Page 145 of Something Like Winter
Tim laughed, wiping away the tears in his eyes. “Until next time.”
__________ Part Five:
Austin, 2008
__________ Chapter Thirty-three
So much of attraction depended on balance. Not too skinny, not too fat. Not too young, not too old. Everyone had a different definition of the porridge that wasjuuust right.Tim was currently trying to find the perfect balance of scent. Cologne should be strong enough to be noticed, but not strong enough to make the eyes water. How many sprays was that exactly? Two? Three?
The balancing game continued. Stylishly messy hair sounded easy, but was found only in a narrow range between careless and completely crazy. And of course the old battle between overdressed and too casual waged on. Tim had opted for a dress shirt to go with his jeans before deciding this was trying too hard. Anything could happen when his guest arrived. Of course if the news was bad, all of this was superficial.
Giving up on his appearance, Tim walked through the house, Chinchilla following dutifully behind as he inspected everything. Kitchen counters cleared? Check. Scented candles in the living room lit? Check. Big fat guy sipping champagne on the couch? Check.… God damn it! Not now!
“What are you doing here?” Tim demanded.
“I keep showing up,” Marcello said, “and you keep asking why.
Thus our dance goes on.”
“Seriously,” Tim said, wiping a ring of condensation off the coffee
table. “This isn’t the best time.”
Marcello’s crow’s feet crinkled. “I haven’t seen you this nervous in
quite some time. He must be quite the looker. What’s the lucky guy’s
name?”
“Allison,” Tim huffed.
Marcello stuck out his bottom lip and shrugged. “Always try new
things, I suppose.”
“It’s not a date. You remember Allison. You met her at that grill
party a few years ago.”
“Grill party?”
“Yeah. Afterwards you said you’d been to children’s birthday parties
with more debauchery.”
“It’s true!” Marcello chuckled. “I remember now. She’s the pretty
black woman who sang with Ben. Why is she coming over?” “I wish I knew. She called me yesterday and said she wanted to talk
in person.”
“Probably needs money,” Marcello said, pantomiming a yawn. “I don’t think so.” Tim felt his pulse pick up. “I bet it has something
to do with Ben. Anyway, I need you out of here. Go on! You can take the
bottle with you.”
“There’s something I wanted to talk to you about,” Marcello said.
