Free The Lord Won't Mind (The Peter & Charlie Trilogy) by Gordon Merrick Page B

open hand. Peter rocked with the blow, but remained standing defenseless before him. “I’ve had enough of this whole thing. You can have Jimmy Harvester. Did he give you a good fuck, or was it the other way around?”
    “He understands about us, which is more than I can say for anybody else.”
    “Understands about us? Jesus Christ. So you had a nice heart-to-heart talk, did you? Just you two girls together. You dirty little pansy. Goddamn it, I won’t have you blabbing about things that concern me.”
    “They concern me too.”
    “Do they, now? Well, they won’t concern you for long. You’re leaving here tomorrow. Do you understand? C. B. will be interested to hear about the friends you choose for yourself.”
    Peter’s face worked. For an awful moment, Charlie thought he was going to cry. He made a visible effort to pull himself together, a remote look came into his eyes, and he turned and walked out, leaving the door open behind him. Charlie stared after him. So that was that. If he came crawling back asking for forgiveness, he would really let him have it. His hand still tingled from the blow. He went to the door and started to close it, but left it slightly ajar. He could see the light under Peter’s door across the hall. He undressed, but instead of going to bed as he intended, he put on a dressing gown as if he were expecting company. He went to the door. The light was still on. With Peter there, nearby, he found that his mind was beginning to work more clearly. What exactly had he been so angry about? Peter had been out in the dark with Jimmy Harvester. That was enough. But what if they had just been talking? Outrageous, but not really sufficient grounds for making him leave. The thought of his not being here left him with an emptiness so profound that he shook his head and put his hand out to a chair to support himself. There was nothing he could tell C. B. that would make his leaving reasonable, so it was out of the question anyway. He had no intention of going to him, but if he came back, as he was bound to do, he wouldn’t be quite so belligerent.
    He went to the door again. The light was still on. What in hell was he doing? He paced, staying near the door. Thinking back, he had to admit that Peter hadn’t betrayed the slightest trace of guilt, not even when he had first came upon them. “Charlie.” The call was in his ears, eager and welcoming. Perhaps he should go see what was going on across the hall. If he waited much longer, Peter might go to bed and—That was all over now, at least for the time being. He wasn’t going to have a boy calling him “darling” all the time. He gave a tug to the cord of his dressing gown and peered around the door. Then he pushed it open and walked quickly across the hall and entered Peter’s room without knocking.
    He was wearing the clothes Charlie hadn’t seen since the day he arrived. His suitcase was open on the rack, and he was putting something in it. He looked up without surprise or any other emotion.
    “What in hell are you doing?” Charlie demanded.
    “Did you want something?”
    “Yes, I did. I want my clothes,” Charlie said, hastily improvising. “But what do you think you’re up to?”
    “I wasn’t going to steal your clothes. You told me to leave. I’m leaving.”
    “You’re going to go marching off into the night? You really are a total ass. How would I explain that to C. B.?”
    “You’ll manage. It’ll probably have something to do with the friends I choose for myself.”
    “Oh, of course. Why don’t you call Jimmy Harvester and ask him to rescue you? The damsel in distress. Jesus.” He strode across the room and seized the suitcase and flung it upside down on the floor.
    “That’s pretty stupid.” Peter picked it up and replaced it on the rack. He began to gather up his belongings. Charlie grabbed the suitcase again and hurled it across the room. “Now listen,” Peter said. “You’d better get out of here. This is