When Hell Freezes Over. Rick Blechta

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When Hell Freezes Over - Rick Blechta

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his subject matter. Regina’s body was quite beautiful.

      What she was offering stunned me into speechlessness. She saw my confusion and padded over to the bed. “Slide over,” she said matter-offactly. “It’s colder out here than I thought it would be.” She felt deliciously cool and soft as I meekly let her join me.

      I finally found my tongue. “Regina, this is crazy! Have you really thought about what you’re doing? I mean—”

      She put her hand over my mouth. “Hush! Yes, I have thought about it, about doing something crazy and out-of-control. I want to be my own person, dammit! Not some china doll that’s locked in a glass case for people to stare at. I want to live! I want to know what it feels like to be with a man.” She giggled, instantly sounding much younger. “You just happened to come along first.” She opened her hand. “See? I even have condoms.”

      “I don’t think this is a good idea, I mean, well, I’m old enough to be your father.”

      “Then you should know how to do this properly! The only way you’re going to get me out of this bed is to throw me out.” She quickly flipped herself on top of me, and looking down, asked, “Do you think you can do it?”

      “What if I don’t want to do this?”

      Regina giggled again. “It certainly feels as if you do!”

      “You’re not fighting fair,” I groaned.

      “Angus told me that you’re forty-nine, Michael. Do you mean to tell me that you haven’t figured out yet that this sort of thing is never fair?” She leaned down and kissed me, wiggling around deliciously and making it even harder to think clearly. “At least I already know how to kiss.”

      “Yes, you do,” I answered. “Regina...”

      “No, Michael. No more talking. My mind is made up!”

      I must have done a good job because, lying back a half-hour later, she was sweaty, flushed and slightly out of breath when she laughed delightedly, “Good God, Michael! Is it always like that?”

      I was definitely out of breath. “Not always—in my experience.”

      “No wonder Papa never wanted me to know about it! I could easily become addicted.”

      “I’m glad you liked it. You were quite wonderful.” I reached out and stroked her cheek. “Now, it’s time we got some sleep.”

      She propped herself up on one elbow and used a finger to play with my chest hair. “No! I want to do it again.”

      “Have a heart! Neither of us got any sleep last night.”

      Her expression turned delightfully petulant. “No. Now!”

      After the second time, I was ready to pass out from exhaustion and was asleep almost the moment my head hit the pillow.

      News Article 1

      Four

      The change in the weather as we landed in Toronto came as quite a shock. While Scotland had been snowy, damp and miserable, the temperature hadn’t come close to the effect of the glacial air mass that held southern Ontario in its grip. To top it off, when I’d left town, the weather had been more like March than January.

      I left the plane, feeling gritty and hung over, the result of almost no sleep over the past two days. The cold bit right to the bone, going some way towards jolting me out of my stupor.

      Boarding a plane in Glasgow twelve hours earlier, I’d asked for an extra pillow and given the flight attendant strict instructions not to wake me for any reason, then spent the trip in that peculiar twilight world where you’re not sure whether you’re awake or asleep. I’d done the same thing on the connecting flight from Heathrow. Consequently, when I eventually opened my eyes, it felt as if I hadn’t really slept at all.

      I should have stayed another day at Angus’s, gotten the sleep I needed and taken the flight back to Toronto on which I had actually booked a seat, but...I couldn’t.

      Face facts, Quinn, I said to myself, Angus was right. You turned tail and ran.

      While it had still been pitch black out, I’d carefully pulled away from Regina’s warm body, and making certain I didn’t wake her, I’d grabbed my clothes and suitcase and beat it.

      As expected, I’d found Angus already up and sitting in the dull glow of a floor lamp in the middle of his sitting room, attempting to wrestle his tax receipt avalanche into submission. “Good God, Michael, it’s only half five! I thought you’d be asleep for hours yet.”

      “I have to get back to Toronto. Will you drive me to the airport?”

      “But your bloody plane isn’t until tomorrow! You’re going to pay through the nose to change your ticket if you leave now. Why the haste?”

      “Something’s come up.”

      “And what about the lassie?”

      I tried to keep my face suitably blank. “I assume she’s still asleep.”

      Angus fixed me with a curious expression. “I noticed on my way downstairs that she didn’t sleep in her own bed last night.”

      “I am aware of that,” I answered phlegmatically. “Are you going to take me to the airport?”

      “Does she know you’re leaving?”

      “What difference does that make?”

      “I think it might make a lot of difference to her,” my friend answered as he got to his feet.

      “Look, you’re not my bloody nanny. I know what I’m doing.”

      “Do you? You weren’t always like this.”

      “And you know why I am like this now,” I said, taking my overcoat from the peg by the door.

      Angus put his beefy hand on my shoulder, turning me to face him. “Michael, that was long ago. I’m not saying that what we did was right or wrong, but we did it, and it’s over. Time to put the past to rest.”

      “Who’s to say I haven’t?” I shook off his hand and picked up my suitcase. “Maybe I just don’t want the bother of having someone mixed up in my life right now.”

      “You did last night.”

      “Yes, and I’m regretting it already.”

      “What about all the other things? You know this exile you’ve put yourself in? This life you’re living isn’t the one you were destined to follow. Why deny it?”

      “Look Angus, old friend, we’ve been down this road before, dozens of times. Nothing has changed. I’m through making music. It doesn’t interest me any more.”

      “Bollocks!

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