Page 485 of Rock Me All Night
"What the fuck do you mean?" I pick up his tapping habit. Coming here was a bad idea. My emotions have been running high all month. Then yesterday... I can't do the supportive friend thing. Not around Tom. It’s too hard wanting to be his everything.
"I was showing Mom your photos last night." His voice is soft, sweet. "You're an amazing photographer. You could be shooting magazine editorials if you wanted."
His expression is earnest. He really believes that.
"I'm thinking about it," I say.
"I'm not going to let up on this one." He squeezes my hand. "You don't have to be shy. You need more models for your boudoir. I volunteer."
A laugh breaks up the tension in my shoulders. "Do you?"
"Absolutely."
"And you'll sign a model release?"
He nods.
"What if I sell the photos to TMZ?"
"Won't be anything anyone hasn't seen before."
I motion to his crotch. "What about your piercing?"
Tom smiles. "I trust you."
"Do you?"
He nods with all this openness and affection.
My heart beat speeds up. My thoughts crash into each other. One thing at a time. Waiting for Ophelia to get out of surgery is nerve-wracking enough without adding heartbreak to the mix.
* * *
Pete doesa thorough job distracting us. First the coffee. Then he breaks out a deck of cards and teaches a trick taking game. He's masterful. Tom and I have to team up against him to keep him from running away with it.
We have lunch in the cafeteria. No one is paying much attention to their food. Still, we play round after round of the card game. For a while, we're laughing, teasing.
Around two, we find spots in the waiting room. No more laughing, no more joking. No levity at all. Pete sits by himself. There's something scary about how calm his expression is. Like he's raging under the surface.
Tom isn't hiding anything. He paces back and forth, frantic. Nervous. I can't watch him this upset. I have to get up and wrap my arms around him.
He softens. Slows. He squeezes me and runs his hands up and down my back. We stay close for minutes.
"Thank you for being here." He whispers in my ear.
Then he pulls back, and he's as good as gone. The nerves swallow him whole. He leans against the wall, tapping his toes or his fingers.
"I'd kill for a drum kit right about now," he says.
"Would it be inappropriate to make a joke about how you're welcome to bang me?"
"Yeah." He smiles. "But Mom would love it."
"You are. Welcome to bang me."
He shakes his head. "Not right now, kid. Not with everything..."
"Yeah."
