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She was slamming in a black satin pantsuit, and her short black hair was slicked down and gleaming, with spit curls before each ear. She had defined her cheekbones with a sort of caramel blush, her eyes were rimmed with kohl with a sort of catlike uptweek at the corners, and shaded with dark gray. Her lips were bright red, almost orange. The overall effect was very much like pictures I’ve seen of Josephine Baker. She finished the ensemble with black patent stiletto sandals, her toes and fingernails painted to match her lips. But it was Eve who made the windows rattle when she appeared. I had never before seen the outfit she was wearing, and brother, I know her wardrobe backwards and forwards. Normally, she shows all new clothes off to me before going out in them, but this time she sneaked one over on me. It was a slinky silver lamé dress, one shoulder bare, the other sleeved to a point over her lilylike hand, and held in place with a ring on her middle finger. It was cut to fit. It turned out that we didn’t go to sleep right then, and maybe an hour later Emily turned really frisky, but the memory of her just laying beside me, with her head on my shoulder, that has stayed with me through the boiling heat of Iraq, the mud houses of Afghanistan, and riding the fences in the dead of winter in the high desert of Nevada. The other hands were shooting the shit, and getting ready to head to the Stockmen’s Casino in Elko. The sun was still up, but about to set, and I walked out of the bunkhouse. ‘You going to the Stockmen’s with us?’ they called out to me, but they knew the answer, I had only been a few times, and didn’t care for it. I didn’t care for gambling, and the girls just all seemed so plastic to me. I could go and stare at some surgically-engineered tits if I wanted – and what real girl has a 23 inch waist and 38DD boobs? – but I just wasn’t interested. Jane’s e-mail, and I’m still not sure how she found me, and the thought of a class reunion, brought back.
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