Drawn Together (18 page)

“Mr. Yummy,” said a deep southern voice that never failed to make a shiver run up his back. “Thank you for your kindness to my friends.” Yamane smiled at Rory. “I’m really glad I got to meet them,” he said. “I feel privileged.

Are you really going to make me camp? Will it be just tenting, or must I kill my food and prepare it too?”

“Just tenting. I’m planning on eating in restaurants along the way and then stopping to sleep.”

“Oh, thank heavens.”

“Because human food lures out the hungry bears,” teased Rory.

Yamane considered this. “But essentially, aren’t humans a kind of bear food?”

“Well, yes, I guess so.”

“So what does it matter if something else smells tasty?”

“I don’t know. Ask Brian; he’s the Eagle Scout.”

“Okay, where is he?” asked Yamane. “I’ll ask him right now.”

“He’s going to meet us at eleven thirty at Camping World. I think he thinks I’m going to buy Barbie tents and sleeping bags now that I’ve gone ‘over to the dark side.’” 106

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“He just wants to see you off. He likes you,” said Yamane quietly. To Katherine, he said, “Do you have a notepad? I’m going to formulate a list of questions for Brian when I see him.”

Katherine raised her eyebrows but left the table and came back with a yellow legal pad.

* * * * *

Rory saw Brian look at his watch for the thirteenth time. It was two thirty, and Yamane, holding court among a number of Camping World employees and interested bystanders, was still pelting them with questions ranging from safety, sanitation, and points of interest on Interstate 80. Brian retrieved the cell phone from his pocket and ducked out to make another call to his boss.

Rory waited till Brian was off the phone to say again, “I’m sorry, man.”

“Don’t be,” said Brian. “It’s a little scary camping if you’ve never done it.” Rory rolled his eyes. “The thing is, he’s got ice water in his veins when he’s really in danger, but when he imagines something that frightens him, he overreacts. You should have seen him face down Amelia. He sat there eating a piece of fruit when she reached out and stabbed him through the hand with a fork.”

“I don’t know what I’d do if something like that happened to Amy.”

“Sure you do. At least, you know you wouldn’t sit there like an idiot and let her get away with it,” said Rory, the bitterness like acid on his tongue.

“Hey. Don’t be so hard on yourself. You couldn’t possibly know room service would attack your friend.”

“I should have killed that bitch while I had the chance. I’m sorry if that offends.”

“I’m not offended. If I didn’t have Amy and the kids to worry about, I’d be going with you.”

“I love you, bro.” Rory grabbed his hand and pulled him into a rough hug.

“Back atcha. Let’s put a stop to this, shall we? I’ve got to go back to work so my kids can eat.”

“Want some money? I won a bundle.”

“You and your dirty, tainted money.”

“I swear to you, I never won like I won in Vegas just now. Your Guy up there must love Yamane, because I was doing it for him.” Brian raised a skeptical eyebrow.

Rory had to laugh when he finally caught up with Yamane, who was writing down another helpful tip on his legal pad. “Okay, I think that’s enough for today.”

“But wait,” said Yamane. “We’ve got bears covered, but you never told me about snakes. What do you do for snakes?”

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“Yamane,” said Rory, in the voice he used on traumatized children and attractive undergraduate girls. “Do you or do you not trust me?”

“Of course I trust you, but --”

“Then trust me. Thank you very much for your kind attention, but I’ll take it from here,” he said to the men and women who had been helping.

Yamane allowed Rory and Brian to load the gear onto the conveyor at the checkout as he studied his legal tablet in frosty silence.

As Brian and Rory placed the gear in the car, Yamane continued to read his notes. “It says here to bury all fecal material. Did we buy a shovel?”

“Got it.” Rory tried hard not to laugh.

“But if you bury toilet paper, isn’t that like littering?”

“You don’t use toilet paper, you use pinecones and then bury them too,” said Brian with a completely straight face. “That way more trees grow.”

“Well, hell. Who thought of that? You’d think if they could put a man on the moon they’d have a better system by now. Shit,” cursed Yamane.

“Is he for real?” whispered Brian.

