82 Desire

She tried it and it rang about fifteen times before he got to it.
    She said, “Hi. Were you up on a ladder? “
    “How’d you know?”
    “Good guesser. Listen, I’ve got a great idea. Why don’t we get out of town this weekend?”
    “You mean, like, declare a moratorium on remodeling? Am I that bad?”
    “It’s not that. I think my favorite case leads to Florida, and that seems like a good place to spend a weekend with your sweetie.”
    “Oh, it does, does it? What do I do while you’re working?”
    “Swim, maybe? I hear the beaches are beautiful. Besides, I won’t work that much. I promise. We could go down to Miami and check out South Beach.”
    “Tell you what—I’ll do that while you’re working.”
    She took that for a yes.
    She was so grateful to Steve for being such a good sport that she dropped by the Five Happiness and got a carload of Chinese takeout to have for dinner. She was met, as usual, by a barking, threatening Napoleon.
    Steve was home, already showered, dressed in clean shorts and T-shirt, and drinking a beer in the courtyard. This was getting to be a regular homecoming sight, and she liked it. If it weren’t for Napoleon going for my throat, I could be pretty happy, she thought. There’s always some damn thing….
    Steve stood to greet her, drawn by the fragrances emanating from the Five Happiness bags. She said, “This is a lot prettier sight than the courtyard last night.”
    Steve pointed with his beer. “All quiet in the Big House. We could have those goodies out here if you like.”
    “Maybe Napoleon could go in for a while.”
    Steve frowned. “I used to think you two were going to end up finding common ground.”
    “Only if we’re both buried in it.”
    He sighed. “If you’d just try a little…”
    “Me! He goes for my throat every time he sees me.”
    “He just smelled the food, that’s all. Why don’t you go take a shower, and I’ll set the table.”
    “Let’s put the food in the oven for a while. I feel like a drink.”
    By the time she got out of the shower, the damn dog had settled down and so had she. It was a soft, summery evening, with a light breeze and hardly any mosquitoes. She and Steve sat in the courtyard and sipped, thinking that on nights like this, New Orleans was a good place to be.
    Steve said, “Kenny and I had a little talk while we walked the dogs last night.”
    “I figured you did.”
    “Well, I need your advice. I don’t exactly know what to say to the parents. All this acting out’s about them.”
    “Oh, big surprise.”
    “It’s a really weird thing. You know how Dee-Dee says they like Layne better? Well, they do, sort of. But they’ve got a problem with him.”
    “What? I’m dying to know.”
    “Well, Kenny didn’t exactly put it like this, but I guess the bottom line is, they’re jealous.”
    “How exactly did he put it?”
    “Oh, about the way Sheila did. It was the context that made it clear what it was all about. I just said, ‘How are things going since Layne moved in?’ and he went through that whole business about how terminally cute the guys are. And you know that’s not like Kenny. That’s probably about it for Sheila, but I think Kenny’s got something else going on as well.”
    “What?”
    “Masculinity issues.”
    Skip got that punched-in-the-stomach feeling she sometimes felt when she’d heard a truth. “Oho. The tough-guy thing. Is that what you mean?”
    “Yeah, a real need to prove he’s not gay, now that he’s surrounded by people who are.”
    “The only thing is, that doesn’t exactly explain the earring.”
    “Oh, yeah, I think that was a mistake. He got it because it was weird, and then he was afraid it made the wrong statement. So he shaved his head.”
    “What could be simpler?”
    “Are you being sarcastic?”
    “No. It’s just that it’s anything but simple.”
    “Well, Kenny’s a complicated little person. I feel sorry for him. If I were in his situation, I’d probably have tattoos all over my body.”
    “I’d go ahead and tell them.”
    “Tell them what?”
    “Wasn’t that what you asked? What to tell the parents? I wouldn’t hold back—just be straightforward. They can handle it—you know how they are. They like to get in there and parent.”
    “That’s what I’m worried about. Maybe they should just leave the kids alone and let them work it out.”
    “Okay, so don’t tell them.”
    For some reason, both Skip and Steve loved to go on like this,