by phuc
He'd recently stylized his black, banged hair with a streak of silver, and most of his white jeans evaded visibility for the cuffed black boots which rose up past mid-thigh. A yellow clove cigarette burned in one hand. Before him stood a tall glass of gin.
"Good to see you, Jack," he said through a snide smile.
Jack sat down. Craig spun a bottle of Seagram's over his shoulder and caught it behind his back.
"The usual, Jack?"
"No. Soda water. Put a piece of lime in it to make it look like I'm drinking something."
"Soda water. Hmm," Craig remarked. His brow arched, as did the brows of several patrons. I will not break my promise, Jack thought.
"Graduating to the hard stuff, huh?" Stewie commented.
"Believe me, Stewie. It's very difficult for me to be in the same room with you and be sober at the same time."
"Let's just get to business before we get into a fight."
"Fine," Jack said. "I don't have time to drive you to the emergency room. I'd miss Wheel of Fortune reruns."
"You know, Jack, I like you, even in spite of your rampant aggression and alcoholic ill-will. But let me ask you something. Why exactly do you hate my guts?"
"Plenty of reasons," Jack was quick to respond. "You're selfish, greedy, pompous, you make a living off my ex-girlfriend's work, and you wear boots that come up to your fuckin' crotch."
"All of the above are true, Jack, but let's try real hard to be adults for a minute a trying task, in your case. I'm really worried about Veronica."
"You said she might be in trouble. How so?"
"I'm not sure. She's never been one to shirk her professional responsibilities. Shows, galleries, interviews all that kind of stuff's very important to her, the business end of her art. That's why she has me to manage her career."
"Get to the point."
"I haven't heard from her all week."
Jack set his drink down and thought about that. Stewie was right. Veronica would never remain out of touch with her manager for so long a time. There had to be a reason.
"That's why I'm worried. She's close to the big time, which is great because she deserves it. But it's real easy for an artist to fuck up. All you have to do is snub a few important people, and that can mean the end of a career. She's got a lot of things in the fire right now. Art Times wants to interview her. Two major publishers want to do books of her work. I got galleries all over the country who want to put her up. Yesterday the fucking Corcoran calls, they want to do a show too. I don't know what to tell any of these people. Some of them are important people, Jack. All week long I've been telling them I'll get back to them once Veronica has contacted me. I can't jerk them off forever. When the fucking Corcoran Gallery calls, you don't say, "I'll get back to ya, bub.'"
This didn't sound right, none of it did.
"I've got to get ahold of her, Jack. I've got to know what she's got ready to go. If I can't get back to these galleries with some kind of commitment soon, they'll write her off. That would be really bad for her future. You got to help me out here, Jackie. My bread and butter's on the line, and so is hers."
"What can I do?" Jack queried.
"Tell me about this thing she went on with Ginny. She hates my guts too, by the way."
"I don't know anything about it," Jack said. "She said it was a creative retreat of some sort, said she wanted to ‘find' herself. And she said some rich guy was putting her up."
"Khoronos," Stewie said.
"Yeah. Khoronos. If you ask me, the whole thing sounds pretty fucked up."
"We finally agree on something. Do you know where Khoronos lives?"
"She wouldn't tell me. I think she was afraid I'd hound her or something. She hit me with all this the night we broke up."
Stewie stirred his gin with his finger. He'd grown his pinky nail long and painted it white. "I met him once," he said.
Khoronos, Jack thought. Already the rats were coming home to feast, jealousies and the blackest thoughts, all to remind him of what he had lost. "What's he like?" he asked.
"Pompous but refined," Stewie answered. "Something awesome about the way he carries himself and the way he talked. The word ‘scintillating' comes to mind."
Awesome, Jack thought. Scintillating. Excuse me while I puke.
"And real good-looking," Stewie was kind enough to continue. He ordered another Sapphire from Craig. "Sharp dresser, tall, well proportioned. Fantastic body."
Jack frowned.
"Human beauty's a wondrous thing, whether you're a man or a woman. Too bad you can't relate to that, Jackie."
"Yeah, too bad," Jack muttered. "Go on."
"What I'm saying is this guy Khoronos is a real hot number. Veronica fell for him the instant she met him."
Each word of Stewie's revelation made Jack sink further. He remembered what Craig had said.
No matter how much you love a girl, there was always someone around the next corner waiting to ruin it all. There was always a Khoronos. "What else do you know about him?"
"He bought one of Vern's paintings. The guy was carrying twenty-five large in cash. Tell me that's not weird. He sent a couple of guys around the next morning to pick up the picture."
"Delivery men? Big deal."
"These guys weren't delivery men. They almost acted like servants. Heartbreakers, Jackie.
Musclemen with class."
