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Page 34.
 “It’s ten o’clock,” she told him. “It’s early for bars, as I recall.”
“I hope I’m not calling too late.”
She rolled over on her stomach. “It’s not too late.” Her breath somehow was short. “It’s never too late or too early in Upskate, Downskate.”
It’s never too late. I’m always open for you.
“Just thought I’d call,” he said. “Let’s not talk about skating.”
“It’s been a while,” she said. She added teasingly, “What about your date?”
“No date,” he protested.
“It’s Friday night,” she said. “A date night.”
“It’s springtime too,” he reminded her.
“I know!” she agreed, accentuating the “know.” Her fingers were somehow aflutter around the receiver.
Fig night. Fog night, she thought. Come over here.
His voice sounded abashed and sweaty. “I’d made up my mind not to call you.”
She laughed incriminatingly. “I thought I saw you staring at the telephone when you were here, right as you left.”
“You don’t miss much.”
“You were standing too close. You must learn to be discreet.”
“I thought I was discreet.”
“Not discreet enough.” Her heart was pounding and the pulse in her throat threatened to cut off her voice. Indeed, her throat tightened, so she involuntarily emitted a faint cry of desire. Embarrassed, she hoped he didn’t notice. “I saw you, Marc. You lingered. Actually, you sort of swayed to one side so you could get a good look at the phone number on the switchhook.”
“I should be descreet when instead I’m concrete,” he said.
She pressed her elbows together, as her nipples tingled just hearing his voice. “I thought you’d be off mowing other lawns.”
“I was,” he said truthfully.
“Don’t sound so enthused,” she said.
“The grass is greener on the other side.”
“That’s original.”
“I miss you.”
“I know,” she said full of sorrow and hope, yearning and soap. “Stop by when you feel like it.”
Come now. Please, I need you so much.
Crack! another hard kick. The fans rustled in Milan or Rome, wherever it was, Borussia Dortmund or Manchester, she wasn’t paying enough attention. Oh yes, Madrid and Warsaw. The announcer said, “Samy Krakow just kicked another goal home for his team…”
“Someone there?” Marc Fontbleu asked.
“Not a soul,” she said brightly. “I got a card from Jérôme today. They found some bones.”
“Over in Australia?”
“Where else?”
“Upskate.”
“You remembered. Yeah, Downskate.”
“I hope I’m not bothering you.”
“I was hoping you’d call. Don’t drop the receiver in shock now.”
“You are so saucy.”
“You talk too long on the telephone.”
“I can hang up.”
“No don’t.”
“Shall I drop by?”
“What about your commitment?”
“What commitment?”
“To remain uncommitted.”
He paused amid grass and crickets and exhaust fumes. Feigning casualness, he said, “You’re on my way home.”
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