Bedtime Eyes by Amy Yamada

Author:Amy Yamada [Yamada, Amy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Literary, CFC, Fiction
ISBN: 9780312352264
Google: 1bhleTAufPIC
Amazon: B00127SFHK
Publisher: St. Martin's
Published: 1985-01-02T00:00:00+00:00

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1 0 4 A M Y Y A M A D A

glance, and I could have had him licking my boots with just a sigh But now J was fixating on every flicker of his thick eyelashes.

If this went on, I would start rotting like a discarded corpse. I had to do something. I looked at D.C. There would be no miracle with him.

Hopelessness washed over me. On the other side of the room, Leroy was drinking from a glass in one hand and was absently stroking the girl's cheek with the back of the other. She's not a keyboard. She's not your keyboard, Leroy!

"Ruiko, are you okay?" asked a friend.

My forehead was covered in sweat.

"I'm fine. Why? Really, I'm fine."

"She's much better," supplied D.C. in a serious tone. "We're back to J

making love every day." Everyone collapsed, laughing.

I was quiet—I didn't have the energy to get angry with his big mouth. Recently he started crying every time I tried to ignore him. It was such a hassle, I just took him to bed to avoid dealing with it.

"So, call me sometime. I'll give you my number—it's . . . "

I almost leapt out of my seat at Leroy's voice. My mind instantly became a blank sheet of paper, a pen poised, ready, and I memorized the figures as they tumbled off his lips to some woman, his familiar voice cutting through all the background noise, but far too low for D.C. or any of my friends to hear. At last I had it. Leroy's number was embla-zoned in my mind, fiery, hot, and glowing.

But then I began to wonder what to do with it. Did I want more fucking in the back of his car? Why was I letting myself down like this now? I'd always made a point of upholding my pride in front of men.

I had the feeling something powerful was moving me along. Maybe it was some kind of divine retribution for having recognized Leroy's talent, something governed solely by emotion and totally beyond control. Why was it jo hard, and why couldn't I break free? I felt trapped, thrashing against the sweet, sticky threads of a spider's web.

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