Andrew Vachss - Down in the Zero

"Stay here," I told her. She didn't reply.

I was about a half hour putting together everything I wanted. Nice thing about rich towns— the deli displayed a massive selection, and the art supply shop had just what I needed. I carried it back in a couple of environmentally correct paper bags with store logos plastered on them, put it all in the trunk.

Fancy was just where I left her, still looking down at her lap, her seat belt still buckled. I opened her door, reached across her and unsnapped the belt. "Come on," I said, taking her hand, pulling her up. "Give me a hand with this," I told her, pointing at the canvas top to the Miata.

She dutifully unhooked her side of the top, helped me fold it back behind the seats. We climbed back inside and took off. Out of town, meandering until I found the back roads that led to Crystal Cove. I played with the Miata on the curves a little bit— the little car seemed happier higher up on the tach.

Fancy still hadn't said a word. We were on a smooth straight stretch of blacktop. "Unbutton your blouse," I told her.

"What?"

"Unbutton your blouse, bitch," I said again, smacking my hand lightly against the side of her thigh.

She undid a couple of buttons, not speaking. "Do another one," I said, reaching inside her blouse as she obeyed, feeling for the clasp. It was in the front, a solid notch between her heavy, thick breasts. I popped it open and they came free.

"Very nice," I said, reaching my hand under her loose skirt. She looked straight ahead. I found her plump sex under the cotton, pinched hard. She made a little squeal. I pinched harder, feeling the wetness come.

"You gonna behave yourself?" I asked her.

"Yes sir," she said, still looking down.

"You gonna do what I want?"

"Yes, sir. Oh!" she yelled as I pinched her harder.

"What I want, I want a bouncy, merry girl to go on a picnic with me, see?"

"Yes."

"Then act like you understand. Close up your top. And give me a kiss."

She closed the bra, buttoned the blouse, twisted in her seat and kissed me on the cheek. I patted her knee, kept driving until I found the same spot we'd watched the hospital from. I pulled the Miata off the road. If anyone ever asked me another time, I'd been there before, legit.

I opened the trunk and took out some of the stuff I'd bought. There was no blanket back there— I guess rich kids didn't use them.

We walked away from the car until I found a spot under a tree. I took off my jacket, spread it out on the ground. "Sit, bitch," I told her. "I hope this is big enough to keep your fat butt off the grass."

"Close enough," she giggled, some color back in her face.

I unpacked the big paper bag. Handed Fancy a thick, stuffed croissant.

"What is this?" she asked.

"Halibut salad. The guy at the deli assured me it's the latest craze."

"Ummm," she said, taking a deep bite. "It's delicious. What did you get for yourself?"

"Roast beef and chopped liver" I said, biting into my pumpernickel bread sandwich.

"Ugh. Cholesterol City!"

"Shut up— it's good for you."

"Oh sure," she said, her mouth full of sandwich, gray eyes alive again.

I handed her a small bottle of champagne, opened a bottle of Ginseng Up for myself.

"You don't ever drink?" she asked me.

"No."

"How come?"

"I was overseas. In Africa. During some stupid war, a long time ago. I got malaria and some other stuff. Damaged my liver. Booze feels like acid running through my guts."

"Oh, you poor man.

"Because I can't drink alcohol? Big deal."

"No, I mean…a war. And all those diseases. It must have been terrible."

"It's over," I told her. "That's what happens with things. You survive them, then they're over.

"Some things," she said.

I held up my bottle of soda, acknowledging the truth.

The sun was warm. We finished the meal. I lay on my back, head in Fancy's lap, smoking a cigarette, watching the clouds. Waiting.

"She always thinks she knows everything," Fancy said. "She always has to be on top. Charm…she's had a charmed life, all right."

"What was bothering you so much?"

"Did you see the way she looked at you? At me?"

"Yeah."

"That's what I hate about the scene so much— you can't ever have anything private. Anything to yourself. That's why the videos don't matter— they all know about you anyway. They say it's like a family…the hanky–spanky people say that, anyway. Us against Them, you know?"

"Yeah."

"Well, it isn't. It just isn't. It's a way of having…sex, I guess— it isn't all you are. But with them, that's all there is. That's the way Charm sees it— if she knows what you like, she knows you . She saw me, sitting there like that…I wanted to confuse her, just for once."

"Why couldn't I just be a friend of yours?"

"I wouldn't have a friend at my house. Not a man friend. I never had one, anyway.

"Not a boyfriend? Even in school?"

"Sometimes. But never for long."

"Why would it bother you so much if Charm thought I was a trick?"

"Because you're not , that's all. She always wants to find out about things. How they work. Keys, she calls them. She's a biochemist. She even has her own lab."

"Where?"

"In her cottage. She has one just like mine, but she doesn't live there. She lives in the house."

"All alone?"

"Except for the staff."

"Your parents are…?"

"Dead. My mother had a stroke of some kind. A blood vessel broke in her head. It was a long time ago."

"What happened to your father?"

"He killed himself," Fancy said, fingers playing idly in my hair. "He left a note. On the computer. Then he took sleeping pills. A lot of them."

"I'm…sorry."

"Don't be," she said.

She had her door open almost before I brought the Miata to a stop in her driveway.

"Where's the fire?" I asked her.

"I forgot," she said, sounding forlorn. "Remember what you asked me to do? I have to get going, make some calls, find out— "

"Slow down, little girl. It's not a matter of life and death."

"It is to me. I said I'd do it. I told you I'd do it. I want you to trust me."

"I do trust you," I said, grabbed the front of her blouse, pulling her close for a kiss. Thinking about other videotapes she'd starred in— ones she'd never showed me. I handed her the other paper bag I'd picked up. "Put this in your front room. And don't open it, bitch."

"What's in there?"

"You'll see."

"When?"

"Tonight. After dark."

The Plymouth was missing. I went upstairs. Found a note neatly taped to the outside of the door.

"Be back by 5," it said. Signed: "Sonny."

I changed my clothes, glad I hadn't been wearing anything Michelle bought— I wouldn't want to face her with grass stains on the fancy duds. I took the Lexus, drove till I found a pay phone. Dialed the Mole. He answered the way he always does, with silence.

"It's me," I said. "Best time to go in is this Sunday. Anytime between eleven in the morning and four in the afternoon. I'm going to leave a car in the parking lot of the Three Trees Mall, right outside of town. Terry's seen it— he's got the key."

The Mole grunted— I couldn't tell if he was surprised.

"Tell them to take that car when they go in. Return it to the same spot when they're done. Anyone sees it in the driveway, they won't get excited."

"Okay."

"I'll come back, late Sunday, all right?"

"Yes."

"I've had it with take–out," I told the kid. "How about if we go someplace, have a meal for dinner?"

"Okay, sure. Where do you want to go?"

"Anyplace someone else does the cooking, preferably right on the premises."

He flashed me a grin. We took the Lexus. "It's only a couple of days until the races," he said by way of explanation.