“So how’s it going?” Debi asked. Richard had been debating calling her, but it had been Julie that had finally decided the issue. She doesn’t want to talk to you. Why are you wasting your time? Have you brushed your teeth yet? Are you really going out with your hair like that? There’s a stain on your shirt. Right at the collar. Are you blind?
Richard thought—or, maybe, just hoped—that Debi could shut her up, at least for a little while. The way HBO had last night.
After seven hours in the car, he hadn’t been able to take it any more, and had been getting punchy, besides. So, though he hated to spend the money, he had stopped at the Holiday Inn at Wytheville to rest, planning to get up first thing in the morning and finish the trip. He had called Doreen to update her, then Robbie Deaton, who hadn’t been in, but Rich had left a message. Then he had showered and settled down to go to sleep. But Julie had been on his mind and in his head: critiquing, commenting, comparing. Nagging. Raising her head from Jason Bishop’s lap, a little smile quirking at the corner of her lips.
He had tried reading the Gideon Bible in the night stand—he was going to be starting, of all things, Bible study, after all—but he had always found the King James’ English tedious to follow. Though Genesis was familiar, nothing in the parts labeled Numbers or Deuteronomy made much sense, and even Exodus, which he generally understood to be about the Jews escaping from slavery to starvation in the desert, was a struggle to read. In the end, he had given up, as it hadn’t been doing anything to help him get to sleep, and it hadn’t done much to quiet Julie, either.
Richard thought—or, maybe, just hoped—that Debi could shut her up, at least for a little while. The way HBO had last night.
After seven hours in the car, he hadn’t been able to take it any more, and had been getting punchy, besides. So, though he hated to spend the money, he had stopped at the Holiday Inn at Wytheville to rest, planning to get up first thing in the morning and finish the trip. He had called Doreen to update her, then Robbie Deaton, who hadn’t been in, but Rich had left a message. Then he had showered and settled down to go to sleep. But Julie had been on his mind and in his head: critiquing, commenting, comparing. Nagging. Raising her head from Jason Bishop’s lap, a little smile quirking at the corner of her lips.
He had tried reading the Gideon Bible in the night stand—he was going to be starting, of all things, Bible study, after all—but he had always found the King James’ English tedious to follow. Though Genesis was familiar, nothing in the parts labeled Numbers or Deuteronomy made much sense, and even Exodus, which he generally understood to be about the Jews escaping from slavery to starvation in the desert, was a struggle to read. In the end, he had given up, as it hadn’t been doing anything to help him get to sleep, and it hadn’t done much to quiet Julie, either.
So he had turned to the next best thing—the television. The Holiday Inn didn’t offer much in the way of amenities, but they did have free HBO, and that turned out to be just the ticket. When he had turned it on, it had been in the middle of Deathtrap, with Christopher Reeve and Michael Caine, which he had seen but was happy to watch again; the tangled loops of betrayals and double-crosses were a lot of fun, and not entirely unfamiliar to his own life. After Deathtrap, a movie called Star Trek II: Wrath of Kahn had come on, and though Richard had never been big into space movies or Star Trek, he had thoroughly enjoyed it. It hadn’t helped him go to sleep, but it did manage to shut Julie up. And the guy from Fantasy Island had been great as the bad guy. In the end, Richard had been rooting for Kahn, rather than the dull and self-absorbed good guys in their khaki drab Marines-as-re-imagined-by-queer-Hollywood-guys duds. But the good guys had won, in the end, predictable and dull as it was.
But, it had been fun to watch Kahn kick ass while it had lasted, and Richard had learned a few things. Like the fact that 19th century French author Pierre Ambroise Francois Choderios de LaClos, who originally said that revenge was a dish best served cold, was actually a Klingon. He had laughed over that thought, until the thought that was just the sort of thing Julie would have nailed him for had followed it up. Knowing stupid stuff that didn’t mean anything. Making jokes or saying something about it like somebody else should care. Instead of knowing or doing or saying useful things, like whatever Julie wanted, right then, right there.
