The Texas Twist (11 page)

“Seventy-five pounds.”

“
Holy schneike
!”

“Radar, it wasn't just the weight. My hair, my clothes, my rap. My state of mind. I did everything in my power to desex myself. I hated men and I let 'em know it.” Allie sighed again. “It was pretty messed up.” She stared off into space for a moment. “It turns out men weren't the problem,
I
was the problem. My nature at the time. Low self-esteem, high self-loathing. A pretty toxic cocktail. In those days, I was trying to get as far away from me as possible, and doing a damn good job. Trust me, Radar, you wouldn't have recognized me, and you're a lot sharper than Ames.”

“He's showing pretty sharp,” said Vic.

“Not sharp. Just committed,” said Radar. “He knows what we know: that true believers sell best.” Radar thought for a moment, then added, “And whether he made Allie or not, he also knows we're in the game.”

“How do you figure?”

“He can smell us, just like we can smell him.”

“Well, alrighty then,” said Vic. “I say we confront his worthless ass and send him packing.”

“That won't work,” said Radar. “He already has his hooks in.” And that was the one thing he had told Sarah not to let happen. How could be people be so weak-willed? Or was it just weak will? He thought of young Allie, so angry and sad that she'd mutilated herself with food. He thought of himself at that age, always holding mooks in contempt for being such mooks, and then, after he'd ripped them off, holding himself in contempt for taking any pleasure in so hollow a win. A little approval from a trusted source would have gone a long, long way back then. So everyone has their blind spots, the seams in their personality where the hooks set best. Sarah needed a miracle cure for Jonah, but no less needed a validating ally, a lover perhaps, a fixture in her life. And why wouldn't Ames oblige? It's so much easier to pick the pocket when the pants are on the floor. “He's gonna pivot,” said Radar with a sudden flash of insight. “Mark my words. He's going to say that the Institute's cure fell through.”

“Why?” asked Allie.

“He doesn't need it anymore. Nor will he want to be pushed to put up or shut up. Not when he can be the boyfriend, and pluck Sarah a dozen other ways.”

“But he's already got her tuned up for the snake-oil thing,” said Mirplo.

“Uh-huh. And he knows we don't like it. So why not dump it? Then he'd be just her stalwart support in this time of crisis, and what could we possibly have against that?”

“You have to admire the move,” said Vic. “It solves a lot of problems at once.”

I don't want to admire this guy's moves,
thought Radar.
I want to move him off.
Which, he realized, he'd already tried
to do without much success.

And the chill he felt just then had nothing to do with the rain.

The next day, Sarah made a point of finding Radar and Allie at home. She wanted to apologize for kissing Radar, she told them. It was totally inappropriate, especially given Allie's condition.

Asked Allie, “What do you mean, my condition?”

“Well, it won't be long before, you know, you start to get blimpy.” Allie reacted. “I don't mean that to sound mean,” said Sarah. “It's just…that's when a man's eye starts to wander. It's when my ex-husband's did. I mean, he was a jerk to begin with, but when I stopped entertaining him.…”

“Entertaining?” asked Radar.

“You know,” said Sarah shyly. “In bed. Who wants to have all that sex when you're so achy and rashy?” She looked at Allie. “Oh, you may not see it like that now, but you wait, you will.” She turned to Radar. “Anyway, that's beside the point. Radar, I want you to know that despite the kiss, I really don't have feelings for you. Our thing in the hall the other day? That was for Adam's benefit. Kind of a show.”

“He wasn't watching.”

“Oh, I'm sure he was listening. He's a listener, that one. But I have plans for him, and it would really help me if you acted like things between us were cool.”

“Of course they're cool, Sarah. I can't tell you how to live your life.”

She waggled her index finger at him. “I think you think you can, Mr. Morality. You think Adam is tricking me, and you don't like it. But what you don't know is,
I've
decided
to trick
him
.” Off their bewildered looks, she said, “I know he's a slime, you guys. You've convinced me of that. But you said I can't go to the police, so I'm taking matters into my own hands. I'm scamming the scammer! Isn't that great?” She fairly beamed. “I'm stringing him along, letting him think I buy his phony baloney act. Don't worry, he's not getting any dough from me. In fact if I play my cards right,” she gave an amateur wink, “I'll get his.”

Radar asked, “Sarah, why are you doing this?”

“Duh, revenge. Radar, I'm a single mother with a sick child. You don't mess with people like that. If you do, you deserve some payback.” Radar and Allie both looked pained. “Oh, relax, you two. I'm not asking for help. I've got the whole thing planned out.”

“You do?” asked Allie, flatly. She was a little beyond stunned.

“Uh-huh. Now, if what you told me is true, eventually he's going to ask me for money, right? And he thinks I can get it. That's why I brought him over to see you, Allie, just to make that point. But when the time comes, I'll say I can't!” She gave them a strange, manic grin. “Well, don't you see? Then I'll break down in tears and beg him to loan me it.”

Radar couldn't imagine how Sarah missed the hole in her reasoning. “Sarah, what are you supposed to do with that money?”

“Well, send it to Switzerland for the serum.” She self-processed for a moment, and a certain penny dropped. “Oh. Via Adam.” Her face fell. “So even if I get his money, he gets it right back.” She shook her head angrily. “Well, that won't work.” She thought on, concentrating fiercely, and then said,
“Wait, what if I thought of something else? Maybe Jonah needs another medicine, something from somewhere else. Australia, say. And I'm supposed to pay, but I can't. Then he'd have to give me the cash.”

