Читать книгу Teaser - Burt Weissbourd - Страница 11

CHAPTER FOUR

“Jimmy wants to tell you something, honey.”

Maisie and Aaron were lying back on the mattress, smoking a joint, touching each other and giggling. Star was fixing lines of cocaine on a little mirror, humming a song, while Teaser—who had introduced himself as Jimmy Dubonnet, after the wine—just sat there on the floor, watching them in that way that only he could. Maisie thought he was twenty-nine, or even thirty, and she was pretty sure he could make her come by looking at her. Incense was burning on the fridge. Jimmy—Teaser—reached over and touched Maisie’s arm. He was five nine and sinewy, with finely drawn features and large black eyes. His movements were graceful, even feline, though his torso was sculpted by prison time on the free weights. Jimmy wore jeans and a beaded necklace over a black T-shirt. A blue stocking cap covered the top of his head. His head had been shaved, but below the cap, you could see where his black hair was starting to grow in. “Jimmy wants to tell you something, honey,” he repeated.

Maisie sat up. “What’s that?” She watched him watching her, liking his intensity.

“Let’s rock and roll,” Star interrupted, then snorted a line. She passed the mirror to Maisie. Aaron was looking at Star, who wore only a black bra and panties. The star tattooed on her inner thigh was dark blue.

Aaron turned. “C’mon, Maise, you don’t need that,” he said.

“Aar, you don’t have to whine.” She took a line, like she knew what she was doing. She handed him the mirror, watching him.

He fingered the silver stud in his lower lip. “Unh-unh,” he said.

Jimmy pointed a forefinger at Maisie, cocked his thumb, found her eyes. “Jimmy’s going to blow your mind.”

Maisie smiled, sure he could do that. She hoped he’d at least get her off.

Star ran her hand along Aaron’s thigh. She kissed his ear, then his mouth as she touched him. She lay beside him on the mattress. Maisie watched as Star took off her bra.

Maisie turned to Jimmy, who was still watching her.

“How old are you?” he asked when she leaned back.

“Seventeen,” she lied.

“I think you’re sixteen,” Jimmy said, then he gave her a slow drawn-out smile.

Maisie turned back toward Aaron and Star. Star was straddling him now, rocking back and forth and making little noises. Aaron held her large breasts. Star’s blond shoulder-length hair swirled around her head in slow rhythmic circles. Her face was angular, flat and smooth, like a model’s, only now she looked older.

Maisie watched Aaron approach orgasm. She loved the way his face got so serious just before he came. This time, though, it pissed her off, even though she knew it shouldn’t.

Maisie turned back to Jimmy, whose eyes were still on her. “Jimmy’s going to tell you something. Jimmy’s going to rock your world.”

Maisie took another snort of coke, then she took off her sweater, exposing her small, firm breasts.

Jimmy ran his slender forefinger along her cheek. “Listen up, little one. Jimmy knows your daddy.”

Maisie pulled away. “Verlaine?”

Jimmy moved behind her, soft and smooth as a jaguar, putting his arms around her bare chest. “Shh, honey, shh. Your real daddy.”

Maisie couldn’t speak.

“Jimmy knows your natural daddy, little one.”

“How do you know about me?” she asked, leaning back against him.

“Your daddy knows you. He talked to Jimmy about you. He loves you. You’re his sweet baby girl.”

“I don’t understand,” she whispered, letting this wash over her.

“He said to tell you that he saved your three-legged brown bear, and the little red and blue blanket with the white stars and the chewed-up corners.”

“Oh God.”

“When I get to know you better, I’ll take you to him. He’s afraid of stepdaddy Verlaine, so you can’t say a word. That’s all Jimmy’s going to say about it now.”

“Take me to him, please.” Maisie lay her cheek against his chest. Her real dad. Just the two of them. She remembered how he used to sing her to sleep. Thinking about that was like being in a lovely, soothing dream.

“Soon, little one, soon.”

Corey and Abe were thinking their own thoughts, off in their own worlds.