But, it had been fun to watch Kahn kick ass while it had lasted, and Richard had learned a few things. Like the fact that 19th century French author Pierre Ambroise Francois Choderios de LaClos, who originally said that revenge was a dish best served cold, was actually a Klingon. He had laughed over that thought, until the thought that was just the sort of thing Julie would have nailed him for had followed it up. Knowing stupid stuff that didn’t mean anything. Making jokes or saying something about it like somebody else should care. Instead of knowing or doing or saying useful things, like whatever Julie wanted, right then, right there.
After Wrath of Kahn had ended, a movie called The Quest for Fire had come on, and that had been sufficient to help Richard finally fall asleep.
He hadn’t been up long before Julie-in-the-head had started yammering at him: You’re going to be late! Is that what you’re going to wear? How do you expect anybody to take you seriously dressed like that? You look like shit warmed over. You should have gone to bed earlier.
So, now he was on the phone with Debi. “I had to stop, I was getting tired. Still took forever to go to sleep. I’m excited about the story.”
“That’s great,” she said.
“And, I’ve got to tell you, I’m excited about Capitol Brief. I hope something works out there. Robbie Deaton seems like a great guy. And smart as hell, too.”
“He is,” Debi assured him. “I talked to him last night, and he thanked me profusely for putting you two together. He said he thought you were going to be good. And I told him that you had problems at the Tribune, because you were a talent and this was the sort of story you needed to be doing. And Robbie’s smart and young and not mule-headed like Monk. He gets it. I think he gets you. So, as long as you produce—which you will, I know—I think Robbie will have more work for you.”
“I’m going to make it happen,” Richard said. See? Even she thinks you’re going to let her down. Because you will, won’t you? You need a “Bible Study girl”, my rosy red ass. You need a brick upside your head, Dickard, that’s what you need.
Richard knew better—he knew it was his own mind and, at this point, had nothing to do with Julie. But he couldn’t help but answer the voice, at least in his head: At least she can say it nice, in a way that might actually help, instead of constantly trying to tear me down every goddamned day so you can fuck some goddamned lawyer with a fucking pompadour in the middle of our fucking house you worthless fucking whore.
Julie-in-the-head was unfazed. Temper, temper. Tsk, tsk, tsk. Watch what you think, Dick. You might end up saying it. Out loud. To the wrong person.
“Richard?”
He hadn’t been up long before Julie-in-the-head had started yammering at him: You’re going to be late! Is that what you’re going to wear? How do you expect anybody to take you seriously dressed like that? You look like shit warmed over. You should have gone to bed earlier.
So, now he was on the phone with Debi. “I had to stop, I was getting tired. Still took forever to go to sleep. I’m excited about the story.”
“That’s great,” she said.
“And, I’ve got to tell you, I’m excited about Capitol Brief. I hope something works out there. Robbie Deaton seems like a great guy. And smart as hell, too.”
“He is,” Debi assured him. “I talked to him last night, and he thanked me profusely for putting you two together. He said he thought you were going to be good. And I told him that you had problems at the Tribune, because you were a talent and this was the sort of story you needed to be doing. And Robbie’s smart and young and not mule-headed like Monk. He gets it. I think he gets you. So, as long as you produce—which you will, I know—I think Robbie will have more work for you.”
“I’m going to make it happen,” Richard said. See? Even she thinks you’re going to let her down. Because you will, won’t you? You need a “Bible Study girl”, my rosy red ass. You need a brick upside your head, Dickard, that’s what you need.
Richard knew better—he knew it was his own mind and, at this point, had nothing to do with Julie. But he couldn’t help but answer the voice, at least in his head: At least she can say it nice, in a way that might actually help, instead of constantly trying to tear me down every goddamned day so you can fuck some goddamned lawyer with a fucking pompadour in the middle of our fucking house you worthless fucking whore.
Julie-in-the-head was unfazed. Temper, temper. Tsk, tsk, tsk. Watch what you think, Dick. You might end up saying it. Out loud. To the wrong person.
“Richard?”