Now Jack's head spun with the most terrible images. "Creative retreat, my ass," he mumbled under his breath.
"I know what you're thinking. We both know there's a side to Veronica that's very susceptible to outside influences. In a lot of ways, she's very vulnerable."
"What are you saying?"
Stewie put a good dent in his Sapphire. "Come, Jackie. Guys like that, rich, sexy, art enthusiasts... Veronica will be putty in their hands, and you know it."
"Ginny'll keep an eye on her," Jack lamely suggested.
Stewie threw his head back and laughed, a bit too loudly. "Ginny protecting Veronica is like a vampire in a fucking blood bank. Wake up, Jackie. She's a feminist existentialist, for Christ's sake. Read her books. They're all about women breaking free of relationships, sexual independence, doing whatever they feel like to find actualization."
Jack didn't know what actualization meant, but it didn't sound good.
Stewie ordered yet another gin. "I've always believed that love between two people is a holy thing. Two people together are stronger than when they're on their own. There're a lot of bad folks in the world, Jackie. Users, liars, con men, and every other kind of motherfucker who'll take advantage of vulnerable people for their own kicks. But love protects us from people like that."
"You're the last person I'd expect to hear that from."
"We all have our fronts, Jackie. You do, I do. You think my only interest in Veronica is financial."
"As a matter of fact, Stewie, I do. Veronica's your only important client. Without her, you'd be washed up."
"That's true. But she's also my friend, and I care about her."
This was very bizarre. Stewie was showing a side of himself Jack didn't think existed. Could it be possible that Stewie was something more than a self-centered art pimp? Beneath the new-wave clothes and hairdo, and the decadent pretenses, was there really a decent human being?
"You still care about her too, Jackie."
Jack stared at him. Yeah, I do, he thought. And I can't do shit about it, can I?
"All I mean is that Veronica could be in a bad situation, and goddamn Ginny isn't going to be any help at all. Veronica's not a decisive person, and as far as this retreat thing goes, Ginny'll be right there to help her make all the wrong decisions."
"Which makes Veronica even more vulnerable."
"You got it. This Khoronos guy, he's slick, he's a smooth operator. He knew all the right things to say to impress Vern, and all the right ways to say them. It took him all of five fucking minutes to make her completely oblivious to common sense, and it was almost like he had
the whole retreat thing planned in advance. The fact is he's a perfect stranger. Khoronos and his two pretty boys?
They could be nuts, for all we know."
Jack began to foment. Stewie was right. Who knew who these guys were, and what their game was?
"I saw them off, Vern and Ginny. Vern promised to keep in touch on what was going on with the gallery bids. I haven't heard one word from her." Stewie drained another gin. "You've got to take care of this, Jack."
"I don't know where she is," Jack countered. "I don't know anything about any of it."
"Don't you give a shit at all, man?"
"Of course I do, you asshole."
"Then do something about it, shithead."
"What?"
"Come on, Jackie. You're a cop. You can get a line on this Khoronos clown. Just do whatever it is you cops do when you want to know something."
"I could run his last name if he's got a criminal record, but that would take a while. I could try MVA too. If I had his date of birth or his S.S. number, it'd be a lot faster, but we don't have any that shit. You say he bought a painting with cash? Were they big bills, small bills?"
"Big bills, man. C-notes."
"You still have the money?"
"Fuck no, I deposited it the same day."
"Shit," Jack muttered. Banks kept serial number records of large withdrawals. "He give it to you in anything. An envelope?"
"No, he gave it to me in a fucking toolbox. Of course there was an envelope. But there was nothing on it."
"You still have the envelope?"
"I threw it out."
Jack frowned. "All right. You said these two guys picked up the painting Khoronos bought. What kind of vehicle?"
"A step van. White."
"Make, model, year?"
"I don't know, man. Do I look like a car dealer?"
"You see the tag number?"
"No, I had no reason to look."
"Did you notice the state, even the color of the plates?"
"No," Stewie said.
Jack tapped the bar. What else was there? "These two guys? You must've given them a receipt for the painting."
"Yeah, a standard exchange receipt. I have our copy. The smaller guy signed it, but I can't make out shit for the signature."
"I'll need to see it anyway," Jack said. "I'll also need the day you made the deposit, and what bank you use. The bank'll log a cash deposit that big and the serial numbers of the bills if they're consecutive. If they're not consecutive, they'll record sample numbers."
"What good would that do?"
"I might be able to link your deposit to Khoronos' withdrawal. If I can locate his bank, I can locate him. The only problem is bank records are protected information. Unless I have probable cause to convince a magistrate that Khoronos has committed a crime, which I don't, then they won't show me the transaction records."
