Giles Blunt - No Such Creature

“Galahad awakes,” Max called. “How is thy head?”

“Hurts. Everything hurts.”

“Well, you have an angel of mercy tending you. It can hardly be hellish.”

Sabrina leaned forward. “Is he always like that?”

“Like what?”

“So theatrical.”

“Always. Oh, my head hurts.”

He lay back on the bed. Sabrina sat on the edge and took his shoes off. It felt strange but far from unpleasant. Even in his pain he was thrilled by her proximity.

“Thanks for cleaning up my face,” he said.

“No, no. I should be thanking you. You were so relentless! You just wouldn’t quit.”

“I just wanted him to stop slapping you. Are you okay?”

She smiled, and Owen felt something open up inside him, as if a lock had turned. “You’re the one who got hurt,” she said. “And Bill, of course.”

“Max hit him with something, didn’t he.”

“A parking meter. There was a pile of them at the corner of the lot. Talk about theatrical.”

“Who was that guy, anyway?” Owen said. “He sounded like some kind of preacher.”

Sabrina shook her head. “He works for a hotel security outfit. He got born again a few years ago and he takes his Bible pretty seriously.”

“I’ll say. Is he your husband?”

She laughed, and it was a sound he wanted to hear again as soon as possible. “Husband? God, no.” Sabrina helped him rearrange his pillow. “Bill is, um, obsessive, I guess you’d say. He helped me out when I was in a-a very bad way, and ever since then he’s been convinced we were made for each other. He’s not always like you saw him.”

“But he hits you.”

“That was just the second time. I told him the first time, if he did it again, I’d leave and he’d never see me again. He can actually be very sweet sometimes, very thoughtful. He kind of made himself indispensable. At least it seemed that way. Bill has lots of good qualities-he’s generous, kind-hearted.”

“He’s also bat-shit crazy.”

“Well, if I’d known what I was getting into …”

“How’d you meet a guy like that in the first place?”

“I was working in this bar near the Strip, making hardly any money. My landlord was booting me out of my basement apartment because he sold his house. Bill was a regular in this bar-he’d come in twice a week for a beer and a shot of Canadian Club, and he was always very friendly but, you know, nothing more than that.

“Then one day he asked me how I was doing, and I just totally lost it. And he was great. A real rock, you know? He offered to help me find a place to live, and when he saw how tiny and grubby the places were-the ones I could afford-he said, ‘No way. I’ve got room at my house. You come and stay with me.’ No, don’t look like that. I knew I could trust him. So I moved in with him-it was just supposed to be for a few days, but before I knew it, three months had gone by-nearly four now. He’s never made the slightest move on me, not seriously anyway. I guess he tried to hold my hand a couple of times. But when things started looking up for me, ho boy.”

“He got possessive?”

“He always wants to walk me to work, or go with me when I go anywhere. When I get off shift, he’s outside the restaurant. Every time I pick up my cellphone, there’s a message from him, even though I’m staying at his place. ‘Sabrina, I miss you.’ ‘Just want you to know I’m thinking of you.’ Stuff like that. It might be romantic under other circumstances, but, I mean, he’s twice my age and we have exactly zero in common.”

“So, why’d you stay?”

“I was broke. The new job at Luigi’s pays really well, but I was totally in debt. And besides, he wasn’t a serious pain until just the last couple of weeks. Now, if he sees me talking to any man-any man at all-he gets crazy jealous. I’ve never so much as kissed him, and he’s insane with jealousy. Like tonight. He was waiting for me at the bar in the restaurant and, I don’t know, he didn’t like the way I smiled at you or something. And when I got off work, he was waiting outside and I knew it was gonna be trouble, and that’s pretty much when you came along.”

“You going to stay in Las Vegas?”

She shook her head. He loved the way she did it, pursing her lips, closing her eyes, and then that little side-to-side movement that made her hair, now that it was untied, swirl against her shoulders.

“I don’t really know where I’m going or what I’m doing.”

“That’s hard to believe,” Owen said. “You look like someone who knows exactly what she’s doing.”

“I was studying design-jewellery mostly-at the Pratt Institute in Brooklyn, but I can’t really afford it. My father’s been in prison forever, as I guess you know, and the student loans are going to cripple me for life. I’m not sure it’s worth finishing. I thought I’d make a killing as a croupier, but that’s actually a hard job to get, and let’s just say my family background didn’t help.”

“What are you going to do now-I mean about Bill?”

“I don’t know. I can’t stay at his place anymore, obviously. I can’t even go to work or he’ll find me. I was going to leave Vegas in a couple of weeks anyway. It’s kind of depressing being in a town where everyone’s losing money.”

“We’re heading to Tucson tomorrow. Why don’t you come with us?”

“What would I do in Tucson?”

“Well, you won’t get beaten up, for one thing. And I guarantee no one’s going to quote the Bible.”

“Just Shakespeare.” That smile again.

“Come on. You’ll have a good time. We always do.”

“Well, if you think it’s all right. It might be a good way to put some space between me and Bill before I head back to New York.”

“Oh, I’m old, I’m old!” Max had turned off the television and was struggling, with much groaning, to rise from the sofa. “What doth gravity from his bed at midnight?” He shuffled toward them in a pair of white slippers bearing a Hilton monogram. “How now, boy? Feeling better?”

“Hey, Max, is it okay if Sabrina grabs a ride with us to Tucson?”

“Aha! The angel takes flight! My dear, I’m a mean old man-selfish, hideous, and somewhat given to excess-but I’ve never yet said no to a beautiful woman. You’re fleeing the Caliban of the parking lot?”

“I have to. But there’s no reason why you should help me. You’ve already done enough.”

“Nonsense. We have a brief appointment in the morning. You can pick up your goods and chattels, such as you require, and we’ll be three for the road. Right, boy?”

“Right.”

“Day or two later, we’ll be continuing on to El Paso. Perhaps you’d like to come along and visit your papa?”

“Uh, no. I doubt that I’ll be visiting my father.”

“What? But the man’s in hospital now. They finally let him out of his cell.”

“You and I have different opinions about my father. And, sorry, but I think mine is probably better informed. Can we just leave it at that?”

“ Tsk . A melancholy thing, family discord.” Max looked from Sabrina to Owen and back again. “I trust that in time your conscience will be your guide. And so, weary with toil, I haste me to my bed.” He lumbered toward his bedroom, pausing at the door. “On matters of gender, nakedness, sexual congress and all manner of behaviour falling under the general category of lust, Owen, I shall be brief: you are to remain a gentleman at all times.”

Owen rolled his eyes, which made his head throb even more than it already was.

“Hey, listen,” he said when Max had closed the door. “Let me take the top bunk. That’s where I always sleep. Otherwise, we’ll have to change the sheets.”

“Don’t you move. Just tell me where they are.” But Owen forced himself to sit up, climb to the top bunk, then lie down again, pretending the whole time not to be in agony.