Buzz Cut by James W. Hall Page A

vertigo that passed almost as quickly as it came.
    Rochelle took him in her arms and Thorn fit himself against her. His hand rising to touch the back of her head, the soft bristle of her scalp. The embrace snug and familiar.
    "Glass of wine?" she said, her mouth at his throat.
    "I've still got work to do."
    "You work too hard."
    "I like to work. It's what I do."
    He felt her body flush against his, so close it seemed they were seeping into one another. She smoothed a hand across his bottom, let it linger.
    "It's almost happy hour," she whispered.
    "Well, maybe just one glass."
    Rochelle peeled slowly from the embrace, went to the wine rack. It was a simple teak arrangement she'd given him as a gift. The wine rack held ten bottles, mostly Cabernets, which was what she favored. She uncorked last night's bottle, pulled two glasses from the shelf. Hers as well. Long-stemmed glasses etched with a lacy design around the rims. Not the heavy squat things Thorn used for wine—a half cut above jelly jars.
    They went out into the sun, leaned against the porch railing and gazed at Blackwater Sound, the harsh concussions of light against its surface. Another cool front had moved through overnight and the sky was scraped clean again. A frigate bird was suspended a mile up in the perfect blue, a winged dragon searching for prey. The sunlight was sharp and pure, cleaner than light ever was on the mainland. Temperature in the low seventies, a breeze from the north carrying a hint of evergreen.
    "You're not one of those men who works so hard because he's got to leave an empire behind, some monument with his name carved on it."
    "No, no empire. Nothing like that."
    "Or maybe you use work to block out some dark, tormented interior life." Smiling playfully.
    "I like tying flies. It's not complicated. I just like doing what I do."
    Her forehead smoothed. Rochelle raised her glass. "Well, then. Let's drink to doing more of what we like to do."
    "A worthy toast," Thorn said.
    "And to spinning our cocoon against the poisons of the world."
    Thorn hesitated, then lifted his glass to hers.
    "To cocoons everywhere." he said. They clinked.
    The noise woke Rover. He hustled out to the porch, giving himself an ear-flapping shake as he came. Lately Rochelle had started pouring out little puddles of wine on the bare planks for him to lap up, and now whenever he heard the tinkle of glasses, he came mooching around.
    "What would you think," Thorn said, "about inviting Sugar and Jeannie over for supper one night this weekend?"
    A strained smile played on her lips. "Sure, of course, invite them over. I like Sugar."
    "You do?"
    "Sure. Any friend of yours."
    "Tonight or Saturday?"
    "We've got martial arts Saturday, Thorn."
    "Tonight then."
    "Oh, God, I forgot," she said, topping up her glass, then his. "Sugarman called."
    "Called? How'd he do that? There's no phone."
    "My cellular. He called my dad, got the number from him."
    "What'd he want?"
    "I don't know. He didn't tell me."
    Rochelle had a sip of wine. She lifted her free hand and pointed at the lazy arc of an osprey as it crossed overhead.
    "Where's your phone, Rochelle?"
    "In my purse. What? You're going to call him now?"
    "I thought I would. Yeah."
    "He's left by now."
    " Left? "
    "He was going somewhere, just wanted to tell you good-bye, I think. This was a couple of days ago."
    "Couple of days?"
    "Three maybe. Four, I don't know. Since I've been living here. I've been losing track of time."
    "Four days ago. And you just now remembered?"
    She narrowed her eyes. Set her wineglass on the railing, turned to face him full on.
    "Yes, I forgot," she said precisely. "I'm sorry. But, Thorn, you don't even own a phone, no clock, no calendar, now all of a sudden you're worked up at me for not being a good personal secretary?"
    "I'm sorry."
    She turned away. And when he put his hands on her back, she was stiff. It took a full minute massaging her shoulders, her neck, before her muscles relaxed, and she closed her