Authors: Daniel Price
Slick (41 page)
[pr_demon]
I don’t know. Is there a book to help me become less ignorant about deaf issues?
[mrvl_girl]
Like what? “The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Dummies”?
[pr_demon]
Oof! Ouch! See, now if _I_ made that joke...
[mrvl_girl]
You’d be in a lot of trouble, mister.
[pr_demon]
I’ve been fighting the urge to ask you stupid questions.
[mrvl_girl]
Oh, just ask them. Everyone else does.
[pr_demon]
How’d you lose your hearing?
[mrvl_girl]
Explosion at a chemical plant. It left me deaf but it heightened my other senses to a superhuman degree.
[pr_demon]
I don’t think so.
[mrvl_girl]
Fine. Spinal meningitis. I got it when I was two.
[pr_demon]
So you’re 100% deaf.
[mrvl_girl]
90% in the left ear. 95% in the right. I still get certain frequencies a little. I can hear the TV when it’s on. It gives off a faint, high-pitched squeal.
[pr_demon]
That’s just the truth being tortured.
[mrvl_girl]
Jesus. Did I just give you my whole life story?
[pr_demon]
Only the first few chapters.
[mrvl_girl]
Okay. So what’s your origin?
[pr_demon]
My origin?
[mrvl_girl]
Yeah. How’d you get to be you?
[pr_demon]
I was bitten by a radioactive asshole.
[mrvl_girl]
You’re not an asshole.
[pr_demon]
No, but I have the proportionate strength and speed of one.
[mrvl_girl]
. o 0 (This man is not very forthcoming.)
[pr_demon]
Actually, I have no idea how I got to be me. I’ve lived a life virtually free of
My red phone rang. I figured it was either Maxina or Harmony. Unfortunately, both of them trumped Jean on my priority scale.
“Hello?”
“Hey, baby.”
“Harmony! What’s the poop? What’s the scoop? What’s the rumpus?”
She laughed. “Damn. What’s with you?”
“I was just about to call you.”
[mrvl_girl]
You’ve lived a life virtually free of...?
[pr_demon]
I’ve got to go.
[mrvl_girl]
Already?!
[pr_demon]
Work beckons.
[mrvl_girl]
Oh come on. I’m enjoying this.
[pr_demon]
So am I, but work beckons.
“Are you typing something?”
“Just finishing up a correspondence,” I said. “Talk to me. How you feeling?”
“Full. I ordered up a huge dinner.”
“Yeah? What’d you get?”
“Chicken-fried steak. Black-eyed peas. Country green beans.”
“Mmm. Southern.”
[mrvl_girl]
Mr. Singer, you are leaving me unsatisfied.
[pr_demon]
You’re not the first.
[mrvl_girl]
And you won’t even stay to snuggle.
[pr_demon]
Bye.
[mrvl_girl]
Wait! What did you live a life virtually free of?!
[pr_demon]
Adversity. See ya.
I signed off, closed the laptop, and then stretched out on the couch.
“So. Your new boyfriends still in the room?”
Harmony laughed. “Shut up. It ain’t like that and you know it.”
Before he left the Miramar this morning, Alonso had stationed a private security crew outside her suite. Harmony was quick to establish an open-door policy with her new muscle. The first watch, Anthony and Chuck, spent all day in her room: playing Nintendo, watching movies, and generally talking up a storm. By mid-afternoon they were unburdening their deepest woes. Anthony was having serious communication problems with his long-term squeeze, and Chuck was so busy working off his debt load that he didn’t have the time or energy to meet people.
Harmony, of course, played the veteran hostess—listening, empathizing, doing whatever it took to make them feel good (within reason). In this case, distraction was her reward. It wasn’t easy to think about the outside world, especially when the outside world was thinking about her. What better way to escape than into the hearts and minds of others? If only everyone handled their stress as constructively as she did.
“I’m glad they around,” she added. “I never had this much space to myself before.”
“I’m sure those guys fill up space.”
“Actually, none of them are all that big. Not like Hunta’s guy.”
“Yeah. He’s a house.”
“How’s he doing, anyway?”
“Big Bank?”
“You know who I’m talking about.”
My smile tapered off. “Let’s just say Jeremy’s in good spirits. And substances.”
“Yeah. I’d probably fry my brains too if I was in his shoes. Poor guy.”
“Sweetheart, I guarantee that everyone will be kissing his ass next week.”
“Yeah? And what about me?”
“You can kiss his ass if you want.”
“You know what I’m talking about!” She laughed. “Man, you are acting strange tonight.”
“I know. I’m in a nutty mood.”
“It’s been a nutty day.”
“Have you been watching TV at all?”
“I keep trying,” she said, “and I keep turning it off. It’s just too much for me. Either they trash Hunta, which makes me feel bad, or they talk about all the shit from my past, which makes me feel worse. And still none of it seem real to me.”
“Don’t worry. It’s all going to slow down to a more comfortable speed.”
“That ain’t what Maxina told me.”
