It was happening again. He hadn't learned.
What did it take for Jack Keller to learn?
What did it take before he understood that you don't steal what belongs to others? How many deaths and accidents before he realized?
One more, at least.
One more death.
Then one more chance.
Then maybe, just maybe, this could all be over. If not…
Well.
There'd be no more chances.
But many more people would die.
The end of the year was cold and snowy. The beginning of winter turned New York into its most common role: the ultimate urban contradiction. The buildings shimmered and lit up the skies as if they were alive. The city was clean and fresh and vibrating with activity; it begged to be explored and appreciated but tourists and shoppers made movement impossibly difficult. One had to swivel one's neck to stare at the extraordinary beauty all around, but one swivel too many would ensure a plunging step into a curbside pile of ankle-high brown icy slush.
Christmas was difficult, but Jack took Mattie's advice to heart. The week between the twenty-fifth and the first was spent drinking excellent wine, eating well, and spending long nights with Dom, Kid, and a few select visitors reminiscing about Caroline and the many good times past. Jack also realized he was beginning to look forward to more good times in the future. The realization both thrilled him and worried him. And made him feel more than a little guilty, a feeling that he alternately fought against and succumbed to.
What if…
On New Year's Eve, Jack and Dom went out to Daniel, the best restaurant in New York. Dom's treat. Kid was invited but he was spending it with a member of the Team. He was evasive, didn't want to tell Jack which one. Finally he confessed he was seeing two women. The Mortician was early. Then, after midnight, he was meeting the Entertainer, when she got off work. Jack just shook his head, said he hoped that Kid knew what he was doing. For the first time, Kid didn't make a smart-aleck comment back. He shrugged, as if he wasn't really sure that he did.
January second was a different kind of celebration. Dom came up, as did Kid and Mattie, and at three o'clock they stood and cheered as a man from Goodwill came up to the apartment and picked up Jack's wheelchair. He didn't need it anymore. "Come back in another month," Kid told the guy. "We got a couple of canes we won't be needing either."
A couple of weeks after that, Kid stepped out of the elevator to find Jack waiting for him excitedly. He headed, as usual, straight for the exercise room but Jack stopped him, ushered him into the living room. It took Kid a moment to notice but he was led to it by Jack's stare.
What Jack was staring at was a new painting that had been hung on the living room wall. It stood all by itself, bathed in a soft light that came from up on the ceiling. It was not large, maybe two feet by three feet. But it managed to dominate the room and when Kid turned to look at his friend and patient, Jack's eyes were moist.
"Do you know what it is?" he asked Kid.
Kid nodded. "A Hopper. I never saw one in person before."
"I didn't think I was ready to get it. But I've had feelers out for a while and I heard it was up for auction… and I decided the time was right."
"Right for what?"
"To do something I was supposed to do. Keep a kind of promise. To have something really beautiful to look at."
"Do you think it's beautiful?"
Surprised, Jack said, "Don't you?"
Kid shrugged and in a high-toned voice said, "I regard Edward Hopper as the depressive's Norman Rockwell."
Jack's jaw practically dropped to the floor. "What!"
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."
"She sounds delightful, too."
"She's not boring, that's for sure."
"And will she ever be Courtney Love?"
"Nah," Kid said. "That's the thing. It's like I told you about the Entertainer. She lives with too many secrets. Can't tell people what she's done, can't tell people what she does. Can't tell herself, either. And definitely can't tell herself what she's going to be. That's why she's a Slash. Samsonite and the Murderess, too. The Mistake. Even the Mortician. She's better off than the others in a lot of ways but she's definitely a Slash. It's the only way to pretend you're not going to end up the way you know you're going to end up. In my world, Slashes never get to be what they really want."
"You think your world is so different from mine?" Jack asked quietly.
"Very different." Kid smiled now, a sad and knowing smile. "In my world, we're all Slashes."
– "-"-"KID HAD JACK concentrating on his abs this session, a whole series of crunches.
"I've been thinking about what you said," Jack managed as he curled himself up and back. "About the Team."
"Which part?"
"All of it. What I want to know is, is it satisfying?"
"It's different, Jack. It's not your style. It's not something you ever could have done. But for me, it's the best I'm going to get. And at least it's fun."
"You ever been in love, Kid? As compared to being in lust?"
Kid stayed silent a long time. Long enough that Jack thought he wasn't going to answer. Possibly hadn't even heard him.
"I said, have you ever-"
"Yeah," Kid said very slowly. "I've been in love." He went a long time again before speaking, and then added, "The Destination."
"Good nickname."
