“What kind of friend am I? What would you do if you were me?”
“Okay, look, if I haven’t paid you by this time next week, you won’t have to kick me out. I’ll leave, and you can bring someone else in here.”
“A week,” Courtney says skeptically.
“I swear. Cross my heart and all that shit.”
“I’m an idiot, a total fucking idiot,” Courtney says and hangs up.
There’s no sense trying to go back to sleep now. Allison sits up in bed, reaches for the remote on the coffee table, and clicks on the television. As NY1 comes on with the latest news roundup, she grabs her phone again to see whether she has any e-mails or Facebook messages.
She’ll definitely call her mother this afternoon. First, though, she’ll go online and read up on bedbugs so she has plenty of convincing details to work into her story. She thinks, in a way, her mother may even know she’s being taken advantage of, but it’s not nearly as unsettling as those times in the past when Allison disappeared. Just took off for a few months. At least, when Allison hits her up for money, her mother knows where she is.
Allison glances from the phone to the TV and back again. Hears something about showers in the afternoon, clearing by evening.
She opens Safari on her phone and does a search for “bedbugs.” Holy shit, only about a million stories. She narrows the search by adding the words “New York” and just about as many results come back.
Glances back at the TV. Someone has jumped onto the subway tracks on the Sixth Avenue line. Back to her phone. Thinks, maybe get the name of an actual bug-killing company that the landlord’s hiring, give the story that extra ring of authenticity.
Looks back up at the TV. Is about to look away when she thinks she catches a glimpse of a face she recognizes.
WTF?
Her mouth drops open in stunned silence as a reporter standing on the sidewalk outside some downtown office building says, “Expected to be a formidable challenger to the incumbent governor, Morris Sawchuck, seen here with his wife, Bridget, is perceived as being much stronger on law and order issues, and has made no secret that he would like to see a return to more traditional values—it’s a major plank in his campaign platform—although he has not said exactly how he could go about restoring them if he’s elected governor. He’s said to have some very powerful people working behind the scenes for him, including the former vice president of the United States. Back to you—”
She turns off the set and stares into space for a moment, trying to take it all in. She still has the image in her head, of the couple getting out of the back of a town car, waving to supporters, going into a building to give a speech or something.
“Sawchuck?” Allison whispers. “The guy’s a goddamn poli-tician?”
She puts both hands on her head, runs her fingers out through her shoulder-length black hair, and lets out a very long breath.
“Fuck me,” she says to herself.
Allison is glad she hasn’t already called her mother, because there may be another solution to her cash flow problem.
SEVEN
“YOU’VE got an appointment today with Dr. Grigorin,” I said while Thomas poured some milk on his cereal. “Dad set it up a few weeks ago.”
“I don’t need to see her, Ray,” he said, not looking at me.
“Well, I’d appreciate it if you’d go. I know Dad thought it was good for you to see her once in a while.”
“I don’t want to go,” he said. “I have work to do.”
“You can do it when you get back. I know you can leave this house if you have to. You’d just rather not.”
“If I had a reason to go, I would go, Ray. But there isn’t one.”
I put my mug of coffee to my lips and took a drink. All Dad ever kept in the house was instant and it was pretty vile, but at least it had caffeine in it. I added a second spoonful of sugar. “There is a reason, Thomas. You, and I, have just been through something pretty traumatic. We’ve lost our father. And as difficult as this is for me to get through, I suspect it’s even more troubling for you. I mean, you guys lived under the same roof.”
“He got mad at me a lot,” Thomas said.
“Like when?”
“He was always telling me to do things I didn’t want to do.” He gave me a look. “Kind of like you right now.”
“But Dad was never mean to you,” I said. “Annoyed once in a while, maybe, but not mean.”
“I guess,” he said. “He didn’t like me staying in my room all day. He wanted me to go out. He didn’t understand how busy I am.”
“It’s not healthy,” I said. “You need some air. Thomas, you have to know, in your heart, that there’s a problem when you’re so addicted to what you’re doing that you don’t even go to Dad’s funeral.”