Why Do Birds

CHAPTER 17

The maitre d' led Lavalle to Stone's table. He was still wearing the same brown suit, except that when she looked closer it wasn't: it was a new suit, almost the same color, but it was better material and the tailoring was better. Stone himself looked clean and well barbered, like an upper-level zec.

"Hi, did you miss me?" he said.

"Sure. I saw you on the news last night. You've had a busy week, haven't you?" They sat down. She took out a cigarette but did not light it. Stone was studying the menu.

"Did you really quit smoking?"

"Yeah."

"Will it bother you if I do?"

"No. I see people smoking all the time. It hasn't been tough, I never inhaled anyway."

"You don't inhale? Then the only thing you can get is lip cancer. That isn't fun, but it isn't fatal."

"No kidding?" He looked at her cigarette, and she handed it to him. He rolled the white cylinder between his fingers for a moment, then gave it back. "Guess I'd better not-I couldn't do my job if I was in the hospital."

"You could get in the hospital if you tripped over a personhole cover and broke your leg."

"No, I'm careful."

"You fly in airplanes."

"Sure, but I have to do that, and I don't have to smoke cigarettes."

After dinner and the show, a hit musical which Lavalle enjoyed more than Stone did, he said, "Anything else you'd like to do?"

"Not especially. It's been a great evening."

"Okay, let's go up to my room for a nightcap."

The cab let them off in front of the hotel. While they were at the theater, it seemed, part of the East Side dome had been opened to input precipitation; the night air was scented with gasoline fumes and wet concrete. Halfway down the block, something funereal and shapeless was flapping in the gutters.

When they entered the lobby, Lavalle said, "At least you're not staying in a fleabag now."

"No, I'm living high. I feel funny about it, but I guess it's only money."

"That's the way to look at it."

She went into the elevator with him, then down the carpeted hall. Stone opened the door with his card, turned on the lights. They entered a wide living room decorated in forest green and gold; there were mirrors, chandeliers, sconces, a wraparound sofa, a love seat, four or five armchairs with spindly legs.

"Throw your coat anywhere," Stone said. He tossed his coat on the cocktail table, went to the bar and opened it. "What's your pleasure? Rye, Scotch, gin, Irish? Cream de menthy?"

She took off her coat and moved near him, pretending to examine the bottles. After a moment she put her hand on his hip and scratched him gently through the cloth. "Hey," he said, turning.

She grinned at him. "Yes?" She put her hand on his belt and pulled him in until his thighs were pressed against hers. All of a sudden it was hard to keep the smile, because she was incredibly horny.

His hands went to her body, but he said, "Listen, I don't know about this. If it's because I touched you with the ring-"

"Well, what am I supposed to do, go home and take a cold shower, just to make you feel better?" She stood on tiptoe to kiss him, first teasingly, then with considerable earnestness, and his arms came around her hard.

After a few minutes she said, "You have buttons on your fly! Oh, wow!"

The bedroom, it turned out, had a fairy-tale motif; there were Hansel and Gretel pictures on the walls, and the bedspreads were textured to look like a carpet of leaves. Lavalle and Stone lay side by side looking at the bird patterns drifting across the ceiling.

"Did you know you were going to come up here with me tonight?" he asked.

"Yes."

"What about the other guy?"

"I told him I was going to go to bed with you, and then we'd see."

"And he took it, just like that?"

"Well, he didn't like it."

"What's his name?"

"Julian. He's a securities analyst for Brown & Thorpe."

"You told him you were going to try me out and then decide, huh?"

"Don't make it sound worse than it is."

"Well, did you decide?"

She rolled over and kissed him on the eyelid. "What do you think?"

When she opened her eyes in the morning, there was a glow of daylight behind the virtual draperies. That was funny, because she knew she had dialed the windows to full opaque. Come to think of it, the window was on the wrong side of the bed, too. Then she remembered what had happened.

She got up, feeling sweaty and naked. Her clothes were on a chair; she found the toiletries pouch and carried it into the bathroom.

After her shower, she opened the connecting door and looked into the other bedroom. The bed was empty; Stone was not there. For some reason, that annoyed her. She dialed the lights up, walked in and browsed through his bureau: shirts, socks, a worn leather wallet stuffed with cash and credit cards. The photograph on the cards made him look like a mugger in a lineup.

In the next drawer she found a pair of red-and-white-striped pajamas, and decided to wear the tops. That was supposed to be sexy. She brushed her hair, put on a little lipstick and eyeliner, and went out into the sunlit living room.

Stone, in his undershorts, was sitting at the window table with a breakfast tray in front of him; he was watching holovision with the sound turned off. "Hey, sleepyhead!" he said. "What happened to you last night?"

"I had to move. You were yelling and thrashing around." She sat down across from him, feeling resentful.

"I was?"

"Yes. Is there any more coffee?"

He poured from the carafe. "Hey, I'm sorry if I spoiled your beauty sleep."

"Do you do that all the time?"

"I don't know. Are you sore?"

"Only in certain places. Just shut up until I drink my coffee, okay?"

Stone took his tray over to the kitchenette area and came back with a Danish pastry on a plate.

"Thanks."

"Is that enough, or do you want some eggs?"

"This is fine."

Stone sat down and watched her eat. "Listen, Thursday I've got to go to Europe, and I'll be gone for ten days. I know you don't like to fly, but it would be great if you could come with me."

"I hate to fly."

"Okay, but could you do it anyway? Could you get the time off?"

