A Stranger Like You (20 page)

“I have your tapes,” Ida said to Zaklos. “They’re marvelous.”

“Thank you, my dear.”

“Every script must have a premise!”

“I can see you’re a good student.”

Hugh thought his tone was patronizing, but Ida didn’t seem to notice. “What do you mean exactly?”

“One thing leads to another,” Zaklos explained.

“Lust leads to betrayal, for example,” Ida said. “That’s always a good one.”

“Betrayal leads to destruction,” Lucia said darkly.

“We are all bound to be destroyed,” Tom said dramatically.

“No doubt.” Zaklos nodded. “Destruction can be sexy.”

“Only in movies,” Lucia said. “Not in real life.”

“You want to show how people change,” Zaklos clarified. “A character starts here and ends up over there. Protagonist, antagonist, conflict, resolution. It’s pretty simple, actually.”

“Change is good,” Tom said.

“Not always it’s not so good,” his wife said.

“Change is necessary. Once you figure out the premise you basically have your movie.” Zaklos asked them to go around the table saying premises that pertained to their own lives. “I do this with my students.”

“What fun,” Ida said, “I’ll go first. Education leads to success.” Somewhat bashfully, she explained how she’d gone to a community college before transferring to UCLA. “Not that I’m this big success or anything. But I’m the first one in my family to go to college.”

“Good for you,” Zaklos said.

“My father’s brother screwed him in the family business,” Tom said. “It brought us down. We lost almost everything. I guess I’ll go with deception leads to destruction.”

“Hamlet 101.”

“Betrayal leads to divorce!” Lucia backed out her chair and got up. “I don’t like this game.” She shuffled off in her clunky shoes, making a lot of noise, and joined a group in the living room, laughing too loud, shrugging her hair off her shoulders like she didn’t care about anything, especially Tom. She was the sort of woman who wanted to be watched and admired from afar. Obviously, Lucia wanted Tom’s attention. Everything she did was for his benefit, but Tom couldn’t see it; he was dumb to her games.

“What about you, Waters,” Zaklos said. “What havoc have you wreaked?”

Hugh laughed nervously. He couldn’t help feeling that Zaklos didn’t like him; he liked Ida better. Maybe it was because Ida was kissing his ass every chance she got.

“What’s
your
premise?” Ida asked in a way that made him think she’d turn on him if it benefited her career.

“I suppose it would have to be betrayal,” he said flatly. “Betrayal leads to destruction.”

“Let’s have the gory details.”

“I was betrayed by an important person, an influential person. A promise that was taken away,” he snapped his finger, “like this.” He had broken a sweat, he was trembling as if with a fever, and yet perhaps they didn’t notice. “Nobody has that right.” He spit out the words.

“It’s pretty standard in this town,” Zaklos commented ironically.

Ida put her hand on his back. She looked worried and a little embarrassed.

“Sounds to me like something’s already been destroyed,” Zaklos said. “You might want to go with destruction leads to revenge.”

“Yeah,” Hugh said. “That sounds about right.”

“Good luck with that.” Zaklos looked him in the eye. “That sounds like my kind of movie.”

Hugh held up his empty glass and stood up. He left the table and poured himself another drink and took it outside. He wasn’t used to people like this. Sitting at the table, he’d felt his mind scrambling to come up with clever things to say. Now he had a headache. The cool air felt good; he felt a little better. Somebody was having a fire somewhere and he could smell it on the wind. He bummed a cigarette from someone and smoked, looking out at the city below. The city was a vast place with thousands of lights. Where was she now? he wondered. This was the third night. If she wasn’t out of the trunk by now she could die. He felt his stomach jolt, his shoulders tense.

He turned to look at the house, the yellow lights against the darkness. He saw Ida sitting at the table, laughing with Zaklos. What could possibly be so funny? he wondered. She had already forgotten him.

