The Texas Twist (10 page)

Radar finished his run, walking the last quarter-mile to cool down. As he neared the condo complex, he saw Sarah's car roll into its assigned space in the long, low parking shed that protected residents' vehicles from the brutal Texas summer sun. He wondered if Ames had approached her again and whether she'd had any difficulty disengaging from him.

Well, some.

For the driver's door opened and Adam Ames stepped out. When Ames saw Radar, his face creased into a big grin, and he immediately strode over. “Radar!” he said with frank enthusiasm, “How the heck are you?” He extended his hand, and Radar shook it quite quizzically. “I'm so glad I ran into you. I really wanted to thank you.”

Radar refrained from asking what for, for in a situation like this, where you're absolutely spun sideways by the unexpected, it's best to act as if the unexpected is expected, at least until the spinning stops. The fact of Ames's presence told him that, obviously, Sarah hadn't given him the heave-ho, though right now who could say why? Maybe she just cowered out. Some people hate confrontation like a cat hates baths—you just can't drag 'em to it.

“Listen, as long as you're here,” continued Ames, “would you mind giving me a hand?” He popped open the trunk of the car and Radar was surprised to find it filled with groceries.
“Save me a trip?”

“Sure,” said Rader. He could see spaghetti, bread, fresh vegetables, red wine, all the fixings for dinner. This told him that, far from getting sent on his way, Ames had actually drawn himself closer. Sarah had lent him her car; apparently they would dine. Radar and Adam grabbed a couple of bags each and headed into the building.

Ames humped his load with a completely casual air. If he was at all self-conscious about being with the skeptical Mr. Hoverlander, he didn't let on. The reason for this became clear when he said, “I have to say I was surprised.”

“Surprised by what?”

“Getting your thumbs up. When I saw you at the Hyatt you made it pretty clear that you didn't believe me. But Sarah said you came around.”

“Did she?”

“Look, I know you still have your doubts, but you'll see. Dr. Gauch is going to come through.”

Radar gave a nod to the groceries. “And in the meantime?”

“Well, I can't stay at the Hyatt forever.”

“Run out of miles?”

“Hmm?”

“The miles you were using to pay for the room.”

“Oh. Yeah.” They reached the elevator. Ames stabbed the call button with a free pinkie.

“So you're staying here?”

“Till I can find an efficiency.”

“Or Jonah gets cured. What is he, on some sort of recipient list?”

“Something like that.”

“Something rare as Karn's, it wouldn't be that long a list.”

“I don't know exactly how it works. You probably know as much about it now as I do. Sarah says you're a studier.”

“A studier.”

“You studied me pretty hard, didn't you? You know, I respect the work you did. You're a true friend to Sarah. She appreciates your support. And now I do, too.”

Radar wanted to say,
Dude, I've seen your house,
but Ames was on script, and when a grifter's on script, you don't overtly move him off it without consequence. Radar wasn't ready to make that play. First he wanted to hear Sarah's side.

So he said nothing, which is often an eloquence.

When Sarah opened the door and saw Radar, her face skipped a beat, but she covered with small talk as she led them into the kitchen to set down the groceries. Radar asked after Jonah. She said he was sleeping a lot this week. She asked if he wanted some wine, but Radar begged off and said he had to get going.

Sarah followed him out into the hall, pulling the door half closed behind her. “Radar,” she said, “I want to thank you for everything you did. Look, I…I know you don't trust Adam. But I thought it over and I thought about it from Jonah's point of view. Doesn't he deserve hope? Even if I have to pay for it?” Radar started to speak, but she cut him off. “So I told Adam that you approved but didn't want to be involved. Radar, you needn't trouble yourself over us anymore.”

“You've got it covered, then?”

Sarah smiled shyly. “Covered, yes. Adam is good company. Under the circumstances, I think I'm entitled to
good company.” Sarah suddenly kissed Radar, briefly but with purpose. “Since the company I really want is taken.” She winked, then turned and went back inside.

Radar returned to his flat, showered, then reviewed for the others that surreal piece of theater. He didn't omit the kiss, but felt nervous as hell putting it out there. When he was done, Vic said dismissively, “Well, he's her problem now.”

“Agreed,” said Allie. “We don't even need to have this discussion.”

“Guys, he's a schmo,” said Radar. “We can't leave her in his clutches.”

“‘Schmo,' Radar?” asked Allie. “‘Clutches?' Since when do we talk like that?”

“Don't forget that she kissed him,” chirped Mirplo. “Women's lips are a powerful force that can only be used for good or for evil.”

“Yes, thank you for that contribution,” said Radar. He looked at Allie. “There's only one pair of lips I want and you know that.” He kissed her for a moment to prove it.

“Be that as it may,” said Allie when they unclinched, “she made her choice. Women do that. I'll have to thank her for choosing an available man.”

“You don't know him. You haven't even met him.”

“I'm sure he's formidable. But like Vic said, he's her problem now.” His face was still set. “Radar, come on. You know I'm right.”

“Of course you are.” He shut his eyes and opened them. In the blink of those eyes, Radar dropped Sarah once and for all from his to-do list.

But she didn't stay off it for long.