"That isn't it, I've got some vacation time coming, but you don't understand. I don't just hate airplanes, they terrify me."

"Oh. Always been that way?"

"No, it started about four years ago. That was when I was breaking up with Anton, and it was a lousy time all around."

"Okay, but you haven't flown since? Not to South America or anywhere? How can you do your job?"

"They were very nice about it; they transferred me to Project Evaluation. Now I just look at the reports."

"Well, listen, will you come out and look at the plane tomorrow? Then if you like it, maybe you could try just a short hop."

"Ed, I told you I can't do it."

He stood up, overturning his chair. "Dammit, won't you even try?"

She could feel the furious tears starting. She got up and headed for the bedroom door, but he caught her and swung her around. "Linda, for Pete's sake-"

"Let me go, you zink! "

He released her and looked puzzled. "What's a zink?"

"Somebody who acts the way you're doing. Do you think you own me, just because we slept together for one night?"

He looked away. "No, I guess I don't."

She went into the bathroom, splashed water on her face, looked at herself in the mirror. Oh, damn. When she came out again, he was still standing there. She put her arms around him and leaned close.

"Our first fight," he said. She nodded against his chest.

He pushed her away far enough to look at her. "Is it over?"

"I think so." They turned and walked back to the table.

"So, what do you want to do with the rest of the day?" he asked.

"There are some great museums. Art galleries. Do you like art?"

"Not much." He stared through the window. "Looks cold out. I guess we could just stay here."

"Okay. Where did you get that underwear?"

"I had it copied in Washington, from a Hong Kong tailor. They can copy anything. I told them I wanted it exactly like mine, and they even put on the same laundry marks. I can't tell which is which any more."

"You planning to show your underwear to a lot of people?"

"No, just you."

"That's good."

"Hey," he said, looking at a huge silvery shape in the holo, "what is that, a zeppelin?"

She glanced at it; it was cruising over Paris toward the Eiffel Tower. "Right. There are seven of them now, the Sachsen II, the Thiiringen, the Bayern, and I forget the rest.''

"Hey, that's great. I always wanted to take a ride on one. If I did, could you come with me?"

"I don't know. It wouldn't be like an airplane, that's for sure."

"Terrific. How long do they take to get to Europe?"

"They don't do that anymore, just sight-seeing cruises over Europe and part of Asia. It used to take about two days to cross the Atlantic, I think."

"Oh, nuts. I couldn't take the time now anyway, but maybe later, if we get a chance?"

"I don't know. Well, do you want me to read your fortune?"

"Sure."

She got her handbag, dumped it on the table, found a memopad and stylus. She swept the rest of the things back into the bag. "Okay, what's your full name?"

"Ed Stone."

"I'll do that one too, but what's your full name, the one you used in school?"

"Edwin L. Stone, but I don't like it. Aren't you going to use cards, or read my palm or something?"

"No, this is numerology. Very scientific." She was writing on the memopad. After a moment she showed it to him.

E D W I N L S T O N E

5 4 5 9 5 3 1 2 6 5 5 = 50 = 5

"What does this mean?"

"Every letter has a number. You add up the numbers and then add them again, like five and zero equals five. That tells you what number you are, and the number tells you what kind of person you are."

"Okay, what kind of person am I?"

"You're bright, you're restless, adventurous, you like weird things. You like to travel and meet people; you don't like to stick to any one job. You'd make a good salesman, and you're sexy. Five is a very good number for a man."

"You knew all that already."

"Sure, but it's right here in the numbers. Now we'll do the other one."

She wrote again and handed him the pad.

E D S T O N E

5 4 1 2 6 5 5 = 28 = 10 = 1

"That's a good number for a man, too. Ones are strong people who know what they want and go for it. They don't let anybody get in their way. They have their own ideas. They make good leaders and inventors."

"That's all different from the first one."

"Sure it is, but they're both you. You shortened the name because you wanted to show a different side of yourself. 'Ed Stone' sounds stronger, doesn't it, than 'Edwin L.'? But the other side is still there."

"What's your number?"

''I'm a three." She smiled. "A very good number for a woman. Now let's see what your important years are. When were you born?"

"March fifteen, nineteen ought one."

"No, really."

"That's when I was born."

"Okay, what the hell. Nineteen oh one adds up to eleven. Add eleven to the date, and you get nineteen twelve, an important year."

"My father died when I was eleven."

"And that made a big difference."

"Sure."

"Okay, nineteen twelve makes thirteen. Add that, and we get nineteen twenty-five."

"I got married that year. "

She looked at him. "Too young."

"Maybe so."

"All right, nineteen twenty-five makes seventeen. Add that, and we get nineteen forty-two, another important year. "

"I never got that far. Maybe it would of been important if I'd got there."

She studied him. "I can't make out if you're conning me or what. Okay, if we just skip the years between nineteen thirty-one and twenty oh two, then nineteen forty-two would be the same as twenty thirteen."

"Twenty fourteen is when the aliens are supposed to come. So that doesn't work out."

"Well, numbers don't lie. Something's going to happen in twenty thirteen."

"Uh-huh. Maybe I'll find out how crazy I am. Listen, do you want to go back to bed?"

She smiled at him. "Oh, all right."

"Hey, I guess we're in love, huh?" said Stone. "What do you think?"

"Maybe we are. Don't rush me."

He nuzzled her neck. "I like the way you smell."

"I smell like a cat in heat," she said.

"Sure. That's what I like."

"Well, I don't. I'm going to take another shower. "

"Want some help?"

"No."