asked.
"You're sure that's a term of endearment?" Spider asked, giving Tommy a skeptical look.
Tommy laughed, shrugged, and then answered his wife's question. "Gonna go clock out for the day, and then we were going to go by Kelly's and have a couple of beers. Why?"
"I've got a couple of things to finish up, and then I'll meet you there."
"Great! Then maybe we can go to dinner." Tommy looked from his wife to his partner.
"Spider?" Laura asked.
"Can't go to dinner. I've . . . I've got plans."
Laura let go of them and moved into Spider's path she looked up at her. "What sort of plans?"
Spider looked at the floor. "Ah . . . I've got laundry and . . . stuff . . . you know . . . Stuff."
"Yeah, I know," Laura laughed. "I know that 'laundry and stuff' can wait. Come on."
Spider looked at Tommy, who just smiled and said, "Don't look at me. I know you don't have a fucking life. Come on, we'll eat at . . . " He looked at his wife.
"Bartelo's," she answered, knowing it was Spider's favorite Italian restaurant.
Laura looked at Spider expectantly, and Spider nodded, feeling as if she were trapped. She really didn't feel like going out, but if she didn't she was just going to go by the hospital and talk to Henry. Then she'd go home, stare at the ceiling, and think about the suckiness of her life till she finally fell into a fitful sleep and had the fucking dream again.
Still, she hated being the fifth wheel, and no matter how good your friends were, when you went out with a man and his wife, you were really on your own.
"Good! Then it's settled. I'll meet you at Kelly's." Laura ran off before Spider could talk herself—and them—out of going.
Spider and Tommy slid into the corner booth.
"It was close there for a minute, but they're gonna cage him."
"No thanks to your stellar performance," Tommy whispered. The waiter walked over and set the beers in front of them. They were regulars, and he rarely bothered to ask them what they wanted anymore. He just brought them a couple of cheap drafts.
"Anything else?"
"When Laura gets here bring her a raspberry wine cooler, and bring us each another beer."
"Put it on my tab," Spider said.
Tommy looked at her with raised eyebrows; they usually went Dutch.
"My way of saying I'm sorry, and no I'm not picking up the tab for dinner."
"You're getting off awful cheap." Tommy laughed and took a drink of his beer. "All right, but don't do it again. You put our asses on the line for a laugh."
Spider nodded, and then she did something Spider rarely did, she was silent. He kept waiting for her to talk, but she didn't. This put Tommy on the spot, because usually Spider started the conversation and then they were . . . well . . . talking.
"Ah, you catch the game last night?" he asked.
"Ah . . . what game? You know I don't watch sports. What planet are you from?"
That was it. She still wasn't talking. Just staring at her beer, looking like someone crushed her puppy. God! She was pathetic!
"Your life doesn't suck, Spider," he tried.
Spider laughed loudly and ran a hand down her face. She looked at him and shook her head. "My life sucks, Tommy. Take my word for it. You can count the number of times I've been laid since I got out of the army on the fingers of . . . " She thought about it for a minute. "Well, you'd have fingers left over. Last time was about two years ago. I'm living from hand to mouth; I barely have enough money left over to exist."
"Spider, you make decent money! Where the hell does it go? Left over from what?"
She just glared at him. He'd asked this question many times, and she never answered it. No reason she should now.
"You know, Spider, you could tell me anything."
Spider laughed, even as tears came to her eyes. "No, I couldn't, Tommy. I love you, but face it. The minute I start talking about
"You're sure that's a term of endearment?" Spider asked, giving Tommy a skeptical look.
Tommy laughed, shrugged, and then answered his wife's question. "Gonna go clock out for the day, and then we were going to go by Kelly's and have a couple of beers. Why?"
"I've got a couple of things to finish up, and then I'll meet you there."
"Great! Then maybe we can go to dinner." Tommy looked from his wife to his partner.
"Spider?" Laura asked.
"Can't go to dinner. I've . . . I've got plans."
Laura let go of them and moved into Spider's path she looked up at her. "What sort of plans?"
Spider looked at the floor. "Ah . . . I've got laundry and . . . stuff . . . you know . . . Stuff."
"Yeah, I know," Laura laughed. "I know that 'laundry and stuff' can wait. Come on."
Spider looked at Tommy, who just smiled and said, "Don't look at me. I know you don't have a fucking life. Come on, we'll eat at . . . " He looked at his wife.
"Bartelo's," she answered, knowing it was Spider's favorite Italian restaurant.
Laura looked at Spider expectantly, and Spider nodded, feeling as if she were trapped. She really didn't feel like going out, but if she didn't she was just going to go by the hospital and talk to Henry. Then she'd go home, stare at the ceiling, and think about the suckiness of her life till she finally fell into a fitful sleep and had the fucking dream again.
Still, she hated being the fifth wheel, and no matter how good your friends were, when you went out with a man and his wife, you were really on your own.
"Good! Then it's settled. I'll meet you at Kelly's." Laura ran off before Spider could talk herself—and them—out of going.
Spider and Tommy slid into the corner booth.
"It was close there for a minute, but they're gonna cage him."
"No thanks to your stellar performance," Tommy whispered. The waiter walked over and set the beers in front of them. They were regulars, and he rarely bothered to ask them what they wanted anymore. He just brought them a couple of cheap drafts.
"Anything else?"
"When Laura gets here bring her a raspberry wine cooler, and bring us each another beer."
"Put it on my tab," Spider said.
Tommy looked at her with raised eyebrows; they usually went Dutch.
"My way of saying I'm sorry, and no I'm not picking up the tab for dinner."
"You're getting off awful cheap." Tommy laughed and took a drink of his beer. "All right, but don't do it again. You put our asses on the line for a laugh."
Spider nodded, and then she did something Spider rarely did, she was silent. He kept waiting for her to talk, but she didn't. This put Tommy on the spot, because usually Spider started the conversation and then they were . . . well . . . talking.
"Ah, you catch the game last night?" he asked.
"Ah . . . what game? You know I don't watch sports. What planet are you from?"
That was it. She still wasn't talking. Just staring at her beer, looking like someone crushed her puppy. God! She was pathetic!
"Your life doesn't suck, Spider," he tried.
Spider laughed loudly and ran a hand down her face. She looked at him and shook her head. "My life sucks, Tommy. Take my word for it. You can count the number of times I've been laid since I got out of the army on the fingers of . . . " She thought about it for a minute. "Well, you'd have fingers left over. Last time was about two years ago. I'm living from hand to mouth; I barely have enough money left over to exist."
"Spider, you make decent money! Where the hell does it go? Left over from what?"
She just glared at him. He'd asked this question many times, and she never answered it. No reason she should now.
"You know, Spider, you could tell me anything."
Spider laughed, even as tears came to her eyes. "No, I couldn't, Tommy. I love you, but face it. The minute I start talking about
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