Page 14 of Rough

“Well, if you’d quiet down, I’d be reading…” He swiped his finger across the screen, lifted the tablet, and turned it to face me. “Dune.”

“Dune?”

He raised both eyebrows. “Dune.”

“What’s it about?”

“Right now, it’s about a boy who’s lost in the desert.”

“Which desert?”

“A desert on another fuckin’ planet.”

“Oh,” I said. “Science fiction, huh?”

“No,” he said sarcastically. “It’s a true story about a boy who used to live on the planet Krupsor, and escaped during the mutiny of Eposcus’s slaves in the year 2078 when they had the uprising against the king. He flew back in time in a capsule he fashioned out of pancake batter, scrap pieces of aluminum, Hershey bar wrappers, and a little Saran Wrap. When he crashed it in the Atlantic Ocean right off the coast of Rhode Island last year, they found him with nothing more than a few scratches on his hands; but they were from the sixteen-legged snakes he brought back with him. He called ‘em Weedots. They took ‘em to the San Diego zoo for research. You didn’t see it on T.V.? Read about it in the newspaper?”

I stood up. “You should try being a little less abrasive.”

His eyes fell to the tablet, and he started to read.

“Why?” he asked without looking up.

“We might get along better.”

“I get along with you just fine.”

“It’d just be nice if we talked more. But, suit yourself.”

He looked up. “After you leave here, you can talk all you want.”

“To who?”

“Whoever you want. Your husband.”

“I’m not married.”

“Boyfriend.”

“I don’t have one.”

“My apologies.” He cleared his throat. “Your partner.”

I laughed. “I don’t have one of those either.”

He sat up. “You’re single?”

“Uh huh.”

“Got AIDS?” he asked.

“What?” I gasped. “AIDS? No.”

“Other than the fact that your mouth goes ninety-to-nothing all damned day, you’re attractive. I was just wondering.”

I studied him until he met my gaze. “Do you have any sandpaper?” I asked.

His brow creased. “What? Sandpaper?”