“I don’t think that’ll take care of it.”
“Can’t hurt. I’ll brush mine when we get to my place.”
“Well...”
“Go ahead, I’ll wait here.”
I ran up the stairs two at a time and hurried into the bathroom. After brushing my teeth, I used the toilet. This was the tough part about wearing swim trunks instead of underwear; they had no fly. Usually, I tried to maneuver myself out through the leghole of the trunks and the zipper of my jeans. But I didn’t feel like struggling, so I just dragged everything down around my ankles. My skin was hot and damp from being trapped inside all those clothes. In front, I was slippery as if I’d been dipped in liquid soap. I could hardly hold on to take aim. But the air felt great on all those hot, wet places.
Before flushing, I used a lot of toilet paper to dry myself. Then I pulled up my trunks and groaned at the way their hot, clammy lining clung to me. Quickly, I tugged them down again. I took off my shoes, jeans and trunks, then put my jeans back on. The dirty clothes hamper was next to the toilet. I dropped my trunks in, put my shoes on, then washed my hands and left the bathroom. Without anything on under my jeans, I felt dry and loose and free.
I could stay like this, I thought. Nobody’ll ever know.
But I knew I didn’t dare.
In my bedroom, I shut the door and turned on the light. I unbuttoned Rusty’s shirt, took it off, turned toward my bed and gave his shirt a toss.
On the pillow of my bed was a yellow rose.
My stomach dropped.
I leaped to my open closet, pulled a clean shirt off a hanger, then snatched Rusty’s shirt off the bed and ran to the door. I jerked it open.
“Slim!” I shouted.
“Yeah?” Her voice sounded far away. “What is it?”
I slapped the light switch. As darkness collapsed all around me, I raced down the hallway to the top of the stairs and then I ran down the stairs.
Slim was standing in the gloom of the kitchen, the grocery sack in her hand. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Somebody’s been here.” Holding the two shirts in my left hand, I grabbed Slim’s arm with my right. I hurried to the back door, pulling her.
I felt a little better the moment we were outside, but I didn’t actually feel safe until we’d reached the sidewalk out front. When we came to the end of the block, we stopped. I tried to put on my shirt, but it wasn’t easy with Rusty’s shirt in one hand.
“I’ll hold it,” Slim said.
I gave Rusty’s shirt to her, and put on my own.
“So what happened?” she asked.
“I went to my bedroom to change shirts,” I explained. “When I looked at my bed, there was a rose on the pillow. A yellow rose.”
The left side of Slim’s upper lip lifted, baring some teeth. “Like one of my mom’s yellow roses?”
“Yeah.”
“Ooo.”
“It was just lying there on my pillow.”
“Everything else was okay?”
“Far as I could tell. But I didn’t exactly hang around to find out.”
Or put on underwear, I thought. But Slim didn’t need to know that.
“I was afraid they might still be in the house. And I thought about you being alone in the kitchen.” I finished buttoning my shirt. Then I took Rusty’s shirt from Slim. “Figured I’d take this back to him.”
She nodded.
We stepped off the curb and crossed the street.
“Are we still going to your place?” I asked.
“We have to,” she said. “Then we’ve got to go to your house again. If we don’t take care of the beer, you’ll get the shaft from your parents.”
“Guess we never should’ve drunk it in the first place.”
She smiled at me. “Can’t say I regret it.”
“This is a lot of trouble to go through.”
“The cover-up’s the price you pay for doing the crime.”
I laughed. “Did you just think that up?”
“I think so.”
“Good one.”
She slipped her hand into mine. We walked side by side through the quiet evening.
Chapter Thirty-two
When we came to Slim’s house, she set the grocery sack down on the stoop and crouched in front of the door.
“The tape looks okay,” she said. “Stay here. I’ll check the back door before we go in.”
I waited. A couple of minutes later, Slim opened the front door from inside.