Corey was back on Annie, wondering why she’d ever listened to the CCO. She was, she knew, too trusting of the people in charge, too easily influenced by their authority. And that got her thinking about Olympic, where the people in charge were confusing her. At Olympic, the kids learned that they were privileged, and—here’s where it got confusing—that because of their privilege, their experience was not quite as hard, not quite as “real,” so they were subtly encouraged to seek out more “authentic” experiences. What, she wondered, was that?

She came over and sat beside Abe on the couch, wanting to be close. The day had caught up with her. He wrapped his arm around her, folding her in.

It was quiet then, for a long time, until he kissed her, tenderly. Their kiss progressed to something eager, even urgent, when he carried her up the stairs. Usually clumsy, Abe was now as sure footed as a mountain goat. Soon, Corey and Abe were intertwined on their king-sized bed. They were improvising, and it was a slow, sweet business.

When they were finished, they lay back, her head on his shoulder.

Some time later, she wasn’t sure how long, Corey softly said, “I feel better.” And taking a slow breath, “Yeah.” She paused, musing. Another breath. Then, out loud, “It’s maybe eighteen months now, we’ve been doing this. And you keep pleasing me.” She raised up on an elbow. “You know, no one ever did this for me. Ever. With Al—” she looked at Abe. Al was Billy’s dad, her former lover. Stuff like that didn’t get to Abe. “It was good for me, max, one out of three times. And I thought that was, you know, as good as it gets.”

Abe was quiet, lightly running his fingers along her back.

“Say something,” she said.

“And what if I couldn’t please you?”

Corey thought this over. “Well, I guess that would make you, sexually, what’s that Olympic word? You know, that PC word for fucked up…”

“Challenged?” Abe offered.

“That’s it. So that would make you sexually challenged…” She kissed his ear, then whispered, “That is to say—useless.”

“That’s what I was thinking.” The lines in Abe’s face softened.

She sat up, turned to look at him.

He raised up on an elbow, finding her eyes. “How could I ever be the man I’d like to be if I couldn’t please you?”

She drew her hand across his chest. “That’s nice.”

He sat, kissed her slowly, then lay back on the bed, kind of dreamy.

For a long time, Corey sat there, watching him think. She loved how nothing about Abe was quite what it seemed. Corey made a funny face, to see if he’d notice. He didn’t. She did feel better. She should have stayed in bed this morning, unplugged the phone.

“There’s something we need to discuss,” he finally said, interrupting her thoughts. He glanced out the window. His bushy eyebrows were almost touching. “It’s complicated, though, because it concerns a patient.”

She leaned toward him. “Confidentiality?”

“Right.”

“Shit.”

Abe looked up at her. “I’m seeing someone who knows Billy.”

“Who?”

“You’re not supposed to ask.” He touched her face. “The thing is, they’re doing drugs, and I’m worried about the whole set up. There’s an older girl involved.”

“Billy—Will—told me about Aaron and Maisie. They’re hanging out with an older girl that scared Billy. Sounds like she is or was an addict.”

“Is Billy with them?” Abe asked.

“He’s at Everyday Music.” When Abe furrowed his brow, puzzled, Corey said, “It’s that used CD store on Tenth. After, he was going to find Aaron.”

“Let’s find Billy,” he said, already on it.

“He won’t like it,” Corey pointed out. She imagined Billy with Aaron, Maisie and Star. Not today. Un-unh.

They reached for their clothes at the same time.

The Blue City Cafe was west of Twelfth Avenue between Pike and Pine. The old Victorian home had been converted to commercial space as the area changed. The owner of the café had a hunch and she signed a long-term lease. That first year she ran a coffee counter. She waited, she watched, and she figured out that more and more kids were going to be drinking more and more exotic coffees. She traded her Formica coffee counter for cheap oriental rugs, her Folgers and doughnuts for a state-of-the-art espresso machine, homemade cookies and fruit bars. The coffee counter reopened as the Blue City Cafe, with live music on Saturdays. Her sense of where the area was going was pretty much prescient.

Since then, the cafe had taken over the house. Most of the space had become an over-sized, laid-back living room, with small groupings of sofas, dark oak tables and chairs, exposed fir posts, and fir mullions on the windows. In the back, against the living room wall, Aaron and Maisie were deep in conversation, ignoring their lattes.

