by Max Barry
She started walking toward him.
“Jen—Jen! Listen to me. Let’s not make any snap decisions! Let’s not make any value judgments!”
He broke and ran. Jennifer leapt and caught his jacket at the neck, swinging him into the guardrail. His breath whooshed out of him and then she had him bent over the railing, staring down at the cars below. She forced his arm up his back.
“I wasn’t going to hurt her! I swear!”
She whispered, “She’ll be better off without a father like you.”
“No! Jen, please!”
“Like the view? Want to see what I saw in a mall like this one, when you killed a schoolgirl?”
“No!”
“You were wrong about me,” she said. She took her arm off his neck. It felt better than she had imagined. It was surprisingly satisfying. “John Nike, you are under arrest for the murder of Hayley McDonald’s and up to fourteen other people.”
“What? What?”
“You will be held by the Government until the victim’s families can commence prosecution against you.” She hauled him up and marched him toward the escalators. He was a pain to move. His legs kept slipping out from under him, as if he was drunk.
“You’re arresting me? Are you serious? I don’t belong in jail!”
“And yet,” she said.
85 Completion
By the end of the flight, Jennifer felt ready to murder someone. She shifted and fidgeted; she glared at the flight attendants.
“Shhh,” Calvin said. “Settle.”
“A stopover in Auckland,” she said. “It’s unbelievable.”
“Read the magazine,” Calvin said. “Or watch the movie. They have computer games; why don’t you play one of those?”
“I want to get home.”
“You want me to ask if you can go up and meet the captain, look at the controls?”
She looked at him.
“Thirty-five more minutes,” he said.
“All right,” she said. “All right.” Calvin flicked through a few pages of his magazine. After a while, she said, “By the way…”
He looked up. “Hmm?”
“It’s Malibu Barbie. My tattoo. It’s the product code for a Malibu Barbie.”
Calvin blinked. “Really?”
“I was the Mattel account manager. Plus I lived in Malibu. So I got the tattoo.”
“Oh. Huh.”
“You think it’s stupid.”
“No, no. Not at all.”
“It was very hip at the time.” “I’m sure it was.”
Jennifer eyed him. “You won’t tell anyone this, right? It’s a little embarrassing.”
“Sure thing,” he said. “Your secret is safe with me, Barbie doll.”
“Please don’t call me Barbie doll,” she said.
Jennifer deplaned feeling like she’d been beaten, and walked down a long white corridor where sliding doors opened onto a mass of people. For a second all she could see was a jumble of color. Then Kate was running toward her. Her legs weakened.
“Mom!”
She dropped to her knees and Kate cannoned into her. She felt tiny arms around her neck. “Oh, Kate!”
“I missed you.”
“I missed you, too, sweetheart.” She closed her eyes. “I love you so much.”
“I love you, too.”
“Watch Mommy’s shoulder,” she said. “Let me look at you. Wow! Buy must have taken good care of you.” She looked up, and there he was. He looked awkward. He smiled as if he were trying to stop himself.
“Hi.”
“Come here,” she said.
“Down there?”
“Yep.”
Buy crouched and she hugged him, too. “Ow,” he said. “Watch Buy’s arm.”
“Oh! Sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
She touched his face. He looked like he wanted to kiss her, so she leaned forward and they kissed. “Thank you so much,” she whispered. “Thank you—”
“It’s okay.” He looked embarrassed. “I’m…happy to have you home.”
“Me, too.” Her voice was a whisper. She hugged them both as tightly as she could. Kate’s small hand wrapped around her own. Jennifer’s face pressed against Kate’s hair, and its familiar smell suddenly squeezed a sob out of her. She cried for a while, and nobody moved.
“Hello?”
“Jim GE?”
“Who is this?”
“It’s Jennifer Government.”
“Oh—”
“Jim, I’m calling to tell you the Government has identified and located the perpetrators in your case. I’ll be sending you my case file in the next few days. You should choose a legal firm so you can prosecute.”
“You know…you know who killed Hayley?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, God. Thank you—thank you so much—”
“You’re welcome. Goodbye, Jim.” She put down the phone.
Buy was looking at her. “All done?”
“Yes,” she said.
86 Rehabilitation
The woman flicked the pages of John’s CV back and forward, back and forward. He forced himself to wait. He was not going to lose his cool with this interviewer, no matter how much of a condescending, tight-haired, natty-glasses-wearing bitch she was.
She looked up. “You were a Nike Liaison?”
“Yep.” He drummed his fingers on his thigh.
“Wasn’t there some trouble… wasn’t Nike one of the main instigators in the—”
“Aw, that was such a beat-up.” John smiled. “Okay, yes, some people got a little gung ho, but the rest of us were far more cautious.”
“But you did work for US Alliance?”
“Not on that side of things,” John said. “I was more into customer promotions and the like.”
“I see,” she said. “And this was…twelve years ago?”
He held the smile. “That’s right.”
