Page 225 - Some Dance to Remember

Some Dance to Remember 195

homomuscular buddies to think about. For Jan’s TV special—I can call
you Jan, can’t I? Good! For Jan’s special, catch this, I walk into that gym
where you and Kick workout and shout: ‘What insecurity brings you
here?’ I could shrivel those muscleheads down so far to their real size the
camera would need a macro-lens to find them.”
“That’s a specious argument,” Ryan said.
“Is it?”
“You could walk in any place where people are trying to improve
themselves and shout that. Compensation isn’t the only motivation guys
have for working out.”
“Compensation is what the world is all about,” January said.
“So, tell me, Jan, what are you compensating for?” Solly said.
She turned to Solly. “I like you,” she said “I like you a lot.”
“Terrific,” Ryan said.
“Robert Opel promised me,” January said, “that I’d find strange bed-
fellows on this assignment.”
Ryan looked at Solly who looked back at Ryan. They burst out
laughing.
“Oh, poo,” January said. As she walked up to the lens of her camera,
she actually put her pinkie into her mouth and bit its nail with her front
teeth. “I’m running out of tape.”

4

That night, searching for the right muscle Look, Kick’s dick hard-
ened. He picked around in his closet in Ryan’s bedroom. All his shirts,
even the tee shirts, hung on hangers.
“I love my shirts,” he said. He wrapped one of his king-sized, baby-
blue plaid Pendletons around Ryan and squeezed him tight.
“They’re such beautiful shirts,” Ryan said.
“Check this out.” Kick held up a soft gray cotton tee shirt. He stood
stripped to the waist. He was between contests and his torso was unshaven.
His hair pattern was classic: thick across his shoulders, coming down his
big pecs, spilling spun-golden over them and on down his washboard
abs. ALABAMA was stenciled in crimson block letters across the gray tee
shirt’s chest. He shot each arm through the tight sleeves and pulled the
neck on over his carefully groomed blond hair. He palmed ALA first on
one bulging pec and then BAMA on the other.
“The old Crimson Tide,” he said. He adjusted the tight band of the
short sleeves around his baseball biceps. He ran his hand down the cotton

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