“Come down, Maise,” Aaron was saying.

“I am down. He knows my real dad.” She sat back. Just saying it gave her a rush. “I mean it.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. He just knew things about me. About when I was little.”

“This is too crazy.”

“I think it’s like fate, you know. Maybe Jimmy’s a messenger, sent to get me off the twenty-four-seven Olympic treadmill.”

“And maybe we’re going too fast here.”

“It wasn’t too fast to get it on with Star.”

“I was stoned.”

“Kind of groovin’ on great big breasts, huh?” Maisie smiled when Aaron blushed. She watched him, so pumped about seeing her dad she wasn’t even jealous anymore.

“C’mon, hey…” He turned away.

Maisie kissed his neck, his ear, then she whispered, “You are so cool. And I think it’s so awesome, the way we went for it.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it was…” He turned back, cracking the window, then offering cigarettes. They knew they were violating the no smoking ordinance, but here in the back, it wasn’t often enforced. Aaron lit her Marlboro, then his. “Did you think it was kind of weird, the way Jimmy just watched?”

“I liked it.” She took a slow drag, remembering. “I think he’s waiting.”

“Maybe. I guess. What about us?” Aaron asked.

“We’re good. We’re just experiencing some real life here. It will make us better.”

“I’d rather be with you than with anyone.”

“Thank you.” She gently ran her finger along the bright red Z in his hair. Sex made him act older, she was thinking. And after, he always looked good. “Me too.”

“Maise, we’re doing great, yeah, but here’s the thing—I’m not liking the coke, and I don’t know about Jimmy.” He let the words hang there, met her eyes. “I mean he’s really nice. But there’s something about the guy, the way he’s always out there, like he’s circling or something.”

Maisie closed her eyes, frustrated. She let go of his hand. “How many adults do you know who aren’t middle class? I mean really know. I’m not talking about the ones who work for your parents.”

“Some.” He shrugged. “I dunno.”

“C’mon, Aar. We live in this cocoon. I mean, we are groomed like thoroughbreds and sooo protected. I’ve been prepping for my SATs since the fourth grade. The adults we know actually believe that going to an Ivy matters. My parents check the value of their stock options every day. They worry about getting a window table at Canlis. These people aren’t like that. They’ve done some living. Hard times. Risk taking. Real life.”

He exhaled smoke through his nose, uncertain. “It’s cool, how easy it is to be with them.”

“Yeah,” she smiled, liking this better. “And they don’t seem so, I dunno, moralistic. Like Verlaine, always doing the hard thing.”

“Do you think they actually know your real dad?”

“Jimmy says he’ll take me to him.”

“When?”

“Soon. I think he wants to be sure I won’t tell Verlaine.”

“Can we talk to anyone about this?”

“No way.” Maisie mashed her cigarette butt on the open window sill. “Maybe after I meet him. For now, let’s just hang in. Show Jimmy he doesn’t have to worry.”

“What worries me is that they found you. Maybe meeting Star was no accident.”

“I’ve been thinking about that, too. “ Maisie waited. “You remember that sixties Italian movie, Theorem, the one Verlaine made us watch with him because it was ‘a game changer.’” Maisie made her what-a-scuz face—eyes wide, lips pursed, tip of her tongue out.

Aaron grinned. “I do remember the movie. Yeah. Kinda strange but sexy.”

“That’s the one. Okay. You remember how the guy comes out of nowhere—a mysterious stranger known only as “the visitor”—no money, no family, no past, no nothing. And before he’s done, he gets it on with every member of the family, male and female. And he changes all of their lives. Jimmy and Star remind me of that guy. What if my dad sent them?”

“It’s possible, I dunno.”

“What if he did?” And what if her weird life changed for the better because of it? “What if my dad did that?” she asked, again.

“Maybe he did,” he turned to face her, “but until we know for sure, Maise, let’s go slow. Let’s be careful. I mean it’s okay if you want to be with them, and you can do what you want when it comes to sex—you know that’s our rule. But the coke turns me off.”

