Give My Love to the Savages

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Give My Love to the Savages Page 5

by Chris Stuck


  “No way.”

  Dennis sipped his scotch. “Venereal diseases?”

  “Um. What?”

  “Sorry for the piercing questions, but I’m a piercing kind of guy. You know, syphilis, gonorrhea? The dreaded HIV?”

  “Of course not. No.”

  Dennis considered him. “Is this feeling like an interview yet?”

  Andre sucked on his cigar. The nicotine went to his head. “I think we’ve passed that point.”

  “It appears we have.” Dennis plucked a wisp of smoke from his stogie. “But you understand, don’t you? I only have Farrah’s interest in mind.”

  “Sure. She’s your daughter. I’d feel the same way.”

  Dennis’s eyes had briefly moved to the window. He looked back at Andre now, as if something was wrong. He smiled and opened his mouth to say something. But Farrah stuck her head in the room and said dinner was ready.

  “Shall we eat?” was all he said.

  * * *

  In the center of the dining table, a roasted goose glistened on a platter. It was surrounded by side dishes in matching bowls. There were vegetables and salads and cheese and fruit and caviar. Andre had never been around food like this. “Damn!” he said way too loud. “You’re a cook?” The scotch was coursing through him now like rocket fuel. He was beyond disoriented. He was a little shit-faced.

  Tanya was already at the table, dressed in a black blouse and tweed pants. “Don’t be stupid. Farrah can’t even boil a hot dog. She has caterers.”

  At that, Farrah gave a huff and looked to Dennis. He placed a hand on Tanya’s forearm. “Let’s all get along tonight, okay?”

  Tanya ignored him and harpooned a goose leg off the platter with her fork.

  Andre sat next to Farrah, Dennis next to Tanya. Quite quickly, silence ballooned at the table, and Andre felt he should pop it. “So, Tanya?”

  She was dissecting her goose leg without eating any of the pieces.

  “How do you know Farrah and Dennis?”

  She immediately rolled her eyes.

  Confused, Andre looked around the table.

  Tanya sipped her Champagne and grinned. “You have no clue what’s going on here, do you?”

  Andre looked around the table again, and Farrah sighed at Dennis. “You didn’t tell him?”

  He turned to Andre. “Earlier in the study, you said something about Farrah being my daughter.”

  This caused Tanya to snicker, and Farrah to say, “Hey,” in a parental voice. Dennis waited for them to quiet. “I’m not her father.” He waited a beat. “I’m her husband.”

  Tanya glowed. “Now do you get it?”

  Andre slumped back but tried to act normal.

  “We’re married,” Dennis said. “We have been for years.”

  Andre took in a mouthful of Champagne and swallowed audibly. “Okay. Great.”

  “We have an arrangement, what some call an open one.” Dennis was still eating, speaking between bites. “Polyamory. Are you familiar?”

  “I know what it means.” Andre looked at the man’s hand on Tanya’s arm.

  “The point of this dinner is to see if you’d fit in our couplehood. Think of this as an audition of sorts.”

  Andre set his fork down and polished off his Champagne. “An audition. For couplehood.”

  Dennis swallowed and now sounded like an encouraging coach. “Yeah, man, my wife likes you a lot. You’re growing on me, too. We’d all like you to stay. Am I right?” He turned to Tanya and tried to summon enthusiasm from her, but she just grumbled.

  “So, you know that she and I—That we’ve—”

  “That you’ve what? Fucked?” Tanya said. “Yeah, if you’re here having dinner, we can all guess that.”

  “You really aren’t helping.” Farrah stood and looked to Dennis. “Honey, control your pet.”

  Dennis leaned over and whispered in Tanya’s ear. Whatever he said compelled her to drop her silverware, push away from the table, and again blow through the patio doors without shutting them.

  Farrah walked over and locked the doors. “Just us adults.”

  “You really don’t mind that I’ve—”

  “Had sex with my wife?” Dennis furrowed his brow. “Not at all. Like I said, we have an understanding. She’s had relationships with other men. I’ve had them with other women. Tanya, for example.” He wiped his mouth. His plate was clean except for a bare goose bone.