Kid smiled sadly. "Came from something I read somewhere. In a magazine. It said Topeka's a town, Cleveland's a city, but Rome's a destination."
"Nice."
"She was a destination, too. Something to wish for. Something to aspire to."
"What happened to her?"
Kid coughed into his fist, then took a deep breath. The words he spoke were obviously painful for him. "She ended it."
Jack managed to twist himself so his right elbow touched the outside of his left knee. "Almost unimaginable."
"Yeah, well. She did."
"For another man?"
"I never asked," Kid said. "Didn't matter to me why. It only mattered that it was over."
"Come on. You weren't curious? You didn't even want a chance to convince her?"
"I knew what was going on. It was her decision to make and once she made it…" Kid shrugged. "She was out of my league, really. It was down in Maryland and the thing is, she had a real life without me. The other members of the Team, they kind of need me. For all different reasons – to help them do something, to help them escape something, give them some security – but the Destination… it was different. She thought she needed me but then she realized she didn't and I knew it and that's why I didn't have to ask."
"Rome's not the only destination, you know."
"Well," Kid said, "I don't think I have much chance of going to Paris or London or Vienna. That's the thing about a Slash. We usually know where we want to go, we just don't have any way of getting there."
As Jack finished his set and fell back onto the slant board, breathing hard, Kid said, "They all live on the edge. What do you think that says about me?"
"I'm sorry," Jack said. "I wasn't paying attention. I'm too busy cramping and practically vomiting. Who are we talking about now?"
"The Team. What do you think it means that they're all kind of" – he watched Jack lurch forward, beginning his next set – "twisted?"
"It means you have shitty taste in women" was the response.
"No. They're all great. Really. They're all interesting and weird and amazing-looking. But they all have these flaws. They're all…" He thought for a moment, trying to come up with the right word. It didn't take him long. "Dangerous" is what he came up with. "They're all dangerous."
"Dangerous, how?" When Kid didn't answer immediately, Jack asked, "What kind of flaws?"
"It's hard for me to describe. Well, Samsonite's easy; she's just way too crazy. She's a druggie. Drinks too much. Pretty paranoid, pretty generally wacko. I met her at a club, an after-hours place. She was working there, still does, and I started talking to her and she says, 'Can I ask you a question?' I go, 'Sure,' and she says, 'I got a bet with a friend. A hundred bucks. I said that Mount Rushmore was a natural rock formation and she says it's a sculpture.' So I broke it to her that it wasn't purely an act of nature that Abe and the boys are up on the cliff there in perfect detail and she can't believe it. First she gets furious, thinks I'm lying. Then she decides I'm in on it with her friend, and that I'm splitting the money. Finally, I convince her I don't even know who her friend is, I don't even know who she is, and I'm telling her the truth. So what does she do? She asks if she can borrow a hundred bucks so she can pay off the bet."
"Kid, I don't want to put down your very fine circle of friends, but what's the attraction for you to someone who thinks Mount Rushmore is a natural rock formation?"
"You have to see her, Jack."
"So it's just physical?"
"Just?" Kid shook his head slowly. "No. That doesn't begin to describe it. I mean, yeah, sure, it's very physical, with Samsonite it's kind of scarily physical, but these women – all of them – they're almost perfect, I mean, really perfect physical specimens. And they're working all the time to get themselves even closer to perfect."
"As long as it's not superficial."
"Give me some slack here. It's not totally superficial. It's not only their looks. They're sensual. They're hungry. They want things – I don't know how else to describe it – and their want is just overpowering. At least to me it is." Kid laughed, an attempt to brush away his sudden seriousness. "It's another difference between our worlds, Jack. You live in a kind of rational one, where thinking and responsibility and work are what count. Me, I'm surrounded by all these people who'll do anything to make themselves beautiful or get rich or-"
"Or just get whatever it is they want." When Kid nodded, Jack said, "I think I met one of those. Down in Charlottesville."
"Yeah," Kid answered. "I guess maybe you did."
Jack finished his third set of crunches and lay still on the board, not even having the energy to speak for a long while. When Kid asked, "You want to try a fourth set? Really go for the burn?" Jack waved him away and Kid must have seen the look in his eye because for once he didn't press him. He stepped back and let Jack do his best to recuperate.
Within seconds, Jack forced himself to sit up. Rubbing out the cramp that now gripped his stomach, he turned to Kid and said, "These people… your Slashes… your Team… doing anything to get what they want… is that what makes them dangerous?"
Kid thought for a moment. "No," he said. "What makes the Team so dangerous is what they do when they don't get what they want."