“If you hang in with me, I’ll stay away from the coke. I need you for this. Don’t ruin it.” She touched the nape of his neck, suddenly worried. “Okay?”

“Okay, yeah.” Aaron turned the thin, gold ring in his left ear. “Hey, there’s Billy.”

“Will,” she corrected him. She sat up, waved Will over.

“What’s happening?” Will sat down in a big lounge chair.

“Real life,” Maisie laughed.

“Are you high?”

“Coming down,” Aaron explained.

“You been at Star’s?”

“Uh-huh,” Aaron said.

Will saw their faces change. Maisie was up and in the ladies room before Abe and Corey got through the door.

“What are you doing here?” Will asked. He was standing, physically separating his parents from his friend.

“Looking for you,” Corey explained. “How are you, Aaron?”

“Okay. Yeah. Fine.” Aaron stood, shook hands with Abe. “Gotta check on Maisie. She’s not feeling too hot. Give me a sec?” He was off to the restrooms. Abe and Corey sat.

“Sorry, Will,” Abe said. “But we wanted to talk with your friends.”

“It’s really embarrassing.” He was still standing. “I wish you weren’t here.”

“Will, I’m sorry, but we were talking about Aaron, and Maisie, and Star, and we started to worry,” Corey explained. “Look, is it alright with you if I talk with Aaron and Maisie? I want to check out this Star person, make sure she’s okay.”

“I’d guess they’re long gone, mom.” He sighed, frustrated. “They split.”

“Right. Stupid of me. Billy, do you have Star’s address?”

“Mom, back off, okay? Just leave me alone.” He went toward the door, two steps, then turned back. “And call me Will.”

Maisie had her hand stuck in the back pocket of Aaron’s jeans and his arm hung over her shoulders. Aaron’s fingers lightly brushed across her left breast as he walked her to her front door. Across the street, in the shadows, Teaser was watching, invisible. He liked the big, old wooden house on Federal, liked it more than the rutty Chinaboy’s shiny, new one. He chewed on a plastic toothpick, the kind he used because it didn’t break up into little splinters. When Aaron and Maisie kissed on the doorstep, he turned away. He looked back at them, and they were still doing it. He felt the dryness in his throat. Teaser ran his tongue between his teeth. When he watched Maisie, he thought he could actually feel his scar.

“Dinner,” Maisie’s mother, Amber, called out, pressing the intercom button to Maisie’s room. “In the garden room, honey.” Their house was grey, with white trim and a white porch. It sat back from the street, on Federal, several blocks north of Aloha. Maisie could walk to Olympic—down to Tenth then north to the campus. Their home was built in 1921, and it had six bedrooms. Maisie’s was on the third floor, as far as possible from everything.

“Gotta go,” Maisie said to Aaron. “I’m going to find out tonight. Whatever it takes. Think about tomorrow. You and me at Star’s, all afternoon. Think about that.” She punched off her phone.

The garden room was named after the perennial garden that swept around the southeast corner of the house. The room had a country feel: pine farmhouse table, exposed beams, walls of windows with small panes separated by freshly painted white mullions. Tonight Amber was serving coq au vin. She was forty-eight, and plainly the source of Maisie’s sexual allure. Amber was a classic, Jewish beauty: full-breasts, black hair, fine features. When she relaxed, Amber was radiant. She wore a long denim skirt and a colorful peasant blouse. Verlaine had been Amber’s mentor, almost nine years ago, when she came from Stanford’s Symbolic Systems program to manage a project at Microsoft. They were married in 2008.

“How was school today?” Verlaine asked. He was young-looking for sixty-three, with a rower’s muscular upper body, wire-rimmed glasses and curly, grey hair. Verlaine wore a grey herringbone jacket over a black cashmere turtleneck sweater.

“Fine,” Maisie muttered, caught herself, and thinking of her mission, took a friendlier tack. “We’re reading Oedipus, maybe we can talk about it later?”

“Oedipus, yes. Anytime, Maisie.”