W
inter had found Austin again, and its icy rain found Radar and Vic huddled over hot Neanderspressos at the nearest Java Man, which was four hundred yards nearer than the next nearest one—the damn things were everywhere. “So,” asked Vic, “any more stupid baby names?”

Radar thought about not answering, but ultimately confessed, “Lysander.”

“Lysander Hoverlander? They're not getting better.”

“They're not meant to. Self-indulgence is its own reward.”

Allie stepped in out of the wet. Her cheeks were red from the raw weather, but that didn't explain the sparkle in her eyes. “Guess what?” she said as she shed her slicker and slid in beside Radar. “I just met Adam Ames.”

“Really?” asked Radar. “Where?”

“At our place. Sarah brought him over. I think she was showing him off. She was like, ‘You've got a boyfriend, now
I've got a boyfriend, too.'”

“And Ames?” asked Radar. “What did you think of him?”

“Well, it's like you said, he's totally locked onto his script, heavily invested in getting Jonah cured. Radar, it's absurd on the face of it.”

“Thank you! That's what I've been saying.”

“Hey, get this: They don't even have to go to Switzerland.”

“What, Gauch is making a house call?”

“Not even. He's sending the serum FedEx.”

“Oh, now it's a serum,” said Vic.

“Yup. Very exciting. A breakthrough. Hundred percent proven on monkeys.”

“And Sarah's buying that?”

“She's leading it. She couldn't be more psyched.”

Radar sighed. “Some people are hopeless. Now I just feel sorry for her.”

“Any guess on the get?” asked Vic, using grifter slang for the sum a mark might pay.

“I don't have to guess. I know. Twenty grand.”

“What, they just gave that number up? You asked, they answered?”

“Who asked? Sarah almost begged to say: how it's gonna cost so much but be so worth it.”

Radar said, “Allie, this feels like a cartoon. Are you sure you had the right read?”

Allie cocked her head to one side and grinned, and for the first time Radar saw what they call the pregnancy glow. It made his heart rise like a helium snowflake. “Please,” she said. “To paraphrase our dear Mirplo, I have danced with the chickens many times. Besides, I know him.”

“Who? Ames?”

“Uh-huh. We met years ago in the upper Midwest. Minneapolis or Madison. Madison, I think.”

“Wow, that's an outside chance,” said Vic.

“Not really. We were running the same game. Herbal supplements. We were in and out of the same health food stores all day. He was a hippie back then. Big, bushy beard. Dreadlocks. Tie-dye shirt. Not long on showers, as I recall. In fact he stank. Took the whole shaggy chic thing way too far. Passionate about his product line, though. Chi balancers. Dream enhancers. I thought he was a true believer.”

“What were you selling?” asked Radar.

“Oh, libido blends for the ladies.”

“But mostly franchise fees.”

“You know how these things work. The product never nets like the network nets.”

“Was he good?” asked Mirplo.

“I don't know,” said Allie. “We really just crossed paths.”

“Did he recognize you?”

“If he did, he didn't let on.”

“Did you?” asked Radar.

“Let on? Lover, don't make me a mook.”

Radar mused for a minute. “You say you thought he was a true believer. Why?”

“Resonant backstory. Conceived at a Dead show, born in a microbus, raised on a commune, home schooled.”

“That didn't seem over the top to you?” asked Vic.

“Not at the time,” said Allie. “I didn't have the eye I have now.”

“Strange that he doesn't remember you,” said Vic. “I'd
remember you. You're hard to forget.”

“Thank you, sweetheart. Would you like to name my baby?”

“Oh, I already know the name,” said Vic. “I've read ahead.”

“You want to tell me?”

“And spoil the ending? I don't think so.”

Radar thought,
Damn right Allie's hard to forget. And it ain't Adam's first chicken dance either. But if he recognized her he wouldn't say, because he wouldn't want to come off his true-believer docket. It's too valuable to give up.

The true-believer cover is among the grift's most effective. It's durable and flexible. It stands up to scrutiny, and it withstands challenge. It's hard to attack anyone who wields a shield of belief; doubly hard to attack a hustler who hides behind that mask. Irrational acts, righteous indignation, intolerance: Any of these tools is available to a legitimate zealot—or to someone who looks like one. But the true-believer stance has a downside, in that you can never raise the stakes directly. You encounter someone else in the game, or someone overtly trying to block you, and you have no cards to play but your true-believer cards.
Outrage! Umbrage! Denial!
Good cards, thought Radar, but all from the same suit. Bottom line, if Ames made Allie, he'd try not to let on, and available evidence suggested that he could succeed.

Vic must've been thinking along similar lines, because he told Allie, “Maybe he made you. Maybe he just didn't say.”

“No,” said Allie. “I'm sure not.”

“Why not?”

“I was lots different then.”

“You couldn't have been that different.”

“I was fat.”

“You?” said Vic. “I can't see it.”

“I could.” Allie sighed at the memory. It put her someplace sad. “Guys were hitting on me all the time. I got so sick of it, I thought if I put on weight maybe they'd leave the fat chick alone.”

“Poor you,” said Radar. “Too hot for your own good. How much did you gain?”