Rachel Alexander 03 - A Hell of a Dog

the stone wall that lined the park.
    “Here, let me give you a leg up,” he said, bending and linking his hands so that I could step on them. Ignoring his offer, I turned my back to the wall, hoisted myself so that I was sitting on it, and then swiveled around and jumped off, calling Dashiell to jump the wall and follow me.
    “Where are we going? They’ll never find us if we leave the park.”
    “Exactly,” he said, grinning.
    I stopped walking. Dashiell stopped, too.
    “I’m going back.”
    “Don’t,” he said. “I never had the chance—”
    At first he just stared at me. He didn’t look like a five-year-old any longer. He looked significantly older. Maybe deep into adolescence.
    He started coming closer, too close, if you ask me. When I saw his lips heading for mine, I ducked, leaving him with a mouthful of hair.
    “Rachel,” he said. “I never—”
    “Yeah, yeah, I know. You never knew it could be like this. Well, the truth is, it can’t. It can’t be like anything between us.“
    „You don’t understand,” he said.
    “But I do. I understand perfectly. Everyone is feeling frisky this week, and you feel left out. If I play my cards right, we could be part of it all, you know, the adultery that no one takes very seriously, that doesn’t spoil anyone’s home life. Because as you might well imagine”—I may have been shouting by then, but hey, this was New York, who the hell would even notice?—“I’ve been lying awake at night wishing I could have a meaningless roll in the hay with some other lady’s husband and then order up some traif from room service because there’s nothing quite like pork rinds after sex. It’s a well-known fact.”
    I took a deep breath and continued. “I would appreciate it immensely if we could refrain from any sort of personal conversations for the rest of this week while we’re stuck in each other’s presence. We’re here to work, and I find this sort of—”
    “I hear you, Rachel. It was foolish of me to think—” Suddenly we could hear the dogs barking, coming our way. “This way.” He reached for my hand again, then thought better of it and gave me the hand signal for come. “Hurry.”
    We headed across the street and back to the hotel, going straight to the tea room, where we began gobbling dessert, trying to make it look as if we’d been there for ages, just waiting for them to show up.
    My mouth was full of cheesecake when the glass doors opened and the others burst in. I lifted my teacup and took a sip. “What kept you all?” I said, as casual as a polyester pants suit
    “Guess you’re not trying for tracking degrees with any of those mutts,” Chip added.
    Bucky could hardly catch his breath. “Good one, pally,” he said to Chip. “You really had us going this time.” He threw himself into the chair next to mine. I heard it groan.
    Martyn sat across from Bucky, still holding Alexi’s leash. Tracy was at the dessert table, and Beryl was pouring tea. Everyone looked happy, flushed with color, not nearly as tired as we all should have been.
    “How did you ever get involved in this insanity?” Chip asked Sam.
    “Don’t get me started,” she said, waving away the question. “Who’s up for the morning?” Audrey asked.
    “Good lord, it is morning,” Martyn said. “It’s me. I’d better be off to bed.”
    I looked around for Cathy and didn’t see her.
    “Have a cup first.” Beryl handed him tea, but before he got the chance to take a sip, Boris walked in with a better idea, three bottles of vodka. He held the door with his ample backside, and Cathy came in behind him with a huge bowl of water for the dogs.
    Boris filled eleven cups with vodka and handed one to each of us. “To American camaraderie,” he said, and we all cheered and emptied our cups, holding them out immediately for refills. Martyn waved away a second and handed Alexi’s leash to Bucky. Beryl got in the next toast before he got out the door.
    “To England.”
    So of course Martyn walked back in and refilled his cup.
    “To the queen,” he said.
    And then Boris was opening the second bottle. This time Martyn made it out the door before the toast.
    “To better days ahead,” Bucky said, holding up his cup. “And to Rick,” he added softly.
    “To Rick,” we all repeated.
    “He was in men’s clothing,” Bucky said.
    “Who was?” Chip asked.
    “Rick. Before his degree. He’d dropped out of college and bummed around out west for a year or so.