“That’d be great. Listen is it okay if I stay out late with Aaron Wednesday? Thursday’s a holiday, we’re going to a party and—”

“No problem,” Verlaine said, putting a hand on Maisie’s forearm as he turned toward her. “Just remember how we roll, babe—a designated driver and safe sex.”

Maisie winced, barely keeping her tongue in her mouth. He was such a scuz. “Do we have to talk about that?”

“Your responsibility?”

Maisie nodded.

“Do Aaron’s parents approve?” Amber asked.

“Isn’t that between Aaron and his parents?” Maisie asked, a little too sharply. Since her mom had started on the psycho meds, as Maisie called them, Amber’s ideas sometimes popped out before she thought about them. Maisie hurried a smile.

Verlaine smiled back. “I’m sure they’ve worked it out.” He tasted the coq au vin. “It’s wonderful.” He bowed his head toward his wife.

Maisie saw her moment. “Mom, I’ve got a question.” She hesitated. “I need you to help me with something.”

“Of course.”

“Could you tell me more about dad?”

Verlaine set down his fork. “Sure.”

“My real dad.” Maisie felt the adrenaline kick in, just saying it.

Amber put a finger in the air before Verlaine could speak. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

“I see,” Amber said, folding her napkin, working to slow down.

Verlaine sat back, crossed his legs.

“How about who he is? What he does?”

“I don’t know that, Maisie.” She looked at her daughter. “I’ll tell you what I can. A lot of it you know already. All of it is ancient history.” Amber’s face softened then reformed in an earnest expression. “I met Dave in San Francisco. I was a graduate student at Berkeley studying computer systems and theory. Dave was a gifted computer programmer working at the computer science center. He was, well, a charmer, in a bad boy sort of way. Smart, good looking, and sensitive when he wanted to be. Dave was a risk-taker. He, well, he just swept this aging Jewish intellectual right off her feet. I was already thirty and, at the time, Dave was pretty much irresistible.” Amber shrugged.

She looked over at Verlaine, who was watching Maisie, his steepled forefingers touching his upper lip, before continuing, “Anyway, over time, Dave grew more and more frustrated with his work. He wasn’t well-paid to begin with, and when he developed an early pattern recognition program, he deserved a bonus and at least some kind of an acknowledgement for his accomplishment. Instead, his boss took the credit. He got into a fight with his boss, they were shouting at each other in the hall. His boss threw a punch, then Dave broke his boss’s nose. His boss swore that Dave threw the first and only punch. They fired him from the school, which made him virtually unhireable. He taught martial arts off and on—Dave was big, and good at karate—but he couldn’t make a go of it. Then he drifted from job to job. Before you turned four, he was dealing drugs. At first it was just marijuana, but soon he was dealing whatever he could get his hands on.”

“Whoa. You never told me this.” She thought about it, gently pulling at the ring in her eyebrow, a thing she knew irritated Verlaine. At least it explained why Verlaine wanted her head shrunk. He was afraid she was a bad seed. Nice.

Verlaine uncrossed his legs, pulled his chair forward. “Perhaps we should have,” he offered.

Amber frowned. She wasn’t sure. “In any case, it gets worse,” she said. “Dave was arrested. He was in jail for more than a year. When he came out, he was cynical and mean. He went back to dealing, with a vengeance. We started fighting a lot, and somewhere along the way, he developed a drug habit. I took you and moved out. Less than a year later, I took the job in Seattle. We lost touch after that. When I got the divorce, I made contact through a friend. Dave was hiding from the police. That’s all I can tell you. I haven’t heard from Dave in, oh, it’s at least nine years.”

“Do you have any idea where he lives?”

“No. He could be anywhere. Why, honey?”

Maisie looked at Verlaine. He needed stroking. “It must have something to do with reading Oedipus, don’t you think?”

“I was wondering that myself,” Verlaine said, smiling at his step-daughter.

On Sunday mornings Corey often cooked pancakes at a downtown outreach program. On her way out, she stopped at Billy’s door, which was cracked open. She watched him, sleeping soundly, his youthful face carefree.

She was worried, she realized, about Billy and his friends.