All he has left is his sword. He—”
“Whoa!” I said with a laugh. “Slow down. You’re chattering.”
“Sorry.”
“And he wouldn’t have a sword, I don’t think.”
“Why not?”
“The replicant is a futuristic warrior. He’d have a blaster rifle or something.”
She snapped her fingers. “You’re right! Let’s go. We need to find one.”
“Now?”
“Yes, now! Come on!”
So we headed downstairs. I stopped halfway to the front door.
“Better get a jacket.”
“Right,” she said, and skipped back up the stairs. “I still have yours,” she called back. “From the other night. I’ll get it too.”
Wren came out of the dining room. She didn’t smirk, exactly, but I could see it in her eyes.
“Where are you two off to?” she asked.
“To find a blaster rifle.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“For her project?”
I nodded.
“You’re going to pose nude, right?”
“How…?”
She grinned.
“But I thought Siobhan…?”
“Oh, Siobhan might’ve suggested it first, but I told her it was a good idea.
‘Paul will love it,’ I said. ‘It’ll make a great artistic statement.’” She laughed at my poleaxed expression. She turned to go and shot her index finger into the air. “Wren, 1. Paul, 0.”
Christy and I eventually found a Return of the Jedi Electronic Laser Rifle at Kmart. It was after nine o’clock when we returned home, so I thought we’d call it a night. I was wrong.
“I need to get started,” Christy said. “I don’t have much time.”
“But…” I wanted to write my letter.
“You said you’d help. Please? I need you. You’re my muse.”
“Well, when you put it that way…”
Upstairs in her studio she turned on the extra lights and reached to plug in the third.
“No! Not that one.”
“Why not?”
“Remember the fuse?”
“Oh, right. Sorry.”
I wrapped the cord around the base and set it in the hall, just to be sure.
Christy picked up her wineglass and took a sip like we’d never left.
“That’s better,” she said. “Whenever you’re ready.”
I suddenly felt self-conscious, especially since I knew Wren had set me up. “You sure I need to be nude? I mean, you can fudge the details, right?
You don’t really need to—?”
“Why are you shy all of a sudden?”
“I’m not,” I fibbed.
“It has to be realistic, Paul. That’s the only way to show pathos. It won’t work if you— if he has something to protect him. The replicant is dying.
Alone. With nothing left.”
“Including his dignity,” I muttered.
“No! That’s all he does have. He isn’t afraid to die. He’s facing it with courage. He doesn’t need a spacesuit or armor or anything. Everything he has left is on the inside, and they can’t take that away from him. Don’t you understand? It’s what makes him human.”
I really couldn’t argue with her logic, especially since I’d told her what Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? was about in the first place. Little did I know she’d use it against me, I groused as I filled my wineglass and drained it. Dutch courage.
I slowly undressed and folded my clothes on the brown beanbag. Then I picked up the toy blaster. I thought about using it to cover myself. I wasn’t used to being self-conscious. Christy had seen me before, I reminded myself.
But that was before I knew what she liked.
She studied me from several angles and had me change poses a half-dozen times. She was very serious, and never once made me feel like she was sizing me up.
“Why don’t you try kneeling on one knee?” she said at last. “You’re hurt.
You’re dying. You know it. Hold the gun loose in your hand. It can’t help you anymore. You have to face this alone.”
I sank to one knee.
“Hold it! Right there. Good. That’s good. But drop the gun. Right at your feet, like you just lost your grip.”
I did. Then I tried to look tired and humiliated.
“No! You aren’t defeated. They can take your life, but they can’t take what’s inside.”
“I have no idea how that looks.”
“Don’t worry, I do. I just need your body for now.”
I didn’t even ponder the subconscious intent behind that little gem.
She fell silent and started sketching.
I tried to think about my own project or Sayuri’s house or anything but what Wren had told me. Unfortunately, I kept watching Christy. She pursed her lips. Then she paused to study an angle. She nibbled her pencil.
I thought of her nibbling my pencil, and it reacted predictably.
I closed my eyes and started reciting architectural styles in chronological order. I listened with half my attention as Christy moved around. Would she notice that I was getting hard? What would she do if she did?
I finally managed to control my unruly penis, but then I opened my eyes.
Christy was sitting cross-legged on her beanbag. She was studying a sketch and absentmindedly sucking her left thumb.
Wrennnnn!
I managed to survive the next two hours, but not without a couple of close calls. If Christy noticed, she didn’t say anything. She was completely absorbed in her work. And she filled more than a dozen pages with sketches, from general ones to close-ups of things like my right hand as it curled loosely. I pulled on my boxers and shirt while she showed me.
“Hands are tough,” she said over the last one. “It took me a long time to get them right. Faces were easy by comparison.”
I almost asked about penises but stopped myself.
“Thanks for posing,” she said, demure all of a sudden. “Especially… you know.”
“Nude?”
“Mmm hmm.”
“I’d say ‘my pleasure,’ but to be honest, it was a little weird.”
Her eyes widened with concern. “Not ’cause of anything I did?”
“Yes and no. It was mostly ’cause I’d never posed for you before. I mean just you.”
“But you did before,” she said, perplexed.
“Not nude.”
“Oh. No.”
“This was more… intimate.”
She looked down and studied her pencil. She seemed to notice the teeth marks for the first time. She discreetly dropped it over the side of the beanbag.
I did my best not to smile. “Not intimate like, you know, but—”
“I know how you meant,” she said, too quickly. She looked down.
Why was I flirting with her?
“Do you mind if we do it again tomorrow? Oh my gosh! I didn’t mean it like that, like ‘ do it’ do it. I hope you didn’t think— I mean, not that you would, but— Of course, I wouldn’t— I’m not that kind of girl. Oh, gosh.
Why don’t I just shut up now?”
“It’s okay.” I chuckled. “I knew what you meant.”
“That’s a relief. I wouldn’t want you to think…”
“Think what?” I teased.
“That I’d…”
“You’d what?”
“Is it too late to shut up?”
“I think so,” I said with a laugh.
“I’m glad one of us thinks this is funny.”
I paused to let the sexual tension cool to a simmer. “Tomorrow evening?”
“Yes, please.”
“A date or a not-date?”
“A not-date.”
“Okay. Then it’s a not-date.”
Chapter 12
I completely forgot about the letter I promised to write to Gina. I remembered the next morning during my run. I made a mental note to write it after judo practice, before the girls returned from the pool.