The Ups and Downs of Being Dead (5 page)

Robert wished he had the nerve to slip into her side of the
booth and pull her into his arms, but Amanda had already turned her humiliation
into anger. She dug fuchsia-colored fingernails into the top of the table.

“It’s not fair,” she snarled in a hoarse whisper. “I’ve
worked just as hard as they have. And I’m sick of people telling me my hips are
too wide, my breasts are too large. What they really mean is they don’t want a
woman who looks like a woman. They want some skinny bitch who eats Saltines and
then barfs before she steps out onto the runway.”

“Maybe your agent isn’t sending you to the right places.”

A tear dripped onto the table and she finger-painted with
it, her head bowed. “I don’t have an agent.”

Bells rang. Birds sang. Robert tumbled like a pubescent teen
with his first crush. All he could think about was how much he wanted Amanda.
But not that night. She was too vulnerable, and too soused.

“Look.” He abruptly stood and fished his money clip out of
his pocket. “I’m staying at the Empire—”

Her head jerked up so fast a tear flew off her chin.
Seething anger burned in her eyes. “How dare you…”

“—and I have to be up at the crack of dawn for a commercial
we’re shooting in one of their ballrooms.” He laid a twenty calmly on the table
to pay for the coffee. “Why don’t you come by tomorrow and meet the director,
Frank Chambers. Maybe we can all go somewhere for lunch.”

With every ounce of will power he possessed, he walked out
of that bar.

* * *

The elevator doors whooshed open. Robert lumbered inside and
stood in a corner.

“Don’t start second-guessing your decision, Robert,” Maggie
said. “Cryonics was the right thing to do. Now you have to learn to adapt.”

Sam agreed. “You have to think of this as retirement. A lot
of men have trouble coping with their free time at first, but believe me,
you’re going to love this opportunity.”

“Most retirees live on a fixed income,” Maggie said. “So
they spend their golden years picking and choosing. We can save for a trip to
Italy in two years, but next summer we won’t be able to rent the lake cottage.
You, on the other hand, have been given carte blanche to go anywhere you wish,
first class.”

“Think of all the knowledge you’ll garner over the years,”
Sam added.

The elevator doors opened. After the others stepped out,
Robert shuffled along behind.

“I’m not going to go back to school,” he said.

Rising on her toes, Maggie got right in his face.

“Stop sulking. You sound like one of my grandchildren.”

She passed through the door of an insurance agency and was
gone.

Sam offered Robert a sheepish grin.

“She can be a bit brutal,” he said, “but she’s right. You’ve
got to get over your disappointment. There’s nothing you can do about it now.”

After passing partway through the door, Sam glanced back at
Robert.

“Let’s go take a header out of a sixth floor window. Maybe
that’ll make you feel better.” He winked and disappeared.

Robert decided to suck it up and get on with it. Later, he’d
ditch these two and go find something to do.

Standing close to one of the floor-to-ceiling windows in the
insurance office, Sam gazed down.

“Okay, raise your arms over head, like you’re going to
dive—”

With a bump of her rump, Maggie tried to knock Sam out of
the way.

“He’s just kidding,” she said. “It’s hard to explain, but
you see the sidewalk, you think it, and there you are.”

Robert closed his eyes and visualized the trash receptacle
next to a parking meter. When he didn’t feel any difference, he pressed his
eyelids tighter, but nothing happened. He opened his eyes to tell Sam it wasn’t
working, and was shocked to find himself standing in the trash basket.

Next, they transported from one end of the block to the
other.

Maggie didn’t seem to be holding a grudge over Robert’s
surly attitude. If it had been Amanda, she’d have given Robert the silent
treatment for the rest of the day, at least.

“Let’s step it up,” Maggie said. “See that church spire in
the distance? Let’s see who gets to the top first.”

An instant later, Robert found himself hovering high in the
air right next to the steeple. When he looked down, the shock made him attempt
to throw his arms around the spire in a bear hug.

Ever the clown, Sam pretended to dangle from the side by one
hand, while the other fist beat his chest King Kong-style.

