“Thought you’d only be alone for a couple of days.”
“I’m going up there as soon as I take care of this.”
I said nothing.
“Thanks for coming, Alex.”
“Need help straightening up?”
“I don’t even want to go in there.”
“How about a breather, then. Let’s go somewhere for a cup of coffee.”
“I can’t leave,” she said. “The locksmith’s coming.”
“When?”
“He was due an hour ago. Just sit with me. Please.”
She brought out a couple of Cokes, and we sat opposite each other drinking.
“Some cookies?”
“No, thanks.”
“I’m being selfish. I’m sure you’re busy.”
I said, “Where are you going to sleep tonight?”
“Here.”
“You’ll be okay?”
“Yes,” she said. “I don’t know.”
“Why don’t we do this: Once the new locks are in, we’ll tidy up, bring the instruments to my place for safekeeping, then you can fly up to San Francisco tonight.”
She placed her hands in her lap.
“I could do that,” she said.
Then she cried.
When she was ready to face the damage we entered the studio. Robin’s pin-neat organization had been reduced to trash. The two of us swept and straightened, collected shreds of ravished instruments, tuning pegs, bridges, salvaging what we could, discarding the rest.
Uncoiling and discarding kinked guitar strings. Hurting myself a couple of times on the sharp ends of the wires because I was working fast, with a blank mind.
The ordeal left Robin short of breath. She dusted the workbench, hopped up, said, “It’s fine, don’t do any more,” stretched an arm.
I stood there, broom in hand.
“Come here,” she said.
I put the broom down and walked toward her. When I was a foot away, she hooked a hand behind my neck, drew me in, kissed me.
I turned my head and her lips grazed my cheek.
Her laughter was dry. “All those times you were inside me,” she said. “And now it’s wrong.”
“Boundaries,” I said. “Without them, there’s not much to civilization.”
“Feeling civilized, are you?”
“Not particularly,” I said.
She grabbed me and kissed me harder. This time, I let her tongue work its way into my mouth. My cock felt like an iron bolt. My emotions lagged well behind.
She knew it. Touched my cheek with the flat of her hand, and for a moment I thought she’d slap me. Instead she just drew away.
“At the core,” she said, “you were always a good boy.”
“Why doesn’t that feel like a compliment?”
“Because I’m scared and alone and have no use for boundaries.”
She kept her arms at her side. Her eyes were a strange mix of cool and wounded.
“Tim says he loves me,” she said. “If he only knew—Alex, I’m behaving badly. Please believe me: When I called you all I really wanted was comfort. And to tell you about Baby’s guitars. God, I think that’s what bothers me the most about the break-in. I really wanted you to have them. I wanted to do something for you.” She laughed. “And the funny thing is, I don’t really know why.”
“What we had,” I said, “isn’t just going to vanish.”
“Do you ever think of me?”
“Of course.”
“Does she know?”
“Allison’s smart.”
“I try hard not to think of you,” she said. “Mostly, I succeed. I’m happy more often than you might think. But sometimes you stick to me. Like a burr. Mostly, I deal with it very well. Tim’s good to me.”
She gazed around the ravished studio. “Pride, the fall. I really didn’t wake up yesterday thinking, ‘Hey, girl, how about a little despair.’ “ She laughed, this time with some fervor. Touched my cheek gently. “You’re still my friend.”
“I am.”
“Will you tell her? About coming here?”
“I don’t know.”
“You probably shouldn’t,” she said. “Ignorance being bliss and all that. Not that you did anything wrong. Au contraire. So there’s nothing to tell. That’s my advice. As a girl.”
Gang bangers. As good a theory as any. I wanted her up in San Francisco, anyway.
My erection hadn’t flagged. Positioning myself so she wouldn’t see, I moved toward the closet where she stored the most expensive instruments. “Let’s get everything out to your truck.”