“And since then you’ve been…”
“Working on special projects.”
“I see…” She stood and offered him her hand. “Well, thanks for your time, John. We’ll be in touch.”
“That’s it?”
“Yes.”
He made himself say: “Thank you for the opportunity. I really appreciate it.”
She smiled. On his way out, she said, “Have a nice day, now.” His hand tightened on the handle. His vision flared white. He closed the door carefully and walked away.
For a city devoted to the automobile, Los Angeles wasn’t offering John much in the way of cabs. In fact, it wasn’t offering him much, period. He regretted coming back here. He remembered this place as being much cooler.
He walked along Wilshire for a block and a half before gaining a cab’s attention. As he walked toward it, a guy in a snappy suit emerged from a restaurant and strode forward.
“Hey!” John said. “Asshole! My cab!”
The suit turned. It was the Pepsi kid.
“Holy shit,” John said.
The Pepsi kid—not a kid anymore, of course; he was as old as John had been—grabbed his hand and shook. “John! I almost didn’t recognize you! What are you doing here? Man, how long has it been?”
“Hey, wow,” John said, thinking: What was his name again?
“Geez, sorry, I didn’t mean to steal your cab.”
“No…” He waved the apology away. This was an opportunity, bumping into the Pepsi kid: a huge opportunity. “How’ve you been?”
“Great, just great. I’m V.P. Sales at PepsiCo now, did you hear?”
“No.”
“Man, I’m so jazzed to see you out of jail. No place for a guy like you. When did they let you out?” “Two weeks ago.”
“What a gyp,” the kid said. “I still can’t believe Nike wouldn’t front for your defense. I mean, I know why, but…”
“Those assholes—” He stopped himself. “Anyway, I’m looking for a job.”
“Hey! If you’re in need, Pepsi will take you
in a second. I mean it.”
“Really?”
“You’re the man, John. Just say the word.”
John felt a rush of genuine gratitude. The Pepsi kid had been a good friend, except for the end, and that could be forgiven, couldn’t it? Under the circumstances. “Pal, I’ll take anything with ‘marketing executive’ in the title. I’m getting crucified out here.”
The kid’s face fell. “Well, John, we couldn’t put you in marketing.”
“What?”
“It’d be a bad idea to put you at a customer interface. After… you know.”
“So what kind of job are you talking about?”
“We’ve got an opening in Credit, and I think something in Order Processing—”
“Credit? You think I’m going to work in Accounts?”
“I’m trying to help you out, buddy.”
“Hey!” the cabby called. “Someone getting in here or what?”
John jabbed at the kid’s chest. “I’m an executive. I was this close to executing the greatest goddamn business coup in history!”
“Yeah, well,” the Pepsi kid said, “no offense, but close doesn’t get the cigar, you know?”
“You little fuck,” John said.
“I have to go. If you want a job, give me a call.”
“One day, we’re going to finish what we started!” John shouted. “Nothing’s changed, you know! One day, we’re going to try this again, and win!”
“Maybe,” the kid said, getting into the cab. “But not with you, John.”
Acknowledgments
Most of the time, being a writer means sitting in front of a computer and fighting against the urge to play Minesweeper. It’s like that for a couple of years and then you get published and everyone wants to talk to you at once. But some people are there from the beginning, and these are the ones you can’t do without.
Kassy Humphreys, Gregory Lister, and Roxanne Jones read an early draft and provided excellent, much-needed feedback. So did Wil Anderson and Charles Thiesen, in amazing and profoundly helpful detail that took far too much of their time. Geoff Wong vetted some chapters for wild claims about computer viruses. Carolyn Carlson convinced me to cut a major character, which was painful and difficult and a really good idea. Todd Keithley, my ex—literary agent, provided enormous support throughout the writing of the book, and when he quit his job left me devastated and convinced I’d never be published again. Luke Janklow, my rockin’ new agent, made sure I was published again. He also landed me with an editor more insightful and assiduous than I could have hoped for in Bill Thomas, who somehow managed to write a five-page edit letter I totally agreed with. Finally, Jen, my brilliant and beautiful wife, kept me happy when the words weren’t coming, got excited with me when they were, and continues to make my life hilarious.
FIRST VINTAGE CONTEMPORARIES EDITION, JANUARY 2004
Copyright © 2003 by Max Barry
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in the United States by Vintage Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York. Originally published in hardcover in the United States by Doubleday, a division of Random House, Inc., New York, in 2003.
Vintage is a registered trademark and Vintage Contemporaries and Colophon are trademarks of Random House, Inc.
The Library of Congress has cataloged the Doubleday edition as follows:
Barry, Max.
Jennifer Government: a novel / Max Barry.—1st ed.
p. cm.
1. Capitalism—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3552.A7424 J46 2003
813′.54—dc21 2002019436
eISBN: 978-1-4000-7634-5
Photograph of eyes courtesy of Getty Images
Map illustration by Michael J. Windsor
www.vintagebooks.com
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