Chapter 10

Frank stripped off his sopping wet clothes and slipped into his bathrobe with nothing underneath. The end of May was quite warm, and besides, he was in for the night. Why dress? In fact, why not just turn in? He looked at his empty bed. “Too early. Even for me.” He turned on the TV, instead. Ten minutes later, he was ready to shut it off. “I’ve got a secret too, Steve Allen. Maybe you can have me on sometime.” Frank put on a record—a nice, soothing Mozart concerto, as opposed to the rock and roll he’d find on the radio. The loud and flashy part of the storm was over, so he listened to the music, the rain outside oddly complimentary as it still fell hard against the tin roof. It soothed Frank, like a lullaby, and soon had him calm and sleepy, despite the early hour.