Robin and Ruby Read Online Free PDF Page B

running his fingers over those newly tight muscles, and he imagines more than that in this moment. But then George reemerges from the bathroom in his ugly plaid robe. Its indigo and turquoise stripes seem designed to make its wearer look as unattractive as possible.
    “I thought you’d still be at work,” Robin says.
    “I asked to leave early. I thought you were out with Peter.”
    “He ordered us Greek food and then broke up with me.”
    “What?”
    The phone rings, and Robin grabs it, wishing for Peter, but instead it’s someone named Matthias. “ Mah-TEE-uss, ” in some northern European accent, calling for “ Gay-org. ” George takes the phone without explanation and stretches the cord as far as it goes, which in this case means back into the bathroom.
    Robin steps to the window, propped open because they have no air conditioning, just a ceiling fan that stirs up the heat. Maybe Peter’s out there, maybe he came back and is waiting for you to notice him, ready to apologize and ask you for another chance. But, no, just the neighborhood boys doing their thing. Above the trees on 41st Street, the sky is a haze of pastel twilight, a glimpse of a fading day.
    At the far end of the living room is a waist-high countertop that opens to the kitchen. George walks from the bathroom to the fridge, pulling bottles of Old Latrobe from a six-pack he probably bought at the corner bar on his way home from work. He hands one across the counter to Robin, who drinks deeply, feeling the earthy, cold liquid move into the hollow center of his torso.
    “So, what happened?” George asks him.
    “You first. I want details.”
    “About?”
    Imitating the voice on the phone, Robin says, “ Matthias .”
    “Did you see him in the restaurant today?” George asks.
    “One of the Germans?”
    “He’s actually Danish. The tall guy, with the punky hair?”
    “ That guy? How’d you know he was gay?”
    “He practically followed me into the kitchen. You should have seen Cesar’s reaction to that.” George looks down at the floor; he might be hiding a smile. “I gave him my number.”
    “Wow. That’s superfast. Maybe some kind of record for you.”
    “What was strange was how he was so sure I was gay,” George says. “That never happens. Especially with white boys.”
    “Georgie, when you stare—”
    “I know, I need to wear dark glasses.”
    “Because your eyes go up and down a man— ”
    “ —like searchlights. Thank you, Joan Crawford.”
    “That was Rosalind Russell.”
    George slugs from his beer until foam spills from his lips. Then he wipes his mouth and lets out a resonant belch.
    “That’s right,” Robin says. “Wash down the gay movie reference with a brewski.”
    “He’s leaving town tomorrow.”
    “Ah, that’s why you left work early. You’re gonna see him tonight.”
    “Maybe.” George steps around to Robin’s side of the counter and hops up onto one of their two barstools, his bare legs dangling below the robe. “Hey, I looked up something in the university catalog today. It’s not too late for me to apply for semester abroad programs. How slammin’ would that be, if I was in London at the same time?”
    “That would be major .” In an instant, the entire picture of London seems to click into place: the two of them sharing a flat, Robin going off to rehearsal, George doing an internship at some kind of national health clinic, meeting up at night to go dancing at that world-famous club, Heaven…“But wait—don’t change the subject, Georgie. You need to get some.”
    “OK, we both know it’s been a long time.” He arches his back and howls, “Matthias, have your way with me.” The robe slouches open. Robin finds himself staring again, staring at George . So weird.
    George says, “I’ll call this guy back. I will. But first tell me what stupid Peter said to you.”
    Robin frowns. He relocates to the couch, facing the window, looking out at the dimming sky. Where to start? How about