Men are dependable, god bless’em. You can bust them up, throw them down a mine shaft, and half drown them… they can have broken bones, a cracked head, and a body that’s one big bruise… in short, they can just hurt all over, and if that one part works they still want to, you know, do it.
It’s just one of the things I love about them.
Not that I jumped right into the sack. (“Eased” is more like it, anyway. When the moment came I “eased” into the sack, Neal being in a delicate condition and all.) First we made a little small talk.
“Petkovitch is suing you?!” I asked when Neal told me.
“He’s suing you, too.”
“That’s outrageous,” I said. “Do you know a good lawyer?”
“I don’t think we’ll be needing one,” Neal answered. “He’s also suing Mickey the C.”
“That’s not real bright.”
“It’s downright dim,” Neal said. “Mickey the C’s idea of playing rough includes a little more than sarcastic remarks in his correspondence.”
“I noticed.”
“Right.”
“So how are you?” I asked.
“I hurt all over.”
“One big bruise.”
“One big bruise.”
“I gave Hope twenty bucks.”
“What for?” he asked.
“Get rid of her.”
“And Nathan?”
“And Nathan.”
“What for?”
Giving me that innocent look as if he didn’t have a clue.
“Never mind,” I said. “You’re in pain.”
“Actually, I’m starting to feel better.”
“And you need your rest.”
“In moderation,” he said. “With exercise.”
“But you can’t get out of bed.”
“Nope.”
“Nope.”
“So any exercise you’re going to get…”
“… would have to be in bed.”
“Hmmm.”
“Hmmm.”
I shut and locked the door, then got out of my clothes.
“I’m really feeling considerable improvement,” Neal said.
What can I tell you? The guy makes me laugh.
“It must be the tender, loving care,” I said.
“Is that it?”
“It’s about to be.”
Then I eased into the bed.