In Stereo Where Available (9 page)

“Local theater or Blockbuster, I guess.”

“You wanted to see something with subtitles, right?”

I laughed. “Yeah, kind of.”

“Then let’s do Blockbuster. I’ll give Trudy a call and tell her to get lost.”

“Who’s Trudy?”

“The dog’s nanny. She shares the apartment with me, but she doesn’t mind giving me space when I ask her to. I do the same thing for her all the time.”

“Your dog has a nanny?”

“Well, she’s not
my
dog. She’s the Danforths’ dog. They live in Connecticut. I’m just the handler. I take her to the shows and all that. The kind of breed she is—she’s a Chinese crested—they really like having company around. So she’s got a full-time nanny.” He turned the car down the street toward Blockbuster.

“I guess if you’ve got the money.”

“Oh, believe me, they’ve got the money. This is just a hobby for them. They like to fill up the trophy room, and I’m happy to help them.” He pulled into a parking space. “Let’s see if we can dig up the most obscure movie in the store.”

We came up with
The Sea
, which was not only subtitled, but originally in Icelandic. Carter called Trudy while we were at the store, and by the time he unlocked the door to his apartment, she was nowhere to be seen.

“Excellent,” he said, stepping into the living room.

I looked the place over in stunned silence. The living room was empty of all furniture except for a loveseat pushed awkwardly against the far wall and a chintzy TV stand. Taking up most of the floor space was a collapsible crawl tunnel, a teeter-totter, a couple of jumps, and what looked like some kind of cone obstacle course. The carpet was littered with latex chew toys and mauled stuffed animals.

Carter whistled, and from a distant bedroom came the low thump I recognized as a dog jumping off a bed. A moment later, into the room trotted what may have been the ugliest dog I had ever seen. It was gray-skinned and hairless, except for tufts of billowy white fur that grew around its paws and fell in a floppy mane over its eyes. It was also small enough that my cats would have considered it a rodent.

“This is Empress Ming,” said Carter.

I leaned over and stroked her gingerly. “I’ve never petted a hairless dog before.”

“Yeah, it’s kind of a change of pace. Trudy and I put lotion on her a couple of times a day. And sunscreen—that’s kind of a pain. Can’t take her out for a walk without sunscreen.”

“Sunscreen on a
dog?”

“Yep. SPF 35. We have to watch the ingredients on everything because she’s allergic to lanolin. At least she doesn’t shed much.” He popped the DVD in the player. “Want to help me move the sofa? I have to keep it out of the way so she doesn’t get mixed up about what the course looks like.”

“Oh, okay. Yeah, sure.”

We dragged the loveseat in front of the TV and then Carter went off to the kitchen to get drinks.

“You need me to do anything else?” I called.

“No, just settle in and get—
ow!”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” He sat down in one of the dining chairs and examined his ankle. “She bit me again.”

I looked at Empress Ming, who was sniffing at Carter’s leg with interest. I’d been nipped at by dogs a few times in my life, but never by one of my own. “Seriously? Does she do that a lot?”

“Kind of. She doesn’t mean to. She’s got these extra teeth that point forward—they’re like tusks. They’re part of the breed. She sort of nibbles to get my attention and ends up gouging me. Usually it’s just when she’s hungry.” He picked her up and scratched her neck. In a sugary voice he asked, “Did Miss Trudy forget to feed you?”

I sat down in the loveseat while Carter opened up a can of food for the Empress. As he settled down beside me with a fresh Band-Aid on his ankle, I was starting to wonder if he was going to become one more bead on my string of weirdos.

He threw his arm companionably over my shoulder. “Ready for the movie?”

“Yeah, sure.”

He pressed the “play” button. “You don’t speak Icelandic, do you?”

I laughed. “Uh, no.”

“Too bad. I’ll have to try not to distract you.”

“That’s okay. I’m more interested in the company than in the movie.”

“Yeah, me, too.”

