Page:Jay Little - Maybe—Tomorrow.pdf/245

 He put his foot on the bench. "There's no place like it." He grinned and shook his head. "No, Sir, no place. I learned a helluva lot in New Orleans. Yeah. It's some town. Did you have fun?" He lit a cigarette. "Wish I could have gone with you."

"I wish you could have too," he answered, an enigmatic look in his eyes. What had Blake done in New Orleans? Had he gone to a party too? The same kind he had attended? What people had he met? The same kind he had? "Did you happen to meet Paul Boudreaux when you were there, Bob?"

"Paul Boudreaux? Nooo; I don't think so." He scratched his head. "I don't know too many people there … didn't meet too many either. Does he play football?"

"No."

"What does he look like?"

"Like you."

"Like me?" Blake put a finger on his fresh laundered shirt.

"He reminded me of you," Gaylord said, slipping his legs through his underwear. Fastening them, he got up and drew his trousers from the locker and put them on. "Bob," he said, "may I have a cigarette?"

Blake unconsciously handed him the lighted cigarette he was smoking. Said, "He reminded you of me?" His eyes danced between the dark eyelashes. "Huh;" he paused. "He did … did he, hey what did you and this guy do … huh?"

Gaylord did not answer. He puffed the cigarette and coughed. Suddenly, he was busy dressing.

"Come on, confess," Blake grinned. "What did ya do?"

"They're watching us," Gaylord answered softly.

"Aw to hell with them … what did ya do?"

"What do you think we did?"

"That's what I'm asking."

They grinned at each other and then Gaylord asked, "What did you do over the week-end?"

"Oh, you want to change the subject, huh?"

"I think we'd better, don't you?"

"I don't see why. I just asked a simple question."

"A simple question?"

"Yeah … a simple question." 235