Rory was doubled up in the hatchback of his car almost in pain from trying not to laugh out loud. “Oh, I hope so, Brian. I really, really hope so.” They said their good-byes and Brian waved as they headed out of the Camping World parking lot. They got a later start than Rory planned, so by the time they pitched their tent it was full dark even though the sun didn’t set until quite late. Rory and Yamane sat in front of a campfire in a secluded area of a standard RV campground, which had showers, a laundry room, a minimart, and even a gift shop.

The irony of this was not lost on Yamane, who said sourly, “So this is camping? This isn’t camping! This is just the worst motel we’ve been to yet.” He drank a sip of his cocoa.

“You must think I’m such an idiot.”

Rory pulled Yamane’s chair closer, then pulled a homemade quilt over the two of them. “No, cher, I just thought for your first time we’d take it a little easy is all.” Yamane’s mouth went dry. “Oh,” he said. “I see. Starter camping.” They sat together like that while they finished their drinks. “This is kind of nice out here.”

“Rest here awhile and look at the stars. You don’t see those in the city. I’m going to take a shower.” He got his toiletry bag and a towel and draped a change of clothes over his arm.

Yamane sat in the firelight. He could hear the televisions going in some of the larger RVs and the clink and jingle of someone doing dishes. Every so often laughter floated on the air toward him from where three or four young boys were playing with a glow-in-the-dark 108

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soccer ball. He began to see the attraction of this kind of travel. Between a primitive fascination with fire, the smell of the night air, and the stars, he began to like it very much.

Especially when he saw Rory walking toward him on the path, bare-chested and still wet, shaking his head like a dog. The little droplets fell on Yamane, who liked the sensation.

“My turn,” he said. “I’ll grab my things.”

“It’s pretty deserted,” said Rory. “Maybe I’d better go with you just to make sure that you’re okay.”

“Stop treating me like a child. I’ll be --”

Rory shoved him back through the tent flap and fell on him with a kiss. “You’re five feet six inches tall and weigh what, one-thirty? I’m not treating you like a child; I just want you to be cautious.”

“I understand.” They kissed until Yamane felt breathless. He knelt, looking down at Rory, who sat flushed and aroused on the floor of their tent.

“Just keep an eye on your surroundings, okay? This isn’t like summer camp.”

“Like I ever went to summer camp,” said Yamane. “Anyway, why don’t you take your own advice? You’re beautiful, and yet you went alone.”

“I’m a little bigger than you are, cher.”

“And yet, you’re helpless against me.” Yamane took his things and left the tent.

“Hey, little girl, wait up, I’ve been on the road a long, long time…” teased Rory.

Yamane turned around and pushed him over backward with his foot. “Dirty man.” He spun around and walked down the path to the showers.

The bathrooms reminded Yamane a little of the bathrooms in public pools. They consisted of a little dressing space and a shower with a curtain. Not a lot of light filtered in there. Yamane sat down to take off his clothes. He gratefully inspected the shower shoes Rory and Brian insisted he buy.

Yamane took a more thorough shower than usual, as he had been doing since he met Rory. It wouldn’t do to greet him with his dick hard as a baseball bat or to jump on him and lick his face like an overeager puppy, both of which he’d been tempted to do time and time again. He left the shower feeling clean, and if not virtuous, a little less likely to disgrace his ancestors.

When he returned to the tent, he sensed immediately that something was terribly wrong. Rory stared at the computer, only looking up at Yamane after the third time he called his name. “Rory, what is it?”

Wordlessly, Rory turned the computer around. On it was an e-mail from his grandmère.

Dear Rory,

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I hope this finds you well on your travels. I cannot believe your car is still going. I thought it would have died in about Santa Fe, and I lost a bet to Grandpère Claude. He is still up to his usual tricks, and the sheriff stopped by to tell me that if Claude gives pot to another one of the people from his cancer survivor group he’d have to do something about it. Wait till he finds out his daddy was one of Claude’s fellow potheads before he passed, and everything will hit the fan, for sure.

Your friend Ame i

l a came by too. She said she has tickets to a concert for you and her and Yamane for Saturday night, and that she’s counting on you being there. I told her I could not make any promises, but she insisted that you would not want to miss the fireworks show afterward. She seemed a little pushy, if you ask me, and a little too old as well. Since she asked about Yamane too, I hope she is her friend, because I could not like her and I am sure you could do better.

