[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
scum out of their lives A.S.A.P.
He wondered just how risky it would be, thinking he might eventually be forced
to call Sean in.
Zanita had come straight upstairs after dinner. She had one hell of a headache.
She immediately threw off her clothes, donning her thick flannel nightgown.
Proper clothes for the proper job.
Moistening a washcloth with ice-cold water, she draped it across her forehead
and flung herself prostrate onto Tyber's oyster bed. Zanita on the half-shell.
She grimaced.
Dinner had been a complete fiasco.
Blooey got into another fight with My-Maggy. This time they fought over the
sequence of the layered salad.
Auntie had proclaimed the escarole quiche marvelous but terribly rich, this last
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said while pointedly staring at Mills.
Mills threatened to use her fork as a catapult for said quiche, aiming it
directly at Auntie when Auntie wasn't looking.
LaLeche, lapping up Blooey's cooking and casting the occasional lecherous glance
at her chest, continued dropping pearls of spiritual wisdom, somehow managing to
look like the cat who had swallowed the Tyber canary.
Hambone took turns wailing piteously during the meal at the lack of tidbits
forthcoming and growling at LaLeche's ankles. At least the cat was a good judge
of character.
Throughout it all, Tyber sat in stony silence while being mercilessly grilled by
Auntie on aspects of his virile physique.
No wonder her head was splitting.
She supposed she should feel bad at deserting Tyber to their guests, but her
head was pounding too loudly for her to care. Besides, she needed to get rid of
this headache to make room for another one. She was going to confront Tyber
tonight with his attitude adjustment.
The door to the bedroom flew open and slammed shut.
Zanita twitched, then moaned as the reverberations hit her skull. Tyber's words
sliced across her brow.
"Thank you very much for leaving me with that barracuda, Zanita."
"LaLeche?" came the muffled voice from under the washcloth.
"No. Your aunt."
She could hear him stomping across the floor toward the bed. Zanita lifted one
corner of the cloth to peer surreptitiously at him. He was unbuttoning his shirt
with short, angry movements of his fingers. When he finished, he dragged it off,
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
wadded it into a ball, throwing it in the general direction of the closet
hamper. It bounced off the lid, puddling on the floor. Tyber, who normally was
the neatest of men, uncharacteristically ignored it.
He turned back to her; she quickly lowered the cloth to play dead again.
"Are you sure that woman is a relative of what the hell is that draped across
your head?"
"A cloth."
"Yes, but why?"
"I have a headache, Einstein."
She felt the bed dip with his weight. "Do you feel sick?"
His tone had instantly gone from irritation to concern. It was precisely
this this caring behavior that was at the root of her headache in the first
place!
Not receiving a response, Tyber lifted the washcloth from her face only to be
confronted with a glaring visage.
"Put that back!"
"I just wanted to see if you were all right."
He was caring about her again! She began to smolder. In her mind's eye, she
could see smoke fuming all around her. "I told you I have a headache!"
"Then why don't you take some aspirin like most people do?"
"Because I prefer the medicine cloth. Now give me that." She tried to rip the
cloth out of his hands; he wouldn't let go.
"I've never heard a doctor say take two cloths and call me in the morning. You
are the crankiest person when you don't feel well. I'll get you some aspirin."
He started to get up; Zanita clamped her hand on his arm like a vise. "You get
off this bed, mister, and it'll be the last aspirin you ever get."
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The idea of this petite woman physically threatening him over a wet rag had its
humorous side. Tyber really wanted to laugh, but relationship survival being
foremost in his mind, he settled for a confused, hurt expression. "I'm sorry,
baby." He handed her back the cloth.
Zanita felt instantly contrite. "Forget about it, Tyber." She flung the cloth
over the aquarium.
"You think the fish have a headache now?" A dimple popped into his cheek.
"Very funny."
"Here, let me massage your headache away." He scooted back against the pillows,
placing her head on his lap. His two forefingers began massaging her temples on
either side. It felt good. Real good. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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scum out of their lives A.S.A.P.
