Authors: J. Fields Jr.
Clothes.
Where did Antonio put his clothes?
Bedroom closet.
He yanked that open and found a collection of shirts and trousers on hangers.
He bear hugged the whole bunch and lifted them off the closet rod.
Then he kicked the door closed with his foot.
“Can I come out?”
“Okaaaa-ay!”
The sound of the guest bathroom door opening followed the sound of clinking hangers as he dumped the clothes onto the bed and spun around in time to see
Shannon
walk into the living room, patting her cheeks dry with a hand towel.
She was wearing a man’s dress shirt and the same nothing over her legs, along with the same slippers over her feet.
Her hair was a mess.
Face washed clean of makeup.
She looked amazing.
Max grabbed the double doors to the master bedroom and swung them closed on either side of him.
“Well,” said
Shannon
.
“I almost feel normal again.
And a little sleepy, thanks to the pills.
What’s wrong?”
“I’m fine.
Just tidying up.”
“You’re all sweaty.
What’s all over your jacket?”
“Cheese.”
“Oh, of course it is.”
Max winked, hoping it looked self-assured.
“Just be a minute.
I want to make sure everything is cleaned up for you, okay?”
“Why don’t I just sleep on this?”
She sat down on the sofa bed, which Antonio had pulled out for Max.
“Comfy.”
“Well.
Let’s keep your options open.”
“Okay.
I’ll watch some TV.”
Max nodded.
“Very good.
Out in a jiffy.”
His two personalities seemed to be commingling now.
He shut the doors and turned and looked at the jumble of clothes on the bed.
A person didn’t really need this many clothes.
Take
Shannon
for instance, who seemed to be living a rich and full life with a shirt and a pair of slippers.
He shook his head to dislodge her from his brain so he could think.
Where could he hide the clothes so she wouldn’t find them?
Inspiration struck.
He grabbed an armful of clothes and fell to his knees.
He bent and began to shove them underneath the bed.
They didn’t get very far.
The bed was sitting on a wooden riser; the whole thing was boxed in.
“Dammit.”
He looked around.
Shower?
Top of the armoire?
Behind the bathroom door?
Cut them up and flush them piece by piece down the…
Ah-ha.
Balcony.
He unlatched the balcony door, swung it open, and dumped the clothes on the small railed landing.
He closed and latched the door, frowning at the heap of clothing until he realized he could pull the drapes.
Shannon
called from the living room:
“How’s it going?”
“Good, good,” he said, rushing into the bathroom.
Razors, shaving cream, toothbrush, comb, fancy soaps that Trixie liked.
He could say it was all complimentary amenities.
Except for the bar of soap he’d already used and that he plucked from the soap dish and wrapped it in toilet paper and shoved it into his pocket.
His laptop went into its carry bag and into the safe.
He took one last look around.
Not exactly a five-diamond cleaning job, but good enough, considering he had no idea what he was doing.
He took a deep breath.
Looked at himself in the mirror.
He looked less like a butler.
Mostly he just looked panicky.
He used a wad of toilet paper to brush the Dorito dust from his lapels.
In the living room
Shannon
was lying down on the couch.
She had folded the bed back in and replaced the cushions.
Max wished he’d thought to do it for her.
“I’m watching Robocop 3,” she said.
“You like Robocop?”
“I like all movies.
But I think Peter Weller was a much better Robocop.
The guy in the third movie was kind of too stiff.
The whole
point
is that there’s supposed to be a thinking, feeling man inside the robot.
You’re looking at me funny.
Why are you looking at me funny?”
“You not only like Robocop, you’ve thought about Robocop.”
“Want to watch it with me?”
“Me?”
She laughed and pointed her finger at him, thumb moving like the hammer of a pistol.
“You, cowboy.”
“Well.”
“Unless you have something to do, but geez, shouldn’t you be off the clock by now?
You work too much, Max.
You need to relax.”
“I do?”
“Relax and watch Robocop.
I’ll pass out in a few minutes anyway.”
He wasn’t sure what to do.
While he was thinking about it he realized that this was a moment most people would consider an awkward silence.
He’d never experienced one of them before, and it was definitely awkward.
Shannon
scooted her legs closer to her body and patted the cushion beside her on the couch.
“Or, if you’re still on the clock, then consider this an official guest request.”
“Oh, okay then.”
He stepped over and sat down on the club chair that was placed beside the couch.
She frowned.
“What are you doing?”
“Watching Robocop and relaxing.”
“We’re watching a movie
together.
That’s strictly couch.”
She patted the empty cushion again.
He got up and sat down next to her.
“Ah,” he said, trying to sound more comfortable than he felt.
He cleared his throat.
“There’s a part in this movie where Robocop is flying.
You can see the wires holding him up.”
She kicked off her slippers.
Her bare feet rested against his thigh.
“Is that part coming up?”
Max edged a few inches away.
“I think so.
Soon.”
“Uhm.
You’re making me feel fat.”
“What?”
“You shifted.”
“Shifted?”
“You shifted away.
Do my feet stink?”
“Just wanted to give you some room to stretch out.”
“Oooh.”
She swiveled around and stretched her legs out, resting her feet on his lap.
“Like this?”
“Uh-huh,” he said.
“Okay.”
She wiggled her toes.
They were connected to feet that were connected to legs that stretched away into twin naked lines of skin out of the corner of his eye.
He stared at her toes so he wouldn’t look at her legs, because somewhere over there her shirt was sort of open.
“You’re staring at my toes.
What’s wrong?”
He said exactly what he was thinking.
“They line up perfectly.”
“My
toes
line up?”
Without hesitation, Max reached out and poked each toe with his index finger.
He even counted to ten.
“They are very lined up.”
“They do seem pretty organized, don’t they?”
Shannon
leaned forward and squinted.
“Is that weird or normal?”
“Not normal.”
“So it’s weird.”
“No, I mean they’re better than normal.
My ex-wife was a cocktail waitress.
Walked around in heels for eight hours a day.”
Shannon
wrinkled her nose.
“Bad toes?”
“I never really thought it before, but now that I’ve seen what lined-up toes look like, yeah.”
Shannon
leaned back on her cushion.
“I have good toes.”
She wiggled them.
“Don’t tell anybody.
It will be our little secret.”
“I can’t be trusted with this knowledge.”
She nudged his leg.
“Stop it.”
Max spoke to her toes.
“She’s holding you back.
You could have it all.”
“Stop teasing them!
You’ll just get their hopes up.”
She wedged her feet underneath his legs to hide them.
The wiggling feet sent dangerous vibrations up the back of Max’s thighs.
“Oookay.
Get them back up here.”
“Are you ticklish?”
Shannon
wiggled her feet.
“Look at you
giggling!”
Max spread open his lap and pinned down her feet, wrapping his hands around them.
“I give up!
I won’t bother your toes anymore.”
“Hey,” she said.
“Your hands are really warm.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Massage oil warm.”
“Massage oil warm?
You mean greasy?”
“No, silly.”
She frowned.
“It was a
hint.
”
“Ah.
You want me to book you a massage.”
She rolled her eyes.
“No I want you too...”
She suddenly sat upright.
“Hey guess what?”
“What?”
“There’s a wet spot on your pants.”
“Is that another hint?”
“No, that’s a statement.
Wet spot.
Pants.
Right about there,” she nudged his pocket with her toe.
Max stood up, utterly embarrassed.
“Oh,” he had stuck his hand in his pocket and it came out gooey.
“That’s disgusting.”
“What the heck is it?”
Max pulled out the wet wad of toilet paper.
“Soap.
From the bathroom.”