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I look around with curiosity. It’s a place where they sell all kinds of toys and sexy lingerie. The shop is decorated quite tastefully. The walls are red, and everything catches my attention. Hundreds of colorful vibrators and toys in incredible shapes are on display. I see some black feathers, and I grab them. They’ll help me play with Eric. I also choose some black-sequined pasties; they have tassels hanging from them. The salesperson says they’re reusable and that they stick with adhesive pads on the nipple. The thought of wearing this in front of Eric makes me laugh. But knowing him, he’d like it! When I go to pay, I see there are costumes to the side of the store, and I can’t resist. I choose a naughty-policewoman costume and buy it as well. I’ll surprise my Iceman tonight. I leave the store with bags in hand and a smile from ear to ear. As I pass a hardware store, I remember something. I go in and buy a latch for the bedroom door. I want sex at home without uninvited guests.
Three hours later, after roaming all over the streets of Munich, I take a taxi home. Simona and Norbert greet me. I ask Norbert for some tools. Evidently surprised, he agrees but doesn’t question me.
Delighted with what Norbert has brought me, I go up to the room I share with Eric and install the latch on the door. I hope it doesn’t bother him, but I don’t want Flyn to catch us when I’m dressed as a bad cop or we’re making savage love. What would the child think of us?
When Flyn comes home from school in the afternoon, he’s always taciturn. He locks himself in his room to do homework. Simona is going to take him a snack, and I ask her to let me do it. He’s sitting at his desk, absorbed in his duties. I leave the plate with the sandwich and look at his hand. The wound is visible.
“What happened to your hand?” I ask.
“Nothing,” he says, not looking at me.
“Considering nothing happened, that’s a pretty good scratch,” I say.
The kid looks up and scrutinizes me.
“Get out of my room. I’m doing my homework.”
“Flyn ... why are you always angry?”
“I’m not angry, but you’re going to make me angry.”
His answer makes me smile. That little brat is so like his uncle. In the end, I let it go and leave. I walk to the kitchen and grab a Coke. As I’m drinking, Flyn comes in and just stares at me.
“You want some?” I ask him.
He shakes his head and leaves. Five minutes later, I’m in the living room, watching TV. I look at the time: five o’clock. Eric will be home soon. I decide to watch a movie and search for something that might interest me. There’s nothing, so I settle on an episode ofThe Simpsons. For a while, I laugh along with Bart, and, when I least expect it, Flyn comes in and sits down. I sip my Coke. The boy picks up the remote, evidently with the intention of changing channels.
“Flyn, if you don’t mind, I’m watching TV.”
He thinks about it. Puts the remote back on the table and settles into a chair.
“Now I do want a Coke,” he says all of a sudden.
My first instinct is to tell him, “Well, buddy, get a move on. You have two very good legs that’ll take you to the fridge.” But since I want to be nice to him, I get up and offer to bring it to him.
“In a glass with ice, please.”
“Of course,” I say, happy with his calmer tone.
In fact, I’m happier than if it were Easter as I go to the kitchen. Simona isn’t around. I take a glass, get ice, grab a soda from the fridge, and, when I open the can—wham!—the Coke explodes. It gets in my eyes and soaks both the kitchen and me.
As best as I can, I put the drink down on the counter and, fumbling, search for the paper towels to wipe my face. Godddddddd, I’m drenched! But then I notice Flyn through the door, reflected on the microwave, as he watches me with a cruel smile.
Sonuvabitch!
There’s no question he shook the Coke so it’d explode and then asked so kindly for a drink in order to set the trap.
I take a long breath while I dry myself and clean the kitchen. Once I finish, I aim to go out like a raging bull and give that child a piece of my mind, but then I find Eric in the living room with Flyn in his arms.
“Hi, dear!” He greets me with a broad smile.
I have two options: to erase that smile with a single stroke and tell him what his nephew has just done, or to not say anything about the mini delinquent in his arms. I choose the latter. My Iceman puts him down and gives me a sweet and tasty kiss on the lips.
“You’re wet? What happened to you?”
Flyn looks at me, and I look at him, but I answer, “I opened a Coke and it exploded, so I got a little dazed.”
Eric loosens his tie.