leaned against the wall.
What the hell are you thinking? That you’re going to need this thing?
No. It just looks weird for a grown-up to sleep on the floor.
You’ve been doing it most of your life.
Maybe it’s time I stopped.
Dreamer.
Bitch.
“Is that okay, sir?”
“What? Oh yes. Fine, thank you. Put those two tables on either side, and we’re done in here.” Snow glanced at his phone. Just enough time to make the bed and wash the set of brand-new dishes so they didn’t catch something lethal.
A half hour later, he signed the delivery papers and handed a tip to the two men.
“Thanks a lot. You just get married or something? Man, I never saw a dude get so much furniture at once. And not even a Foosball table.” He grinned.
“Oh, should I have one of those?”
“No. Most girls don’t like it. But you could use a TV.”
“Damn, I forgot.”
“That’s usually the first thing a guy gets.” The man grinned and handed Snow the receipt.
“I guess so, but I play chess. No time for TV.”
“Hey, jeez, I thought you looked familiar. You’re that chess champion. Good luck in the big game. Hey, George, this here’s that chess guy. Snow, right?”
Snow smiled. “Yes. Thank you. And I’ll remember about the TV in the future.”
The man held up a big, callused hand. “Hey, no way. I wouldn’t want to be the one to get you hooked on football or porn or something and make you lose your edge.”
Snow laughed. No use saying he was already hooked on football.
When the deliverymen left, he made the bed really quick with the sheets and the “bed in a bag” thing he got at the department store. Could he sleep on that? He sat on the edge. Felt really cushy, even though he’d asked for a hard mattress.
He took a fast shower, then looked at his clothes. Five pairs of khakis did not a wardrobe make. Oh well, who the hell would notice? At least he had that nice silver-gray sweater the professor had given him. Everyone said it made his dark eyes pop.
Dreamer.
Bitch.
He wiped off the brand-new table with the brand-new dishcloth, and set it with some brand-new flatware. At least the rug under his feet had been there longer than a few hours. The rug, the rocker, and the table inside the door had constituted his entire interior landscape until today. Even his multiple chess sets lay on the floor.
Man, had his lawyer been surprised when he asked for five thousand dollars. He’d never used anything beyond his food allowance since he started school three years before.
Dreamer.
Bitch.
He sat on the floor and stared at the chess set. One of his many games in progress. Think of an original move.
Nothing.
He interferes with your concentration. He’s bad for you.
Go fuck yourself.
Yeah, because that’s the only person who’s going to fuck you.
CHAPTER 6
THE KNOCK on the door sounded like an answer to a prophecy. Snow looked around. A lot of work for a lot of silliness. Teach him physics and let it go.
He opened the door and nodded at Riley. The guy smiled from ear to perfect, shell-like ear. Snow stepped back. “Hi. Welcome.”
Riley walked into the apartment carrying two large white bags. “Hey, it smells new in here.”
Yeah, stupid and silly newness. “I got a new couch.”
“It’s really nice.”
“Thanks.”
“I brought Chinese. Maybe we can work a little and then heat everything up in the microwave.”
Oh crap, did he have a microwave? “Uh, sure.” Probably most kitchens had one, right?
Riley pointed in the general direction of the kitchen. “I’ll just put it in there, okay?”
“Okay.”
Watching Riley walk across the rug to the kitchen was like observing a perfect chess match or listening to Bach—everything worked together. He moved with a relaxed efficiency that made him a star on the football field and an excuse for grown men turning gay. Not that Snow needed any turning.
Don’t look. You could turn into a unicorn or something. Snow stared at his
What the hell are you thinking? That you’re going to need this thing?
No. It just looks weird for a grown-up to sleep on the floor.
You’ve been doing it most of your life.
Maybe it’s time I stopped.
Dreamer.
Bitch.
“Is that okay, sir?”
“What? Oh yes. Fine, thank you. Put those two tables on either side, and we’re done in here.” Snow glanced at his phone. Just enough time to make the bed and wash the set of brand-new dishes so they didn’t catch something lethal.
A half hour later, he signed the delivery papers and handed a tip to the two men.
“Thanks a lot. You just get married or something? Man, I never saw a dude get so much furniture at once. And not even a Foosball table.” He grinned.
“Oh, should I have one of those?”
“No. Most girls don’t like it. But you could use a TV.”
“Damn, I forgot.”
“That’s usually the first thing a guy gets.” The man grinned and handed Snow the receipt.
“I guess so, but I play chess. No time for TV.”
“Hey, jeez, I thought you looked familiar. You’re that chess champion. Good luck in the big game. Hey, George, this here’s that chess guy. Snow, right?”
Snow smiled. “Yes. Thank you. And I’ll remember about the TV in the future.”
The man held up a big, callused hand. “Hey, no way. I wouldn’t want to be the one to get you hooked on football or porn or something and make you lose your edge.”
Snow laughed. No use saying he was already hooked on football.
When the deliverymen left, he made the bed really quick with the sheets and the “bed in a bag” thing he got at the department store. Could he sleep on that? He sat on the edge. Felt really cushy, even though he’d asked for a hard mattress.
He took a fast shower, then looked at his clothes. Five pairs of khakis did not a wardrobe make. Oh well, who the hell would notice? At least he had that nice silver-gray sweater the professor had given him. Everyone said it made his dark eyes pop.
Dreamer.
Bitch.
He wiped off the brand-new table with the brand-new dishcloth, and set it with some brand-new flatware. At least the rug under his feet had been there longer than a few hours. The rug, the rocker, and the table inside the door had constituted his entire interior landscape until today. Even his multiple chess sets lay on the floor.
Man, had his lawyer been surprised when he asked for five thousand dollars. He’d never used anything beyond his food allowance since he started school three years before.
Dreamer.
Bitch.
He sat on the floor and stared at the chess set. One of his many games in progress. Think of an original move.
Nothing.
He interferes with your concentration. He’s bad for you.
Go fuck yourself.
Yeah, because that’s the only person who’s going to fuck you.
CHAPTER 6
THE KNOCK on the door sounded like an answer to a prophecy. Snow looked around. A lot of work for a lot of silliness. Teach him physics and let it go.
He opened the door and nodded at Riley. The guy smiled from ear to perfect, shell-like ear. Snow stepped back. “Hi. Welcome.”
Riley walked into the apartment carrying two large white bags. “Hey, it smells new in here.”
Yeah, stupid and silly newness. “I got a new couch.”
“It’s really nice.”
“Thanks.”
“I brought Chinese. Maybe we can work a little and then heat everything up in the microwave.”
Oh crap, did he have a microwave? “Uh, sure.” Probably most kitchens had one, right?
Riley pointed in the general direction of the kitchen. “I’ll just put it in there, okay?”
“Okay.”
Watching Riley walk across the rug to the kitchen was like observing a perfect chess match or listening to Bach—everything worked together. He moved with a relaxed efficiency that made him a star on the football field and an excuse for grown men turning gay. Not that Snow needed any turning.
Don’t look. You could turn into a unicorn or something. Snow stared at his
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