“Hey! I’ve got an idea,” Sam said. “Let’s go check out the
Rutherford Art Museum. They’ve got a new collection in the basement that
doesn’t show until the first of the month. We can be the first to view it.”

How many times had Robert dragged himself through the High
Museum in Atlanta for one of Amanda’s many charity benefits? At least at those,
he’d been able to network with other bored husbands. And drink. What was the
point now?

After spending an hour meandering through the museum’s
basement, where most of the paintings were still in bubble wrap, Sam and Maggie
decided to tour the museum upstairs. They stopped to read every stinking plaque
at every single painting. Robert was about to run screaming from the building
when Sam stopped at the picture of Amanda.

They were in an alcove labeled pop culture. There were a
couple Warhols, a Peter Max, the photo of Marilyn Monroe standing over the
grate with her white dress blowing up, Farrah Fawcett in the red maillot. And
right next to Betty Grable glancing over her shoulder, was Amanda in the
champagne-colored gown. She lounged back on a chaise with one arm draped over
her head. Her lips had been exaggerated as though they were swollen slightly,
her eyes were dazed, her hair tousled as though her lover had just walked away.

Robert had often wondered what she was thinking at the
moment the photographer caught that sated smile. He’d never been able to
convince himself that her thoughts were of him.

That photo shoot had been quite different from the first
time Amanda agreed to model an Audrey’s fashion.

It was the morning after he’d happened onto her in the bar
drowning her sorrows in tequila. He was amazed when she showed up at the Empire
Hotel where he had a crew shooting a commercial. Unfortunately, Amanda’s
irascible attitude was with her as well.

“What’s going on here?” she’d demanded as she glared past
Robert to the set behind him.

He glanced over his shoulder at the runway that had been
erected, the paid actors posing as photographers, and the women who strutted to
the end of the catwalk. Of course, the women weren’t modeling designer
originals; they were dressed in ready-to-wear from Audrey’s.

“That woman in the pink pantsuit can’t be taller than
five-two,” Amanda carped. “And who did the woman’s hair in the black evening gown?”

“That’s the whole point.” Robert had calmly explained. “All
women want to look beautiful, even if they’re short or have frizzy hair. Don’t
they?”

Amanda had practically snarled, “I suppose.”

How could she not agree? She’d just been lamenting to him the
night before how unfairly the modeling industry treated her.

He touched her arm. “You could be part of this, too.”

She jerked away with such wrath that for a second he thought
she might slap him. “And what? Be the token blond bimbo in your freak show?”

When Robert caught up with her in the lobby, she did take a
swing at him.

“How dare you,” she sputtered.

“Stop it!” he demanded, gripping her arms. “Just calm down
and listen to me.”

The moment he turned her loose, she folded her arms tightly
across her chest, her lips pinched in a scowl. At least she hadn’t stormed out
the door.

“I want you to be
the
Audrey’s girl. The featured model wearing our top-of-the-line fashions. You’ll
be the close-up when we fade to black, the model in our magazine ads. You’ll be
my celebrity endorser, my Cheryl Tiegs, the face every woman can identify.”

With every word he spoke, he watched the lines of her face
her soften. Her arms slowly unfurled. He closed the deal with one last zinger.
“Look, you want to be a model – so model.”

Grudgingly, she chose a sapphire blue gown that fit like a
glove. Her first couple passes on the catwalk were awkward at best. There was
no exaggerated flaunt of the hips, no haughty swagger in her shoulders. But as
the actors flashed their cameras, and the extras murmured their approval, she
loosened up. On the final take, she strutted with a confidence begging to be
released. And when she tossed her head over her shoulder to give the director
one last pout, the camera captured the essence of Amanda. She was indeed the
Audrey’s Girl.

* * *

“Va-va-voom,” Sam said as he leered at Amanda’s picture on
the museum wall. “Come to papa.”

Clearing his throat, Robert said, “That’s my wife.”

Sam chuckled. “You wish.” He turned to Maggie for her dig at
Robert, but she wasn’t laughing. She merely nodded.

Swinging his head back to the picture, Sam said, “Wow! No
wonder you want to come back. I assume she’s a member of the Cryonics Center,
too.”

