Kid grinned. 'Jack,' he said, 'I don't know shit about art. I'm just quoting.'
'A member of your fucking team?'
Kid nodded. 'The Rookie. She has very strong feelings about art.'
'Do me a favor and tell her to go fuck herself.'
Kid laughed. 'You don't want to mess with her, Jack. Not with what I've just learned about her.'
'Your goddamn team,' Jack mumbled. 'I don't think they even exist.'
Still laughing, Kid said, 'They exist, all right. Hey, the Rookie was even written up in yesterday's Times. She's famous.'
'Well, don't ever bring her here. Don't ever let her see my goddamn Hopper!'
'I'm just kidding, Jack. I think it's very beautiful. And I'm sure she would, too.'
'Your goddamn team,' Jack said again.
'It's incredibly beautiful, Jack. I swear.' And when Jack raised his eyebrow questioningly, Kid said, sincerely, 'Really. It's really, really beautiful.'
Jack frowned. Then nodded, accepting Kid's last words. 'Okay, you can stay,' he said. And mumbled, one more time: 'Your goddamn team.'
– '-'-'IT WAS MID-FEBRUARY when Kid came in for a morning session looking as if he'd been up all night. Jack soon ascertained that he had.
'The Mortician,' Kid said, as if that were all the explanation needed. When Jack waved his hand, a silent 'let's have a bit more detail' gesture, Kid added, 'It was a special night.'
'What kind of special?' Jack wasn't about to let him off the hook. For one thing, talking about Kid's life helped him get through the workouts. Talking about Kid's sex life made him extraordinarily curious. And, he had to admit to himself, it was beginning to make him somewhat envious.
Kid was clearly uncomfortable. His shoulders moved and his neck shifted under the confines of his T-shirt. 'She's too involved in the relationship. Emotionally.'
'That's what made it special? You dumped her?'
'No.' Kid laughed nervously. 'She helped me move to a new apartment. Helped set things up.'
'Congratulations. Where is it?'
'Tribeca. On Duane.'
'Nice.'
'Yeah, it is, but… I don't know. I don't know if I should have let her help so much.'
'Why not?' Jack asked.
'She's very… controlling. She's in a situation where she's not in control of a lot of things in her own life, so she tends to hold on to the things she can control.'
'And you're one of those things?'
'No. But she thinks I am. Or at least she'd like me to be.'
'Here's my advice. Get out now.'
Kid looked somber. 'Yeah, well, the Mortician's not so easy to break up with. She's got some really nasty friends and I don't think I want to piss them off just yet.'
'It sounds like you're afraid to get out of this.'
'A little bit, I guess. I'm a little afraid of her.'
'She sounds lovely, Kid. I'm glad to see you're going out with class.'
'She's not my usual type, that's for sure. But she's got a lot of experience and I like that and, well… she is classy. She's got a lot to offer.'
'So she's still on the Team. Even though she scares you.'
'I don't know for how much longer but, yeah, she's still on the Team.'
'Who else is still on? And who else scares you?'
'They all scare me, Jack. And let's start with shoulder presses.'
'Don't change the subject.'
'Don't dick around on my time. I'll talk, you work.'
They moved to the Universal machine. Jack positioned himself, sitting, in front of it, Kid set the proper weights, and Jack began to lift. After six reps, he managed to breathe out, 'I'm waiting.' And at eight reps he said, 'I'm still waiting. All I know is the Entertainer, the Mortician and-'
'God, you're a pain in the ass.'
'That's fifteen.' Jack allowed himself to slump against the back of the seat. 'Talk.'
'Okay. Right now there's the Entertainer, the Mortician, the Murderess… she's great. She's really special.'
'Hold on. She killed somebody?'
'It's a nickname, Jack. That's all.'
'Well, it had to come from somewhere.'
'There was an accident, when she was a kid. That's all it was. At least that's all I'm gonna tell you. But she's definitely still scarred by it. Seriously scarred.' He raised his eyebrows conspiratorially. 'Sexily scarred. Second set.'
Jack moved forward in the seat, struggled with the first lift, fell into a more manageable rhythm for the next round of fifteen reps.
'Is that it? Three women right now?'
'No,' Kid said. 'There's more. An old one. I thought it was over a long time ago but-' he hesitated, chewed on his lower lip before continuing – 'it's not.'
'Back in the picture?'
'Not as far as I'm concerned, but…' He didn't have to finish the sentence. Jack understood the implication.
'Got your very own stalker, huh?'
'Not exactly. But kind of.'
'Nickname?'
'The Mistake.'
'Not very encouraging.'
'No. It really was a long time ago. Back when my father died. Right after. I went to a party and I was pretty down and we just started talking. I started crying, I couldn't help it…'
'A comfort fuck?'
'God, no. It wasn't anything like that. No fucking at all. It just got…' Kid shook his head, looking for the right word.
'Intimate?'
He nodded. 'Yeah. Intimate. No sex but weirdly sexual. Very loving but… no love.'
'At least on your part.' And when Kid nodded again, Jack said, 'Mistakes come back to haunt you.'
'More than I ever thought possible,' Kid said.
'What else is haunting you?' Jack asked, and suddenly they were not just bantering.
'I thought we were talking about the Team.'
'Is that what you want to talk about?'
'I haven't finished.'
Disappointed, Jack backed off. 'Okay. Who else is there?'
'There's Samsonite…'
'A hard case?' Jack asked.
'Very true. But not where I got the nickname.' He paused, proud of this one. 'She comes with too much baggage.'
'What kind of baggage?'
'She's a Slash.'
'Come again?'
Jack finished the last rep and dropped the weight. Kid gave him a look of approval, added ten more pounds to the machine.
'You know, a Slash. People who want to be somebody else. People who have to pretend to be one thing so they can live with what they really are. Samsonite wants to be Courtney Love but for now she's a singer-slash- bartender-slash-dealer.'
