I picked one up, examined it. "Wonder woman, you continue to amaze me. Where? When? How?"
Praise made her look sunnily happy and about twelve. "This morning. In Kong. Black market, of course, which simply means finding which counter to look under at Sears. I hid my Miyako under Tree-San before I went shopping, then stashed the ammo there in leaving Xia's place. Sweetheart, I did not know what sort of search we might have to stand if things got sticky in Kong-and they did, but Auntie got us loose."
"Can you cook?"
"I'm an adequate cook."
"You can shoot, you can rassle a rolligon, you can pilot a spacecraft, you can cook. Okay, you're hired. But do you have any other skills?"
"Well, some engineering. I used to be a pretty good lawyer. But I haven't practiced either one lately." She added, "And I can spit between my teeth."
"Supergal! Are you now or have you ever been a member of the human race? Careful how you answer; it will be taken down in writing."
"I decline to answer on advice of counsel. Let's order dinner before they shut down the kitchen."
"I thought you wanted a bath?"
"Do. I'm itchy. But if we don't get the order in soon, we'll have to get dressed and go out to Sloppy Joe's ... and I don't mind Sloppy Joe but I do mind having to get dressed. This is the first completely relaxed, quiet time I've had alone with my husband for, oh, ages. In your suite in Golden Rule before that silly eviction notice."
"Three days."
"As little as that? Truly?"
"Eighty hours. Fairly busy hours, I grant you."
The Raffles has a good kitchen as long as you stick to chef's choice; that night it was meatballs with Swedish pancakes, honey-and-beer sauce-an odd combination that worked. Tossed fresh salad, oil and wine vinegar. Cheese and fresh strawberries. Black tea.
We enjoyed it but an old shoe, suitably sauteed, would have been acceptable, so long had it been since we had eaten. It could have been fried skunk and I would not have noticed;
Gwen's company was all the sauce I needed.
We had been happily chomping away for a half hour, making no attempt to be elegant, when my darling noticed the brass plate in the rock-too busy before then. Understandable.
She got up and looked at it, then said in a hushed voice, "I'll be a Hollywood hooker. This is the place! Richard, this is the very cradle of the Revolution! And here I've sat, belching and scratching, as if this were just any hotel room."
I said, "Sit down and finish your dinner, love. Three out of four hotel rooms in Luna City have signs something like that."
"Not like that. Richard, what is the number of this i )0'n?"
"Doesn't have a number-a letter. Room L."
"'Room L'-yes! This is the place! Richard, in any nation back dirtside, a national shrine this important would have an eternal flame. Likely a guard of honor. But here- Somebody puts up that little brass plaque, and it's forgotten. Even on Free Luna Day. But that's Loonies. Weirdest mob in the known universe. My word!"
I said, "Darling girl, if it pleases you to think that this room is truly what that sign says-fine! In the meantime sit back down and eat. Or shall I eat your strawberries?"
Gwen did not answer; she did sit down, then kept quiet. She merely toyed with the fruit and cheese. I finally said, "Sweetheart, something is bothering you."
"I won't die from it."
"Glad to hear it. Well, when you feel like talking, I'm all ears. Meanwhile I'll simply fan you with them. Don't feel hurried."
"Richard-" Her voice sounded choked. I was surprised to see tears slowly creeping down each side of her nose.
"Yes, dear?"
"I've told you a pack of lies. I-"
"Stop right there. My love, my lusty little love, I have always believed that women should be allowed to lie as much as they need to and never be taxed with it. Lies can be their only defense against an unfriendly world. I have not quizzed you about your past-have I?"
"No but-"
"Again stop. I haven't. You volunteered a few things. But, even so, I've shut you up a couple of times when you were about to have an attack of pernicious autobiography. Gwen, I didn't marry you for your money, or for your family background, or your brains, or even for your talents in bed."
"Not even for the last? You haven't left me much."
"Oh, yes, I have. I appreciate your horizontal skills and your enthusiasm. But competent mattress dancers are not uncommon. Take Xia, for example. I conjecture that she is both skilled and eager."
"Probably twice as skilled as I am, but I'll be damned if she's more eager."
"You do all right when you get your rest. But don't distract me. Do you want to know what it is that makes you so special?"
"Yes! Well, I think so. If it's not booby-trapped."
"It's not. Mistress mine, your unique and special quality is this: When I'm around you, I'm happy."
"Richard!"
"Quit blubbering. Can't stand a female who has to lick tears off her upper lip."
"Brute. I'll cry if I goddam well feel like it... and I need this one. Richard, I love you."
"I'm fond of you, too, monkey face. What I was saying was that, if your present pack of lies is wearing thin, don't bother to build up another structure filled with solemn assurances that this is at last the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Forget it. The old structure may be threadbare- but I don't care. I'm not looking for holes or inconsistencies because I don't care. I just want to live with you and hold your hand and hear you snore."
"I don't snore! Uh... do I?"
"I don't know. We haven't had enough sleep in the last eighty hours for it to be a problem. Ask me in fifty years." I reached across the table, tickled a nipple, watched it grow. "I want to hold your hand, listen to your snores, and occasionally-oh, once or twice a month-"
"Once or twice a month!"
"Is that too often?"
She sighed. "I guess I must settle for what I can get. Or go out on the tiles."
'Tiles? What tiles? I was saying that once or twice a month we'll go out to dinner, see a show, go to a night club. Buy you a flower to pin in your hair. Oh, oftener, I guess, if you insist ... but too much night life does interfere with writing. I intend to support you, my love, despite those bags of gold you have squirreled away." I added, "Some problem, dear? Null program? Why the expression?"
"Richard Colin, you are beyond doubt the most infuriating man I have ever married. Or even slept with."
"Did you let them sleep?"
"Oh, you mother! I shouldn't have saved you from Gretchen. 'Once or twice a month'! You set me up for that. Then sprang the trap."
"Madam, I don't know what you are talking about."
"You do so! You think I'm a sweaty little nymphomaniac."
"You're not too little."
"Keep doing it. Go on. Push me hard enough and I'll add a second husband to our marriage. Choy-Mu would marry us- I know he would."
"Choy-Mu is a dinkum cobber, too right. And I'm sure he would marry you; he doesn't have sand in his skull. If you so elect, I'll try to make him feel welcome'. Although I hadn't realized that you were that well acquainted with him. Were you speaking seriously?"
"No, damn it. I've never made a practice of plural marriage;
coping with one husband at a time is complex enough. Certainly Captain Marcy is a nice boy but he's much too young for me. Oh, I won't say that I would turn him down for a night of bundling if he asked me gracefully. But it would be simply for fun, nothing serious."
"/ won't say that you would turn him down, either. Well, let me know ahead of time, if convenient, so that I can gracefully fail to notice. Or stand jigger. Even hand out towels. Lady's option."
"Richard, you're entirely too agreeable."