Part 4 (1/2)
”I'm going back to New York soon,” I say.
”When are you going back?”
”I don't know.” I pause. ”I have some things I need to finish up here first and...”
”Yeah,” he murmurs. ”I guess you have your reasons to stay.” Rip lets it hang there before adding, ”But I think you'll be pretty interested in what I have to tell you.”
”I'll check my schedule and let you know.”
”Schedule?” he asks. ”That's funny.” he asks. ”That's funny.”
”Why is that funny?” I ask back. ”I'm really busy.”
”You're a writer. What do you mean, busy?” busy?” His voice had been slack but now it isn't. ”Who have you been hanging out with?” His voice had been slack but now it isn't. ”Who have you been hanging out with?”
”I'm...at the casting sessions pretty much all day.”
A pause before ”Really.” It's not a question.
”Look, Rip, I'll be in touch.”
Rip follows this with, ”Well, how is The Listeners The Listeners coming along?” coming along?”
”It's coming along.” I'm straining. ”It's very...busy.”
”Yeah, you're very busy. You already said that.”
Move it out of this realm, make it impersonal, concentrate on gossip, anything to elicit sympathy so we can get off the phone. I try another tactic: ”And I'm really stressed about what happened to Kelly. It really stressed me out.”
Rip pauses. ”Yeah? I heard about that.” He pauses again. ”I didn't know you two were close.”
”Yeah. We were pretty close.”
The sound Rip makes after I say this is like a m.u.f.fled giggle, a private riddle whose answer amused him.
”I guess he found himself in a slightly improbable situation. Who knows what kind of people he got involved with?” He gives both sentences a syncopated rhythm.
I pull the phone away from my ear and stare at it until I'm calm enough to bring it back. There's nothing to say.
”That's what happens when you get involved with the wrong element” is all Rip offers, his voice crawling toward me.
”What's the wrong element?”
A pause and then Rip's voice becomes, for the first time I can remember, vaguely annoyed. ”Do you really have to ask me that, Clay?”
”Look, Rip, I'll get in touch.”
”Yeah, do that. I think the sooner you hear this, the better.”
”Why don't you just tell me now?”
”Because it's...intimate,” Rip says. ”Yeah. It's a very intimate thing.”
Later that week I'm roaming the fifth floor of the Barneys on Wils.h.i.+re, stoned, constantly checking my iPhone for messages from Rain that never appear, glancing at the price tags on the sleeves of s.h.i.+ny s.h.i.+rts, things to show off in, unable to concentrate on anything but Rain's absence, and in the men's department I can't even keep up the most rudimentary conversation with a salesman over a Prada suit and I end up at the bar in Barney Greengra.s.s ordering a b.l.o.o.d.y Mary and drinking it with my sungla.s.ses on. Rip is having lunch with Griffin Dyer and Eric Thomas, a city councilman who resembles a lifeguard, and whom Rip had been complaining about but now seems friendly with, and Rip's wearing a skull T-s.h.i.+rt he's too old for and baggy j.a.panese pants and he shakes my hand and when he sees the b.l.o.o.d.y Mary and that I'm alone he murmurs, ”So, you're really busy, huh?”
Behind him I can feel the burning wind coming in from the patio. Rip's shocked-open eyes are bloodshot and I notice how muscular his arms are.
”Yeah.”
”Sitting here? Brooding at Barneys?”
”Yeah.” I s.h.i.+ft on the bar stool and grip the icy gla.s.s.
”Getting a little scruffy there.”
I touch my cheek, surprised at how thick the stubble is and by how long it's been since I shaved and I quickly do the math: the day after Rain left.
”Yeah.”
The orange face contemplates something and as it leans into me it says, ”You're so much further out there than I thought, dude.”
A trainer at Equinox introduces himself after I noticed him gazing at me while I work out with my trainer and asks me if I'd like to have coffee with him at Caffe Primo next door to the gym. Cade is wearing a black T-s.h.i.+rt with the word trainer at Equinox introduces himself after I noticed him gazing at me while I work out with my trainer and asks me if I'd like to have coffee with him at Caffe Primo next door to the gym. Cade is wearing a black T-s.h.i.+rt with the word TRAINER TRAINER on it in small block letters and he has full lips and a white smile and wide blue eyes and carefully groomed stubble and he smells clean, almost antiseptic, and his voice manages to sound both cheerful and hostile at the same time and he's sucking on a water bottle filled with a reddish liquid and sitting in a way that makes you realize he's waiting for someone to notice him and beneath the shade of an umbrella strewn with Christmas lights I'm staring at the traffic on Sunset as we sit at an outdoor table and I'm thinking about the beautiful boy on the treadmill wearing the on it in small block letters and he has full lips and a white smile and wide blue eyes and carefully groomed stubble and he smells clean, almost antiseptic, and his voice manages to sound both cheerful and hostile at the same time and he's sucking on a water bottle filled with a reddish liquid and sitting in a way that makes you realize he's waiting for someone to notice him and beneath the shade of an umbrella strewn with Christmas lights I'm staring at the traffic on Sunset as we sit at an outdoor table and I'm thinking about the beautiful boy on the treadmill wearing the I STILL HAVE A DREAM I STILL HAVE A DREAM T-s.h.i.+rt and realize that it might not have been ironic. T-s.h.i.+rt and realize that it might not have been ironic.
”I read The Listeners,” The Listeners,” Cade says, glancing away from his cell phone, a text that had been bothering him. Cade says, glancing away from his cell phone, a text that had been bothering him.
”Really?” I sip my coffee and offer a tight smile, unsure of why I'm here.
”Yeah, a buddy of mine auditioned for the role of Tim.”
”Cool,” I say. ”Are you auditioning?”
”I'd like to,” Cade says. ”Do you think you can get me in?”
”Oh,” I say, now getting it. ”Yeah. Sure.”
Softly and with a rehea.r.s.ed shyness he says, ”Maybe we can hang out sometime.”
”Like...when?” I'm momentarily confused.
”Like, I don't know, just hang,” he says. ”Maybe go to a concert, see a band...”
”Yeah, that sounds cool.”
Young girls walk by in a trance holding yoga mats, the scent of patchouli and rosemary breezing over us, the glimpse of a b.u.t.terfly tattoo on a shoulder, and I'm so keyed up about not talking to Rain in almost five days that I keep expecting a car to crash on Sunset because everything seems imminent with disaster and Cade keeps posing constantly as if he'd been photographed his entire life and in front of the H&M store across the plaza men are rolling out a short red carpet.
”Why did you come to me?” I ask Cade.
”Someone pointed you out,” he says.
”No, I mean, why me? Why not someone else connected with the movie?”