The Groaning Board

to the nape of her neck.
    She was mesmerized, keys in hand,
afraid to move and lose the thrill. “God,” she said, closing her eyes.
    Then he said, “Shall I do the door?”
    “No!” She willed herself out of the
sexual languor, aware now of Izz’s yelping on the other side of the door.
“Beware of the vicious dog,” she said as she opened the door. A whirling ball
of yiping white fur leaped into her arms. “Mmm, mmm, yes, I know.” Then the
wriggling and licking stopped while Izz inspected the newcomer.
    Veeder put his palm under her nose
and let her sniff him. “I much prefer dogs to cats,” he said. Izz covered his
hand with kisses.
    Wetzon set her on the carpet. “Bill,
meet Izz.”
    He knelt and rubbed Izz’s ears; she
rolled over on her back, giving him everything she had. Great, Wetzon thought.
    “Isadora?”
    “Isabella.”
    “A grand name for a lady.” He reached
his hand out toward Wetzon’s knee, but she moved faster. “Sorry,” he said, as
if it was an accident.
    “No, you’re not.”
    In the kitchen she rinsed Izz’s water
dish and refilled it. “Can I get you anything?” she asked Veeder, who had
followed her into the kitchen. Izz was right at his heels.
    “Coffee.”
    “It’s decaf.”
    “My brand.”
    He left her to the
grinding-measuring-pouring process, and she could hear him wandering through
her apartment. Thank God, it was clean. What the hell was he doing?
    “It’s very nice,” he said, startling
her as she poured hot water into the filter.
    “What did you think it would be?”
    “I don’t know what I thought. You can
tell a lot about a person by seeing how he—or she—lives, don’t you think? The
Arts and Crafts Movement is a very strong, masculine choice for the home of a—”
    “Strong, masculine woman?”
    “Strong, yes. Masculine, hardly.
Still, it’s curious. Unless the design reflects what’s-his-name... Silvestri?”
    “No, it doesn’t reflect him at all. I
redid the apartment four years ago when I was flooded out. We were not together
then.” She poured coffee into mugs. “How do you take it?“
    “Black.” He picked up both mugs,
carried them into the living room, and set them on the coffee table. “Now this
is interesting,” he said, inspecting the table.
    “It’s a rope bed, probably nineteenth
century, used by hired hands. It still has the original rope and some of the
red paint. I had the glass top made to fit over it.” She was proud of her
creation.
    He sat on the sofa, making a space
for her, but she chose the love seat. Izz scampered into the room and skidded
to a halt, having to choose one surface, either sofa or love seat. “See that
little brain clicking,” Wetzon said. “Come here, Izz.”
    Izz, the little whore, chose the
sofa, settling in next to Veeder, who laughed and patted his lap. “There’s room
for you too here, miss.” Izz took it for an invitation and climbed in.
    They looked at each other and
laughed. Their eyes held and it was like a blood oath and they both knew it.
    Wetzon groped for something innocuous
to say. “I— uh—speaking of partners... Smith... A.T. told her about the IPO of
The Groaning Board.”
    “A.T. talks too much. Everyone talks
too much.”
    “Not you, Bill.”
    “Even me.”
    “Micklynn is not happy about going
public.”
    “She’ll come around. Once the TV show
begins airing in the fall, there’ll be book offers. She and A.T. are going to
be too busy to run the catering business and the shop. This is the right timing
for an initial public offering, believe me, Leslie.” It wasn’t what he said, it
was how he was saying it. It was his voice, as if he was making love to her.
“The right timing, Bill,” she gave it right back to him. Was this what flirting
was?
    “With the twelve million we raise,
Leslie, the company can open Groaning Board shops around the country. It’s a
cash cow. Everyone will cash in, including the stockholders. Micklynn will be
very rich. She’s unhappy in the partnership.”
    “That’s hardly a surprise. Micklynn
and A.T. seem really mismatched.”
    “That doesn’t mean the partnership
doesn’t work.”
    “You don’t have to tell me that.
Smith and I are the great mismatch of all time. Incidentally, Smith wants to be
a big stockholder.”
    “What about you?” He was scratching
Izz behind her ears.
    Do me, do me, Wetzon thought, but she
said, “I’m not greedy. I have enough money. I decided long ago that I’m never
going to get