On Neutral Ground

A Thursday Prompt story
© 2019 by Walter Reimer


Prompt:
“What really knocks me out is a book that, when you're all done reading it, you wish the author that wrote it was a terrific friend of yours and you could call him up on the phone whenever you felt like it. That doesn't happen much, though.” - J.D. Salinger, ‘The Catcher in the Rye’



“I really liked your last book. It was hard to remember the setting, because the characters were so well-drawn.”

“Glad you liked it,” I said. My friend Andy grinned greasily at me before wiping his mouth with a sheet of paper towel. Around us was the usual lunchtime bustle of the local rib joint. It was family-owned, not a franchise, and the barbecue was so good that they usually ran out before two in the afternoon. I’m a bit more fastidious, at least in public; that may be stereotypical for felines, but BBQ sauce on white fur really stands out.

Andy’s been a friend of mine for years, even before I sold my first novel, Reckless and Carswell. Shameless plug: it’s a great detective novel, won an award, so go buy it please. Anyway, the boar’s a lawyer and he’s always either dropping by to talk, or calling me on the phone.

Or inviting me to lunch. No ‘starving artist’ jokes, though; he stopped doing that after my third book.

I told him that I was picking up the tab for this. The setting was perfect; ‘neutral ground’ as some might put it.

Andy made short work of another rib, wiped his mouth and paws. I’m sure the irony of a pig eating spare ribs wasn’t lost on him. “So,” he said after taking a deep drink of his iced tea, “what’s new?”

“Nothing you don’t already know,” I said. “In fact, I want to tell you a story.”

His ears perked. “Just for little old me?” He looked pleased when I nodded. “Okay, lay it on me.”

I thought for a moment. “You know about the Prophet Muhammad, right?”

“Sure.” His ears dip and his expression looks a bit uncertain.

“Well, the Prophet had a lot of friends, more than he had wives,” and he grinned when I gave him a wink. “But he had a special friend named Abu Horairah.” Andy blinked and seemed to be listening a bit closer. Good. “They were very close friends, and Abu Horairah was always dropping by. Finally, the Prophet said – hang on a moment, let me think – he said, ‘Oh, Abu Horairah! Let me alone every other day, so that my affection for you may increase.’” I sat back to see his reaction.

He mainly just looked mystified. “So, what’s the moral?”

A more direct approach, I decided.

“Look, Andy, we’ve been friends for a long time – “

“Yeah.”

“ – And you know that I’ve told you that I need time alone so that I can write.” It came out in a bit of a rush, but he heard me, all right.

He looked across the table at me, his ears twitching and his eyebrows lowered as the implication of what I’d said sank in. When he spoke, he said slowly, “So we’re not friends anymore.”

My eyes bugged out and I waved my paws at him. “No, that’s not what I meant at all, Andy! You and Jessie are always welcome, you know that, and Mary and I are happy to see you.” I huffed and tried to get my thoughts in order. “This latest book of mine – “

He brightened. “You’re writing another novel? How many does this make?”

I nodded. “This is number seven. I made a mistake with this one. My agent put me on a deadline.”

“Ahh.” He finally got it. He pantomimed moving something between his paws, like he was holding a softball or something. It’s a habit I’ve seen him doing before. “You’re basically asking for some distance.”

“Yeah.”

“How does Mary put up with you?”

I laughed. “She’s gotten used to it. She just makes sure I get enough food and water, and hits me from time to time to make sure I get a shower at least once a week. The kids know to leave Daddy alone when the door to his private room’s closed.”

“Hah! You don’t want them coming in when you’re,” and he made a jacking off motion.

I chuckled. “Writing’s a lot like that, actually, but I only do that if I’m writing a love scene.”

“Is there a love scene in this?”

I twitch my whiskers. “Maybe,” and we both laugh. I think that I got through to him, and I invited him and his family over for a cookout this coming Saturday.

Thankfully, he appeared to get the hint, and we’re still friends.

At least I won’t have to bring up the idea of a restraining order. Mary thought of that.



end