"What are you going to tell them?" Greg asked in a polite, innocent voice that could only mean there was something unscrupulous on his mind.
"Tell who what?" I slathered shaving cream on my chin.
"Are you brave enough to tell the truth," he said, leaning to the bathroom doorway, "or are you going to tell everyone you wash your face with Brillo pad and wear a scarf all day?"
"We'll see if anyone asks first. In the meantime I'll have to see if I can find my turtlenecks."
"Are you going to pull your turtleneck over your nose?"
"You did this to me, Greg, on purpose," I reminded him, trying not to add a few razor nicks to go along with the rest of the souvenirs all over my neck and chin. "Are you brave enough to own up to it?"
"We'll see if anyone asks first," Greg smirked, obviously enjoying the sight me shaving over the hickey.
"And if they do?"
"Let's see, we have a handsome divorced male doctor living with another male doctor. Both of these doctors have been known to be switch hitters. The older doctor has a scruffy beard." He paused to scratch his chin and drive his point home. "The younger doctor shaves every day like clockwork. Now, these doctors have been roommates for a few months, and suddenly the younger doctor shows up covered with whisker burns and hickeys. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure that one out, Jimmy. They won't have to ask."
"And if they do ask?" I pressed, meeting the reflection of his eyes in the spotty mirror.
A mischievous grin joined our reflections. "Which sounds more scandalous, that I'm sleeping with a co-worker or that I'm sleeping with someone of the same gender?"
"How about a co-worker of the same gender?" I offered, rinsing off the razor.
"That has a nice ring to it."
"Or maybe a doctor of the same gender?"
"That sounds even better. I just love a juicy scandal."
"You would really say that?"
"I could tell people you wash with a Brillo pad." Greg suddenly took on a stoic look. "But then everyone would think you're weird and bisexual."
"How's the leg?" I asked, digging for the orange juice. It tried to hide behind the Pepsi. "Any more spasms?"
Greg slathered a bagel with strawberry cream cheese and said, "No. I've fallen in love with that heating pad."
"I'm never getting it back, am I?"
"Nope." Pink cream cheese was smeared on his lower lip.
"Why didn't you ever use a heating pad before?" I settled into a chair and snatched a bagel, pleased to see his leg wasn't bothering him much this morning.
"Because I never had a heating pad to use before."
Reaching for a knife, I sighed and said, "Consider it a gift."
"You're too kind."
"And you're too much."
My friend tilted his head knowlingly. "Judging from that smirk I have to say that was a compliment."
"It was," I said.
"A compliment for what?" He drank some coffee and waited.
Caught off guard, I stumbled for an answer. I didn't expect to be questioned about my casual little remark. "I dunno..." Unable to think of another word I just shrugged.
"A lot of people have called me a lot of things, Jimmy," he smiled. "'Too much' is hardly the worst of them."
"I know," I smiled back.
"Yeah, well, let me know if you ever figure out what 'too much' means."
"You got it."
"Hmmm..." Chin in hand, he looked me in the eye. "Shamelessly flirting with me? If I didn't know any better I'd have to say you were trying to score some brownie points. Afraid of being replaced with a heating pad?"
"If you and your leg can take it," I replied between bites, "I'm willing to share you with your beloved heating pad."
"Ah-ha, you are shamelessly flirting with me," he chuckled.
"Should I just sit here and stare at the walls?" I drained my orange juice.
"Not unless you want to be in the doghouse and sleep alone tonight."
"I don't," I said simply.
"I didn't think so." Greg stared at my shirt. "No turtleneck?"
"I couldn't find them. Can I borrow one of yours?"
"No," he grinned. "Wear your blue tie. I think I have scarf that will match it."