“Huh?” he said. Oh, yeah, there was a real, live human being he was talking to, too. “I’ve got an interview with Dr. Tsukishiro Yukito this afternoon. I should be talking to Doreen Edmonds son, Jonathan this morning—I told you all about that. Petersen cancelled on me, but I think I might be able to catch him tomorrow morning, before I leave. I told you I had a call in to the realty company that was showing the house when he bought it, didn’t I? I haven’t heard back, yet, but I may just show up in person. I’ve got some calls into a few of his colleagues in Berkley, but I don’t know anybody up there. But I’m going to see what I can come up with. At least some phone interviews—”
“You sound like you’ve got a solid start,” Debi said. “That’s great. And you know, if Capitol Brief breaks it as a cover story and you get the byline—Monk will choke on his coffee. I guarantee it.”
Richard smiled. Choke on his coffee. That was about as offensive as Debi would get. “Thanks—I mean, there’s no guarantee yet that it’s cover-story stuff. But the thought had occurred to me.”
“When you hit the cover, I’ll make sure I get him a dozen copies, each with your byline circled in red magic marker. With lots of big question marks.”
Richard chuckled. Monk was famous at the Trib for circling, x-ing out, and drawing arrows connected to rows of question marks, on writers stories, usually make an unnecessary and unreadable mess of his copy.
“I don’t want to get too cocky,” Rich said. “It’s Monk’s paper, he ought to run it his way. I just want to do the best job I can on this.” And avoid going insane. I’d like to do that, too.
“Nah, not you. Too cocky? You couldn’t do it if you tried. I’ll be waiting with bells on, to see what you’ve got, when you get back. But, right now, I’ve got some rumors about Bob Packwood that I’ve got to check out. Apparently he has trouble keeping his hands to himself.”
“No kidding. I’ve heard that for years—but Monk won’t touch that story with a ten foot pole. They’re both members of Fauquier Springs Country Club and Bull Run. He’d never run anything bad about Packwood.”
“Maybe not now, but I’ve two women willing to go on record with the story.”
“You go girl,” Richard said. “If anyone can make Monk run it, you can.”
Debi laughed. “And if I can’t, maybe it’ll be running under your byline in the next issue of Capitol Brief.”
“I hope so,” Richard said. “But, you know, you do understand Robbie and I aren’t exactly married yet. He hasn’t even seen a real sample of my work. He might, like, barf when I turn in my story and tell me to go to Hell.”
“Not going to happen,” Debi said immediately. “You’re going to do a great job. Robbie Deaton isn’t Monk. Not by a long shot. He’s smart and savvy and will know good work when he sees it. Okay?”
“Okay,” Richard said. “You’ve convinced me.”
“Miss you, sweetie. Be safe.”
“Uh—you, too,” Richard said, and he was talking to a dial tone.
Richard sighed, putting the receiver softly in its cradle. Richard and Debi, sittin’ in a tree, Julie’s voice sing-songed in his head. K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes Richard with his divorce lawyer to the unemployment office because he won’t have a job and she’ll see what big worthless loser he is and will always be just like I did.
Richard grimaced, slowly caressing the dark, late ‘60s vintage Holiday Inn nightstand. “Your opinion is duly noted,” Richard murmured. “Thank you. Have a nice a day.”
Isn’t it getting late? Don’t you need to be getting off your ass and getting some work done? You’ve got an alimony check to pay, unless you’ve forgotten. And you’ve got that sorry little piece of trailer park trash whose life you ruined before you got to fucking up mine to see. Oooh, Richard, I’m so excited to see you, I can’t wait until I get to give you VD in return for the way your poisoned touch forever ruined my life. Like you’ve probably ruined the lives of every woman you’ve ever touched. Never wanted to do an investigative report on that, huh?
“Right the first time,” Richard mumbled, standing up and getting his backs together. His back hurt from sleeping on mattresses that were so old there was a detectable depression in the center of them, but that wasn’t such a bad thing. Helped drown out the Julie-voice. At least a little. “Time for me to get going. I’ve got work to do. And this going to work out. Debi’s right. It’s really going to happen this time. This is the start of a whole new life for me.”
Good fucking luck, Julie laughed in his head. That'll be the day. You don’t mind if I don’t hold my breath, do you?
“Please do,” Richard said, then, bags in hand, headed quickly for the door.
You forgot the room key. And your shaving stuff. It’s still in the bathroom. I swear, what would you do without me?
Richard didn’t say anything back to the voice in his head. It had been so long, Richard honestly didn’t know what he’d do without Julie in his life. Without her in his head. He had no idea.
But he desperately wanted to find out.
