"She wanted to talk about you … We had quite a talk and I even told her about us. That's another laugh. She's a smart gal. Already knew." He laughed. "She knew we were fooling around all the time. I felt like a damned fool." He hit the steering wheel with his closed fist, then continued. "You know what she said?" He looked at Gaylord not waiting for an answer. "Said she loved you too … poor kid." He laughed loud. "You're a good one, you are. Even screwed her, didn't you. She wouldn't let me and she lets you … what do you think of that, huh? Doesn't that flatter your ego?" Blake's two fists came together with a loud crack. "She knew you were a fruit all along. She didn't think you'd do anything but, you sure fooled her, didn't you? Is that the first cherry you ever got? You know what a cherry is, don't you? 'Course you didn't get Thelma's, you know that don't you … I got there ahead of you … You're some guy you are … What did that guy in New Orleans call you? A faggot, wasn't it? Oh, I'm so sorry. I forgot you don't know what a faggot is, do you?" Sarcastically, the words rushed, wild, and cutting, but to Gaylord they became only a sound. "‘Be good to him, Bob,' Joy said," Blake continued. "‘He's such a lovely boy. So sweet and thoughtful' … isn't that a laugh? And the funniest part of it is I agreed with her. Damn fool, both of us. She didn't know you were throwing that thing of yours in anybody's face that would take it. She was suspicious of Thelma and was so afraid she would hurt you. Thelma, huh … she couldn't hurt you … You're both nothing but a couple of cheap whores … Not even a whore … you give it away don't you … why in the hell don't you sell it. Yea … you're thoughtful, all right … Thoughtful … huh … like so much hell." Then, as if speaking to himself, Blake uttered in a drab low voice, "Thoughtful of yourself … that makes sense. Just as long as you get what you want you don't give a damn who it's with. Now it's this Glenn … Well I hope that farmer can satisfy you … Does he smell like a horse or do you care?"
Resolutely, Gaylord tried not to think about the afternoon, but it swam in his memory. He was not sorry he had gone. No, not now he wasn't. He didn't see the creek as cold and dismal under the warm sun. He saw it friendly and all blue. Friendly the way Rogers had always been. How could Blake say such things about Glenn Rogers.