  “I like you,” Farrah said. “You like me. That’s all that matters. You like me, don’t you?” She traced the edge of his chest with her finger.

  “Yeah,” Andre said. “We just met, but you’re okay, I guess.” He looked at the front door, wondering how weird it would be if he just stood up and ran out.

  “Hun,” Dennis said. “I think this is too much for Andre with you here. Maybe he and I should talk. Just the two of us. Mano a mano.” He scooted his chair back and sucked his teeth. “Let’s step out onto the terrace. What do you say, buddy?”

  “Actually, I should go.” Andre was pretty lit. He already had visions of sleeping in his car. He looked down at his plate and realized he hadn’t really eaten.

  “Just one more drink.” Dennis smiled. “Indulge me.”

  He poured two scotches, and Andre followed him outside. They stepped onto a flagstone patio and walked past a small Zen garden. They went down some stone stairs and across the manicured lawn to the edge of the lake. The night air smelled of pine and rain. Dennis stopped and kicked off his shoes and walked through the grass barefoot. He suggested Andre do the same, and he did.

  They sat across from each other on wooden benches, sipping their scotch.

  “Have you had many companions, Andre?”

  “Sure.”

  “I’m not talking sexual experiences. I mean, actual relationships, long-term ones.”

  Nina had been it on both fronts, but that didn’t sound very worldly. “I’ve had a few.”

  “Same here. Farrah’s my fourth and, hopefully, my last wife. We really connect. I know her soul. She knows mine. You follow? We’re not dirty people. Our relationship is just larger than most.”

  Andre took a sip of scotch, which cooled his nerves. “Whatever creams your Twinkie,” he said.

  Dennis smiled. “I can’t tell you how boring relationships can be. We don’t have children so we like to keep it interesting.”

  “What about Tanya? You wouldn’t call her a child?”

  Dennis glanced at her guesthouse. Through her window, they could see into her living room, which she’d converted into a dojo. She was still wearing her dinner outfit but was now barefoot and kicking a heavy bag. “She’s just precocious. You’ll like her once you get to know her.” He said she was a black belt in kara-tay.

  “She’s definitely lively.”

  “That’s what I’m talking about. Living life.”

  Andre laughed. “You sound like my ex-girl. Everyone lives a life.”

  “True, but I mean life with a capital ‘L.’ It’s a rare thing.” Dennis crossed his leg and bobbed his white foot up and down. “Has your life been interesting so far?”

  Andre thought about his time with Nina and his time alone, how he’d ventured all the way to Oregon to prove he could be daring, and how so far, he’d failed at it. All he’d really done was start smoking weed again and have sex with Farrah. “My life could be more interesting.”

  “See, that’s the way we look at it. We like companionship, cuisine, travel. You like these things.”

  “Sure, but I don’t think being a kept man is how I want to enjoy them.”

  Dennis sat forward. “You won’t be that. We’re not slave owners. You’ll be our guest, man. You’ll have your own house like Tanya, free of charge.”

  “I’ll be your wife’s boy toy.”

  “C’mon, man,” he said. “Don’t think like that.”

  Andre noticed he was calling him “man” a lot now, but for some reason it didn’t seem insincere. Dennis’s voice took on a fatherly
tone Andre wished his long-gone pops had used growing up.

  “Consider it friends with benefits.” Dennis sat back. “You’ll have lunch together. You’ll go out together. You’ll keep each other company.”

  Maybe it was the scotch, but Andre found himself asking, “What else?”

  Dennis puffed his cheeks and lifted his eyebrows, and Andre realized the options were endless in his life. He could probably charter a spaceship to the moon if he wanted. “You’ll go on trips, just the two of you. Sometimes, all four of us. You’ll see the world, if you haven’t already.”

  It was that phrase that had the most effect. See the world. Andre thought of Nina again. He was ashamed of the bitter feelings he still held for her. She always thought she was smarter than him, more traveled, better read, which she was. For a passing moment, he imagined seeing her later in life, after he’d gone on safari with Dennis, after seeing Paris with a woman like Farrah. It would eat Nina up.

