Bad People (10 page)

“I wouldn’t have ever expected to hear that.”

“I think it should be said more often, Luke. I have a bit of a quandary in that area. I do a lot of public speaking. I do enjoy it, or I used to until recently. I thought I was helping people. I think I was just entertaining them. They go to those things looking for a quick fix. You discover very quickly that nobody takes a seminar to learn how to make her life busier. People go to be told that everything is easy. They want somebody to hand them the secret, and there isn’t one.”

“Everything that you are saying is really resonating with me,” Luke said. He leaned forward. “I was involved in a business venture earlier this year. The risk seemed relatively small, the reward great. But I ended up putting a lot of work into it. The money seemed fantastic and the client basically acceded to my price without any argument, yet here I am, the work is done, but when you break the money down over the months I spent on research, etc, it didn’t come out to very much.”

“What kind of work?”

“A job, a sub-contracting kind of thing. Through my mentor. I did some things for the comic business.”

“Oh. Well comics are something you’re interested it. You know though, one of the biggest challenges that every contractor has to overcome is undercharging.”

“To tell you the truth, I don’t believe one can get truly rich off his own labor,” said Luke.

“That’s usually true. With the rare exception of say, athletes and movie stars.”

“And the real money goes to the team owners.”

“Again right. That’s a reality. But is money everything?”

“It can be, when you have nothing.”

“I wonder. I was happier I think, when I had less.”

“Then walk away.”

“I have. To a degree. Selling the house—where we met—that was a start. There are loose ends. I have responsibilities to people. I’m surprised myself over how many responsibilities I have. Me! Of all people!”

“You say that like you never would have expected that.”

“I didn’t. I wouldn’t have imagined it, when I was y— when I was a teenager certainly.”

“Tell me why not.”

“Ahh,” she waved a hand.

“No. I’m curious what you mean.”

“You might say I have a checkered past.”

“Tell me.”

“No,” she laughed it off. “You’d think less of me.”

“I couldn’t think less of you.”

“Ouch! What a thing to say!”

“That came out wrong. I think you know what I mean. I won’t think less of you. I wouldn’t think less of you, I mean.”

She sighed. “Some other time maybe. Luke.”

“I’m very glad you said that,” said Luke.

“Oh yeah? How come?” she said, thinking he was relieved to be off a subject that really would be of no interest.”

“Because that implies there will be another time.” There was a basket with bread on the table that she hadn’t noticed had been brought. Luke noticed her notice it, and he gave her a
shall-we?
look. She nodded, and he pulled away the covering cloth napkin. He separated one slice from the rest without making a crumb. The bread seemed to separate at the will of his long fingers. He spread butter on the slice, one clean, even spread, placed it on a plate and set it before her.

The candlelight flickered across his face, and his blue eyes were almost slightly damp, she thought. He was looking at her. She knew that look very well, and it certainly felt nicer, kinder, a safer kind of danger, than it did from the bank managers and realtors that usually leered at her. Didn’t seem like leering, not from him, because he was young, and handsome, and that only one more example of the world’s unfairness.

The food arrived. She noticed that she’d ordered scampi, which she was happy about, because now she was ravenous.

Chapter 11: Luke, Ardiss

Luke made a second date with Connie, but she had delayed it a week, pleading out-of-town commitments she couldn’t escape. She had not slept with him on the first date, not like a common whore, not like Ardiss had. He wouldn’t have expected Connie to, not then. He had noted her message about consistency. She was signaling that he’d have to work hard to get her, and his effort would be repaid. That gave him time to get Ardiss out of the picture. Ardiss was downscale, and every trace of her had to be erased before entering a more advantageous relationship with Connie.

He was reminding Ardiss now that she would have to find a new place to live, but she merely stood there, her denim jacket held by one hand and touching the floor, a bag of take-out Chinese in the other, giving him that dumb-eyed look like she didn’t know what’s going on, even though she must know. Listening was not one of her few strong points, but he had repeated the information enough times over the last week that should no longer ignore the reality of her situation.

This time he had filled her backpack and rested it by the door. The balance of her things were in hefty bags and boxes that he himself had collected from Safeway, and packed while she’d been a work. He’d organized it all: cosmetics and shampoos and soaps into one box, kitchen stuff in another. Shoes in a couple more. CD’s, DVD’s.

“You will be okay,” he told her.

She sat down on the bed and stared at the wall like she still didn’t follow any of it. She put the plastic bag she carried next to her. The greasy take-out bag right on the bed where they slept. “Did you eat? I got these pot stickers from the fusion place next to work. They just gave them to me. Isn’t that something? Are you hungry?”

“It’s the end of the month,” he said. He stood in front of her. She turned her body away, focused on another wall. She could look as blank as the bare wall when she wanted to.

“I didn’t find a place,” she said.

“You had all month to look. I offered to help. You didn’t want my help.”

“I thought about moving in with this girl from work.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t know though.”

“You can’t live here anymore.”

She grimaced, like something stabbed her.

“I have someone else now,” he said.

“You’re only saying that to get rid of me.”

“Even if that were true, you wouldn’t want to stay if that’s what you think.”

“I can’t find a place.”

“Where else have you looked?”

“Craigslist. Everything is so expensive.”

“And the roommate matching service.”

“You have to pay a fee.”

“When you find a place. Not right away. And it’s only sixty-five dollars—which I gave you.”