He wondered just how risky it would be, thinking he might eventually be forced
to call Sean in.
Zanita had come straight upstairs after dinner. She had one hell of a headache.
She immediately threw off her clothes, donning her thick flannel nightgown.
Proper clothes for the proper job.
Moistening a washcloth with ice-cold water, she draped it across her forehead
and flung herself prostrate onto Tyber's oyster bed. Zanita on the half-shell.
She grimaced.
Dinner had been a complete fiasco.
Blooey got into another fight with My-Maggy. This time they fought over the
sequence of the layered salad.
Auntie had proclaimed the escarole quiche marvelous but terribly rich, this last
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
said while pointedly staring at Mills.
Mills threatened to use her fork as a catapult for said quiche, aiming it
directly at Auntie when Auntie wasn't looking.
LaLeche, lapping up Blooey's cooking and casting the occasional lecherous glance
at her chest, continued dropping pearls of spiritual wisdom, somehow managing to
look like the cat who had swallowed the Tyber canary.
Hambone took turns wailing piteously during the meal at the lack of tidbits
forthcoming and growling at LaLeche's ankles. At least the cat was a good judge
of character.
Throughout it all, Tyber sat in stony silence while being mercilessly grilled by
Auntie on aspects of his virile physique.
No wonder her head was splitting.
She supposed she should feel bad at deserting Tyber to their guests, but her
head was pounding too loudly for her to care. Besides, she needed to get rid of
this headache to make room for another one. She was going to confront Tyber
tonight with his attitude adjustment.
The door to the bedroom flew open and slammed shut.
Zanita twitched, then moaned as the reverberations hit her skull. Tyber's words
sliced across her brow.
"Thank you very much for leaving me with that barracuda, Zanita."
"LaLeche?" came the muffled voice from under the washcloth.
"No. Your aunt."
She could hear him stomping across the floor toward the bed. Zanita lifted one
corner of the cloth to peer surreptitiously at him. He was unbuttoning his shirt
with short, angry movements of his fingers. When he finished, he dragged it off,
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
wadded it into a ball, throwing it in the general direction of the closet
hamper. It bounced off the lid, puddling on the floor. Tyber, who normally was
the neatest of men, uncharacteristically ignored it.
He turned back to her; she quickly lowered the cloth to play dead again.
"Are you sure that woman is a relative of what the hell is that draped across
your head?"
"A cloth."
"Yes, but why?"
"I have a headache, Einstein."
She felt the bed dip with his weight. "Do you feel sick?"
His tone had instantly gone from irritation to concern. It was precisely
this this caring behavior that was at the root of her headache in the first
place!
Not receiving a response, Tyber lifted the washcloth from her face only to be
confronted with a glaring visage.
"Put that back!"
"I just wanted to see if you were all right."
He was caring about her again! She began to smolder. In her mind's eye, she
could see smoke fuming all around her. "I told you I have a headache!"
"Then why don't you take some aspirin like most people do?"
"Because I prefer the medicine cloth. Now give me that." She tried to rip the
cloth out of his hands; he wouldn't let go.
"I've never heard a doctor say take two cloths and call me in the morning. You
are the crankiest person when you don't feel well. I'll get you some aspirin."
He started to get up; Zanita clamped her hand on his arm like a vise. "You get
off this bed, mister, and it'll be the last aspirin you ever get."
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
The idea of this petite woman physically threatening him over a wet rag had its
humorous side. Tyber really wanted to laugh, but relationship survival being
foremost in his mind, he settled for a confused, hurt expression. "I'm sorry,
baby." He handed her back the cloth.
Zanita felt instantly contrite. "Forget about it, Tyber." She flung the cloth
over the aquarium.
"You think the fish have a headache now?" A dimple popped into his cheek.
"Very funny."
"Here, let me massage your headache away." He scooted back against the pillows,
placing her head on his lap. His two forefingers began massaging her temples on
either side. It felt good. Real good. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]