Gathering up his shaving kit and grabbing the room key, Richard quickly headed for the lobby to check out.
“You sound like you’ve got a solid start,” Debi said. “That’s great. And you know, if Capitol Brief breaks it as a cover story and you get the byline—Monk will choke on his coffee. I guarantee it.”
Richard smiled. Choke on his coffee. That was about as offensive as Debi would get. “Thanks—I mean, there’s no guarantee yet that it’s cover-story stuff. But the thought had occurred to me.”
“When you hit the cover, I’ll make sure I get him a dozen copies, each with your byline circled in red magic marker. With lots of big question marks.”
Richard chuckled. Monk was famous at the Trib for circling, x-ing out, and drawing arrows connected to rows of question marks, on writers stories, usually make an unnecessary and unreadable mess of his copy.
“I don’t want to get too cocky,” Rich said. “It’s Monk’s paper, he ought to run it his way. I just want to do the best job I can on this.” And avoid going insane. I’d like to do that, too.
“Nah, not you. Too cocky? You couldn’t do it if you tried. I’ll be waiting with bells on, to see what you’ve got, when you get back. But, right now, I’ve got some rumors about Bob Packwood that I’ve got to check out. Apparently he has trouble keeping his hands to himself.”
“No kidding. I’ve heard that for years—but Monk won’t touch that story with a ten foot pole. They’re both members of Fauquier Springs Country Club and Bull Run. He’d never run anything bad about Packwood.”
“Maybe not now, but I’ve two women willing to go on record with the story.”
“You go girl,” Richard said. “If anyone can make Monk run it, you can.”
Debi laughed. “And if I can’t, maybe it’ll be running under your byline in the next issue of Capitol Brief.”
“I hope so,” Richard said. “But, you know, you do understand Robbie and I aren’t exactly married yet. He hasn’t even seen a real sample of my work. He might, like, barf when I turn in my story and tell me to go to Hell.”
“Not going to happen,” Debi said immediately. “You’re going to do a great job. Robbie Deaton isn’t Monk. Not by a long shot. He’s smart and savvy and will know good work when he sees it. Okay?”
“Okay,” Richard said. “You’ve convinced me.”
“Miss you, sweetie. Be safe.”
“Uh—you, too,” Richard said, and he was talking to a dial tone.
Richard sighed, putting the receiver softly in its cradle. Richard and Debi, sittin’ in a tree, Julie’s voice sing-songed in his head. K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes Richard with his divorce lawyer to the unemployment office because he won’t have a job and she’ll see what big worthless loser he is and will always be just like I did.
Richard grimaced, slowly caressing the dark, late ‘60s vintage Holiday Inn nightstand. “Your opinion is duly noted,” Richard murmured. “Thank you. Have a nice a day.”
Isn’t it getting late? Don’t you need to be getting off your ass and getting some work done? You’ve got an alimony check to pay, unless you’ve forgotten. And you’ve got that sorry little piece of trailer park trash whose life you ruined before you got to fucking up mine to see. Oooh, Richard, I’m so excited to see you, I can’t wait until I get to give you VD in return for the way your poisoned touch forever ruined my life. Like you’ve probably ruined the lives of every woman you’ve ever touched. Never wanted to do an investigative report on that, huh?
“Right the first time,” Richard mumbled, standing up and getting his backs together. His back hurt from sleeping on mattresses that were so old there was a detectable depression in the center of them, but that wasn’t such a bad thing. Helped drown out the Julie-voice. At least a little. “Time for me to get going. I’ve got work to do. And this going to work out. Debi’s right. It’s really going to happen this time. This is the start of a whole new life for me.”
Good fucking luck, Julie laughed in his head. That'll be the day. You don’t mind if I don’t hold my breath, do you?
“Please do,” Richard said, then, bags in hand, headed quickly for the door.
You forgot the room key. And your shaving stuff. It’s still in the bathroom. I swear, what would you do without me?
Richard didn’t say anything back to the voice in his head. It had been so long, Richard honestly didn’t know what he’d do without Julie in his life. Without her in his head. He had no idea.
But he desperately wanted to find out.
Gathering up his shaving kit and grabbing the room key, Richard quickly headed for the lobby to check out.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment