was dynamite.”
Robin said, “It wasn’t bad.” She took her handbag from the bedside table into the bathroom, freshened herself and flipped the tape in the Panasonic recorder. She liked the way he referred to dynamite off the top of his head, but doubted that she had anything useful on the tape. Not yet, anyway.
Mark came out of his walk-in closet with two identical black silk robes, checked the size of one and gave it to Robin: phase two of the young executive drill, his-and-her shorty robes, playsuits worn over bare skin. They went into the living room and became part of it, Robin realized, blending with the silver and black decor, chrome and glossy black fabrics, black and white graphics on the wall she believed were nudes. Robin moved toward the big window, an evening sky outside, and Mark, pouring wine, said, “You’ve seen the river. It hasn’t changed.” He looked up and said, “You haven’t either. Come here.” Robin obeyed, joined him on the sofa, placed her handbag on the floor close between their bare legs, and let him study her profile as she stroked her braid and gazed out at the black and silver room.
He said, “You really haven’t changed.”
Robin remained silent.
He said, “You turn me on.”
Robin said, “Maybe it’s the robe.”
“You like it, it’s yours.”
“Thanks, Mark, but it feels used. If I want a robe I’ll get my own.”
He liked that, shining his brown eyes at her. He liked her attitude, she began to realize, because he wanted some of it to rub off on him.
“I’m not kidding, you really turn me on.”
She said, “That’s what I’m here for.”
“I don’t mean just in bed.”
She said, “I know what you mean.”
He told her she made him feel different, got him worked up again the way she used to during the movement days when they were raising hell, running a campus revolution. He told her he felt the same way now, he could look at her and get high.
Aw, that was nice. It softened her mood. She said, “I missed you, Mark.” She said it was weird, the feeling that she had to see him again. “Why now, after so many years?”
“I could feel it too,” Mark said. He told her it was like some kind of extrasensory communication. Like they were thinking of each other at the same time and the energy of it, like some kind of force, drew them together. He told her that when hewalked into Brownie’s his mind had flashed instantly on everything they did together during that time. And now when he thought of her he’d feel a rush, like he could do anything he wanted.
“You can,” Robin said. “What’s the problem?” Making it sound as though there wasn’t one.
“I told you: Woody.”
Mark said that at this point in time she was the only person he could talk to, because she knew where he was coming from, the way it used to be with Woody, Woody always there but sort of tagging along, never part of the action. He told her this was the reason he’d brought it up the other night, his situation, Woody holding him down, smothering him.
“I felt you reaching out,” Robin said.
“People don’t understand. Guys I have lunch with at the DAC, they’re into investments, venture capital, they don’t know from rock concerts. That’s what I want to do, produce concerts. But why should I have to bust my ass, go out and borrow money when it’s right there, in the family? When it’s as much mine as his?”
“It’s a matter of principle,” Robin said.
“Exactly. You know how long I’ve been carrying him?”
“Forever,” Robin said. “But why doesn’t Woody want to do rock concerts? Why Seesaw? ”
“Yeah, or The Sound of Music , for Christ sake, Oklahoma! He’s the one comes up with these dinosaurs, but I’m the producer, it’s my name goes on the playbill.”
“Not exactly hip,” Robin said. “It looks to me like he’s trying to get you to quit.”
“You ask him for money, you know how he gives it to you? He hands you the check, only he
Robin said, “It wasn’t bad.” She took her handbag from the bedside table into the bathroom, freshened herself and flipped the tape in the Panasonic recorder. She liked the way he referred to dynamite off the top of his head, but doubted that she had anything useful on the tape. Not yet, anyway.
Mark came out of his walk-in closet with two identical black silk robes, checked the size of one and gave it to Robin: phase two of the young executive drill, his-and-her shorty robes, playsuits worn over bare skin. They went into the living room and became part of it, Robin realized, blending with the silver and black decor, chrome and glossy black fabrics, black and white graphics on the wall she believed were nudes. Robin moved toward the big window, an evening sky outside, and Mark, pouring wine, said, “You’ve seen the river. It hasn’t changed.” He looked up and said, “You haven’t either. Come here.” Robin obeyed, joined him on the sofa, placed her handbag on the floor close between their bare legs, and let him study her profile as she stroked her braid and gazed out at the black and silver room.
He said, “You really haven’t changed.”
Robin remained silent.
He said, “You turn me on.”
Robin said, “Maybe it’s the robe.”
“You like it, it’s yours.”
“Thanks, Mark, but it feels used. If I want a robe I’ll get my own.”
He liked that, shining his brown eyes at her. He liked her attitude, she began to realize, because he wanted some of it to rub off on him.
“I’m not kidding, you really turn me on.”
She said, “That’s what I’m here for.”
“I don’t mean just in bed.”
She said, “I know what you mean.”
He told her she made him feel different, got him worked up again the way she used to during the movement days when they were raising hell, running a campus revolution. He told her he felt the same way now, he could look at her and get high.
Aw, that was nice. It softened her mood. She said, “I missed you, Mark.” She said it was weird, the feeling that she had to see him again. “Why now, after so many years?”
“I could feel it too,” Mark said. He told her it was like some kind of extrasensory communication. Like they were thinking of each other at the same time and the energy of it, like some kind of force, drew them together. He told her that when hewalked into Brownie’s his mind had flashed instantly on everything they did together during that time. And now when he thought of her he’d feel a rush, like he could do anything he wanted.
“You can,” Robin said. “What’s the problem?” Making it sound as though there wasn’t one.
“I told you: Woody.”
Mark said that at this point in time she was the only person he could talk to, because she knew where he was coming from, the way it used to be with Woody, Woody always there but sort of tagging along, never part of the action. He told her this was the reason he’d brought it up the other night, his situation, Woody holding him down, smothering him.
“I felt you reaching out,” Robin said.
“People don’t understand. Guys I have lunch with at the DAC, they’re into investments, venture capital, they don’t know from rock concerts. That’s what I want to do, produce concerts. But why should I have to bust my ass, go out and borrow money when it’s right there, in the family? When it’s as much mine as his?”
“It’s a matter of principle,” Robin said.
“Exactly. You know how long I’ve been carrying him?”
“Forever,” Robin said. “But why doesn’t Woody want to do rock concerts? Why Seesaw? ”
“Yeah, or The Sound of Music , for Christ sake, Oklahoma! He’s the one comes up with these dinosaurs, but I’m the producer, it’s my name goes on the playbill.”
“Not exactly hip,” Robin said. “It looks to me like he’s trying to get you to quit.”
“You ask him for money, you know how he gives it to you? He hands you the check, only he
Similar Books