He decided to have another drink. He meandered through the crowd back into the kitchen and poured whiskey into his glass. “Look who’s here,” he heard Tom say, and when he turned he saw Daisy and her boyfriend standing around the table. It was weird seeing her here, among people he knew. He hoped she wouldn’t bring up that night in the motel. He didn’t want these people, Ida especially, knowing that he was staying in that seedy dump. Daisy had on a light blue dress that was too short and said OUCH across the chest. Hugh wondered what she’d done with her pet rat. She’d brought the boyfriend with her and was telling everyone how he’d just gotten back from Iraq. “He’s my hero,” is how she put it.

For a soldier, he was a scruffy-looking character in need of a haircut and shave and he walked with a noticeable limp. There was something about his face, an expression that lingered, like a boy who’d been scalded. His face was on red alert. The dog got up and started barking at him for no reason. “She does that sometimes,” Zaklos apologized, stroking the animal. “She has nightmares just like us. Come on, you can pet her.”

The War Hero reached out timidly to stroke the dog and Hugh could tell he didn’t really want to pet it, he was just trying to be nice. Lily’s tail whipped against his leg. “Nice dog,” he said. “Nice dog.”

The dog sniffed at his legs curiously then settled down onto the floor at her master’s feet as though she’d had enough of his phony sweet talk.

Somebody handed the soldier a beer and a chair and he sat down and pulled the girl onto his lap. Daisy grinned at Hugh hazily.
Here it comes,
he thought. “Hey, I know you. What are you doing here?”

Hugh said, “You didn’t tell me you were a movie star.”

She blushed and everybody, including Ida, assaulted him with suspicion.

Foster said, “You two know each other?”

“He let me stay in his room one night,” she said like a starry-eyed teenager. “You didn’t tell me you were in the business.”

“I’m just a writer,” he said sheepishly.

“Still,” she said.

“We met in a coffee shop,” Hugh told the others. “This is a total coincidence. It was raining. I just wanted to help her out.”

“What a saint,” Ida said wryly.

“According to William Burroughs there are no coincidences,” Zaklos said, savoring the implications.

“I watched you getting dressed,” Daisy muttered. “You looked so sad.”

Ida pulled her hand away and folded them on the table, her mouth sucked into a frown.

“Nothing happened,” Hugh protested. “It’s not what you think.”

A sound came out of Zaklos’ mouth, a snort that felt like mockery. “It’s all right, man, calm down.”

“I don’t want anyone thinking—”

“What, that you’re somebody else?” Zaklos smiled meaningfully.

“Yeah,” Hugh tried to laugh. “Something like that.”

“I didn’t know you were a writer.”

“We’re working on something together,” Ida lied. He had to admit, she was good at keeping her name in play.

“What’s it about?” Daisy asked, leaning sleepily on the heel of her hand.

Hugh and Ida exchanged glances and Hugh said, “It’s about a man who works in an insurance company in the city and he’s had it with his life; his job is the wrong job, his wife is the wrong woman, he hates where he lives. Every day he goes into work, submits to the routine. Then, this one day he meets this woman in a Hoboken bar. She’s a woman of color, her name’s Jolene. They begin an affair and his life begins to change. At first, there’s this Kafkaesque menace. Everything dull and dreary, routine. Then, because of this woman, his world brightens. He starts to see things in a new way.” Hugh smiled as the premise occurred to him. “Love leads to resolution.”

Zaklos coughed, cleared his throat. He had a strange expression on his face. “You’re kidding, right?”

Hugh laughed abruptly, trying to hide his disappointment. “Of course I’m kidding.” In truth, he’d been turning the idea around in his mind; he thought if he’d told his own story, it would be more real, more authentic, somehow. Going along with Zaklos, everybody started laughing, even Ida. They laughed and laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world.

“I think it’s great,” Daisy whispered into his ear.

“You do?”

“These people are assholes. Don’t listen to them.”

“What happened to your leg?” Ida asked the soldier.

“Caught a bullet. It really screwed me up. Imagine my surprise when I get back here and nobody wants to pay for it.” He grinned at everyone like he was talking about something else, something nice. People around the table gravely shook their heads. “And since I’ve had a few beers I’m gonna tell you all a dirty little secret.”

Everybody sat there looking at him, waiting. They were like people waiting in a doctor’s office to have some procedure. This look on their faces of anticipation and something else: guilt.

“This was friendly fire,” he pointed to his leg. “It wasn’t some Haji done this. This was us.”

