«Is that what you look for in assistants?» Krista asked.
«Fuck, yes. Smartness, hipness, alertness, greed and speed.»
Krista continued: «Is this how you normally hire assistants?»
«
«That's that 1950s stuff, isn't it?» asked Cindy.
«Bingo. It's this furniture designed for poor people, but poor people never liked it, and the only people who know about it or care about it are rich or smart. So anybody who answers that ad really quickly is de facto smart, alert, greedy and hip.»
«What's Melody going to say?» asked Cindy.
«Mel has two ugly little brats I helped put through Dartmouth and Neufchвtel. She owes me.»
«But then what about, say, the salary?»
«See — I was right. You're a little bit greedy,» at which point the girls quickly huffed up and their spines straightened. «Relax. In the film business it's a compliment.»
«So what do
«Truth be told,» John said, «the one thing in this world I want more than anything else is a great big crowbar, to jimmy myself open and take whatever creature that's sitting inside and shake it clean like a rug and then rinse it in a cold, clear lake like up in Oregon, and then I want to put it under the sun to let it heal and dry and grow and sit and come to consciousness again with a clear and quiet mind.»
The CD player clicked and purred as it changed albums, and Cindy and Krista kept their bodies still. Cindy said, «Okay. I'll work for you.»
Krista said, «Me, too. I'm in.»
John said, «Good,» and music came on, Edvard Grieg, a flute solo. «What's going to be your next move then —
«I'm going to liquidate myself.»
«Like going offshore or something? Taxes?» asked Cindy.
«No. I'm going to erase myself. I'm going to stop being me.» John saw the look on the twins' faces, and it wasn't fear, but neither was it comprehension. «No. Not suicide. But suicide's cousin. I want to disappear.»
«You've lost me,» said Cindy.
«I'm going to start my own witness relocation program.»
«Help us out here, John.»
«It's easy. I don't want to be
«In this body?»
«Yeah.»
«Who gets your money?» Cindy asked.
«Probably the IRS.»
«Who gets your residuals and your copyrights?»
«I don't know. Crack babies. Jerry's Kids. Something like that. That's a detail. Think of the bigger picture here.»
He would be
Cindy and Krista made
Two drinks later, John, Cindy and Krista were going through John's house, with Cindy pushing a SmarteCarte and Krista holding a clipboard on which she recorded each item John tossed into a box on the cart, the contents bound for the local Goodwill drop box.
«DKNY blazer. Unworn. Charcoal.»
«Check.»
«Prada slacks, cocoa. Unworn.»
«Check.»
«Where'd you get a SmarteCarte?» Cindy asked.
«Stole it from SeaTac Airport up in Seattle. I've spent so much on those goddamn things over the years — I put the SmarteCarte children through beauty school. They
Cindy said, «You seem to put a lot of people through a lot of things, John.»
The doorbell rang — it was his business partner, Ivan McClintock, with his wife, Nylla. John buzzed them in and called from upstairs, Ivan and Nylla climbed a series of chilly aluminum slabs that led up to the bedrooms. «John-O?»
«We're in here, Ive.»
The couple rounded a corner. «Guys, this is Krista and Cindy. Gals, this is Ivan and Nylla. Ivan and I have been making movies ever since we both had acne.»
The group exchanged hellos, and the work of emptying John's wardrobes of conspicuously expensive clothing continued.
«See anything you want, Ivan?» John asked, holding out a nest of ties.
Ivan was doing his best to keep his cool.
«Our styles are opposite, John-O. That's why we make a good team.»
Nylla, pregnant and wrapped in one of her trademark silk shawls, asked, «John, Melody called Ivan at work and then me at home. She said you were making plans to — .» She paused. «
John was silent.
Nylla persevered. «So what's the score?»
A TV-sized Tiffany box full of enema tools clattered down from an upper shelf, bouncing on the sisal flooring and rattling onto the white limestone hallway. «Why don't we go downstairs?» John said to Ivan and Nylla.
From the landing, he shouted back, «Remember gals-
They went into the living room. It was night outside. Ivan and Nylla drank in the view. «I never get tired of looking at the city, John-O. It's like we're flying over it, about to land at LAX.»
«It's like upside-down stars,» said Nylla.
John handed Ivan a scotch with branch water. Nylla took cranberry juice.
Ivan said, «Melody phoned. She told me about your name change application.»
«She narcked?»
Nylla said, «Oh, don't be so corny. Of
Ivan burst in. «Fortunately between me and Mel we have enough contacts at City Hall to retrieve your forms, no harm done.»
«John,» said Nylla, «You were going to change your name to “dot”?»
«Not “dot” — just a simple period. When I filed my Change of Name affidavit at City Hall, they told me I had to use at least one keyboard stroke. A period is the smallest amount of ink and space a name can be.»
Ivan put his drink on a glass-block table and made I-told-you-so eyes at Nylla.
«There's more, Ivan. I'm going to renounce my citizenship.»
«Oh, John-O, that is a lousy idea — it's — it's —
«What country
«I don't want to be a citizen of
«Can you