"Talk to me, Jackie. You guys have ways around that shit."
"I might be able to go under the table, but I doubt it. I'll give it a shot. After that, there's nothing."
Stewie got up, a little stumbly. "There are other things you can do, Jackie, and you know what I'm talking about. Excuse me."
Yeah, there are a few other things, Jack agreed. He was already thinking about them.
While Stewie utilized the men's room, Jack began to feel edgy. Just seeing people drink goaded him, just seeing the bottles lined up on the wall. Craig was shaking up some shooters for a pair of local cuties. A goateed guy and an area writer were drinking a toast: "To darker days and evil women," the goateed guy proposed. Everybody was drinking, having a good time. Just one, Jack considered, but he knew it was a lie. For men like Jack there was no such thing as one drink.
He'd made a promise tonight, and he resolved to keep it. He might break it tomorrow. But... Not tonight, he thought.
"Another soda water, Jack?" Craig asked. He flipped a lit cigarette and caught it in his mouth.
The two cuties applauded.
"I , uh " Jack groaned. Fiddich, rocks, he wanted to say. "I made a promise that I wouldn't drink tonight."
Craig ejected a shaker of ice behind his back into the sink. "My view on promises is thus: A man can only be as good as his promise. When we break our promises, we break ourselves."
"Another soda water, Craig," Jack validated. The wisdom of barkeeps, again, amazed. When we break our promises, we break ourselves. He should have it tattooed on his wrist, a constant reminder. "With lime and lemon this time," he added.
"Where were we?" Stewie retook his stool and ordered another Sapphire. His eyes looked bloodshot.
"Hey, Stewie," Jack began. "How come you're getting tanked?"
"You're lecturing me? That's balls, Jackie. You're the A.A. candidate, not me."
"I'm not lecturing you, I just "
"I told you, I'm worried about her, I'm concerned."
"I used to be in love with her, remember? I'm concerned about her too. More than you."
"Bullshit, Jackie." Stewie swigged, wincing. "You've never been concerned about anyone in your life."
Jack gaped at the insult.
"And if anything bad happens to her," Stewie ranted on, "it'll be your fault."
Jack gaped at that one too. "Since you're drunk, I'll pretend I didn't hear that."
"No, Jackie, since I'm drunk, I'll tell you what I really think. You wanna hear it?"
"Sure, I listen to crap every day. Yours is no different from anyone else's."
"Here's what I think, Jackie boy. I think you were the best thing to ever happen to Veronica."
Jack's mouth fell open. Of all the things he might expect Stewie to say, this was the least imaginable.
"Before she got involved with you, she didn't have anything but her work. She was confused, disillusioned, and unhappy. But you gave her direction "
Jack was confused too, thoroughly. "Stewie, how come all of a sudden you're saying good things about me?"
" and then you failed," Stewie, ran on. "You gave her the promise of something good, and then you let her down."
Jack roused. "How the fuck did I let her down! She dumped me, remember? She ended the relationship, not me!"
Stewie shrugged. "You dangled happiness in front of her face, but you never let her have it. All you did was moan and groan about your own problems without ever considering hers. It broke her heart, Jackie. You never even tried to care about the things that were important to her."
"Oh, yeah? What? What things?"
"The things that make her tick. Her desire to create, her visions and her insights. Her art, Jackie.
Her art."
Jack's mouth felt frozen, an immobile hole.
"She loved you so much, more than you could probably ever know. You led her on, but you never came through. You were too selfish."
Could all this be true? Could Jack have been so blind that he didn't see any of this?
"You left her with no alternative, Jackie."
Jack felt dried up in the aftermath of Stewie's dissertation. His first impulse was to deny it all, to dismiss it, but that would only be evasion. Why would Stewie make up so detailed a condemnation?
"I didn't know," Jack said. "I didn't realize..."
"Yeah, right." Stewie slapped some cash down on the bar, and also the date of the deposit and the name of Veronica's bank. "Are your excuses always so sophisticated? With Veronica, you could have had everything. Look what you get instead."
Jack didn't know what he meant.
"I gotta go now, Jackie. Enjoy the view." Stewie shoved his wallet back in his pants and walked out of the bar.
Enjoy the view, Jack repeated in his mind. He looked up. In the mirrored bar wall, behind rows and rows of bottles, he saw his own face staring back at him.
"Hey, Craig. Dump the soda water and pour me a Fiddich."
"What about your promise?" Craig asked, stacking some pint glasses with Oxford Class emblems on them.
"Fuck the promise. Get me a drink."
"With all due respect, Jack, I don't think that's such a hot idea. Why not just play it cool tonight?"
"I don't need a counseling session, Craig, I need a drink. Just pour me a fucking drink, or I'll find a bar that will."