Grandpère and I miss you and long to see your joli beau visage, mon ange, Love, Grandmère

“Shit,” said Yamane.

“Shit, shit, shit,” said Rory.

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Chapter Seventeen

“That bitch!”

“Rory, I am so sorry.” Yamane sat with his head bowed. “I am so sorry.”

“I have to think!”

Yamane took Rory’s hands in his. He tried not to wince when Rory clutched them, but he couldn’t help it; the pain shot through his left hand right to his toes.

Rory brought Yamane’s injured hand to his lips for a kiss. “I’m sorry, Yamane,” he said.

“I forgot.” Yamane reached out and stroked his hair. This seemed to soothe Rory, so he kept it up. Eventually the computer went into sleep mode and what light they had was gone, except for the flickering of the fire outside. Yamane realized he was making a kind of shushing noise.

“There are three people in this world that I would die for,” Rory said at last. “And that bitch is messing with all of them. Does she expect me to choose?”

“I can tell you from experience that she only wants you to think you have a choice. She already plans to destroy everything you love just when you think you’ve saved the day. Kind of freeing, isn’t it, knowing that?”

Rory looked up at Yamane as if he’d gone crazy.

“I expect the logic of that hasn’t seeped in yet,” Yamane continued. “At first I didn’t understand either when it happened to me. But the fact is that knowing nothing you do will keep her from destroying everything you love is a kind of relief. Hope disappears completely and leaves in its place a kind of rational, bitter ability to think logically about losing everything on your own terms.”

“Yamane?” asked Rory in the darkness. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine. Although I could use a smoke and a drink.” Drawn Together

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“Well, I was saving this,” said Rory, who rummaged in his duffel and produced a fifth of bourbon. “In case it got cold…or hot, if you know what I mean.”

“Thank you.” He twisted off the cap and took a drink. “Whoa.” He made a face. “Okay, that’s better.” He handed the bottle to Rory.

“Thank you.” Rory sipped from it and handed it back. “You were saying?”

“Oh, yeah. Now, correct me if I’m wrong” -- Yamane took another drink -- “but if Amelia is in Louisiana with your grandparents waiting for us to come, that means we no longer need to hide, right?”

Rory sat up suddenly. “Hey.”

“I mean, it no longer matters where we are. We know where she is, right?”

“Yes, we do.”

“And if we don’t need to hide,” Yamane went on, “how about we go into Cheyenne tomorrow, or whatever passes for a town in this godforsaken wilderness, and I buy you a car that doesn’t smell like an open grave?”

“Hey.”

Yamane was on a roll. “We’ll get new clothes and arm ourselves, and we’ll go out in a blaze of glory like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.”

“Well, I guess I know which one of us will be Butch.”

“I’ll have you know --” began Yamane, but Rory cut him off.

“Oh, don’t even try, princess.”

“Rory --”

“I love my grandparents. I won’t allow anything to happen to them or to you. I just have to think.” Rory took Yamane’s good hand and started crawling from the tent, pulling the smaller man with him.

“Where are we going?” Yamane still held the bourbon.

“I want to enjoy the fire a little longer. With you.”

“May I smoke?”

Rory pursed his lips. “Sure. I guess we weren’t planning to do any kissing tonight anyway.” Rory left the tent.

“You heartless shit.” Yamane followed him.

Rory held out Yamane’s cigarettes and lighter when he emerged and dropped the tent flap behind him. “When we get through this, you’re quitting.”

“That’s a deal.” Yamane took them and lit up.

“You’re only saying that because you think Amelia will kill us.” Yamane took a deep drag. “Are you really going to make me choose between smoking and kissing you?”

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“Not tonight.” Rory pulled him to the ground on a blanket in front of the fire. They sat cross-legged, enjoying the night air until the fire burned down to embers. Rory watched the fire, and Yamane watched Rory. His breath caught in his throat. He caught Rory’s jaw in his hand and brought his lips in for a kiss. Rory came to him, hesitantly at first. Yamane tasted bourbon, wood smoke, and sadness on Rory’s soft lips. He vowed to change at least one of those things before dawn.

* * * * *

Amelia studied Ethan’s impassive face. As always, something about the way he kept his emotions under such iron control irked her, like trying to lift the corner of a Band-Aid and being unable to pry it away from the skin.