Кэндес Бушнелл - Four Blondes

"Do you think so?" James said. "I never thought about it that way. You could be right.”

All James does is agree. He agrees and then he does nothing.

"If s too much, James," she says now. "If s too much for me.”

"I know," he says. (He can't even plan a vacation. She plans it, and then he goes along for the ride.) He does nothing.

Winnie knows what she has to do. She has to stop taking care of James. And start taking care of herself. Isn't that what all the shrinks tell you to do in relationships? Stop focusing on the man? And focus on yourself? (Of course, if you stop focusing on the man, he'll probably leave. That’s what they forget to tell you.) She has to focus on her needs.

Winnie is going to sleep with Tanner and she's excited.

She calls her office. Speaks to her assistant. "What’s up?" the assistant says.

"I'm still in this emergency situation. I won't be back this afternoon. I'll call at the end of the day.”

"Someone named Jess Fukees called," her assistant says.

"He's not important. He's only the CEO of the company.”

"Okay," the assistant says. (Sarcasm is beyond her.) "It's not okay," Winnie says. "Call his secretary and tell her that I'm out of the office ... no, out of town, and I'll call him first thing tomorrow.”

"You go girl," the assistant says, and hangs up. Winnie goes home. "Hello," she says to the Jamaican nanny, who jumps up and quickly turns off the TV. Winnie ignores this.

"Mrs. Dieke. You're home early.”

"I'm not home at all," Winnie says. "I'm just stopping by. On my way to a meeting.”

She goes into the bedroom and opens her closet. Rifles through her shoes. Unopened, and still in their box, are the strappy sandals James gave her for her birthday.

She puts them on.

"Good-bye," she says to the Jamaican nanny.

She hails a cab. "Morgans Hotel on Madison Avenue," she says. At the desk, she says, "I'd like you to ring Mr. Paul Bunyan, please.”

“Is he expecting you?”

"Yes," Winnie says. She looks around the lobby.

If s so small, if s claustrophobic. She drums her nails on the white linoleum.

The desk clerk turns away and whispers into the phone. "Mr. Hart? There's a woman here to see you?”

"Winnie," Winnie says.

"Winnie," the clerk says. He puts down the phone. "You can go up. It's Suite A. Top floor.”

"Thank you," Winnie says.

She takes the elevator. Gets out in a narrow, gray carpeted hallway. She presses the buzzer for Suite A.

"Just a minute ... coming," Tanner says.

"Coming... u h ... uh ... ohmigod ... co-o-o-o-ming." He flings open the door.

"Hello," Winnie says.

"This is an unexpected surprise.”

"I hope I'm not ... interrupting anything.”

“If you were, I would throw her out.”

The bedroom is on the first floor. Winnie passes the open door. The sheets are rumpled. The suite is a duplex, two floors with terraces. She goes up the steps. Tanner follows her. He's freshly showered. She can smell his cologne. (Cologne! The last time she was with a man who wore cologne was probably fifteen years ago. She can still remember it. Paco Rabanne. It was that one-night stand, and she probably wouldn't have had sex with him if it hadn't been for the cologne.) "I'm just having tea," Tanner says. "Want some?”

“Sure," Winnie says. She sits down in front of a glass coffee table containing a tray with two teacups, a pot of tea, and lemon slices. "Were you expecting someone?”

"No. Someone just left. Unexpectedly," Tanner says.

They both laugh. "Evie?" Winnie says.

"I don't kiss and tell," he says. He pours the tea. "I've got something of yours," she says.

"I like your shoes.”

"James gave them to me for my birthday.”

"Old Jimmy's got better taste than I expected." He pauses. Takes a sip of tea. Looks at her over his teacup. "How is old Jimmy, anyway? He wasn't in very good shape when he left here last night.”

"I think he's going to live. Unfortunately," Winnie says.

"Have you come here to force me to make amends?”

"You could say that," Winnie says.

"I think I know what you've come here for, Winnie.”

"I think you do," Winnie says. (She isn't sure what to say next. She's never been good at flirting. Even with James, at the beginning, she flirted by being interested in his work. Her loss of interest in him sexually has decreased at the same rate as her loss of interest in his work.) "I think this belongs to you/' she says. She opens her purse and hands him the small vial of cocaine. "Aha," he says. "What would I do without this?”

“I thought you might need it," Winnie says. "Thank you very much," he says.

He stands up. He comes around behind her. Winnie doesn't breathe.

"Winnie," he says. "How long have we known each other.”

"Fifteen years.”

"I always said James was a lucky bastard.”

The Big Apple town car pulls up in front of a corrugated metal warehouse. Amber and James get out of the car.

"What if we get caught?" James says. (God, Winnie's right. He sounds like a girl. He should be in charge here. But he isn't.) "So? They'll arrest us. I've got a great lawyer. We'll be out in twenty-four hours," Amber says.

"I don't think my wife is going to like it if I end up in jail," James says.

"Who gives a fuck about your wife?" she says.

Do you know her? James wants to say. Instead, he says, "If s just that the last twenty-four hours have been a bit ... trying for her.”

"By the way, exactly what has happened to you in the last twenty-four hours? You haven't explained this to me yet," Amber says.

"I've already been in the hospital," James says, picking his way over the broken sidewalk. "Ambulatory surgery? Liposuction? That stuff?”

“No, not exactly.”

Amber pulls open the door to the warehouse.

"Are you just going to walk right in?" James asks. Amber turns. "Excuse me, James, but I think that's what doors are for?”

The warehouse is empty.

Was he really expecting anything else? (Why is he here? He hopes he knows.) "Christ. We're too late," Amber says. She lights up a cigarette. "They moved the fuckers. I should have known I couldn't trust Danny Pico's driver.”

She throws down the cigarette and stomps out. "What do we do now?" James says.

"We go back. To Manhattan. What else?" she says over her shoulder.

They get back into the town car. "My house, please," Amber says. She looks out the window. Bites her lower lip. "Fuck it," she says. "Now I'm just going to have to make it up. Pretend I saw monkeys.”

"Make it up?" James says.

"Everybody makes shit up. Who's going to know?" Her expression changes. She looks like a scared little girl. "James," she says. "You don't think ... I'm a liar, do you? I'm the most honest person you'll ever meet in your life. This was the address Danny Pico's driver gave me. If s not my fault they moved the monkeys.”

"No, of course not," James says.

"People always think I'm lying. If s because I'm beautiful and smart. And I actually go out and get these stories. They sit around in their offices, you know. They're jealous. I can't help it if they're jealous. If s not my fault.”

Holy shit, James thinks. She's going to cry. "Hey," he says. "It's not that bad.”

"I know you can understand, because I'm sure people are jealous of you, too." She moves closer. "You're just like me, James," she says, in that sexy, raspy voice. (Is he just ike her? Who cares.) "I'm just like you, James," she says. "We're like twins." Suddenly she's kissing him. She's so easy. She's so great. (Of course she's not a liar. How could a girl like this be a liar?) Does she know he wants her as much as she wants him? He puts his hand down the front of her shirt, squeezing great soft handfuls of breast. He wants to pull down his pants and give it to her right then (the way he did once when he was seventeen with the ugly, fat girl who would do it with anyone, only he couldn't get it in and came between the wet, moist crack in her ass). Amber puts her hand on his penis. She moans.