Page 51 of Rhymes with Metaphor
“Yes?”
“How’s New Bug?”said Martin.
“Fine,” said Reg.
“Sick of him yet?”When Reg said nothing, Martin said, “What?What have you done?If you’ve done something to Juliet’s little brother, I’ll—”
“Don’t send out the troops.We’re going punting.”
“Thank god.I thought you might have drowned him in the bathtub by now,” said Martin.
“I take it Juliet’s not with you?”
“No, but I’m taking her out later today.”
“Have fun.”
“You too, if that’s possible with New Bug.”
It was quite possible.Very, very quite possible.
Joel came down twenty minutes later, showered, shaved, and wearing the raspberry red silk shirt Reg had bought him, still buttoned up to his throat, but a new light shone in his eyes.He looked more awake and alive, and his body language had changed.
“Am I appropriately dressed for the surprise?”said Joel.
Reg smiled.“Yes.”
He took Joel out in his father’s car.
“Where are we going?”said Joel.
“Yours is not to ask.Your only task is to relax and enjoy yourself.”
Reg didn’t feel relaxed, trapped as he was in this steel and glass enclosure of heat and temptation.His gaze kept sliding to Joel in the passenger seat.
They stopped at a nice pub and had a lunch of rich cheeses and velvety meats and fresh, crusty bread slathered with Irish butter, chased with ginger beer.Reg was pleased to see Joel clean his plate.Afterwards, Reg took him for a punt on the river.Joel lay along the bottom of the punt digesting his meal, with Reg’s striped blazer rolled into a bundle for a pillow, while Reg poled them along, water coating the pole like melted butter.Sunlight and shadow dappled Joel’s body.He looked so vulnerable and precious that Reg took extra care to move the punt smoothly through the water so as not to disturb him.As Joel smiled and stretched, arching his back, the bottom edge of his silk shirt came untucked from his trousers and rode up, revealing his left hip and a pale, concave belly with a trace of dark hair.Reg wondered if the gesture was calculated or purely accidental.Joel was a closed book, and Reg wanted to open his covers and read him beginning to end.
By the time Reg returned the punt to the dock, Joel had fallen asleep, and Reg had to wake him.
As they drove back to the house, Joel said, “I feel like I should be working.I haven’t had a summer off since I was a kid.”
“What if you modelled for me?”
“What?”said Joel.
“I’d like to make sketches of you.I’ll pay you.”
“I’m not a professional model,” said Joel.
“You would be if I paid you.”
“But I’m not...,” said Joel, looking at himself.
“...not?”
“I don’t look like a model.”
“You will when I’ve finished with you,” said Reg.