“That's an incredibly dangerous game,” said Radar. “Sarah, I told you, you just want this guy out of your life.”

“But like Radar said,” added Allie with sudden vehemence, “we can't tell you how to live it.”

Sarah looked at Allie. “Do you think I'm being stupid?”

“I agree with Radar that there's a risk, but it's your risk, so.…” She paused. “Thank you for telling the truth about your feelings for Radar. I wouldn't like to think another woman had her cap set for him.” She added drily, “Especially when I'm about to get blimpy.”

“Oh, I hurt you with that.”

“Not at all. You've given me a good heads-up. I'll have to remember to keep my man entertained.” She squeezed Radar's bicep. “In fact, I might get started on that right now.”

Sarah looked at her blankly. “What? Oh. Oh! Okay, well.…” Under the cover of fluster, Sarah withdrew.

“So,” said Radar when they were alone, “are we going to fool around, Blimpy?”

“Not if you call me that.”

“I could call the kid—”

“Blimpy Hoverlander? You'd better not.”

“Anyway, why'd you give Sarah the bum's rush?”

“Honestly? I was afraid you were going to overcommit again.”

“No, I'm over that.”

Allie wagged her finger at Radar in a conscious imitation
of Sarah. “I don't think so, Mr. Morality. I think you're more worried about her than ever.”

“That's nonsense,” said Radar. “Look, she's obviously self-destructive, so let her self-destroy.”

But he was seriously starting to wonder if he could.

V
ic Mirplo is giving a seminar.

“We now come to the sweetheart scam,” he says. “This one's been around forever. All it takes is falling in love, and that's not hard. If you're older, you're particularly vulnerable. There can be a knock at your door and isn't it a winsome young thing looking for a certain address? You help her find it—apparently amiably so, because she delights in your company, and the next thing you know she's sharing hers in bulk. And when she tells you about her brother's can't-miss business venture, you're right there with a loan. Why not? It's what you saved for, right? To spend on what you want when you're old? And if she wants it, you want it, too. But she's got other relatives, and soon you've bankrolled them too, to the tune of your life savings, liquid assets, real property, and convertible goods. By then you're a coconut husk, and then she just throws you away.

“Ladies, don't think this can only happen to vain old
men. No one's immune. Everyone has holes in their guard, and if yours are lightly defended, any snake of a charmer can slither in. The male version comes equipped with proposals of marriage, and trust me, these are well worn. He may have wives all over; by now he probably does. Their stories will all have the same sad refrain: ‘He started out so loving, so caring, so there for me when I needed him. And when he needed me back, of course I was there, too. Why would he be ashamed of borrowing money from me? That
is
why he left, right? Guilt? Right? Gosh, I'd love to see him again.'

“I know what you're thinking. This could never happen to you because you're way too smart for all that. Maybe. Then again, maybe it already happened and you didn't know. Are you saying you never fell for a line from a mooch? Sometimes it's hard to tell where a real relationship ends and a scam begins, especially if you're not motivated to look that hard. Any time you're too polite or too scared or too conflict-avoidy to tell someone to buzz off, you're being exploited, which is to say conned. If it's your sister or your kids or your mother-in-law, that just means they're keeping the business close to home. Why not? They're in the market for a mark, and if you're right there handy, why shop anywhere else? Psychologists dress this transaction up in pretty clothes. They call it codependency and enabling. Really it's just a scam.

“But make no mistake: Anyone who cold-calls your phone or knocks on your door, ten times out of ten they're on the make. They're doing construction work in your area? And they have roofing materials left over? Isn't that swell? Sure is—till the first time it rains. They're selling magazine subscriptions to support the glee club? How come that lad
has a five-o'clock shadow? Shadow him for a while, you'll see: no magazines; no glee; no club; no compunctions whatsoever about plucking such cash as he can from the likes of you and your accommodating neighbors. Even the off-ramp panhandle bum dines out on your gullible kindness. That wheelchair? That wheelchair is a prop.

“You should be glad that they don't come at you with small arms or strong arms. Usually you can fend them off with a good, firm no. But get good at saying no. Otherwise get good at being broke.”

Okay, it wasn't a seminar, per se. It was just a volunteer talk at a senior center, Mirplo the munificent giving back to the community, giving oldsters some weapons of self-defense. The seniors seemed to like it—so much so that they bought twenty advance copies of a book that didn't exist.

When Vic got home, the first thing he saw was the familiar sight of Allie crashed out on the couch. This had been her pose all week: facedown in a patch of her own drool. Apple cores and candy wrappers stood silent testimony to the awesome power of progesterone to make her eat, then sleep. Radar sat at the end of the couch, idly rubbing her feet. Upon seeing Mirplo, he rose silently and walked with Vic back to Vic's room. Once they were settled, Radar asked, “Why is Ames here?”

“For Sarah's money,” said Vic. “So far as we know.”

“So far as we know. I was just thinking, here we are, you, me, and Allie, playing citizen, acting all normal, and now there's another one of us parked just down the way? That seems like a coincidence.”

“A coincidence and a half,” agreed Vic solemnly. “Maybe
three quarters.” Coincidences had crossed their paths before. More often than not they turned out to be not. “You think he's here for us?”