Vic Daniel 6 - As she rides by

Author:Pierce, David M [Pierce, David M]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2013-10-11T16:00:00+00:00

Tell you something about dreams, kids—they are true.

While they last.

Chapter Twelve

I had this little package they’d requested me to deliver—

It wasn’t strictly legal, but hell, tell me what is today?

IT WAS EIGHT-TEN the following morning, a bright and breezy Wednesday. The Dodgers were only four games out, the radio told me. I was in the kitchen area waiting for the toast to pop—seven-grain brown for Evonne, good old plain white for me. King was sitting at my feet and looking up hopefully. Evonne was in the shower showering. One minute she was singing away loudly—seems she wanted to borrow her father’s T-Bird, or something—the next she was wailing away and crying out, “Oh my God, just look at me!” So I hastened to the bathroom and did just that—it takes more than the sight of a lissome naked woman to spoil my appetite.

“What is it? Did you hurt yourself?”

“No! Worse!” She was turning this way and that in front of the floor-length mirror.

“Worse than hurting yourself?”

“Yes!” she said. “Don’t look, I’m starting to sag!” She also started to snuffle.

“Sag!” I exclaimed. “Where? I can’t see any sag, can you, King?”

“Right there!” she said, pointing to her curvaceous buns. “And here and here!” At which she pointed to two other delectable items. “Oh, Vic,” she moaned.

“Oh, baby,” I said. “Come here.” I wrapped a bath towel around her and then wrapped my arms around the both of them. I stroked her wet hair while she sniffled into my shoulder. “Those aren’t sags, honey, now come on. You’re talking to a sag expert here. I had sags when you still had zits.”

“Well, what would you call them, then,” she said, “being the big expert on the subject?”

I thought fast. “Newton,” I said. “I’d blame it all on him, he’s the one who invented gravity, after all. That’s all you got, babe, a little gravity breaking out here and there.”

“Oh shut up,” she said. “Get out of here, both of you.”

“Yes, dear,” I said. “Come on, King. Brekkies.”

“And don’t come back!” she shouted, slamming the door behind us. “All right,” I called back with admirable dignity. “I won’t. I will never enter my own bathroom again. Not even to hang up your wet towels you never hang up yourself.”

She emerged, attired and made-up, some short while later. No, she did not want any breakfast, thank you, give it to the dog. So I did. No, she did not want a cup of fresh-brewed Colombian coffee. She wanted to be taken to school, please, if it wasn’t too far out of my way.

“Certainly,” I said. I drove her to school, in a deafening silence. “Thank you,” she said, getting out of the car.

“You’re welcome,” I said. She hurried up the school steps and vanished inside. King looked at me inquiringly. “Want to hear a great sag joke I just thought up?” I asked him. “No, eh? Don’t blame you. Come up front for a change, my friend, suddenly I’m feeling mighty low.”

I patted the seat beside me; he hopped over from the back into it, and I drove us the few blocks to my office.

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