“Sorry,” Decker said wanly.
“It’s okay,” Catherine said, leading them into the kitchen. “I hate the little bastard—he pees in my shoes, did I tell you that?”
Out of nowhere Skink said: “We need a place for the night.”
Catherine nodded. “There’s plenty of room.” An emergency is right, she thought; that would be the only thing to get Decker to stay under the same roof.
Skink said: “Decker’s hurt, too.”
“I’m all right.”
“What is it?” Catherine asked.
“I almost broke his neck,” Skink said, “accidentally.”
“It’s just a sprain,” Decker said.
Then James the doctor—Catherine’s husband—walked into the kitchen. He wore a navy Ralph Lauren bathrobe that stopped at his pale hairless knees; he also wore matching blue slippers. Decker was seized by an urge to repeatedly slap the man in the face; instead he just froze.
James studied the two visitors and said, “Catherine?” He wanted an explanation.
Both Catherine and Decker looked fairly helpless, so Skink stepped forward and said, “This is your wife’s ex-husband, and I’m his friend.”
“Oh?” In his lifetime James had never seen anything like Skink up close, but he was doing his best to maintain a man-of-the-house authority. To Decker he extended his hand and said, “R.J., isn’t it? Funny we haven’t met before.”
“Uproarious,” Decker said, giving the doctor’s hand an exceedingly firm shake.
“They’re spending the night,” Catherine told her husband. “R.J.’s trailer flooded.”
“There’s been no rain,” James remarked.
“A pipe broke,” Catherine said impatiently.
Good girl, Decker thought; still quick on her feet.
“I’m going to fix these fellows some tea,” she said. “Everybody into the living room, now, scat.”
The living room had been designed around one of those giant seven-foot televisions of the type Decker had seen at Dennis Gault’s condominium. Every chair, every sofa, every bar stool had a view of the screen. James the chiropractor had been watching a videocassette of one of the “Star Wars” movies. “I’ve got all three on tape,” he volunteered.
Decker was calming down. He had no reason to hate the guy, except maybe for the robe; anyway, it was Catherine who had made the choice.
James was slender and somewhat tall—taller than Decker had expected. He had a fine chin, high cheekbones, and quick aggressive-looking eyes. His hair was reddish-brown, his skin fair. His long delicate hands were probably a competitive advantage in the world of chiropractic. On the whole he was slightly better-looking than Decker had hoped he would be.
“I’ve seen some of your photographs, and they’re quite good,” James said, adding: “Catherine has an old album.”
A double beat on the word old. In a way Decker felt a little sorry for him, having two surly strangers in the house, and a wife expecting him to be civil. The man was nervous, and who wouldn’t be?
Bravely James smiled over at Skink, a dominating presence in his fluorescent rainsuit. James said, “And you must be a crossing guard!”
Catherine brought cinnamon tea on a plain tray. Skink took a cup and drank it down hot. Afterward his dark green eyes seemed to glow.
As Catherine poured him another cup, Skink said: “You’re quite a beautiful girl.”
Decker was dumbstruck. James the doctor was plainly mortified. Skink smiled luminously and said, “My friend was an idiot to let you go.”
“Thank you,” Catherine said. She didn’t act put out at all, and she certainly didn’t act threatened. The look on her face was charmed and knowing. It was, Decker thought irritably, as if she and Skink were sharing a secret, and the secret was about him.
“Catherine,” James said sternly, changing the subject, “have you seen Bambi?”
“He was playing in the hall a few minutes ago.”
“He looked a little tired,” Decker offered.
“Bambi?” Skink made a face. “You mean that goddamn yappy dog?”
James stiffened. “He’s a pedigreed.”
“He’s a fucking rodent,” Skink said, “with a perm.”
Catherine started to laugh, caught herself. Even in his jealous snit, Decker had to admit they made a comical foursome. He was glad to see that Skink’s momentary charm had evaporated; he was much more likable as a heathen.
James glared at him and said, “I didn’t get your name.”