The King Is Dead i:.!
There were days when, no matter in which direction she turned, she would find herself facing her own reflection… The rows of mirrors along the wall doubled the space in the room in which thirty women, bodies honed, exercised in unison. The instructor, a rail-thin redhead dressed in no nonsense workout clothes, led the drill.
"Higher! Higher! Higher!" she ordered, ponytail bouncing. "Impact!
Impact! Impact!
Gelsey, in the back row, center, pranced to the commands. Panting, sweating into her leotard, exhilarated by her own incipient exhaustion, she couldn't take her eyes off the images dancing across the mirrors ahead. Faces, torsos, arms, legs-limbs scissored and eyes flashed.
Tails of hair swung like whips. Thirty pairs of twins performed synchronous jumping jacks. "Up-down! Up-down! Higher! Higher!
Higher!"
Gelsey was not the only one to regard the reflections. The entire class watched itself, for the silvered glass seduced. The wall of mirrors became a huge screen inspiring effort and discipline. It was like being in a theater, performing and watching at the same time-thirty female narcissist, each regarding and loving her own reflection, each asking:
"Mirror, mirror on the wall/Who is the fairest one of all?"
On the edge of fatigue, Gelsey wanted only to merge with her mirror image, meet her dream-sister on the glass. But, understanding mirrors, she knew that although one can stand outside looking in, or inside looking out, to linger on the surface plane is impossible.
"Higher! Higher! Higher!" the instructor cried.
After aerobics she met up with Tracy. They grabbed towels, mopped off, strolled together past men and women working out with weights. There were mirrors in the locker room, too, big ones over the sinks.
"Some class!" said Tracy when they reached their lockers. "That Ms.
Ponytail's a real bitch!"
Gelsey pulled off her damp leotard. "Don't be a wimp. She gives us our money's worth."
"Wimp! Give me a break, Gelsey." Tracy stared at her, pretending to be angry. Then suddenly she beamed. She was a small true blonde with a pretty face, features good but not quite good enough to allow her to earn her living as a model.
She was also the only one of Diana's girls whom Gelsey saw-not that they had all that much in common besides a devotion to high-impact aerobics.
Still, their time together under Diana had forged a bond. Gelsey knew that Tracy respected her-for her expertise at the game and for daring to leave Diana and strike out on her own. She had her suspicions as to why Tracy kept up the friendship. It had occurred to her that Diana had put Tracy up to it, to spy, to make sure that she didn't home in on the easy marks and that she kept her distance from the hotels. Still, Gelsey preferred to think Tracy was genuinely fond of her.
"So, what's going on with you lately?" Tracy asked. Towels wrapped about their bodies, they walked toward the shower room, passing a lightly steamed mirror. "Good scores? Bad scenes?" Tracy giggled.
"Actually, we had a lulu the other night."
They stood beneath adjoining showerheads, a tiled shoulder-high partition between them. Gelsey closed her eyes, reveling in the sharp sting of the water against her back.
"What happened?"
"Remember the new black girl I told you about?"
"Sooky?"
Tracy nodded. "She was over at the St. Moritz hitting up on a Jap. He had all the signs-diamond ring, Rolex, solid-gold lighter, the whole bit. So, comes time to go upstairs, Sooky's slobbering. Guy looks like Mr. Bucks. In the elevator she's already tasting the score, maybe thinking how she can screw Diana out of most of it." Tracy laughed.
"I know what's coming." Gelsey stepped out of the stream of hot water, started to soap up.
"Do you, now?"
"He was a plant. He worked for the hotel."
Tracy gazed at her through the spray. "How come you're so smart?" "You said it was a lulu. Anyway, the guy sounded too good to be true."
"Sometimes you'll meet a Mr. Bucks like that."
Gelsey gazed back. "Sure. Like Kirstin did, remember? Remember what that cost her?"
Tracy turned away. "I'll never forget."
"Diana wants you never to forget. That was the point of the exercise.
After that night I knew I had to quit. It was either fight or flight, so I flew." Gelsey stepped back under the showerhead and stood still, allowing the spray to rinse away the soap. "What happened with Sooky?
The house dick bust her?" She looked down at the foam swirling around her feet.
Tracy nodded. "He found her KO kit, took her in, but first Sooky called Diana from the hotel. Diana called Thatcher. Thatcher met Sooky at Central Booking. He got her out that night, which was too bad for Sooky because Diana was totally pissed. Thatcher gets a grand and a half for a night call like that, so soon as Sooky shows up at the apartment, Diana starts slapping her around. ' slut!
Cunt!" You know how crazy she gets. Then she fined her Thatcher's fee.
Which means Sooky'll be working free the next two weeks."
After they dried off, dressed and groomed themselves, they went downstairs to the snack bar for lunch. The place, low-ceilinged with a sleek, sterile look, was crowded, filled with healthy-looking young people, most dressed in workout clothes or sweats.
There were mirrors down there, too, behind the service counter and along the wall opposite the windows. Mirrors to pose before. Mirrors to admire oneself in. Mirrors to check out a stranger's butt. Mirrors everywhere-mirrors and reflections. Sometimes Gelsey thought she would scream if she saw one more cheap, stupid mirror.
"How long're you going to stay with her, Tracy?" Tracy picked a piece of watercress out of her salad. "I wish I could quit," she said without looking up.
"Do it! Walk out. Adi6s."
"Sure. Then what?" Tracy gestured toward a girl in an apron taking an order at another table. "Waitress? Bank teller? Squirt toilet water at old ladies in Lord amp; Taylor? There're all sorts of shitty jobs." Tracy shook her head. ', Gelsey, I don't have anywhere else to go."
"Ever think about going back to school?"
"You mean college?" Tracy bugged her eyes. "First I'd have to get my equivalency. Meantime, who'd pay the rent?"
Gelsey stared at her avocado. She had no answer for Tracy. "Listen to what you're saying. You're saying you're trapped. "
"Damn right!" Tracy's eyes turned fierce. "You just don't get it, do you?"
"Oh, I get it."
"Uh-uh, no, you don't. Because you've got another career. You go after marks just for fun. And you own your own place, too." Tracy arched her eyebrows. "Wherever it happens to be.'? She stared into Gelsey's eyes.