Of course not. I wasn’t the least bit surprised that Maxina had called. She was doing with Harmony what she’d done with Alonso: poking, prodding, sniffing for an ulterior agenda. I didn’t plant one. I didn’t have one. So then why did I feel so edgy? Why did it feel like a Wal-Mart just opened up across the street from my general store?
“When did you talk to her?” I asked.
“This afternoon. She said it’s only gonna get crazier from here. Today it’s just the media reacting. Tomorrow it’s both the media and the public.”
“That’s not exactly...I mean, yes. She’s right. But she was talking about the uproar against rap itself. Not the situation with you and Hunta.”
“No, she said specifically the situation with me and Hunta.”
Goddamn it, Maxina. We’re in the same rubber raft and you’re throwing darts.
“Listen, Harmony, Maxina is...She’s an amazing woman. A very accomplished woman. But this kind of operation is outside her field of expertise. That’s why she called me in.”
“I know.”
“She’s just a little anxious, that’s all. Not for you. Not for Hunta. She knows you’ll both be okay. She’s just worried about the long-term effects on the music industry.”
“She said all that.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, like word for word.”
“Oh.”
She giggled. “That’s it. You ain’t Scott! Put Scott on!”
“I’m here,” I said through a feeble smile. “It’s me.”
“What’s going on in that big bad brain of yours?”
In other words, talk to me. Distract me. Let me in. My big bad brain told me to proceed very carefully. I didn’t want to flood her with my own neuroses. I was her anchor. I had to look sturdy, for her sake and mine. Yet at the same time, there was Maxina, setting up shop on Harmony Drive. I had to offer up something.
“If it wasn’t such a white question,” I quipped, “you’d probably ask me about my big dream.”
She chuckled. “Okay. Pretend I’m white. What’s your big dream?”
“This.”
“You mean me?”
“I mean this. You. Hunta. The whole story.”
“Why?”
I stared up at the ceiling. “I don’t know. Everyone wants to make their mark. It’s just a matter of how. Hunta has his music. Alonso has his novel. You have your children’s books. I’ve got this.”
“Yeah, but we put our names on our shit. You don’t get credit for yours.”
“So?”
“So don’t you want people to know it was you?”
“I know it was me.”
“And that’s enough for you? “
“I don’t care about impressing others,” I bragged. “Just me.”
Her voice took on a teasing lilt. “So are you impressed yet?”
“Yeah,” I admitted, a little too readily. “I’m pretty impressed.”
“That’s dangerous, Scott.”
“I didn’t say I was cocky.”
“I didn’t say that, either. I’m just worried about you tempting fate. And I wouldn’t worry so much about that except when you tempt fate, you tempt
my
fate.”
my
fate.”
Harmony had this simple, bungling, but ultimately airtight way of phrasing things. She drove her point right into me. I sat up on the couch and sighed.
“Damn,” she said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring you down.”
“No. You didn’t. I just wish you were up here with me.”
I could almost see the thoughtful look on her face, the pensive way she held herself in that giant bed. She wore her fears like a heavy cloak, but I could feel her trying to escape.
“You know, I spent over a year in that convalescent hospital,” she told me. “After the police car hit me. It was just me and a bunch of old people. They were all messing themselves, forgetting where they at. It was so depressing. What was even worse was that none of them had any family, so as soon as they died, they be came city property. They’d go straight to the city morgue, get burned up in the city oven, and then have the ashes hauled off to the city dump. I was thinking about that the night I met you. When I said okay to your crazy plan, I was thinking how I don’t want to go like that.”
I smiled. “You want to make your mark.”
“I want to make my mark.”
“You want to make your presence known.”
“I definitely want to make my presence known.”
“You want to raise the roof!” I yelled.
“Yeah, raise the roof!” she yelled back.
“Well, what do you think we’re doing? We’re raising the roof!”
“I know!”
“So enjoy it!”
“I will!”
She was more amused than infused, but I had reached her. I’d lifted her up just a little bit.
I, on the other hand, was bursting with wild energy again…and fierce desires. This morning’s twinge was back in full force, except now I found myself melding the fantasy to reality. I planned out the logistics of my gratification as if it were a jewel heist. The hotel was crawling with journalists, many of whom knew me, but I could sneak past them. I could work my way into the tower, all the way up to Harmony’s suite, all the way to her giant bed. Her abstinence was the final lock, but even that could be overcome. Consciously or not, I’d been chipping away at her defenses from the moment I met her. A few more taps of the hammer and the seduction would be complete.
It was a dangerous thought, a conceited one at that, but my higher functions chased it away. For the first time I could see the edge of the cliff that so many influential men had driven off—all the evangelists and politicians, actors and athletes, singers and rappers. With extraordinary success came a sense of entitlement, plus the ability to rationalize even the basest of urges.
I could do it. I could have it. I could get away with it. It’s not a crime anyway. She wants it. Nobody will tell. Nobody will know. I’ve worked hard. I deserve it.
I could do it. I could have it. I could get away with it. It’s not a crime anyway. She wants it. Nobody will tell. Nobody will know. I’ve worked hard. I deserve it.
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