Everybody Loves You Read Online Free Page A

disappearing. He set it on the floor, knelt above it, and petted it some more as it arched its back and purred. He whispered to it. When it tried to move, he held it fast.
    â€œListen,” he said. “Listen to the mice, cat.” The cat vaguely listened. “Its name,” Dave told us, “is Waterloo. Waterloo the cat is listening to mice.”
    Soon enough, the cat grew still, focused on something. I saw its eyes widen, and I knew some mice who were in a lot of trouble.
    â€œWhen you have something in mind for your little pal, you got to aim him at it, see?”
    â€œDave,” said Jim admiringly, “you are a gentleman and a fuckmaster.”
    â€œYep. Look at Waterloo. Look at this swift mouse-killer. Waterloo the cat is going for it.”
    Sitting on Jim’s couch at the nightly bull sessions, Johnny Boy would fall asleep in Dave’s arms and no one as much as glanced at them, except me. “He ran all over the site today,” Dave would explain, hefting the boy into his lap, “and now he’s all tuckered out.” And when the party broke up, Dave would stroke Johnny Boy’s hair and say to him, “Come along, lad.”
    They lived together.
    Dave petted the cat, enjoying its concentration. He looked at Jim and Jim nodded.
    â€œYou got to aim him, Jimbo.”
    â€œI see that, my amazing Dave.”
    Dave turned to me, smiling. “Or what?”
    â€œYou aim him,” I replied, “because that is a righteous thing.” You had to talk wild to stay abreast of Jim’s buddies. They were wild men. I liked a few of them a very great deal.
    â€œHey, Dave, guess what?” I said. “I just sold a book to the Viking Press.”
    â€œDon’t they got enough books of their own?”
    â€œNo, to write one. I sold a deal. ”
    â€œOh, so that,” he said, coming over. “Now, that’s a headline.” He shook my hand.
    Dave and Johnny Boy had this game. Dave would break into popular song, using a familiar tune but making up silly words. Such as:
    I’ll bake a tart
    In Capistrano.
    He’d sing this sweetly right into Johnny Boy’s ear, and Johnny Boy would patiently say, “It doesn’t go like that, Dave.”
    â€œHow does it rightly go, Johnny Boy?”
    â€œâ€˜I left my heart, ’” Johnny Boy would tell him, “‘in San Francisco.’”
    â€œNo kidding.”
    â€œYeah.”
    Or:
    They tried to sell us
    Egg Foo Yong.
    Johnny Boy would say, “‘They tried to tell us we’re too young.’”
    Dave would reply, “You’re too young, puppy. I’m old enough.”
    â€œOld enough for what?”
    â€œOld enough to take you,” Dave would pensively drawl, and they’d back off and pace around each other as if they were going to fight. Then Dave would feint and grab Johnny Boy by the waist and swing him around right there on the street, Johnny Boy yelling like a kid on a roller coaster.
    I told Jim, “I think those two are lovers.”
    â€œYou got to be wrong there, sport. Johnny Boy’s a cinch with the ladies. They line right up for Johnny Boy, you know.”
    â€œWhat about Dave? Does he have a steady girl?”
    Jim thought. “I expect he’s married somewhere down south if you got the right state. Probably more than once if I know Dave. So what, though? Dave is not a guy to lay out his credentials for you. Dave is not afraid of what someone knows about him.”
    â€œDon’t you think they’re radically affectionate for … for…”
    â€œTwo straight guys?”
    â€œâ€¦ right.”
    I hadn’t come out to Jim, so I wasn’t sure what terminology we were to use in this context. But he was.
    â€œThose two boys are very close, I’ll say that,” he said. “They are very close. They love each other. But not fucking love. Friendship love. I’ve seen other guys like