The King of Cards by Robert Ward

Author:Robert Ward [Ward Robert]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781440533976
Publisher: Tyrus Books
Published: 1993-07-15T00:00:00+00:00

I must confess that bright fall afternoon seemed filled with promise. Though theoretically I hated business, I had to admit that actually doing business—at least this kind of business—seemed like a great adventure. Here we were, a lit guy and gal, cruising beneath the flame-colored fall trees on historic row house Charles Street, headed down to the photo lab to pick up a great stack of I.D. photos for which we would eventually be paid fifteen thousand dollars. It seemed a small miracle—nearly impossible—and if it worked (and why shouldn’t it?), we could do the same at school after school. Driving with beautiful sexy Val, I succumbed to the I.D. card fever. Soon we would all be young millionaires, and then I would have plenty of time to devote myself more fully to my literary studies. After all, I told myself, even Dr. Spaulding once said that it was easier for a writer to get to the heart of life if he or she wasn’t burdened by the mundane worries and crushing anxieties of making a living.

What’s more, I had other thoughts about writing, new and exciting thoughts that Jeremy and Val had inspired in me.

“You know,” I said to Val as we rolled happily along, “I really want to start writing more. I really know it now.”

“You’re kidding,” Val said, grabbing my hand and looking at me with complete admiration. “That’s wonderful. We can write poems together, help one another.”

“No, you’re the poet,” I said. “I just want to start keeping notes on all this. Maybe I’m nuts, but I think we’re living out a great adventure and I want to document it all.”

She smiled and kissed my neck, sending goose bumps down my back.

“But you’re capable of so much more than just a documentary,” she said. “You could write a great novel.”

“I doubt that,” I said. “I’m no Henry James.”

“The hell with him,” Val laughed. “I know you think he’s the king of subtlety and all, but on some level he just told stories about the rich fops he hung around with in London. So you’ll do the same thing for Baltimore, only it’ll be more alive, wild, and sweeter ‘cause you’re wilder and sweeter.”

I started to blush, but she squeezed my cock for emphasis and such literary nit-picking seemed beside the point.

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