away, but she pulled out the canister of red pepper spray Bo insisted she carry. Bo was always worrying about things. One of his biggest problems was that he always expected the worst. So what if he was right? He just made the bad things twice as bad because he knew they were coming, expected to hear them knock at the door. Lucille preferred her own way of going at life. When the bad times struck, she hunkered down and waited for the shit to stop flying. It might smack her on her unprotected head, but at least she didn’t spend her whole life wearing a shit helmet like Bo.
The glow from the televisions stopped her, hand on the door. Bluish light filled with other colors, and it struck the glass windows and refracted into a blur of motion. She thought of a fish tank and smiled. It was Tuesday night. What would be on TV? She wasn’t certain because her viewing habits were so infrequent, and none of the Hares had cable. It was a matter of principle with Bo, and she had her computer. Was Driskell a cable watcher? She didn’t think so.
Easing forward to catch him at work, she was rewarded with a view of him standing at the long work desk. His posture was straight, and his hands were down where she couldn’t see what he was so intently engrossed in. It was the perfect opportunity for Lucille to observe him, something she found she’d been wanting to do. Something she could not stop herself from doing.
Driskell moved through the phantasmagoria of images cast upon the glass by the televisions. His movements were graceful and concise. The images swam over and through him, giving him a substance that belied his gauntness. Lucille found that she was holding her breath and she let it out slowly. A small circle of moisture appeared on the glass in front of her and she pressed her lips into it, feeling both the chill of the glass and the dampness of her own condensed breath. She bent down slightly and watched him through the delicate whorls of her own stenciled lips.
She had never seen such dark eyes, so black and yet so full of light. They were mirror-like, except they did not cast back the images but held the light absorbed from the television screens deep inside. He hadn’t looked up and noticed her yet, but Lucille knew that when he did, she would be drawn to him. Tiny feathers of wind frisked over the backs of her knees, delicious little licks.
As if he felt her gaze upon him, Driskell looked up from the tangle of wires he held and stared directly into her eyes. His lips moved.
“Come inside.”
Lucille could not hear him. Not with her ears. However, she knew exactly what he’d told her to do. Drawing back from the rapidly fading imprint of her lips, she walked inside.
Driskell smiled at something deep inside himself. When he spoke, his voice was husky. “I knew you would come.”
Lucille shivered, then rubbed her arms.
His smile faded. “Have you been ill? You look as if you’ve lost some weight?”
There was sincere concern in his voice. Lucille shook her head. “I’ve been so worried about this writers’ meeting. What if they don’t like my work?” She blinked back sudden tears and realized she was more distraught than even she had realized. All of this going to work on time and trying to please Everett, then trying to please Bo and the writers. It was a strain.
“They’ll like it.” Driskell looked back down at the wires. “You don’t mind if I work, do you?”
“Not at all.” She settled onto a stool beside the counter and watched his long fingers. They were like gulls, the way they dove into the tangle of wires and came up with just the right one.
“Lucille, I have some questions I must ask you.” “Good.” Lucille felt a tingle of excitement. “I have some for you.”
If he was to accomplish his mission, Driskell had to find a way to get closer to Lucille. This was a good start, but he had to play it carefully. There was also the story in the newspaper he had to ask her about. “Ladies
The glow from the televisions stopped her, hand on the door. Bluish light filled with other colors, and it struck the glass windows and refracted into a blur of motion. She thought of a fish tank and smiled. It was Tuesday night. What would be on TV? She wasn’t certain because her viewing habits were so infrequent, and none of the Hares had cable. It was a matter of principle with Bo, and she had her computer. Was Driskell a cable watcher? She didn’t think so.
Easing forward to catch him at work, she was rewarded with a view of him standing at the long work desk. His posture was straight, and his hands were down where she couldn’t see what he was so intently engrossed in. It was the perfect opportunity for Lucille to observe him, something she found she’d been wanting to do. Something she could not stop herself from doing.
Driskell moved through the phantasmagoria of images cast upon the glass by the televisions. His movements were graceful and concise. The images swam over and through him, giving him a substance that belied his gauntness. Lucille found that she was holding her breath and she let it out slowly. A small circle of moisture appeared on the glass in front of her and she pressed her lips into it, feeling both the chill of the glass and the dampness of her own condensed breath. She bent down slightly and watched him through the delicate whorls of her own stenciled lips.
She had never seen such dark eyes, so black and yet so full of light. They were mirror-like, except they did not cast back the images but held the light absorbed from the television screens deep inside. He hadn’t looked up and noticed her yet, but Lucille knew that when he did, she would be drawn to him. Tiny feathers of wind frisked over the backs of her knees, delicious little licks.
As if he felt her gaze upon him, Driskell looked up from the tangle of wires he held and stared directly into her eyes. His lips moved.
“Come inside.”
Lucille could not hear him. Not with her ears. However, she knew exactly what he’d told her to do. Drawing back from the rapidly fading imprint of her lips, she walked inside.
Driskell smiled at something deep inside himself. When he spoke, his voice was husky. “I knew you would come.”
Lucille shivered, then rubbed her arms.
His smile faded. “Have you been ill? You look as if you’ve lost some weight?”
There was sincere concern in his voice. Lucille shook her head. “I’ve been so worried about this writers’ meeting. What if they don’t like my work?” She blinked back sudden tears and realized she was more distraught than even she had realized. All of this going to work on time and trying to please Everett, then trying to please Bo and the writers. It was a strain.
“They’ll like it.” Driskell looked back down at the wires. “You don’t mind if I work, do you?”
“Not at all.” She settled onto a stool beside the counter and watched his long fingers. They were like gulls, the way they dove into the tangle of wires and came up with just the right one.
“Lucille, I have some questions I must ask you.” “Good.” Lucille felt a tingle of excitement. “I have some for you.”
If he was to accomplish his mission, Driskell had to find a way to get closer to Lucille. This was a good start, but he had to play it carefully. There was also the story in the newspaper he had to ask her about. “Ladies
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