Page 95 - Some Dance to Remember
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Some Dance to Remember                                      65

               first night,” he said, “what you’ve always known about yourself. You have
               a rich soul.” He reached out his massive, hairy arm and touched Ryan’s
               beard with his hot hand.
                  There are people who burst into flames, incredible cases of sponta-
               neous human combustion, people crumbled literally to ashes by searing
               flames that reach two thousand degrees while their clothes are not even
               singed. These are bizarre cases baffling to the scientific community; yet
               they are well documented in tabloids the world over. They are part of the
               folklore of our popular culture.
                  Kick rose like a Viking warlord up on the block alongside the nagging
               Teddy.
                  “You know in your heart,” Kick said, “what you can live with, and
               what you can’t live without.”
                  Teddy went down the toilet.
                  “You want excellence. I want quality. We want the same thing.”
                  “Yes,” Ryan said. “Yes.”
                  “Then it’s settled.” Kick folded Ryan-Orion into a bear hug. The
               arrangement began a tale of two cities. Ryan flew back to San Francisco.
               Kick kept his Venice Beach house. Long distance connected them nightly.
               Kick drove his red Corvette Stingray up I-5. His visits became more fre-
               quent and longer. He could not leave and Ryan could not let him go. They
               were finding the unfindable in each other. The end of one weekend began
               to meet midweek with the beginning of the next.
                  “So,” Teddy said, “why doesn’t he, like, move in? Why do I always get
               sent off to Bar Nada? Who do you think you are? Who does he think he
               is? Who do you think I am?”
                  “I don’t give a fuck,” Ryan said.
                  “I saw you first.” Teddy was crying. “Eight years....”
                  “To you I’m the fastest checkbook in the West. Your account’s closed,
               buddy. You’re overdrawn. Flat busted.”
                  “Disgusted. You can’t be trusted.” Teddy pulled Ryan to him and
               held him so tight he couldn’t fight free. “I love you, you sonuvabitch. I’m
               your lover.”
                  “You’re a tenant renting a room in my house.”
                  “Goddam you.” Teddy squeezed Ryan tighter. “I have some rights.”
                  “All you’ve got, you asshole, is kitchen privileges. Now let go of me!”
                  “Not until you tell me you love me.”
                  “I don’t love you. Let me go. You’re making me claustrophobic.”
                  Teddy shook Ryan as hard as he could. “Tell me you love me!”
                  “I don’t love you, you idiot! Let me go. You’re hurting me.”

                        ©Jack Fritscher, Ph.D., All Rights Reserved
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