“Likewise. I gotta go though. I have work I need to knock out before the weekend. And you, Mr. Texas... don’t you have a show?”
Alton nodded. “Yeah, tomorrow, depending on the weather. There’s a big snow coming, right?”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Check the weather when you get a chance. Sounds serious. I’ve got a final dress at the Kennedy Center tonight. They’re worried we may have to cancel.”
“That would suck,” Ralph said. He was stepping into his boxers and slacks simultaneously, the exact way he’d exited them the night before. “Don’t worry. It’ll turn out to be nothing. DC storms usually do.”
“Well, if it doesn’t, they’ll be short a violinist because I’m not up for driving my Civic in that shit.”
Ralph kissed the fingers of his right hand and placed them on Alton’s furrowed brow. “What if I pick up some goodies, and we continue this morning session later this evening?” He was hopeful and hopelessly adorable... wrinkled clothes, shirttail half out, tousled hair.
Alton gave Ralph the look he’d been used to seeing for months now. He was still sitting in the bed, beautifully naked and wrapped partially in the sheet.
“You’re busy,” Ralph answered for him. “I know. No big deal. Don’t mind me. I’m just the schmuck who’s infatuated with you.”
“It’s nothing personal, Ralph. It’s just... I have plans.”
Ralph nodded, buttoning the cuffs of his Brooks Brothers shirt. “That’s cool,” he said. “I’ve got other things as well. It’s just... you mentioned the weather, your plans being up in the air, and I thought—who knows—maybeyou might feel the tiniest bit romantic. Can’t blame a guy for trying, can you?”
He sat down to put on his shoes and socks.
“How about next Thursday?” Alton asked. “Why don’t we just stick to our Thursdays?”
Ralph sighed through a half-hearted grin. “So, I’m Thursday’s child. I guess that’s better than Tuesday. Do you have someone for every day of the week, Alton?” he asked.
“Nope. Only three. But you’re in the roster.”
“Well—” Ralph stood. “—there’s always that.”
Alton looked at him—his blue eyes sympathetic, but unyielding. “You’re a good guy, Ralph. You’re going to make someone a fantastic husband one day.”
Ralph was buttoning his coat. “Yeah? I’m beginning to wonder. I’ve never been lucky in that department, I guess. I mean... I’m in good shape for my mid-thirties, pretty good in the sack, got plenty of money. I’m Realty-Man Ralph for crying out loud.”
“It’ll happen, Ralph. When you least expect it.”
“That’s pretty prophetic—a little old-fashioned for such a young, independent-minded, millennial, wouldn’t you say?”
“I know these things, Ralph. Just like I know I’ll wake up in your arms again next Friday morning.”
“Maybe you’re right. At least about one of them.”
And he was... but not about the following Friday morning.
Ralph never saw Alton again.
2
Bo Bryson was looking at several piles of laundry on the bed, folded and divided into categories: jeans, t-shirts, underwear, and socks. He began putting them into his duffel bag as neatly as he could.
Just concentrate on the task at hand,he thought.
Dale came into the room. “You don’t have to do this, Bo. Just give it a try. That’s all I’m asking.”
“Would you please hand me my athletic shoes? They’re inside the closet, on the left.”
Dale did as requested. Bo removed what he’d already packed, placed the shoes in the duffel’s bottom, and then began re-stacking the other items on top.
