Uncle Psycho had his martini, his blue suit, his tie, his toe tapping on the floor. He also had his niece, who had a beer.
“Mr. Eliot, so good to see you.”
“Walter. How’s it going?” I sat across from him, caddy-corner to Angela, and I tried to figure out how I should behave. I mean, how do you speak to a man who just maybe wants you dead? What happens if he knows you know he wants you dead, and he catches you acting like you don’t? What happens if he doesn’t know you know he wants you dead, and you say something that tips him off?
See how difficult it is to wrap your head around a situation like this?
I ordered a shot and a beer.
“I want you to meet my niece. This is Angela.” He put his arm around her, and somehow she didn’t shudder. Maybe she was used to being afraid of him. Maybe she just had balls of solid rock.
I smiled. “Hi, Angela. I’m Travis.”
She straightened up. “Oh. We’ve met once before, sort of, when you spoke at PEP.”
So, I guessed we’d met once, sort of. News to me. I’d been told we’d never met, didn’t know each other. Now that her story had changed, as they all do, I had to completely shift gears. All the stuff I’d gone over in the car, all that crap I’d practiced saying out loud just to hear myself say it calmly, just to hear myself do it, might as well have been sucked out the window with the smoke from my cigarette.
“Oh. Right,” I said. “I don’t think we really got to talk though, right? There were so many people.”
She nodded. “Yeah.”
“Well, nice to actually meet you, then.” The small talk would only take us so far. This was almost like a really bad blind date, only not as blind.
The waitress came back with my booze, and the shot glass never touched the table before it found its way back to her cocktail tray.
“Something on your mind, Travis?” Synchek had a talent for sounding sincere and without agenda. I was glad I knew better.
“Not really. I just had sort of a rough day. Need to loosen up a little.”
The fucker smiled at me. “I can certainly understand that.”
Five Guys went into Brubeck. Take Five. It’s a great song, even if it is a bit overplayed, even on the Weather Channel. Synchek closed his eyes and nodded in approval of the selection, but he didn’t say anything. We just sat there and listened to the music. God, it was painful.
I couldn’t take it. “So Angela, what do you do?”
“I’m sorry. ‘What do I do’?”
“Yeah, you know, for fun? How do you spend your time?” My intention was to make this seem like any other get-to-know-you conversation. I figured we should have been talking. It’s what boys do when they meet a cute girl. Either that, or they trip all over themselves and sweat a lot, eventually leaving the room a pathetic, embarrassed shell of a man. Thank God I’ve gotten over that shit.
“I like to read,” she said. I think she realized, just like I did, that we hadn’t really had a normal conversation since we met. She sounded excited about it. “Easy stuff. Mindless stuff. Like mysteries.”
“Oh? Who do you like?” I asked as if I’d ever read a mystery paperback in my life. I mean, I knew some names, but come on, I had a degree in Creative Writing. I’d never lower myself to that crap. I’d been trained to be an arrogant asshole about books.
She blushed a little. “I really like Patterson. And Sue Grafton.”
“I’ve never read either of them. I’ve seen a few movies that were Patterson novels, though. They were good.”
She sipped her beer. “What do you read, then?”
“Literary fiction, poetry, and every now and again I’ll get into some sort of religious history.”
“Come on. Who do you like?”
I didn’t even have to think about it. I was trained. It was all just a reflex. “I like Hemingway, but not his novels. Just his short stories. Dante I like. Ray Carver’s a god, as far as I’m concerned.”
“So, you’re a snob, then?” She was flirting. Right there in front of Walter, she was flirting.
“I’m not a snob. I’m just not stimulated by mysteries, that’s all.”
“No, you’re a snob.”
I couldn’t argue. At least not convincingly. “Yeah. Fine. I guess I’m a snob. But, just so you know, I’m not claiming to understand all the stuff I read.”
She laughed. “Yeah. Whatever, snob.”
Walter chimed in, without opening his eyes. “Nice to see you two are getting along. I was hoping you would.” He sat up straight and looked at me. “Angela doesn’t really get the chance to meet too many gentlemen her own age.”
“Shut up, Uncle Walt.”
“Travis understands. Don’t you, Travis? I’m sure he can see how it would be difficult for you.” He took a sinister sip from his martini glass. Martini glasses are good for that. A rocks glass would have had nowhere near the nastiness.