I smiled and rested my head against his shoulder. Neither of us had ever turned the lights on, and as the sun set, the room grew gradually darker, until finally the flickering glow of the TV was the only light in the room. Carter’s chest rose and fell softly beside me as he breathed; his fingertips stroked my shoulder gently. When the romantic music swelled and the movie’s two lovers swam toward each other, I wasn’t surprised to feel Carter turn to me, bringing his face close to mine. I closed my eyes and let him kiss me, stirring at the way his mouth felt against mine, feverish and urgent and startlingly unrestrained.

“You’re so beautiful, Phoebe,” he murmured, when he came up for air.

Carter was a fast mover. Down on the clean-swept carpet in front of the TV, he planted his body on all fours above mine and hungrily worked his way down. I luxuriated in it, drinking it down like too much wine. His tossed-off T-shirt lay over the arm of the loveseat; sweat beaded his forehead and made his messy hair spike every which way. When he rose up on his knees, the TV threw a banner of light over his wiry chest. His smooth stomach was touched by a thin trail of hair that ran down from his navel and disappeared into his pants. I put my hands behind my head and looked over him appreciatively as he fumbled with the button on his corduroys.

“No,” I said.

The look on his face was something between alarm and horror. “No? Why not?”

“Just no. Save it for another day.”

He groaned and ran his hands through his scruffy hair. “I’m going to
explode
.”

I sat up and straightened myself out. I didn’t feel as bad as he probably wanted me to. He was definitely jumping the gun.

“Don’t you want to get together next weekend?” I asked.

“Hell, yeah. I want to get together right
now.”

“That’s not what I meant. No exploding, okay? We’ll go out next Saturday. If you’re available.”

“I’m available any time you want.”

I stood up and smoothed the back of my hair down. He sighed and rose to his feet, pulling his shirt on grumpily.

“I had a great time,” I told him.

He combed his hair with his fingers and then, setting his hands on his hips, let out a sigh as deep as a yoga breath. He smiled at me.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Me, too.”

“So what’s the verdict?” asked Lauren on Sunday morning.

“I think he’s a keeper. His job’s a little weird, but there’s definitely potential there. And he seems to really like me.”

“Apparently. I see you’ve got some serious bed head going there.”

I touched the back of my head. “Oh. No, that’s just from the carpet.”

Lauren laughed. “Wherever love takes you. Is he a good kisser?”

“Yeah, he’s a
great
kisser. He’s kind of skinny and gangly looking, but there’s like a fire to him—you know what I mean?”

“I think so, yeah.”

“He makes me feel like he’s totally lusting after me. It’s kind of funny. I mean, I don’t exactly see myself as an object of lust. But I’ll take it. It makes me feel good.”

“I don’t blame you. So you’re cutting the other guy loose?”

“Who, Jerry? I guess, yeah. I can’t really date both of them. He left a voice mail for me last night while I was out with Carter. He wants me to go out for pizza with him tomorrow. All that trouble not to hurt his feelings, and now I have to deliver the
really
bad news.”

“No big loss.”

“Well, it’s all relative, right? I mean, he’s a nice guy, but Carter’s a little more, I don’t know—”

“Is that your cell phone?”

We both got quiet. From my bedroom I heard the electronic chime of “Für Elise.”

“Be right back,” I said, scrambling to my bedroom.

It was Carter. I turned on the phone and closed my bedroom door simultaneously.

“Hey,” I said happily.

“Hey, Phoebe. Look, about next Saturday.” He sighed noisily into the phone. “I’m going to have to cancel. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” I said, trying to conceal my disappointment. “Something come up?”

“Yeah.
Yeah
. The Danforths—look, I’m not going to BS you. They’ve got this brilliant idea that they want Empress Ming to start doing shows out West. Like, California and Nevada and places like that. They’ve got her booked for the next three weeks already. They drop this crap on me
today
, like, an hour ago. I’m leaving Wednesday. I’m not happy about it.”

“So…you’ll be back in three weeks, then?”

“Maybe, maybe not. It depends on how she does. If I do my job right, we’ll be out there longer. And the National Dog Show is on Thanksgiving, and now they want her to do
that
, so I don’t know when I’m going to be back. I just don’t have a date I can give to you.”

I closed my eyes and rested my forehead against the wall. “Well, good luck.”