“Everything is money with you.”

“I
gave
it to you.”

“Don’t make me leave, Luke. Don’t make me leave.”

“You have to go. Today. That is that.” Enough. And he couldn’t hide Ardiss from Connie forever. He’d made excuses up to now, but they were close to sleeping together and that wasn’t going to happen if he had to be so secretive about how he lived. Women were so suspicious! “You refuse to see that you’re an anchor wrapped around my neck, pulling me down.”

“You can’t put me out on the street.”

“You’ve put yourself there. I’ve given you other chances.”

“You’re not giving me
any
chance. You won’t talk to me.”

“That’s all we do.” How many nights had they spent until dawn, till his voice went hoarse, and his throat raw. Evidently that didn’t count. “It doesn’t mean we didn’t talk simply because you didn’t win.”

“It isn’t about winning, Luke,” Ardiss said, sounding very adult and weary. She moved to pick up her pack. He thought she was finally submitting, but all she did was unzip it and rifle through the contents. “Isn’t my iPod in here? No, I had it with me. Didn’t I? Didn’t I?” She tended to drift off into herself, talking like a sleepy ghost sometimes, and she did it now. It passed, and she spoke again to him. “Didn’t I take it to work today?”

“I didn’t pay attention.”

“Maybe they stole it.”

He shook his head. Who were they supposed to be? “What?”

“You don’t care. I got ripped off at work but you don’t care.”

“That’s not what we are talking about.”

“I can’t move in with that girl. She steals. You see?”

“You mean the girl you didn’t ask to move in with.”

“It would be fine with you? The girl rips me off. She could murder me in my sleep for all you care. Nice.”

“This is all excuse making.”

“You hate me.”

“I don’t feel anything for you.”

She kneeled suddenly, hugging the backpack and burying her face in it. He wasn’t going to allow crying. He took her by the back of her jacket, and lifted her, like grabbing the skin behind a kitten’s neck. She kicked the nearest box and sent shampoo bottles flying.

“Throw me out. Throw me outside. Manhandle me. Good!” she cried. He allowed her to wrench out of his grasp. “Sleep in my fucking car tonight. That’s how much
you
care.”

“You should have made plans.”

“I didn’t make any plans! I’m a fuck-up and you’re a genius.”

“I’ve got my own life to live.”

“You can’t just turn a switch in your head.”

“
You
can’t. Other people can’t. But I can.”

“Good for you.”

“Try it.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Try. Maybe I can teach you what I know.”

“No, no, no you can’t. I can’t be like you, kicking stupid bitches out on the street.” Her pupils shrunk to two black pinpoints. “I’m not like you. I don’t know what I want, like you do. Can’t I stay here and watch you? I want to disappear into the corner where I won’t bother you. We don’t have to do anything. I kind of disgust you don’t I?”

“No.”

“Do you know you kind of disgust me?” she said.

“No.”

“With your yuppie suits and your pretensions. And your breath. You brush your teeth fifty times a day, and you still taste like something died in your mouth. There, now you know.” She watched him. “What? Don’t you believe me?”

“I believe you. It doesn’t matter what you say. I don’t care how I look or smell or anything to you, because you don’t exist for me.”

She trembled and stammered. “You’re only saying that because I hurt you.”

He shook his head.

“A person can’t stop existing because you say so.”

“Absolutely they can.”

“Don’t say that. That can’t be true.”

“It is. Look around here. It’s like you never lived here. I even packed your the toilet paper because you bought it.”

“That’s just…. You can
pretend
I don’t exist, but that’s not the same thing….”

“Yes it is. A certain insect in China might exist or might not, but I wouldn’t know.”

Then something changed. Maybe she got tired. “A Chinese insect. What do you know. But I don’t love you anyway.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t love you, and you smell like death to me. Let me stay tonight. Please, I mean it. Only tonight. I don’t want to sleep in my car. I hate my car. I won’t bother you, I won’t touch you. Are you going out? I’ll clean house while you are gone.”

“No you won’t.”

She had to laugh. “No, you’re right. I won’t. I’ll watch TV and masturbate and eat this congealing free food. That’s why you want me. I’m predictable.”

“Why do you even want to stay where you are not wanted? I told you. I’m in love with this other woman.”

“No you aren’t. I don’t even think you
think
you are. And that’s what separates you from other men. You lie to women, like all men lie to women. But you don’t lie to yourself. I don’t think it even occurs to you to do so. Did you know that about people, Luke? That we lie to ourselves? Real people, I mean. Not you?”

“If you stay tonight you promise no fuss in the morning?”

“Because you’re not a regular person, you know. You’re like a god. Oh, you like hearing that? Not a regular god, don’t go smirking at me. You’re like some goat god.” She laughed as if her own extravagant language embarrassed. “With amnesia. And this is all your kingdom, all these assholes and miscreants down here on earth, and you haven’t any idea what you are supposed to do with us. So you pull us apart trying to figure it out.”

“You have to promise, if I let you stay tonight, you have to promise you will go first thing in the morning.”

“I will, but I have a condition too.”

He waited for her to state it.

“That when you need me again—and the time will come when you do—that you will find me.”

“Fair enough, but stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re so smart all of the sudden. Like you know something I don’t. I’m serious, you have to leave tomorrow.”

“I will. I’ll figure something out and it’ll be fine, and I won’t even tell you what, because I know you don’t give a shit.”