Page 28 - Sweet Embraceable You: Coffee-House Stories

16 Jack Fritscher

fly landed again. This time it marched strangely across his chest.
A bead of sweat headed fast down his belly toward the pool in his
navel. He opened his eyes.
“About time,” said the figure silhouetted against the sun.
Cameron was momentarily blinded. Startled. The man had
been tickling his belly with a stalk of mountain grass.
“Curtis!” Cameron said. “You’re late.”
Curtis brought the stem of grass to his mouth. He bit off the
end and smiled. “I like to talk to people when they least expect it.”
He spit out the butt end of grass. “Guess you’d say I’m strange.”
“Curtis,” Cameron said putting his feet on the ground, “you’re
more than strange.”
“Come with me,” Curtis pointed partway down the slope.
“We can talk better down at the old Tam Railway Station. My car
is parked over by the lovely hippie.” He climbed uninvited on the
motorcycle. “You can drive us down,” he said. The straw twitched
between his teeth.
“So get off so I can start it,” Cameron said pulling on his shirt.
Curtis obeyed.
Cameron kick-started the bike into roaring life. “Okay,” he
said. “Get on.”
Curtis swung his leg across the machine. “Where do I hang
on?” he asked.
“Sit on your hands,” Cameron said. “Don’t play so dumb.”
“It’s time we talked,” Curtis said. “Really time.”
“About what?”
“About Ada.”
“What about Ada?”
“I married her before she married you.”
“That makes you some kind of expert?”
“Exactly.”
Cameron shifted the bike, angry, and peeled out of the parking
lot with Curtis hanging on for dear life.

©Jack Fritscher, Ph.D., All Rights Reserved
HOW TO LEGALLY QUOTE FROM THIS BOOK