"Vegetables, did you say?"
"Yes, I got the job from a man, to pick up these vegetables and deliver them. With my truck."
"Oh." She nodded, and then said, "How cold do you think it is now?"
"I don't know. In the twenties, I'd guess."
"Are you cold?"
"A little."
"My feet are cold," she said.
"You want to go someplace? For coffee or something?"
"I thought you had a room," she said.
"I do."
"Let's go there."
They walked in silence for several moments. The river was frozen from shore to shore. The bridge uptown spanned the ice, rose from the ice as if it were a silvery spidery extension of it.
"I don't want to hurt you," he said.
"Hurt me? How can you hurt me?"
"I don't know," he said, and shrugged.
"Honey," she said, "I've been had by experts."
"Amelia, there are…" He shook his head.
"Yes? What?"
"There are a lot of things…" He shook his head again.
"What is it, Roger?"
"I should do."
"What?"
"Things I should do."
"Yes, like what?"
"Well… I want to be with you."
"Yes, I want to be with you, too."
"I want to kiss you again, I've been wanting to ever since-"
"Yes, yes-"
"But I don't want to hurt you."
"But, baby, how can you possibly-"
"I just want you to know that."
She stared at him silently. At last she said, "You're a funny person." She reached up and kissed him swiftly and then moved back from him and looked into his face and said, "Come," and took his hand.
The party in Roger's room started at about five-thirty when Fook Shanahan came in with a man who lived on the second floor and whom Roger didn't know at all. He and Amelia had just come into the room, had in fact barely taken off their coats when Fook knocked on the door and - without waiting for anyone to answer - opened the door and came in, followed by a very tall thin man with thick-rimmed eyeglasses and a thatch of brown hair turning white. His eyebrows were already completely white, thick and shaggy; they looked fake to Roger, as if they had been pasted on as a disguise. Fook had a bottle of bourbon in one hand, and two glasses in the other. He went immediately to the dresser where he put down the bottle and the glasses and then he turned to Roger and said, "Aren't you going to introduce us to the young lady?"
"Oh, sure," Roger said. "This is Amelia Perez. Amelia, I'd like you to meet Fook Shanahan, and I'm afraid I don't know the other gentleman's name."
"The other gentleman's name is Dominick Tartaglia," Fook said, "and he's no gentleman, believe me." Tartaglia laughed. Fook laughed with him and then said, "I gather you two have just come in from the frozen tundra out there, and would appreciate a drink."
"Well…" Roger said hesitantly, and then glanced at Amelia.
"Sure," Amelia said. "I'd love a drink."
"The problem is one of numerical disproportion," Fook said. "We seem to have four people and only three glasses."
"Roger and I can share a glass," Amelia said, and smiled gently at him.
"Then there's no problem," Fook said. He went to the dresser and opened the bottle. Amelia sat on the edge of the bed, crossing her legs and leaning forward, resting her elbow on her knee, one hand toying with the pearls at her throat. Tartaglia stood alongside the dresser, smiling as Fook poured the drinks. Roger glanced at Amelia to see if she minded them being here, but she seemed to be pretty happy. We'll make love as soon as they leave, he thought.
And suddenly he was frightened.
"We were waiting for you to come home, Roger," F/ook said, "because we wanted to know how you made out with the bulls."
"Oh, we had a nice talk," Roger said.
"Were the police here?" Amelia asked, and she suddenly sat up straight and looked at Roger.
"Yeah," Tartaglia said. "Our landlady had a refrigerator stolen from her."
"A refrigerator?" Amelia said. "Thank you," she said to Fook as he handed her the drink.
"I apologize for the lack of ice," Fook said. "Would you like a little water in that?"
"Spoils the taste," Amelia said, and grinned.
"Ah, an Irish colored girl," Shanahan said. "The best kind." He lifted his glass. "Cheers, Miss."
Amelia sipped at her drink and then raised her eyebrows and rolled her eyes. "Whoosh!" she said, and handed the glass to Roger. Roger sniffed it, and then took a short swallow.
"So what happened?" Fook asked.
"Nothing," Roger said. "They came in and they were very polite, and they asked me where I'd been last night, and I told them. Then, let me see, I guess we talked about how much I thought the refrigerator was worth, and then they said I could go home or stay here, whichever I wanted, they had no more questions for me."
"That means they think he's clean," Tartaglia said to Fook.
"Of course," Fook said. "We're all clean. Who the hell would want to steal that old bitch's box, excuse me, Miss."
"That's all right," Amelia said, and she took another sip of the drink.
"Did you tell him about the shelves?" Tartaglia said.
"No," Fook said.
"What about the shelves?"
"They found them."
"What shelves?" Amelia asked.
"From the refrigerator. They found them near the furnace downstairs," Tartaglia said.
