Players

curiously stirring monotony of it. The liquor and dim lighting. The unvarying sounds from the next table-ladings and capacities. The waitresses coming out of dark pockets on the floor, all legs, all pussy and ass. The surface context, a landscape unaccountably familiar, the sanity of a clear afternoon.

'J. wants to know did you have trouble with the money part.”

'No,' he said. 'But tell him I'm let down, frankly. Tell J.”

'It's a precaution. He couldn't be sure type thing.”

'Do I give you the money?”

'If it's all right.”

'Can I at least call him?”

'He's not at that number anymore. He's at a different number.”

'Have another drink,' he said.

'I shouldn't.”

'Have another drink.”

'If you tell her to make it weak.”

'You'll be with J. indefinitely, I take it.”

'I don't know. I still have my apartment, at least two months to go. I may go back and look for a job. I have to see.”

'Do I get to talk to him at all? He said we'd talk.”

'He promises.”

'He wants me to stay in the area?”

'He said not to go back right away.”

'So he'll call.”

'You're supposed to give me a number.”

'I'll have to find a motel. What happens, you come with me?”

'All right,' she said.

'Did he tell you to do that?”

'Why does it matter?”

'Use names.”

'You have to give me the phone.”

'He didn't tell you to suggest that, going to a motel with me?”

'He said a number, let him give you a number to reach him at.”

'Where is he, nearby?”

She nodded. They smoked awhile in silence and then ordered something to eat. The place had emptied out by the time they finished lunch.

'You've been with him for a while then, I take it.”

'I guess, sort of.”

'You impress me. I'm impressed.”

'Why?”

'One more drink,' he said.

'Maybe one.”

'He buys a new identity, is that it?”

'He knows someone who can get him whatever he has to have.”

'What else?”

'He practices looking different.”

'Practices looking different how?”

'In front of a mirror,' she said.

'I love it.”

'He stretches his mouth. It's gotten so he does it an awful lot lately. It's very macabre if you're walking by.”

'Stretching exercises.”

'He wants to do his chin next.”

They drove half an hour before finding a motel, He checked the road map, not certain where they were. Rosemary sat on a corner of the bed, handbag in her lap. He had the map spread over a small desk, his back to her, and he was taking off his shirt as he tried to retrace the route they'd taken.

'When do you have to be back?”

'Whenever.”

'Where-where we met?”

'Right there is fine.”

'Take down the phone number while we're at it. I want to be sure to hear from him. Tell J. that. I was let down. But as long as I hear soon, within a day or two, then that's all right. The money's in a black leather billfold in my jacket. Why don't you count out thirty-five hundred while I'm doing this? Tell J. a day or two. Two at the most. Because I don't know what happens next.”

Eventually he turned toward her, beginning to remove the rest of his clothes. He could see himself across the room, angling in and out of view, in the mirror over the dresser. The light coloring. The sandy hair. The spaces in his gaze. It was a body of effortless length, proportional, spared bunching and sags. Nice, the understated precision of his movements, even to the tugging of a sock. And the satisfactions of moderate contours. Of mildness. Hairless chest and limbs. Middling implement of sex. Interesting, his formal apartness. The distance he'd perfected. He could see it clearly, hands and stance, the median weave of coarse hair, gray eyes eventually steadied on themselves.

She went into the bathroom to undress.

He liked motels, their disengaging aspect, the blank autonomy they offered, an exemption from some vague imperative, perhaps the need to verify one's status.

When Rosemary came out, ten minutes later, she had a plastic phallus harnessed to her body.

10

A dog sniffed out hidden riches, circling a grassy patch of earth, again and again, making sure, ascertaining place. The gulls were startling, so large at this distance, landing on mounds of garbage, wings beating. She watched them scatter when a second police cruiser pulled up at the edge of the dump. The dog's circles became smaller, more urgent. It was zeroing in, snout down, a little crazy with anticipation. She'd stationed herself at a point where Jack's body was hidden from view by the bulldozer that customarily leveled out the mounds. Smoke rose from charred areas, fitfully. That acrid, acrid smell. She'd stationed herself. She'd chosen carefully. The dog walked off, long gray animal, a corn cob in its mouth.

The gulls stood in garbage, bodies occasionally extended, wings flapping. There were cans of Ajax and Campbell's soup. Maxwell House, Pepsi-Cola, Heinz ketchup, Budweiser. She hated the way gulls walked. They were ugly on the ground, this close, chesty and squat. Burnt garbage. Stinging, bitter, caustic.

Jack was sitting crosslegged. She knew this from the first conditional glimpse. That stump was Jack. While still in the car she'd taken another look that lasted perhaps two full seconds. His head was slumped forward and black and he was badly withered. She wouldn't have known it was Jack except for the note he'd left, telling them where he was, advising them to be prepared. After that second look she was diligent in keeping a large object between herself and Jack's body. First the car and now the bulldozer. He was shriveled and discolored, burned right through, down to muscles, down to tendons, down to nerves, blood vessels, bones. His arms were in front of him, hands crossed at about the same place his ankles were crossed. This had seemed ceremonial, the result of research on his part. She did think that. She thought fifty different things, all passing through each other, illustrated breezes. She recalled wondering whether he'd had to exercise will power to keep his body in that position during the time it took for the fire to negate all semblance of conscious choice. The gulls beat their wings, screeching.