herself. The less she had to explain, the less crazy she would seem. “Why?”
“You’re just quiet, is all. Not really like you.”
She was surprised he had noticed. Their nine months together had done things, big things. Somewhere along the line, they had really gotten to know each other, both in and out of the bedroom. The thought made her smile. “You notice anything funny with the camera guy?” she asked, as they avoided a sharp-looking rock sticking out on their right.
“The fat dude?”
“Quit!” She jabbed him in the arm with her knuckles. “You’re terrible. But yeah, him.”
“Nope.” Trevor pulled up his pants, but they immediately fell right back down to where they had been before he touched them.
Justine had tried to dress him properly on several occasions, but had always failed. He was a stubborn man. Sensitive and caring did not a sharp dresser make. Justine knew the only reason he dressed the way he did was because he wanted to fit in with everyone back home. Hell, if she didn’t dress the way she did, her Atlanta friends would razz her about it for days on end. Her social network needed as much of an overhaul as Trevor’s sagging apparel.
“Why?” Trevor asked, taking his eyes off the pathway long enough to look at her.
“He just seems… I don’t know… off .”
“How so?”
“I don’t know, Trevor. Just not right. I don’t really know how to explain it.” But she did. She just didn’t want to sound as insane as she felt.
“Don’t let him bother you.” Trevor leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “Just enjoy the hike, or walk, or whatever I got us into here.”
She laughed. “You do pick some of the wildest places to take me. You know I’m black, right? All this camping and adventuring ain’t really what we’re known for.”
“All the more reason to try it, baby. Get some new blood in your veins!” Trevor twirled, kicking up fine gray dust in his wake.
“Whatever, fool. Behave before you end up going over the edge.”
“Cheer up. When we get back to the hotel in Bay’s End, I got another surprise in store for you. Just make it through the next five hours or so, and you’ll be one happy woman, black or not. Okay?”
“Deal.”
Trevor slid an arm around her waist and pulled her close. Justine felt secure in his grasp, even though just two feet to her left was a drop-off so steep she could see nothing but inky shadows playing in the depths.
Stop looking, stupid , Justine told herself.
“Did you say something?” Trevor asked, his eyes studying the footpath again.
“Nope.” Had she said her thought out loud? She didn’t think so.
She rested her cheek on Trevor’s shoulder. She could hear the heavy footfalls of the camera man coming up behind them. The steps were fast, and she could tell he was out of breath.
Slow down, big man , Justine thought. Don’t you go throwing any more shadows until you’re far out of my sight. Leave the heart attack for another day.
PLAYTHINGS
11
DONALD’S FOOT STILL STUNG LIKE hell where Tubby had stepped on it, and he was sure he was going to end up with a concussion from his tumble, but he forgot the pain as they rounded the next curve and the slope steepened even more. He had to be very careful. Sure, he had a lower center of gravity than the giants, but if he tripped, he’d get caught in someone’s legs, and they’d all go screaming into the chasm.
He could see it very clearly in his mind’s eye. A subtle trip, his foot catching on a jutting stone, and he would fall forward. The couple behind him would get tangled up in his flailing body, and over they would go. Tubby might even reach over to grab one of them, trying to be some kind of obese superhero in their time of need—Fatman: The Pork Knight—but his stomach wouldn’t allow it, and his girth would carry him over the steel-braided guard wire. Marsha and Lyle would reach for the overturned man’s immense calves, grabbing hold of
“You’re just quiet, is all. Not really like you.”
She was surprised he had noticed. Their nine months together had done things, big things. Somewhere along the line, they had really gotten to know each other, both in and out of the bedroom. The thought made her smile. “You notice anything funny with the camera guy?” she asked, as they avoided a sharp-looking rock sticking out on their right.
“The fat dude?”
“Quit!” She jabbed him in the arm with her knuckles. “You’re terrible. But yeah, him.”
“Nope.” Trevor pulled up his pants, but they immediately fell right back down to where they had been before he touched them.
Justine had tried to dress him properly on several occasions, but had always failed. He was a stubborn man. Sensitive and caring did not a sharp dresser make. Justine knew the only reason he dressed the way he did was because he wanted to fit in with everyone back home. Hell, if she didn’t dress the way she did, her Atlanta friends would razz her about it for days on end. Her social network needed as much of an overhaul as Trevor’s sagging apparel.
“Why?” Trevor asked, taking his eyes off the pathway long enough to look at her.
“He just seems… I don’t know… off .”
“How so?”
“I don’t know, Trevor. Just not right. I don’t really know how to explain it.” But she did. She just didn’t want to sound as insane as she felt.
“Don’t let him bother you.” Trevor leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “Just enjoy the hike, or walk, or whatever I got us into here.”
She laughed. “You do pick some of the wildest places to take me. You know I’m black, right? All this camping and adventuring ain’t really what we’re known for.”
“All the more reason to try it, baby. Get some new blood in your veins!” Trevor twirled, kicking up fine gray dust in his wake.
“Whatever, fool. Behave before you end up going over the edge.”
“Cheer up. When we get back to the hotel in Bay’s End, I got another surprise in store for you. Just make it through the next five hours or so, and you’ll be one happy woman, black or not. Okay?”
“Deal.”
Trevor slid an arm around her waist and pulled her close. Justine felt secure in his grasp, even though just two feet to her left was a drop-off so steep she could see nothing but inky shadows playing in the depths.
Stop looking, stupid , Justine told herself.
“Did you say something?” Trevor asked, his eyes studying the footpath again.
“Nope.” Had she said her thought out loud? She didn’t think so.
She rested her cheek on Trevor’s shoulder. She could hear the heavy footfalls of the camera man coming up behind them. The steps were fast, and she could tell he was out of breath.
Slow down, big man , Justine thought. Don’t you go throwing any more shadows until you’re far out of my sight. Leave the heart attack for another day.
PLAYTHINGS
11
DONALD’S FOOT STILL STUNG LIKE hell where Tubby had stepped on it, and he was sure he was going to end up with a concussion from his tumble, but he forgot the pain as they rounded the next curve and the slope steepened even more. He had to be very careful. Sure, he had a lower center of gravity than the giants, but if he tripped, he’d get caught in someone’s legs, and they’d all go screaming into the chasm.
He could see it very clearly in his mind’s eye. A subtle trip, his foot catching on a jutting stone, and he would fall forward. The couple behind him would get tangled up in his flailing body, and over they would go. Tubby might even reach over to grab one of them, trying to be some kind of obese superhero in their time of need—Fatman: The Pork Knight—but his stomach wouldn’t allow it, and his girth would carry him over the steel-braided guard wire. Marsha and Lyle would reach for the overturned man’s immense calves, grabbing hold of
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