  “Would you like to at least see the house?” Dennis pointed at the dark one next to Tanya’s.

  “If you want to show me.”

  Dennis unlocked the front door and led him inside the bungalow. He turned on the lights, and the room was suddenly there, like a glimpse of the future. Andre’s gaze crawled up a staircase that spiraled to a lofted office. Off the living room was a bed and bath. It was all fresh construction and possessed that uncanny new smell, making his apartment seem like a crack den, which it had probably been at one point.

  “It’s not much, but I think you’ll like it.” Dennis walked to the rear of the bungalow and opened a set of french doors that led to a small deck. Across the lake, a flock of kids played on the opposite bank, swinging out on a rope and dropping into the water. Dennis and Andre stood on the deck, watching them as the evening continued to darken.

  “So, what do you think? And don’t hold back.”

  “This is nice,” Andre said.

  “Okay, I’m sensing a ‘but,’ though.”

  “But you, Farrah, Tanya, this whole thing? It’s weird. You and your wife have a serious race fetish.”

  Dennis nodded slowly. “Okay, I can appreciate that. This is strange to some. And there is a racial element here. But that’s America.”

  Andre glanced at him, wondering at all his dumb decisions that led to this moment.

  “How about this?” Dennis said. “Stay the night. You’re too drunk to drive anyway. Try it on like a pair of shoes. If you like it, you stay. If you don’t, you go.”

  “But if I stay the night,” Andre said, “will I want to go?”

  Dennis shrugged. “Let’s find out.”

  Across the lake, someone called the kids, and they ran up a lawn, disappearing among the trees. Andre closed his eyes and sipped the last of his scotch, the word “savor” swimming up in his mind. He thought he could still feel Dennis standing next to him, about to say something else, but when he opened his eyes, the man was gone. Andre walked through the bungalow and out the front door, and there was Dennis, strolling up to the patio, where Farrah waited.

  They embraced for a moment. They kissed. Then they looked back at him and waved.

  Andre thought of Nina. He was about to wave back, purely out of reflex, but Dennis and Farrah had already gone inside. He looked up, tracking a lone bright dot as it drifted across the black sky. Then he happened to turn to his left and find Tanya standing on her porch, watching him. She was wearing a short robe now. Without a word, she was suddenly coming his way.

  “What’s up?” he said.

  But she just blew by him and went into his bungalow.

  “What are you doing?”

  She lit a joint as he followed her in. “What do you think? You’re a pothead, aren’t you?” She offered it to him, and he toked.

  She was just standing there, being awkward. So, he asked what kind of weed it was.

  “I don’t know. I can never remember the names. Weed is just weed.”

  He nodded. She was still being awkward, so he asked if it was him or if everyone around there was strange.

  “It’s probably a little of both, but yeah, they’re oddballs. We all are. You are, too.” She looked up and stared at the loft. “We’ve been here five months, and this is the first time I’ve been in this place. It’s a mirror image of mine.”

  Andre looked at the loft, too, and then back at her. “Is that weird?”

  She didn’t answer. She moved over to the bed and just stood there, looking down at it. “You should sit.”

  He did, thinking she would, too, but she still just stood. She came over to him and straddled his legs.

  “So, is this how it works? They get me drunk, and you seal the deal?”

  “Hardly. I’m only ever with him. Men like you are only ever with her.”

  “Those are the rules, huh?”

  She let her robe fall open, exposing her lingerie, her defined abs. “Yep.”

  “Well, what’re you doing now, then, with me?” He looked her up and down. Even with the weed, she smelled like a fragrance Nina would wear.

  “I’m saving you, stupid.”

  “That so.” Andre passed the joint. “From what?”

  “The trap you just fell in.” She pushed him back onto his elbows. She climbed onto his lap. “Believe me, they won’t let you leave. They’ll seduce you into staying.” After a second, she added, “You’re not built for this.”

  “And I suppose you are.”