“Um, sure. I guess I can see that.” I hated agreeing with him.
“That’s why I wanted you to meet him, Angel. I want you to get to know Travis, here. He’s such a fine young man. And honest. And I’m certain he’s loyal. Just look at him. You can tell he’s the kind of guy who would do anything to make sure you didn’t get hurt. Isn’t that right, Travis?”
This moment convinced me that this man spoke only in death threats. Anything he said – anything – could have been translated into “I’ll kill you”, or some variation of that tiny little sentence. Maybe it would be “I’ll kill her” or “Any of you fucking pigs move, and I’ll execute every motherfucking one of you”.
I tried not to get rattled, to act like I didn’t get the hint. “You’re gonna make me blush, Walter. You’re making me sound like Christ, over here.”
“Well, you’re certainly not Christ. You certainly cannot raise the dead, can you?” He made sure he got his point across with that one. He was good.
“No. No I can’t.”
“But you are the kind of man who’d risk his own life to save another’s, aren’t you?” Dictating conversation is easier than it should be.
“Um. I guess so.” I lit a smoke. My head is not meant to handle things like this.
“Good.” He stood up and set a Benjamin on the table. “You two stay and get to know each other. Travis, would you be kind enough to bring Angela home tonight?”
I didn’t say anything. I just looked at him.
“Thank you,” he said, and he kissed Angela on the forehead. “I’ll see you in the morning, Angel.”
He left, and we watched him all the way to the door. Angela stole my cigarette and hit it deep.
I lit another. “That went well, don’t you think?” She shook her head and flagged the waitress. “You want another drink?”
“What’s he up to?”
“I’m not sure. I really wasn’t expecting him to leave like that.” She drummed her fingernails on the side of her glass and chewed her lower lip. “I can’t – I don’t know.”
Why not? “Well, as long as I have Uncle Walter’s blessing, you want to go back to my place?”
She looked tempted at first, but then seemed to consider it. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. I’m afraid he might have someone follow us.”
“So what? They’re following us already. I mean, we can always just say I was showing you something. My books or a movie or something. Besides, we can actually talk there. You never know, someone in here might be keeping an eye on us right now.”
And yes, I was trying to get her to come back with me so I could do it to her. I’d been eating my spinach, remember? And LT knows no fear. He’ll risk it all for a little fun.
But let me be clear about something. The sex was only half of my motive. The other half was pure. We needed someplace we could be alone to talk, to figure out what was going on, and I knew my place was safe. I even had a new window.
“Listen,” she said.
The way she said it, I knew what was coming. I was a heterosexual male with plenty of relationship experience. I’d had enough conversations with women to know exactly what ‘Listen’ means. There’s only one place to go, and I really hoped she wasn’t going to go there.
“Listen. The other night, that was fun. But I have to tell you… I like you. I do. But my uncle’s right. I don’t get to meet many guys my own age. And you’re a good guy, and I like you, but the other night… there was a lot going on, and I kind of just needed the distraction. And so did you, I think. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. I don’t know what I’m saying, exactly. I just don’t think we should do that again.”
Yep. That was what I thought was going to happen.
“Why shouldn’t we? We could both still use the distraction, don’t you think?”
“Don’t you think we have enough to deal with? And I doubt my uncle would appreciate you sleeping with me. I am his little girl, kind of.”
This was totally unacceptable. And totally fucked up. Unfortunately, she had a good point. The only thing worse than a father figure who wants to kill you for sleeping with his little girl is a father figure who wants to kill you even before he knows you’re sleeping with his little girl. Sex is good, but not worth dying for. Even if it would be super-mega-knock-down-drag-out sex.
“That’s a shame,” I said. “The other night was incredible.” This was my subtle last-ditch effort.
“It is a shame. Maybe someday when this is all over. If we’re still alive, I mean.”
“Of course.” Dammit. I wanted to get laid. I was actually sort of expecting it. These things happen, I suppose, and at least it left us with time to talk. “So, what’s your plan?”
She looked around the room – just a bunch of people, eating, drinking, listening, but not to us. She moved her drink off to one side, and then mine. She rested her elbows on the table, propped herself up on them, and leaned over the table, her face next to mine, her breath in my ear.
“I think,” she whispered, “we have to kill them.”