Mummy Dearest - lanyon Josh - Страница 8

“You know what they say about all work and no play.”

“No. What do they say?”

“Ha. You’re a sarcastic shit.” He was smiling in approval.

It was disconcerting how much I wanted to stand there shooting the breeze with him. If I’d had swim gear, I’d have been tempted to close my laptop and go out to play.

As it was, I said, “It’s a life skill in my profession.” I nodded farewell and slid shut the door.

Fraser returned to the pool and I went back to work. After a time I noticed the sounds from outside had died away. I looked out. The aqua water was choppy, the deck sloshed with wet, wet towels scattered on chairs and tables, but the pool and courtyard were now empty.

I sat down at the desk again, typed a few uninspired lines, but my heart just wasn’t in it. I felt like the kid who had to practice piano while everyone else was outside playing softball.

Time for a break.

I tried Noah again at home, but there was still no answer. On an impulse, I called his office at the university, but there was no answer there either. I hadn’t really expected one. Noah couldn’t get away fast enough on Friday afternoons.

Well, maybe he was shopping for groceries or running some errands. Not that Noah ran many errands. That was generally my job, but maybe something had come up. There was certainly no reason to feel anxious because Noah wasn’t sitting beside the phone, but I wished he wasn’t so resistant to using his cell phone.

My stomach growled. It was after six now, and I’d never got around to eating lunch.

I changed my shirt, combed my hair and went upstairs to the mezzanine bar. It was empty. Not really a surprise. It was Halloween, after all. Most people would have better things to do than hang out at a hotel bar.

I ordered a cosmopolitan and tried it cautiously. Not the best I’d ever had, but not the worst. A little heavy on the triple sec.

I sipped my drink and stared gloomily at the paper chains of black cats festooning the room.

“Can I buy you another?”

I glanced around. Fraser leaned against the bar. His wet hair was combed back. He was wearing black jeans and a white Henley. There was a faint gold bristle on his jaw. He was…sexy.

Surprisingly sexy.

He was still looking at me in inquiry. “Thanks. I’m good.”

Fraser ordered a Jack Daniels and then pointed at my glass. The bartender nodded.

I wasn’t sure if I was irritated or not. “You don’t take no for an answer, do you?”

“You don’t get anywhere taking no for an answer.”

I gave him a sideways look. He caught my eye. His smile turned sheepish. “I’m not such a bad guy, you know. Once you get to know me.”

“Did I say a word?”

“You think very loudly.”

I laughed.

The bartender slid our drinks in front of us. Fraser nudged me and nodded at one of the small tables by the fireplace.

Well, why not? I really didn’t feel like sitting by myself in an empty bar.

There was a stack of smiling resin jack-o’-lanterns on the raised hearth, and a couple of black rubber bats hanging from the mantelpiece. The gas fire crackled cheerfully.

Fraser stretched his legs out and sat back in his chair so that he was practically reclining. He sipped his Jack Daniels.

“Who’s watching the princess?” I asked.

He raised his eyebrows.

“Isn’t she supposed to walk tonight?”

He sat up, instantly animated. “She is, yeah. We’ve got a video camera running in the exhibition room and I’ll check in on her in the early a.m.”

“You didn’t want to post someone to personally watch over her?”

“We don’t want to interfere with her.” He was serious, as far as I could tell.

“Come on. You don’t really expect her to go trick or treating?”

He smiled cheekily. “I like to keep an open mind.”

“I bet. How much of that stuff do you really believe? Giant anacondas and alien abductions and abominable snowmen?” I took a cautious sip of my second drink. They made them strong in the mezzanine bar, and I don’t have a good head for alcohol. Plus I still hadn’t eaten anything since dried peanuts on the plane.

Fraser said, “As a matter of fact, I think that there could be a certain amount of truth in all three of those claims.”

I laughed. “Seriously?”

He did look surprisingly serious. “You’re an academic. You know as well as me that there are a lot of places on this continent, let alone the entire planet, which are still unexplored. They discover new plant and animal species all the time.”

“Not all the time.”

“Often enough. The world is changing. It’s been changing since it started, if you want to get technical about it. Nothing stays the same, so maybe there were sea monsters once and maybe aliens did visit us and maybe some weird human-flesh-eating plant is mutating right now.”

I didn’t think any of that was likely, especially the mutating carnivorous flowers, but it was obviously something he’d thought about. Thought about and believed.

I turned my glass thoughtfully.

“For the record, we’ve never done a show about giant anacondas or alien abductions or abominable snow persons. We focus on the little weird stuff. Local legends mostly. We try and get at the human story behind the legend.”

“What’s the human story behind Princess Merneith?”

“Little museum in the middle of nowhere struggling to stay afloat. That’s a story a lot of people can relate to right now.”

“Sure, but what makes it special enough for a whole TV program?”

“Twenty-two minutes of programming. Eight minutes of advertising.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“I like underdog stories. And anything to do with Egypt is always hot. People love mummies and pyramids and curses.”

I sighed.

“Yeah, yeah. But you know what I mean. Anyway, it’s an interesting story how old Wallace Hiram purchased the mummy from tomb robbers and brought her back to the States.”

Fair enough. It was interesting. To me anyway. Not particularly dramatic, I’d have thought, but I was no expert about what made for great television. Noah had very definite tastes when it came to the things we watched.

“Where are you based out of?” I asked curiously.

“L.A. Same as you.”

“How do you know where I’m based out of?”

“I Googled you when I went up to my room.”

“Why?”

His shy, self-conscious smile took me aback. It must have showed.

“You’re gay, right?” he inquired.

“Why would that matter?”

“I get it wrong sometimes.”

“Is there some reason you would need to get it right?”

“God.” Fraser was admiring. “You’ve got that forbidding thing down cold. I can so picture you in front of a classroom scaring the shit out of kids.”

“Gee, thanks. Fear. Not actually my first choice in teaching methods.”

Fraser said knowingly, “I bet it’s your choice when you need it to be.”

I ignored him, sipped my drink. I was getting to like that super-sweet tartness. You can develop a taste for anything, given time.

“See, the reason I ask is I feel like there’s this…” he waggled his index finger between himself and me, “…connection.”

“Between you and me?”

He smiled. “So that’s why I’m asking. Because I occasionally—well, a lot of the time—get it wrong.”

“Do tell.”

He asked tentatively, “Are you seeing someone?”

I was so flabbergasted it took me a couple of seconds to realize he really wanted an answer. “Yes,” I said firmly. “I am. I live with someone.”

His face fell. “Oh.”

“You’re propositioning me before you’re even sure I’m gay?”

“Karen said you were.”

“Karen said I was? How the hell would Karen know?”

“She always falls for gay guys. It’s a knack. Actually, it’s more a superpower.”

“I…” I rubbed my forehead. “Ai yi yi.” I looked up at him, shaking my head. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say yes.”