The Edge of Sleep by David Wiltse Read Free Book Online Page B

she said. “I like a man who can express himself. Can you express yourself, Lyle?”
    “Edgar,” he corrected her.
    “You’re not one of these strong, silent types, are you? Although you look strong. I like strength, but not silence. I like to know how a man is feeling. I like some noise.”
    “I thought you might. When I saw you in the restaurant, I said to myself, there’s a very pretty woman who is not afraid of a little noise. I’ll bet she’s pretty noisy herself. Under the right circumstances.”
    “Are you the right circumstances, Lyle?”
    He grinned, a lop-sided affair that dragged his face to the left and narrowed his eyes. Dee realized he thought it was his sexy look.
    “You better believe it,” he said. He leaned closer to her. Dee grasped a hair from his chest and yanked it free from the skin.
    “Hey!”
    “Just checking,” said Dee. “You are going to be noisy, aren’t you?”
     
    Ash trudged along the highway, keeping his head down so the approaching headlights would not blind him. The gusts of wind created by passing trucks were strong enough to rock him, and many of the motorists honked at him even though he was not on the road. He could hear their bleeps dropping downscale as they raced away, still angered and startled by his appearance in a night they had assumed was ordered just for them and the traffic.
    It was always a bad sign when she sent him home alone. He knew she still had her pills, he had checked only two days ago. Maybe he should count them, he thought. Maybe she had them but wasn’t taking them. She was feeling too good; she had too much energy and too much enthusiasm. Something was bound to disappoint her eventually. If nothing else, then Ash himself. And when she was disappointed she would crash from where she was now. She would fall as fast and as far as the eagles fell when they swooped down for a rabbit. Ash loved to watch them on the nature shows on television, the way the great birds just folded their wings and plummeted straight down from the clouds. Watching the birds was exhilarating, but watching Dee was terrifying. Like the birds that always rose up once more triumphantly clutching a fish or a hare. Dee would rise again with her prey in her talons.
    Lights behind him flashed bright and dim, bright and dim, and he heard a horn blaring a tattoo of recognition. Dee’s car flashed by and he caught a glimpse of her waving hand, her smiling face illuminated by the beams of the car behind her. She blew him a kiss, still honking as she sped away toward the motel.
    The man from the restaurant was in the car behind Dee. Ash saw his puzzled look as he stared at Ash momentarily before he, too, raced away into the darkness toward the motel.
    “See you later, Lyle,” Ash said. His voice was drowned out by the whoosh of air, the squeal of tires on pavement.
    Ash put his head down and trudged on.
     
    Edgar decided she could call him Lyle—or Heathcliff or Geronimo—if she wanted to. The original Lyle seemed to be her husband, or her father—Edgar was not certain which—but he certainly wasn’t going to keep correcting her and risk queering his luck. He worked as a sales representative for a sportswear firm and spent half of the year on the road, servicing accounts. Occasionally he got lucky and was able to service some of the ladies who worked in the stores as well—or women he would pick up like this one. When he did get lucky he often gave them free tennis shirts from his samples as a token of his affection. From the look of things so far with this lady, however, a tennis shirt would never suffice. He would bestow her with shirts, shoes, warm-up suit, the whole outfit. He hadn’t just gotten lucky this time: he had won the lottery.
    She had his shirt off of him before the door was closed. She seemed game for anything and Edgar hoped he would have enough imagination to take advantage of the opportunity.
    She threw her arms around his waist and pressed her face into his