Blue Screen Read Online Free Page A

move was uncalculated, no position an accident. I checked her boobs immediately. No signs of alteration.
    “Looking at her makes you feel like kind of a turd,” Robbie said. “Doesn’t it.”
    “A short one,” I said.
    Misty nodded sadly. Both of them were attractive in the same sort of routine way I maybe was. Not fat, not skinny, even features, in pretty good shape. Dressed okay. Misty even looked a little like Erin; she was nearly as tall and had the same coloration. But there was enough missing of whatever Erin had so that Misty remained routinely attractive and Erin was, well, Erin.
    “She works very hard,” Misty said. “She works out every day with Robbie. But the truth is, I think she’d look that way even if she didn’t.”
    Robbie nodded.
    “I mean, she looked like that as soon as she passed puberty,” Misty said.
    “Really?” I said.
    “Yes,” Misty said. “She looked like that before she ever met a physical trainer. Right, Robbie?”
    “She was gangbusters when I met her,” Robbie said.
    “Which was?” I said.
    “On her first picture, Woman Warrior, ” Robbie said. “They hired me to buff her up. Though God knows she didn’t need much help.”
    “How long have you been with her?” I said to Misty.
    “Long time,” Misty said.
    “Before Woman Warrior ?”
    Misty nodded.
    “Before she was Erin Flint,” Misty said.
    “That’s not her real name?” I said.
    Misty shook her head. “No. I mean that’s her name,” she said. “I just knew her before she was famous. You know, Erin Flint. ”
    “And she always looked like this?” I said.
    Misty grinned.
    “From the time she got boobs,” Misty said.
    When she was through showering, Erin strolled about naked so we could admire her. Then she put on her bra and slipped her sweater over her head so she wouldn’t get makeup on her clothes or muss her hair. I did the same thing. Except I usually got dressed all the way. She stood in front of the mirror over the two sinks, combing her hair and applying makeup. She was still naked from the waist down.
    “That bastard,” Erin said as she bent over the sink to apply a bit of makeup to her already perfect face. “He played with the Chicago Cubs for eight years and hit .268, and he’s telling me how to hit.”
    “That’s not good?” I said.
    “Christ, no. You don’t follow baseball?”
    “Not too much,” I said.
    She shook her head carefully so that her hair moved just right.
    “And Buddy hired you,” she said.
    “It defies explanation,” I said. “Doesn’t it.”
    “Where’s your dog?” Erin said.
    She was still bent archly over the sink like a 1940s pinup girl.
    “She’s with Richie,” I said.
    “Richie who?”
    “My ex-husband,” I said. “He gets her three days a week.”
    “You share custody of the fucking dog?” Erin said.
    “Rosie loves Richie.”
    “Well, it’s more than I would do.”
    “You’ve been married?” I said.
    “Yes,” Erin said.
    “Kids?”
    “Oh, God no,” she said.
    “How about you and Buddy?” I said.
    “Buddy?”
    “Yes, do you ever think about marriage?”
    “And further contribute to the patriarchy that oppresses us? The hell with that.”
    “But you are with him,” I said. “You’re intimate. Doesn’t that contribute to the patriarchy?”
    “You use what you’ve got, honey,” Erin said.
    She turned from her grooming and stood straight up in front of us, half naked, with her hands spread slightly.
    “And I’ve got this,” she said.
    “You use what you’ve got for what?” I said.
    “Buddy’s my ticket to ride, honey. And I’m going to ride for all I’m worth.”
    I smiled.
    “And vice versa,” I said.
    “He gets what he wants; I get what I want,” Erin said. “Where’s the harm.”
    I smiled as if I agreed.
    “Do you really plan to be a big-league baseball player?” I said.
    “Absolutely,” Erin said.
    She began to dress her bottom half.
    “You think you can make it?” I