His smile faltered. "I thought we were mates. I just thought I'd come see how things are going."I almost felt sorry for him. Could he really be that lonely? He was loud and he was brash and he was full of banter and bullshit, but was that all an act? He went out with his work buddies every Friday night, but maybe he knew they weren't really his friends. They only went out with him because they felt they had to, because they felt it would affect their job if it didn't."Oh. Right." So where's Harriet tonight?" he asked."She's asleep," I told him. "She's had a busy week as well. She wanted to get an early night."He nodded. "How did things work out with you guys after last week? All good?"I had a flashback to when he'd first arrived last week, both of us in almost exactly the same position - how he had leaned over to me: You don't stop any of this from happening or I'll break your fucking face. Something like that, anyway. I could remember the intense, sincere look in his eyes: he had. Lovemaking had never been sweeter. And cuddling. And talking. The most intimate of moments.“You made it,” said Cheryl, standing beside a tall skinny young man, dressed a lot like Joe. Black slacks instead of khakis. And cool looking pointy Italian boots. Not exactly handsome with his slim face and jutting ears under short dark disheveled hair. But he had presence.“Todd,” he said, lifting his long slender hand.Joe shook it. “This is Moira.”“Moe,” she said, also shaking his hand.“Come on,” he said, taking off south.“I thought you’d show her pictures,” Joe said, trying to catch up. Todd had the Manhattan walk. Long fast strides. Like everything in the city had to be fast.“She wants the negatives,” he said. “And maybe more prints.”Five blocks later, they ended up in the basement of an old tenement. “The super lets me use this,” he said. “Well, for another hundred bucks.”He opened some black curtains with his arm to let them enter the squared off area. Some kind of airshaft with a fan.
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