watching Fred and Bobby try to get my couch into the parlor. I mean, it's nice that they bought it and all, and it'll be nice to have a comfy place to sit
... but it's hysterically funny watching two huge biker guys fight with a couch. They've tried it on its side, on one end, with the cushions off—and now they're just kind of looking at it like it'll get itself into the parlor by its own power.
Paul's just standing on the curb, chewing on the inside of his lip. I know he knows how to make it work, but he's scared of Fred. I told him that Fred's a big softy, but sometimes Paul gets an idea and won't let go of it. Apparently six foot four and damn close to three hundred pounds with a thick beard and a vat of ink on his arms equals scary in Paul's world.
Okay, Fred used to scare the hell out of me too.
I go over to Paul and sort of lean into him. "Want to tell me, and I'll tell them?"
I thought I asked nice and low, but Bobby spins around and looks at me. "Somethin' to say, smartass?"
Paul sort of shrinks a little and I brush his arm with mine.
"He means me," I say, and Bobby laughs.
"Yeah, you're not a smartass, Paul. Not very bright, letting this one move in with you, but not a smartass." He grins maniacally and I wince.
"Tone it down, Bobby," I say mildly.
"Or what?" he asks as a tease. Fred's watching us, leaning on the door frame and looking utterly unimpressed.
59
Gemini
by Chris Owen
"Or I'll tell Paul we can go now and he won't tell you how to get the damn couch in the building," I say smugly.
"And how are you gonna get your boxes over to his place?"
Bobby says, pointing to the van which contains most of my stuff. His van.
"Like this." I reach into my pocket and pull out his keys.
Then I run like hell, Fred laughing and Bobby yelling behind me. I almost get around the block before I figure out Bobby's not chasing me anymore, but I still take my time walking back. I may be a fool, but I'm not stupid.
I'm almost back to the parlor when I realise that all I can see of the couch is the last foot or so, braced up by Fred, and then he shoves and it's in. Paul's standing to the side looking pleased with himself.
"Was just angles and leverage," he says when I walk up.
I nod, trying not to look winded.
"Asshole," Bobby says as he comes out and swats me on the head. "Keys?"
I grin and hand them over as Fred shakes Paul's hand and thanks him. Fred's hand is huge, swallowing up Paul's, but they seem to have reached a new level—Paul doesn't look at all terrified anymore, although he's deeply suspicious of Bobby.
"Wish you hadn't let him shove a needle through your nipples?" I whisper at him.
Paul blushes and looks at his shoes.
God he's cute.
* * * *
60
Gemini
by Chris Owen
"So that's it?" Bobby asks as he puts down the last of the boxes. "Not much, Gent. You've been living in a closet?"
He laughs; I roll my eyes.
"Sold a lot," I tell him when he gasps out the last giggle.
That's an understatement, really. I sold everything I could.
Fred bought the couch, the girl who lived above me bought everything in my kitchen, some guy took the bed. I sold the TV, the VCR, the stereo ... just about all I'm bringing with me is clothes and books, a lot of art. Lots of pencils and stuff like that, and pictures. I guess it doesn't look like much, piled on the sidewalk outside the apartment building.
Fred offers to park the van somewhere and help us haul it all upstairs, but Paul and I figure that if we put it in the elevator we can do it one trip, so we all just grab a couple of boxes and that's it. Going up in the world.
I think Fred thinks so too, the way he's assessing the building. He looks faintly surprised, and a little uncomfortable.
I make a mental note to tell him that Paul inherited the apartment, that he's not some rich kid—thought why that would bother Fred is beyond me. Why it would bother me that Fred would think that is a little confusing too.
So I do the smart thing and wave goodbye,
... but it's hysterically funny watching two huge biker guys fight with a couch. They've tried it on its side, on one end, with the cushions off—and now they're just kind of looking at it like it'll get itself into the parlor by its own power.
Paul's just standing on the curb, chewing on the inside of his lip. I know he knows how to make it work, but he's scared of Fred. I told him that Fred's a big softy, but sometimes Paul gets an idea and won't let go of it. Apparently six foot four and damn close to three hundred pounds with a thick beard and a vat of ink on his arms equals scary in Paul's world.
Okay, Fred used to scare the hell out of me too.
I go over to Paul and sort of lean into him. "Want to tell me, and I'll tell them?"
I thought I asked nice and low, but Bobby spins around and looks at me. "Somethin' to say, smartass?"
Paul sort of shrinks a little and I brush his arm with mine.
"He means me," I say, and Bobby laughs.
"Yeah, you're not a smartass, Paul. Not very bright, letting this one move in with you, but not a smartass." He grins maniacally and I wince.
"Tone it down, Bobby," I say mildly.
"Or what?" he asks as a tease. Fred's watching us, leaning on the door frame and looking utterly unimpressed.
59
Gemini
by Chris Owen
"Or I'll tell Paul we can go now and he won't tell you how to get the damn couch in the building," I say smugly.
"And how are you gonna get your boxes over to his place?"
Bobby says, pointing to the van which contains most of my stuff. His van.
"Like this." I reach into my pocket and pull out his keys.
Then I run like hell, Fred laughing and Bobby yelling behind me. I almost get around the block before I figure out Bobby's not chasing me anymore, but I still take my time walking back. I may be a fool, but I'm not stupid.
I'm almost back to the parlor when I realise that all I can see of the couch is the last foot or so, braced up by Fred, and then he shoves and it's in. Paul's standing to the side looking pleased with himself.
"Was just angles and leverage," he says when I walk up.
I nod, trying not to look winded.
"Asshole," Bobby says as he comes out and swats me on the head. "Keys?"
I grin and hand them over as Fred shakes Paul's hand and thanks him. Fred's hand is huge, swallowing up Paul's, but they seem to have reached a new level—Paul doesn't look at all terrified anymore, although he's deeply suspicious of Bobby.
"Wish you hadn't let him shove a needle through your nipples?" I whisper at him.
Paul blushes and looks at his shoes.
God he's cute.
* * * *
60
Gemini
by Chris Owen
"So that's it?" Bobby asks as he puts down the last of the boxes. "Not much, Gent. You've been living in a closet?"
He laughs; I roll my eyes.
"Sold a lot," I tell him when he gasps out the last giggle.
That's an understatement, really. I sold everything I could.
Fred bought the couch, the girl who lived above me bought everything in my kitchen, some guy took the bed. I sold the TV, the VCR, the stereo ... just about all I'm bringing with me is clothes and books, a lot of art. Lots of pencils and stuff like that, and pictures. I guess it doesn't look like much, piled on the sidewalk outside the apartment building.
Fred offers to park the van somewhere and help us haul it all upstairs, but Paul and I figure that if we put it in the elevator we can do it one trip, so we all just grab a couple of boxes and that's it. Going up in the world.
I think Fred thinks so too, the way he's assessing the building. He looks faintly surprised, and a little uncomfortable.
I make a mental note to tell him that Paul inherited the apartment, that he's not some rich kid—thought why that would bother Fred is beyond me. Why it would bother me that Fred would think that is a little confusing too.
So I do the smart thing and wave goodbye,
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