Take It With Me
Just Another Sucker On The Vine
"You come see me again next time you're in town, you hear?"
Blondie whispered in Tom's ear before pushing him out of her room and into the hall, where he stood, kind of dazed, the buttons on his shirt just as lopsided as his grin.
"Well, yes ma'am," he said to the closed door. Running his hands through his hair and adjusting his belt, he walked back to his room, infinitely more calm and centered then when he had last left it. Opening the door, he crept in, feeling a little bit like he did the first time he slipped out his window in the middle of the night to hang out with his junior high school girlfriend.
"Ain't got nothing to hide. I'm a grown man. Got needs," he muttered, straightening himself to his full six feet. "And besides, she's probably still passed out on the bathroom floor.
"No, I'm not."
Tom jumped, nearly scared out of his skin by Kitty's haggard voice.
"Geeze! When did you wake up?" he yelped, shaking his head as she suddenly appeared, leaning up from her nest of pillows on the bed.
"A while back. Found the aspirin. Thank you," she mumbled, rubbing her eyes.
"Good. That's... uh, good. Sorry I was gone. Had an errand to run," he said, rubbing the back of his neck.
"It's okay," Kitty said, fluffing out her hair. "I feel better. Not a lot better, but better all the same."
Tom grinned, then walked over and grabbed the bag from the bedside table.
"Did you find your other stuff?" he asked, fishing for the perfume and the Good Housekeeping.
"Well, I figured the Good Housekeeping magazine was for me, unless you were just dying to know the perfect way to baste a turkey. What other stuff was there?" Kitty said, stretching.
"Here you go," he smirked, tossing her the little bottle of Evening In Paris. She caught it quick, which surprised Tom.
"Brothers," she said by way of explanation. She examined the bottle for a moment, smiling.
"Thanks, Tom. This is nice. I saw it in the bag, but I figured it was for your girlfriend or something."
Tom stretched out on the floor by the bed, flexing his toes.
"Ain't got a girl. Don't need one on the road," he mumbled, replaying scenes of the last hour in his head.
"I can see how that would work," Kitty laughed. She winced, then lay back down, pulling the covers over her head and groaning. "Wake me up when this is over and don't you ever dare let me drink anything with alcohol in it again, 'kay?"
Tom shook his head.
"Whatever you say, kid. I'm going to go have a smoke in the courtyard. Sleep it off," he muttered, pulling on his shoes again and heading for the door. She grunted a reply and waved him on, and he made a beeline for the lobby, where freedom and a pack of Lucky Strikes awaited him.
Blondie whispered in Tom's ear before pushing him out of her room and into the hall, where he stood, kind of dazed, the buttons on his shirt just as lopsided as his grin.
"Well, yes ma'am," he said to the closed door. Running his hands through his hair and adjusting his belt, he walked back to his room, infinitely more calm and centered then when he had last left it. Opening the door, he crept in, feeling a little bit like he did the first time he slipped out his window in the middle of the night to hang out with his junior high school girlfriend.
"Ain't got nothing to hide. I'm a grown man. Got needs," he muttered, straightening himself to his full six feet. "And besides, she's probably still passed out on the bathroom floor.
"No, I'm not."
Tom jumped, nearly scared out of his skin by Kitty's haggard voice.
"Geeze! When did you wake up?" he yelped, shaking his head as she suddenly appeared, leaning up from her nest of pillows on the bed.
"A while back. Found the aspirin. Thank you," she mumbled, rubbing her eyes.
"Good. That's... uh, good. Sorry I was gone. Had an errand to run," he said, rubbing the back of his neck.
"It's okay," Kitty said, fluffing out her hair. "I feel better. Not a lot better, but better all the same."
Tom grinned, then walked over and grabbed the bag from the bedside table.
"Did you find your other stuff?" he asked, fishing for the perfume and the Good Housekeeping.
"Well, I figured the Good Housekeeping magazine was for me, unless you were just dying to know the perfect way to baste a turkey. What other stuff was there?" Kitty said, stretching.
"Here you go," he smirked, tossing her the little bottle of Evening In Paris. She caught it quick, which surprised Tom.
"Brothers," she said by way of explanation. She examined the bottle for a moment, smiling.
"Thanks, Tom. This is nice. I saw it in the bag, but I figured it was for your girlfriend or something."
Tom stretched out on the floor by the bed, flexing his toes.
"Ain't got a girl. Don't need one on the road," he mumbled, replaying scenes of the last hour in his head.
"I can see how that would work," Kitty laughed. She winced, then lay back down, pulling the covers over her head and groaning. "Wake me up when this is over and don't you ever dare let me drink anything with alcohol in it again, 'kay?"
Tom shook his head.
"Whatever you say, kid. I'm going to go have a smoke in the courtyard. Sleep it off," he muttered, pulling on his shoes again and heading for the door. She grunted a reply and waved him on, and he made a beeline for the lobby, where freedom and a pack of Lucky Strikes awaited him.