against what sounded like a tile floor, and then heard the door opening. A
flash later she was back on the phone. "It's just Bud," she said nonchalantly
as Derek's heart, no matter how much he had done to insulate it, shrunk to
about the size of a pitted prune. "So anyway, Derek, let's have
lunch sometime, okay?"
"Yeah, right," he thought, with a vision of Bud's baseball glove sized
hand traveling at a high velocity towards his face.
"Okay," he found himself saying, even though he knew he wouldn't
call her, at least not until Bud happened to dissappear into thin air, or back
into the piney East Texas woods from which he came, and to which Derek
hoped he would return. "Well, I'll talk to you later, then," he said.
"Alright, Derek," she answered, still as cheery as could be. Did she
have to mention his name so often, especially with Bud, who was by now
probably hovering over her, trying to get within ear range. "See you on
Sunday!" and then hung up.