putting me in a romantic mood. Do you mind that?" He brushed back the Kid's hair. "Just you and me? No Sadie Thompson?"
The Kid nodded.
"What? No jokes about my chauffeur?"
The Kid glanced into the rearview mirror to see if the chauffeur was looking at them.
"Tom's been with me for three years now. He takes it all in his stride."
The Kid said, "I made the ultimate mistake today: I showed my vulnerable side."
"Come here and let me hold you," Derek urged. "Come on. Was it the boys at the pool?"
"It was me," said the Kid, holding on to Derek, his head on the older man's shoulder. The Kid started to weep, and Derek, rubbing his back, whispered, "I love you like this."
* * *
Elaine's right rear tire went flat just after Sycamore, and for the first few minutes she simply sat there hating cars, having to drive to the grocery store and the laundry, and her life. Then she said, "All right! ," and got out to see what was in the trunk, such as a genie.
Well, the necessary parts were there—spare tire, crank, the gizmo that unfastens the tire bolts. However, as Elaine had put it in one of her letters, "I am a very thorough maid and an unadventurously competent cook, but I know nothing about Equipment."
Glancing from the stuff in the trunk to the cars sweeping past on the road, Elaine wondered if she should stand there looking helpless but game so that some chivalrous guy would stop and change the tire for her. Isn't that how Claudette Colbert always handled it? Trouble was, Elaine had never been listening when her mother was giving her the helpless lessons.
Because where do you stand? How do you hold yourself? Hands on hips?: bewildered. Giving car dirty look?: adorably unable. Waving gizmo at passing cars?: demented. What exactly did Colbert do? Didn't she flash a bit of leg at them? Rogue that she is, Elaine tried that for a second or two. And, lo, a car did slow down and pull over. And Lois got out.
"Flat tire, huh?" she said, coming over.
Elaine nodded.
Lois was already poking into the trunk.
"A cinch," she called it. "You know? Some women can't change a flat. But some men can't, either."
Lois handed Elaine the gizmo. "Hold that? Yeah."
She winked at Elaine.
"Now, the whole thing: Crank it up, pull it off, push it on, crank it down. A cinch. Excuse me here."
"Much obliged," said Elaine, giving her room.
Lois permitted herself a smile as she passed.
"Thing is," said Lois, cranking up the rear of the car, "sooner or later everyone gets a flat. So everyone's got to learn how to switch tires."
Lois looked back at Elaine. Elaine nodded.
"My name's Lois."
"Elaine."
Lois nodded.
"Elaine the wife of Jeff."
"Good man?" Lois asked, working away.
"The best, unfortunately."
Lois gave Elaine a look.
"We have lovely memories. You know where we went on our honeymoon?"
"Hand me the wrench?"
Elaine gave it to her, saying, "We went to a bungalow village near Bakersfield. I have no idea why. There was nothing there but... bungalows. And couples like us. We'd say Howdy to each other whenever we'd pass, which, given the nature of the bungalow village, was much too often. And what I noticed was, everyone said Howdy in exactly the same way. Amiably. So I tried bringing up the personality in my Howdy. I'd say it tensely, or mysteriously, or flirtatiously. But all I ever got back was the same amiable old Howdy. What does that mean?"
Lois grunted.
"Down the road from the bungalows was a barbecue spot. So every evening we'd all troop down to this one place and have barbecue. So it was Howdy all over again. Except this time it was 'Howdy, you having the chicken?'; 'Why, Howdy, no, we're trying the ribs'; 'You go for the steak tips, Howdy?'; 'No, we're up to the combination Howdy dinner, with fries, slaw, and pickle choice.' But you're not married, are you?"
"Nope."
"Who are you not married to?"
"My job at Thriller Jill's."
"Thriller Jill's. Is that a sophisticated nightclub?"
"Well," said Lois, fitting in the
The Kid nodded.
"What? No jokes about my chauffeur?"
The Kid glanced into the rearview mirror to see if the chauffeur was looking at them.
"Tom's been with me for three years now. He takes it all in his stride."
The Kid said, "I made the ultimate mistake today: I showed my vulnerable side."
"Come here and let me hold you," Derek urged. "Come on. Was it the boys at the pool?"
"It was me," said the Kid, holding on to Derek, his head on the older man's shoulder. The Kid started to weep, and Derek, rubbing his back, whispered, "I love you like this."
* * *
Elaine's right rear tire went flat just after Sycamore, and for the first few minutes she simply sat there hating cars, having to drive to the grocery store and the laundry, and her life. Then she said, "All right! ," and got out to see what was in the trunk, such as a genie.
Well, the necessary parts were there—spare tire, crank, the gizmo that unfastens the tire bolts. However, as Elaine had put it in one of her letters, "I am a very thorough maid and an unadventurously competent cook, but I know nothing about Equipment."
Glancing from the stuff in the trunk to the cars sweeping past on the road, Elaine wondered if she should stand there looking helpless but game so that some chivalrous guy would stop and change the tire for her. Isn't that how Claudette Colbert always handled it? Trouble was, Elaine had never been listening when her mother was giving her the helpless lessons.
Because where do you stand? How do you hold yourself? Hands on hips?: bewildered. Giving car dirty look?: adorably unable. Waving gizmo at passing cars?: demented. What exactly did Colbert do? Didn't she flash a bit of leg at them? Rogue that she is, Elaine tried that for a second or two. And, lo, a car did slow down and pull over. And Lois got out.
"Flat tire, huh?" she said, coming over.
Elaine nodded.
Lois was already poking into the trunk.
"A cinch," she called it. "You know? Some women can't change a flat. But some men can't, either."
Lois handed Elaine the gizmo. "Hold that? Yeah."
She winked at Elaine.
"Now, the whole thing: Crank it up, pull it off, push it on, crank it down. A cinch. Excuse me here."
"Much obliged," said Elaine, giving her room.
Lois permitted herself a smile as she passed.
"Thing is," said Lois, cranking up the rear of the car, "sooner or later everyone gets a flat. So everyone's got to learn how to switch tires."
Lois looked back at Elaine. Elaine nodded.
"My name's Lois."
"Elaine."
Lois nodded.
"Elaine the wife of Jeff."
"Good man?" Lois asked, working away.
"The best, unfortunately."
Lois gave Elaine a look.
"We have lovely memories. You know where we went on our honeymoon?"
"Hand me the wrench?"
Elaine gave it to her, saying, "We went to a bungalow village near Bakersfield. I have no idea why. There was nothing there but... bungalows. And couples like us. We'd say Howdy to each other whenever we'd pass, which, given the nature of the bungalow village, was much too often. And what I noticed was, everyone said Howdy in exactly the same way. Amiably. So I tried bringing up the personality in my Howdy. I'd say it tensely, or mysteriously, or flirtatiously. But all I ever got back was the same amiable old Howdy. What does that mean?"
Lois grunted.
"Down the road from the bungalows was a barbecue spot. So every evening we'd all troop down to this one place and have barbecue. So it was Howdy all over again. Except this time it was 'Howdy, you having the chicken?'; 'Why, Howdy, no, we're trying the ribs'; 'You go for the steak tips, Howdy?'; 'No, we're up to the combination Howdy dinner, with fries, slaw, and pickle choice.' But you're not married, are you?"
"Nope."
"Who are you not married to?"
"My job at Thriller Jill's."
"Thriller Jill's. Is that a sophisticated nightclub?"
"Well," said Lois, fitting in the
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