“No.” Robert didn’t feel the need to reveal how much Amanda
had ridiculed him for joining the center.

“Well, at least you got to spend 28 years with her,” Sam
said with a wag on his eyebrows. “That’s more than most men get.”

Robert huffed a breath out through his nose. “I heard a
quote once from Carole Lombard, about her marriage. She said ‘Clark Gable is no
Clark Gable’. Amanda’s beautiful, but she doesn’t have that va-va-voom you’re
talking about.”

Sure, she’d come on like a sex goddess in the beginning,
with the screaming and clutching at Robert as though she were in the throes of
an earth-shattering orgasm. But after a while, he recognized her orchestrated
performances as rewards. She doled out her affection as payment for full-page
ads in magazines, or as a thank you for a new bauble.

When he gave her that 10-carat marquise diamond pendant for
their first anniversary, she performed oral sex on him for the first time.

As the years went by, he learned not to trust any of her
squeals or groans.

* * *

“Okay, Robert,” Maggie said. “Time for the big finish. We’re
going to teleport back to the Cryonics Center.”

“Raise your arms, point your fingers to the sky like you’re
Superman,” Sam instructed.

“Don’t listen to him,” Maggie grumbled. “Think about some
place in the center, like the surgical suite. We’ll be right behind you. If you
don’t make it, just take a bus.”

Robert closed his eyes, and visualized the freezing chamber
where his body currently laid, the temperature slowly dropping. When he opened
his eyes, he was right beside the chamber.

Sam and Maggie appeared almost instantly.

“That was easy,” Robert said. “Where should we go now?”

“Sorry, pal.” Sam crinkled the corner of his mouth into a
frown. “That was pretty much the whole tour. Maggie and I are still on duty
until the first of the month. You know, in case another temp comes in.”

“You’re welcome to hang out with us,” Maggie said. “Once my
time is up, I’m going to Savannah. They have a haunted house tour that I’ve
been dying to check out.”

She waited with anticipation for Robert to respond to her
‘dying’ comment.

Instead, he turned to Sam. “And you’re going to college.”

“Not any college. Stanford. Participants will be discussing
whether bioengineering is the route to take for nanotechnology.”

“Geez,” Robert said. “And I thought Savannah sounded
boring.”

Sam and Maggie tilted their heads together and rolled their
eyes.

“You’ve got to get out of business mode,” Maggie said. “You
don’t have work hours anymore, no one is waiting for you to make a decision,
the economy will not rise or fall at your bidding; you’re basically a nobody
now. So you better find something you enjoy doing.”

Jamming a fist into his hip, Robert glowered down at Maggie.
“You’re the one who keeps telling me I’ve got all the time in the world. So why
don’t you back off and give me some time to adjust to this?”

“You’re absolutely right,” Sam said, stepping between the
two of them. “Why don’t you cruise around town some more, practice what we
showed you. Surely there were times in your life when you caught yourself
saying: ‘If I had the time I’d…’ what? Read books, go to every Mets game, learn
another language?”

“Exactly,” Maggie said. The woman was not easily
intimidated. In fact, she seemed oblivious to Robert’s little outburst. “If you
spend a month in the Smithsonian, so what?”

“Wow,” Robert said in perfect deadpan style.

‘Okay, how about this.” Maggie held out a hand to stop him.
“You were into clothing, fashion. Why not pick your favorite designer and go
hang out at his shop. You can watch his people come up with new ideas, or see
someone create a new dress.”

A glimmer of hope broke through Robert’s depression. He
actually could go to any designer house in the world now. He could go to all of
them. And the autumn/winter fashion weeks were coming up. He could attend all
four, starting with New York in February, hitting London and Milan and ending
with Paris in March.

His imagination cranked up. Not only could he attend the
shows, he could go behind the scenes, hang out in the dressing rooms, see the
supermodel Gabriella buck naked if he wanted.

Relaxing his eyebrows, Robert hoped Maggie hadn’t noticed
the leer on his face. Especially after he’d made such a big deal about her
strip club comment.

“One last thing,” Sam said. “Our December meeting is in New
York. You should definitely plan to attend. You’ll be the guest of honor since
you are the newest member.”