  “More than you.” She took his hand and put it on her waist.

  He squeezed her. “You don’t seem very happy here, though.”

  “Looks can be deceiving.” She put his other hand on her breast. Something was briefly happening in his pants, and she pushed herself against it. She took a last puff and set the joint in an ashtray.

  “Tell me how you’re saving me exactly.”

  “Farrah hates me. If you and I have sex, she’ll lose interest in you. You’ll be tainted. Then you can go. See?”

  “So, it’s a win-win for the both of us.”

  Tanya smiled.

  “Is that what happened with the last Black guy?”

  “No,” she said. “He got tired of her and left before we even moved here.”

  “He escaped.”

  “Pretty much.”

  Andre nodded. “So, this is your good deed of the day.”

  “Yep.” She leaned over him, nodding, too. “Hug me.”

  He did. Her body was strong and muscled, powerful. She dragged her chest over his face. “But don’t you want to be saved, too?”

  “No.” She slowly sat up, grinding herself against his lap. She fumbled with his belt buckle.

  He watched and then put his hands over hers. “Why? Because they’re rich? Because you’re comfortable?”

  She sighed, looking down at him, shaking her head. She reached over and picked up the joint again. “Saving me won’t bring your old lady back, okay? So, don’t even try.”

  “How do you know I have an old lady?”

  She smirked. “Everyone has an old something, especially guys.” Tanya reached over and was about to stab the joint out in the tray, but he took it from her.

  He smoked and propped his arm behind his head. “Well, what about you? Where’s your old man?”

  “Somewhere,” she said.

  “The last Black guy, I take it.”

  She shook her head. “A different one.”

  Andre thought of Nina again, how she always said he was strange, weird. It was fitting he’d encountered such a weird situation. “Well,” he said, putting the joint out, “just so you know, I’m not staying. I never was. I have an electric car sitting out front. I’m leaving first thing, quiet as a mouse.”

  “Good for you.” She watched him, bored now. She yawned and slid off to his side, lying next to him on her back. They both stared at the ceiling.

  “I’m tired.”

  “Of tonight or just everything?” He looked at her, at the tiny bird tattooed behind her ear.


  “Both.”

  “This place can’t be good for your head. How long have you been with them?”

  “Too long.”

  “Leave, why don’t you.”

  She turned and looked at him now. “With you, I suppose.”

  “Maybe. Or just by yourself. I mean, who am I?”

  “You’re right,” she said. “Who are you?”

  “Just a guy.” He looked at her bird again. “Are you just a girl?”

  “No, stupid. I’m a woman.”

  He laughed. “Well, it’s up to you, then, woman.” He turned off the light, and the room went black. They settled next to each other. It was so dark that they could’ve been anywhere, with anyone. He thought of Nina one last time and wondered if Tanya was thinking of her old man. He could almost make her out in the darkness. He could hear her breathing, dreaming maybe. He was about to turn over and drift off, too, but then she took hold of his arm. “This isn’t permanent. The two of us.”

  “I know.”

  “So let’s not make this weird, okay?”

  “We won’t.”

  “Are you sure you can even handle someone like me?”

  “I think so, but I can’t make any promises.”

  She turned back over. She got quiet again. “Maybe this will actually work, then,” she said. “Because I hate promises.”

  And Then We Were the Norrises

  In the fall of ’85, a few years after my family and I went into witness protection, I started seventh grade at Edward Meany Middle School in Phoenix, Arizona. First period was an art class, which I was late for because I was late for everything back then, even the first day of school. When I walked in, there was only one empty seat left at a two-kid table by the window. Already sitting there was a long-haired white boy who wore a dirty Judas Priest shirt. The outcasts’ table. Everyone else in class was white, too, but preppy, like child models in a catalog. So, of course, I took my place with the outcast, like slipping on an old shoe.

  As I sat down, I noticed he was drawing even though the class hadn’t started yet. I peeked at the picture, and it was some fire-breathing-dragons-and-castle kind of stuff, so detailed with shading and little stars that it looked like it’d been xeroxed from a comic book.

 

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