Free The Tide Can't Wait by Louis Trimble Page A

his pocket, came up with a flask of brandy. He laced the coffee and then lighted and passed her a cigarette.
    â€œFull?”
    â€œUhm.” She wriggled around so that she could prop her back against his knee. She thought idly that despite his bumbling Tommy was a good man to lean on, so big and strong. A solid man in some ways. She twisted her head and looked up into his face. “Are you a solid man, Tommy?”
    â€œThe Rock of Gib, that’s me.” He smiled down at her, reached out and tucked back a strand of blond hair that had slipped over one eye. “I’m always being told that I’m not solid. But what the hell? I satisfy me and I have only me to satisfy.”
    She rubbed her back against his leg. “I like you the way you are. Don’t get any more solid.”
    He said seriously, “Maybe you’d like me better—or in a different way—if I weren’t a vacuum?”
    She felt the faint discomfort rise again and turned away, sipping at her coffee. He said, “Sorry, Lenny. I shouldn’t try to hunt on old pal Leon’s preserves.”
    â€œYou weren’t, Tommy.” The thought of it made Lenny feel sorry for herself. Because it was true. Leon no longer had any preserve. And she felt a little sorry for Tommy, too. He had always been so patient and uncomplaining, and she had treated him like—well, like a brother.
    She was surprised to find that not only was she in a mood of pity, but that she was pleasantly numb. Tommy’s innocuous cocktails had pulled a dirty trick on her, she decided.
    She said, “Tommy, I’m a little tight.”
    â€œBrandy kills rum,” he said with the faintest trace of thickness in his speech. “So.” He added more brandy to her coffee. She took it down in two swallows. “See?”
    â€œBetter,” she decided gravely. He took her cup away and set it beside his own. He did something with his legs so that suddenly she no longer had her side to him but was facing him.
    â€œWhat you said about Leon, Lenny—how can I take that?”
    Poor Tommy, always hoping. She said, “You’re sweet, Tommy,” and leaned toward him to brush her lips lightly over his chin. “Take it the way you want to.” There, that should make him feel better.
    He had one hand half-supporting her neck, his heavy fingers running through the hair at the back of her head. “I’d like to. But—what’s the trouble?”
    â€œNo trouble. Times change.”
    He smiled and shook his head. The smile was only on his lips. She had not seen his eyes so serious in a long while. “I know you too well, Lenny. Is Leon bothering you? I can make him stop, you know.” As if unable to maintain a serious mood, he grinned. “Sir T. Price, knight, charging down on the foe …”
    â€œStop it, Tommy. You don’t have to make me laugh.”
    â€œI didn’t bring you here to make you cry. And I am serious. If I can help …”
    If he could help? If only he could. Feeling as she did, she did need help, needed someone to turn to. And who was there? Not Barr, nor Portia—there was no one except Tommy. And Tommy was such a humbler.
    Or was he? Watching him now, she noticed things about him that she had never noticed before—the steady seriousness in his pale blue eyes, the set of his jaw …
    She was drunker than she had thought, or she never would have done it. Later, she told herself that, but she wasn’t really sure. She heard herself say, “Tommy, you can help, maybe.”
    â€œAnything, Lenny love.”
    â€œI’m serious. I—I want your advice, Tommy. Promise me you won’t try to do anything—be heroic or foolish. Just give me your advice.”
    â€œAnything. And I am being serious.”
    There was no humor in the way he looked down at her. She swallowed. She had started now and she did need someone she could confide in. Tommy