[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

meet my parents this weekend.
 Huh? How can we still 
 I moved it to Sunday. He smiled like he d given me a slice of birthday cake.
I smiled back like I was allergic to wheat.
He and Gun hopped from the car, both doors slamming. Now was not the time to mention taking
another rain check on meeting his parents. But where would he stash Gun while we had tea and crumpets at
Westchester Manor? He d probably take the engaging German with us. Maybe Gunter could play the role
of Caesar Romano in the  let s go meet Dan s parents scene? He d do a fabulous job.
I climbed into the driver s seat, and Gunter startled me when he leaned into the window. Flashing his
zillion-dollar smile, he kissed my cheeks as only Europeans do kiss kiss and then he fumbled in his
jeans for his pack of smokes. I wanted to put a bag over his head, he was so damn obvious.  Danke, Caesar.
You have been gracious and I am distressed about ah earlier mix up. I don t wish to offend you. Ah you
angry?
He was so& straightforward. Despite the littering, the outrageous flirting, the searching hand on the
flowery couch and the recent crotch-shaving incident, Gunter was rapidly growing on me. It could be his
sincerity, or possibly his accent, but I thought it was his zest. And according to everyone I knew, life could
always use a bit more zest.
Gunter would make a fun friend, as long as he kept his grabby hands and his smooth thighs to himself.
I gave him an encouraging smile.  No, but I appreciate you asking. Now get the hell inside, and stay
out of trouble. Pull your hat down. Good luck with the interview.
He lit his cigarette, and those damn glasses sparkled iridescent blue.  I will slay them.
www.samhainpublishing.com 81
LB Gregg
 Shake a leg, man. Dan s shades mirrored the crowd. He was all business, as was appropriate.
 You re making yourself a target.
I let pedestrians cross while Dan and Gun navigated their way through Rockefeller Plaza. At midday,
the sun was unrelenting and in spite of the heat the courtyard was crowded with tourists. Every available
spot was filled lunch bags were open and pigeons fought for crumbs. I sweltered in the car and stared
longingly at the hotdog cart. A cold Perrier would really hit the spot.
I still wanted a cupcake. More precisely, I craved a red velvet cupcake with cream-cheese frosting.
Poppy had some in the bakery case and they were going to be mine.
Dan and Gunter vanished easily through the revolving door, and I put the Camry into drive, cautiously
heading to the next set of traffic lights. A sea of people dressed in summer clothes, work clothes, business
suits and costly apparel flowed like the tide around the creeping Camry. I couldn t go any faster without
nicking some poor visiting dentist from Duluth, and I was not using the word accident ever again.
Also, I was technically driving without a license.
Tourists snapped photos in front of the towering building. On the corner, next to the NBC store, a
uniformed security guard casually conversed with a man dressed as a circus clown. That only heightened
my opinion that people were crazy and no one in New York cared. Every make and model of humanity
converged here at Rockefeller Center. It was a hub of Manhattan, and so different from Brooklyn, or even
the Village. Faces blended into the crowd. From the lowest end of the social spectrum to the very highest
unless you were Donald Trump himself you were anonymous. Unnoticed. With the possible exception of
clowns and men in chicken suits and in that case, people dismissed you.
Stew or Jorge or even Kendal could stop to feed the pigeons ten feet away and I wouldn t differentiate
them from the rest of the crowd I d gloss over them.
I drove to the light, allowing plenty of distance between me and the next car. One might say there was
too much distance, but one couldn t be too careful. A taxi nearly clipped me, urging me to move forward
with the blare of his horn and an insistent nudge to the bumper, but I stayed put.
I stayed put and Kendal Schmidt entered the crosswalk dressed as a miniature midtown police officer.
Her cayenne-pepper hair was held in a ponytail beneath an ugly blue hat not that I was anyone to judge in [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]