Tao Lin - Shoplifting From American Apparel

Robert looked at Sam with an excited facial expression.

“He’s wearing the exact same clothes, I think,” said Sam.

The young Asian was about one hundred feet away.

“How is he walking so fast,” said Sam in an expressive voice.

The young Asian stood on the corner of St. Mark’s and Second Avenue repeatedly saying “Do you want to eat?” with unfocused eyes. The young Asian crossed the street and kicked over a metal trashcan.

“Do you think he really just wanted to eat?” said Robert.

“I don’t know, that’s funny,” said Sam. “He ate a lot in jail.”

Robert and Sam crossed the street and didn’t see the young Asian then saw him in the distance on a dark street. “He seems so fucked,” said Sam. “He’s moved around for like four blocks and no one seems to see him or something.” Robert said the young Asian was probably a vampire. Sam said the young Asian talked to a public attorney in jail and sounded normal and said he lived with his girlfriend in the East Village. They followed the young Asian for about fifteen minutes. The young Asian was walking in different directions. Robert and Sam turned around sometimes. The young Asian noticed he was being followed. “I didn’t rape my sister, two guys raped my sister, ask anyone, ask one of my friends,” he said quietly to Sam.

A few weeks later around 1 a.m. Robert and Sam were on a bus to Atlantic City. Robert was reading a Bret Easton Ellis novel and Sam was reading printouts of the Wikipedia pages for Texas hold ’em and blackjack. Sam said he was going to eat a giant steak with A1 sauce if he won $2,000 or lost all but $20.

Around 5 a.m. at the Tropicana Sam was at a blackjack table and Robert was at a Texas hold ’em table. Sam text messaged Robert: “Up 400. Feel like impossible to lose. Want to leave soon?”

Robert text messaged: “Up 17. Coming in 20 minutes.”

Around 6 a.m. on a down escalator Sam took a cell phone photo of $800 in hundreds and twenties and sent it to tips@gawker.com. Robert and Sam walked around looking for a buffet that was open. They took a cab to the other side of Atlantic City. They walked into the Borgata. About twenty minutes later Sam text messaged Robert: “Lost 600, steak soon. Excited.”

Robert text messaged: “Lost 40, coming now.”

“Hey,” he said to Sam at the blackjack table.

“I’m just going to lose the rest really fast,” said Sam grinning. “I’ll save twenty dollars for steak.” Three people Sam’s age who didn’t know each other were also at the blackjack table. After a few minutes Sam had $20 left. He and Robert walked around the casino smiling.

“I feel really good,” said Sam. “How do you feel?”

“I feel really good also,” said Robert.

“Should we go to the buffet,” said Sam.

“I don’t know,” said Robert. “Do you want to?”

“I’m not sure. If we feel good we shouldn’t eat at the buffet, right?”

Robert laughed. “Yeah, we probably shouldn’t eat at the buffet. I mean, I don’t care, if you want to go I’ll go.” They got on a $2 trolley back to the Tropicana. It was around 9 a.m. and sunny. “What about that pizza place,” said Sam pointing at a sign outside the trolley.

“I don’t know, do you want to?” said Robert.

“No, not really. I’m not hungry, I think.”

At the Tropicana they stood waiting for the bus to New York City.

“The Bodega is so far from the other casinos,” said Sam.

“What do you mean,” said Robert. “What bodega?”

“That place,” said Sam. “With the sexy waitresses.”

“The Borgata,” said Robert.

“It should be called the Bodega,” said Sam grinning. “That’s funny, why would they name it something that sounds like ‘bodega,’ bodegas are like the shittiest stores that exist.”

“Do you think you’ll want to come back again?” said Robert.

“I don’t know. I feel like I can’t win. I would just lose all my money. But I feel happy here, I think.”

“Do you want an avocado?” said Robert on the bus.

“No thank you,” said Sam and closed his eyes.

At Penn Station Robert got on a train uptown to pet-sit. Sam went to his apartment and slept. The next night they were back in Atlantic City. They walked on the boardwalk by the beach around 4 a.m. “Everyone here seems, like, fucked, but in a good way,” said Sam. “I feel at home here.”

They walked into a deli and looked at shriveled potatoes.

“We should have a party here,” said Robert on the street.

“We should just move here,” said Sam.

“I feel like if I lived here I would just wake up every day and eat pizza, and play poker for two hours, and go home and watch TV, and drink beer,” said Robert.

They walked past a strip bar and a house with a “For Rent” sign.

“I just want to be crying in someone’s arms,” said Robert.

A few months later Sam was sitting on his mattress with his MacBook drinking iced coffee and listening to music. It was around 3 p.m. and the room was very sunny. Sam had woken early that day and left his apartment and completed work in the library and came back to his apartment. “I want to do Pilates alone in my room to a DVD on my laptop every night,” he said to Robert on Gmail chat. “I’m buying a Pilates mat once I’m unemployed. I’m creating a plan to be really good. So far I’m doing Pilates.”

“That’s great,” said Robert.

“Are you serious,” said Sam.

“Sort of,” said Robert. “I mean, if I thought there was anything ‘important’ or something it would be being good.” Robert said Sheila called twice earlier from the mental hospital and that he gave her Sam’s phone number and told her to call Sam.

“Thanks,” said Sam. “How is she.”

“Sounded bad. The conversation started with her saying ‘I think Sam brainwashed you. I like Sam. I like Stephen.’ She just told me, like, things that didn’t make sense. She said that drugs didn’t have anything to do with her being there. That she put herself there.”

“I wonder if she’ll get better,” said Sam.

“I felt sad. Connie was here. I felt funny about the situation. Later when Connie said things like ‘why are you sad’ I could say nothing and she would say things like ‘are you worried about your friend.’ ”

“Haha,” said Sam. “ ‘Concrete reason.’ ”

“Yes,” said Robert. “ ‘Easy to understand.’ ”

They talked about Sheila for a few minutes.

“I thought about sex drive today,” said Sam. “People with high motivation to have sex all the time don’t like Lorrie Moore, I thought, citing Paul Mitchell and not really thinking more about it.”

“That’s funny,” said Robert.

Sam said a person’s name and said he wished their last name were “Lollapalooza.” Robert said he also wished that. “I feel good that fast food exists even when I’m not eating it,” said Robert. “I just think about it and feel better.”

“I long for a Wendy’s Spicy Chicken Sandwich,” said Sam.

“We should get them together,” said Robert.

“But I know I won’t feel good eating it or after eating it,” said Sam. “I only like thinking about it.”

“We should buy them then throw them away,” said Robert.

“Carry it around,” said Sam. “I would do that.”

It was getting dark out, or the sun had moved, and Sam’s room was less bright. Sam looked around. His cup of iced coffee was empty. “I felt emotional today thinking about the past, like a year and a half ago, at Sheila’s house,” he said. “I think because I haven’t been awake in the daytime for an extended period in so long and was reminded of the last time I was in a sunny room on a computer after having been up four to five hours, which was at Sheila’s house, I think.”