothes.”
“Cool,” friend one said. “I wish I could get a job like that.”
“The only problem,” Josh said, standing up, “is that they have their bodies pierced in so many places that you can’t touch them without getting stabbed.”
“That’s not true,” Tony said, realizing how dorky he sounded.
Josh ignored him and said, “It’s not just their ears, although some of them have enough metal in their ears to build a tank.” He lifted his T-shirt and said, “Belly buttons.” He pointed to his own belly button, which stuck out, along with the rest of his belly. “Wouldn’t I look great with a navel ring?” He moved his belly in and out, using more muscles than Tony had seen him use in a while.
The friends laughed. Tony wondered how he could put a stop to this.
“Nipple rings.” He pushed his T-shirt higher and grabbed one of his nipples with the same hand. The other hand still held a can of beer. “How do you suck on that with a ring in your mouth. Ugh. But worst of all is the clit ring. Does Sally have a clit ring, Tony?”
Tony had to restrain himself to keep from throwing his beer can at Josh. He said, “I want to talk to you in the other room. Now.”
Josh was still playing to his friends. He shook his head and said, “When Noodles uses his school-teacher voice, I have to listen. It won’t be pretty.” He unpaused the movie and said, “I don’t want you guys to have to hear it.”
Tony led the way through a short hallway into the family room and then turned left into the kitchen, placing the maximum amount of distance between them and the living room. He turned to face Josh, who had followed him. He was seething so much he couldn’t talk. Josh stood and sipped beer, an innocent look on his face.
“First of all,” Tony said, finding his voice, “you’re not supposed to have guys over during the week.”
“Oh, yes. Dumb me.” Josh struck himself on the forehead with the heel of his hand. “Dorm rules. But I figured since you weren’t here, it would be okay. I planned to kick them out before you got home. Sorry. I lost track of the time. What time is it, anyway?”
“It’s ten-thirty. And I don’t care whether I’m home or not. You disturb the neighbors with all your noise.”
“Okay, okay, I know when you’re provoked. I’ll tell them to leave now.”
“Wait. I’ve got something more to say. I don’t like the way you talk about the girls on the Hotline. In fact, I don’t like the way you talk about all women. You know what you are? You’re a misogynist.”
“A what-gynist? Is that anything like a gynecologist? Tony, my boy, you have flipped. You have absolutely flipped. Do you know what that job has done to you? It has made you into a wimp, a wuss. A goddamned wuss. You are not the same Tony I knew. And I don’t like the new model.”
“Well then, maybe you should move out.”
This stopped Josh in his tracks. He became quiet. Gone was the bluster. His face became as red as his hair. He stared at Tony. “Move out? You want me to move out?”