After an awkward moment, Ida said, her face jammed with concern, “It’s a terrible, terrible war. I don’t understand it. I just don’t see what we’re doing over there. I mean, aside from the obvious reasons.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the soldier said. “A lot of people say that.”

“Did you know?”

“Ma’am?”

“Did you understand what your role was?”

“I was trying to do some good.” He looked around the table. “That’s all. It’s pretty simple.”

“I’m sure you were,” she patronized. “But did you know—did you understand your purpose? Did they make it clear to you?”

“I didn’t come here to talk politics, ma’am.”

“No, that’s right, you didn’t,” Tom said, handing him another beer. “Drink up, my friend.”

Ida shook off the insult and smiled at the soldier. “Well, we all really appreciate what you did over there, that’s for sure.”

“Thank you, ma’am. I appreciate that.”

Ida nodded at him almost tearfully, then excused herself and walked off in search of the bathroom. Sitting there, Hugh felt a little embarrassed.

The soldier whispered something to Daisy and she said, “We have to go.”

“You just got here,” Tom said.

“We’re in love,” she offered as an explanation. “We’re going to Las Vegas.”

“Come on, darlin’.” He stood up and put out his hand and she took it like somebody under a spell.

Everybody said good night and watched them leave.

Hugh got up and pushed through the crowded room to the French doors and went out after them. The music was loud. In the strong wind, his shirt billowed out like a sail. “Daisy!” They were walking across the terrace near the pool. The wind was so strong that his words came right back to him. “Hey!” he called again. “Wait up!”

Finally she turned around, her hands on her hips like she didn’t want to hear it. “It’s past my bedtime,” she said in the coquettish voice of an older woman. “Good night, Mister Daddy.”

The boyfriend gazed at Hugh with sinister dispassion. There was something in his eyes that made Hugh think he’d seen things he could not explain. He gripped the girl around the waist, protective or possessive, Hugh couldn’t decide which, both probably. “Good night,” the boyfriend said, and they walked off.

For some reason, Hugh felt dejected. It was something he couldn’t really understand. He knew he had no right to judge her, but he did.

Without turning around, she raised her hand in a little wave of arrogance. The soldier grabbed her hand in the same way one might attempt to contain an annoying insect, with one swift movement, and she giggled. Hugh knew it was none of his business, but he followed them anyway. He wanted to help. “Look,” he called. “You were great in the film. Maybe you’ll be a famous actress one day.”

She turned, impatient, affecting some atrocious bravado. “I wasn’t acting,” she said. “It was real, remember? And anyway, I’m already famous.”

“Maybe you should go home. Maybe you should see your mother.”

Daisy looked down at the ground. She was weaving a little bit and Hugh wondered if she took drugs.

“Your mother’s probably worried about you. Maybe you should give her another chance.”

“You don’t know my mother,” she said. “You don’t know anything about her.”

Hugh reached out and touched her shoulder and within seconds the boyfriend had him on his back, leering over him with an expression on his face that Hugh had never witnessed on a human being before, an expression that told him he was about to die. The back of his head began to pound and he could feel the blood trickling out.

“Mind your own business, freak,” the soldier said, and spit at him, leaving a gob of yellow phlegm the size of a used condom on the pavement beside his head.

Several minutes later, Hugh woke up on the ground. The first thing he saw was the brightest star. For a dreamy moment, he was somewhere removed, a very pleasant place very far away from everything he knew. He wanted to stay there and rest.

Then faces. Peering down at him with confusion, as if he was some kind of an alien that had dropped out of the sky. Somebody was about to call an ambulance, but he sat up and said, “I’m fine. I’m fine.” His head was killing him. He touched his hair and felt a glob of blood like a jellyfish. Ida helped him up. “I’ll take him to the hospital.”

She drove the Mercedes. In the emergency department, they had to wait several hours for someone to look at his head. Finally, a resident sewed him up and gave him some pain pills and they left. The sky was just beginning to get light. It was the color of a teabag that had been used too many times. Crossing the parking lot Ida took his hand. “I’m sorry you got hurt,” she said. “That guy was a monster.”