“Jeez, Phoebe, I really wanted to spend some more time with you. You know it, right? Last night was really—” His breath thundered in my ear. “I mean, whoa.”

“I know. I felt the same way.” But my voice sounded light, conversational. I didn’t want to think about last night anymore. I knew it wasn’t his fault, but I felt annoyed at him anyway. I was itchy to get off the phone.

“I’ll call you when I get back in town, okay? I mean, if you’re not available, that’s fine, but I’ll still call.”

“That’s fine. Take care, okay? I’ll talk to you whenever.”

“Okay, yeah. Talk to you then.”

I stood beside the door with my phone in my hand. The blue bedspread was pulled tightly over my bed, folded around the pillows like a linen store display. It looked prim and tidy, the sheets drum-tight and spotless. It looked lonely.

I scanned through my phone’s history until I hit Jerry’s phone number. Then I stepped into the corner of the room nearest the closet so that Lauren wouldn’t hear me, and I waited as it rang.

“Hey, Phoebe,” he said cheerfully, his accent twanging just enough to make his voice sound like home. “How’s it going?”

“Great,” I said quietly. I slid my back down the wall and pulled my knees against my chest. “Hey, you still up for pizza?”

Jerry lived about fifteen minutes down the road from me, in an old tree-lined neighborhood of brick colonials and shady yards dense with flowerbeds and ivy. His house was medium-sized and neatly kept, with evergreen-painted shutters and giant azalea bushes under the front windows, carefully trimmed down to the windowsills. We were supposed to be going out to Egyptian Pizza, a place that Jerry said had terrific food and, given how well he’d done in choosing the fondue place, I wasn’t about to argue. Timidly, I rapped with the brass door knocker, waiting on the cement landing. The door opened, and Jerry stood there in jeans and a maroon collared T-shirt, with a diapered baby on his hip.

“Come on in,” he said. “I just need a minute.”

I picked up the baby’s hand as I stepped inside. “What’s your name, little guy?”

“This is Marco. Watch out, he’s stinky. His sister’s around here somewhere.”

I looked around. The living-room walls were painted a sunny yellow, with a big, rustic stone fireplace taking up the better part of the larger wall. The furniture had a lake-cabin theme going; the sofa and a chair were made out of polished logs, with the cushions upholstered in an outdoorsy hunter green and brown print. Everything was very clean, except for a pile of baby toys spilling out from a basket and a Madeline doll sprawled on the floor beside the rocking chair.

“So this is your house, huh?”

“Yeah. I can give you the tour if you like.” Jerry pulled a basket from under the sofa and tried to wrestle Marco onto a plastic changing pad he had spread on the carpet.

“Sure, I’d like that.”

“Let me just get this kid changed first. No fair leaving my sister with a dirty diaper I knew about.”

“That’s pretty nice of you.”

He looked up at me, amused. “It’s just common courtesy.”

A pair of blue eyes peeked at me around the corner under a mop of red curls. I crouched down to eye level. “Hello,” I said.

The little head pulled back behind the wall. “That’s Betsy,” Jerry told me. “She’s shy.”

I picked up the doll from the floor beside the rocker. “Betsy, do you want your Madeline doll?”

She reappeared in the passageway, wearing a rainbow-striped sweater under a flowered jumper and sandals with smiling frog faces on the toes. “Yes,” she whispered.

“She dressed herself today,” explained Jerry.

“I figured.”

“Follow me, I’ll show you around.” Marco bolted across the room, and Jerry stood up with a diaper in his hand, folded up into a neat little rectangular package. “Starting with the kitchen, since I need to wash my hands.”

The kitchen was decorated as nicely as the living room, with a lot of natural wood trim and brass pots hanging on the walls, the bottom cabinets painted a weathered-looking blue-green. The formal dining room had dramatic, deep-red walls and goldframed still-life prints, a big Oriental rug under the dining table. Even his bedroom was tidy, with a kind of Ikea simplicity to it, just clean pine furniture and a duvet with a navy blue cover draped neatly over the bed. There was an Ansel Adams print on the wall above it, and on the desk beneath the window, an open laptop computer beside an overflowing fern. A TV armoire stood at the foot of the bed, the doors decorously closed.