Maddox
After I check with the men and have been told that everything is all right, I stand at the back of the large hall and watch the party. Everything seems to be moving along as boringly as they usually do. Some of the partiers are drunk, but that’s to be expected. A few drunk people aren’t a problem. The men stationed outside have told me that nothing strange as happened out there. Just rich people turning up in rich people’s cars.
As I watch, Mason Abraham climbs the staircase and stops in the middle. He taps his champagne glass with his pipe. The band stops playing and the ruckus of the party quiets as everyone turns to the old billionaire.
“Ladies and gentleman,” Mason says, his voice a long, drawn-out rasp. Where’s his girlfriend? Where’s Cassandra? Seeing the old man with Cassandra gives me the feeling of snakes crawling over my skin. Not because I care about Cassandra being with an old man, but because I worry about the old man. Perhaps he thinks he has a piece of harmless eye candy; he doesn’t know how mad she is.
“We are here today to raise money for the noblest of causes,” Mason goes on. “The education of those in the third world in matters concerning computers. Computers, you see, are one of the most important tools in the twenty-first century.” More important than food, eh, old boy? “And if the poorest in the world are excluded from their use…”
I zone out from the speech and glance around the room. Everyone stands in small huddles, looking up at the old man. I watch for guns under jackets. Watch the people’s hands; make sure they don’t stray toward their pockets for no reason. I watch the staircase on either side of Mason, making sure nobody sneaks behind him. Watching all this is what I get paid for, and so I watch carefully. Mason’s voice goes on and on, and I watch.
I watch him so closely that I don’t even realize when Cassandra comes up next to me. I only notice her when she taps me on the arm. I spin, ready to fight, and then my hands fall to my sides when I see her grinning face. Cassandra, a woman who once ran into the winter air stark naked and stole my bike, smiles up at me. She places her forefinger on her lips and nods toward Mason.
I inch away from her, but she closes the gap, inching toward me. I want to scream at her, push her away, but I can’t do anything. Overreact, and we lose the job, the men lose their pay, and The Miseryed lose their reputation as men who can be trusted when it matters.
Finally, the speech comes to a close. “So once again I’d like to thank you all…”
Almost as soon as Mason begins to climb down the stairs, the patrons explode into life again, talking loudly, laughing. The band starts up, and the room is once more filled with their jazz.
Cassandra grins, that mad grin I came to know so well when we were together. Her hair is dyed, but apart from that, she looks the same as I remember.
She smiles. “So, lover boy, aren’t you happy to see me?”
***
Cassandra leans forward and kisses me on the cheek. I don’t pull away – if she causes a scene, I’m screwed – but I don’t make to kiss her back, either. I just stand there like a statue, wincing at the touch of her lips. When she senses this in me, she pulls away quickly and squints at me.
“Is something wrong?” she asks.
“Nothing is wrong with me,” I reply, keeping my voice conversational. Inside, anger bubbles. She just kissed me on the goddamn cheek! But outside, I am calm, the leader of The Miseryed. Professional. “How are you?”
“Don’t I get a kiss?” She turns her cheek toward me.
That’s too much. “I have a cold,” I grunt. “I’d hate to give it to you.”
“I don’t mind.”
“I do.”
“Oh, my sweet lover boy, are you angry about the bike?”
I shake my head, laughing gruffly. Calm, calm. “Weren’t you cold? Naked, middle of winter.”
She trails her finger down her opposite arm. I think it’s meant to be seductive, but all I can think about is how she looked folded up on the floor, naked, mad and covered in her own blood. All I can think about are the twin cuts on my chest. “Oh, Maddox, I was cold. But the thought of you kept me warm. The thought of you always keeps me warm. I can’t help but be warm with a strong man like you in my memory.”
I shiver; I can’t help it. She notices and snaps at me:,“What’s wrong with you? You’re being all… distant.”
I was always distant with you. If you could see how I am with Eden, you’d know I was distant with you. I was never, not once, close with you. Can’t you see that? Can’t you see this is all in your head? I want to say that and more to her, but I have to remember that she’s the billionaire’s girlfriend—have to remember how much of a scene Cassandra can make when she wants to. I bite back my words.
“Just working,” I mutter.
“I sold the bike,” she says. “I stole some clothes first, of course. And then I sold the bike and reinvented myself. Oh, I still have the same name – my name – but look at my hair. Don’t I look different? A real punk chick.”
“Different, sure.” My hand taps against my thigh. I know the feeling well. My body craves adrenaline, craves a fight. Cassandra just grins at me. If she were a man, I’d take her outside, and we’d fight. But you don’t hit a woman, ever. That’s rule number one.
“Don’t I look lovely, though, Maddox?” she says, waving a hand down the length of her green dress.
“Sure,” I say.
“Oh, Maddox!” She throws her hands up, narrows her eyes, and sighs heavily. “What is this? Where’s the loving Maddox I remember?”
That was all in your head, you crazy bitch. The loving Maddox you remember was never real, don’t you understand? The loving Maddox you remember was a creation of your burnt-out psyche.
“I’m working,” I say. “I don’t have time for this.”
“Oh, what do you think will happen? Mason’s as quiet as they come. A nice, quiet old man. No one wants to hurt him. He’s very boring.” She leans close to me, as though we are accomplices. I shift away; she follows. She follows until I am pressed against a wall, and she is standing right beside me. I have to fight the urge to shove her away. “He looks very pathetic in bed,” she goes on. “I have to pretend I like it, of course. But there’s only one man who can really give it to me, you know. Can you guess who it is?”
She asks the question in what I guess is meant to be a sweet, seductive voice, but it makes my skin crawl: a thousand cockroaches wriggling under my suit.
“It’s you, silly,” she says when I don’t reply. “You are such a big, strong man.”
“I’m busy,” I grunt.
“Busy? With what, waiting for that sweet little princess, Eden? Who is she, by the way?”
“Eden?” I snap, turning to face her fully. My hands twist into fists, and I begin to shake. I lean forward, my voice ice-cold. “You don’t need to worry about Eden,” I snarl. “She’s nothing to do with you.”
Cassandra throws her head back and giggles, but quietly, so she doesn’t disturb the speech. When she lowers her gaze, she wipes a tear from the corner of her eye. “I already know everything about her,” she says. “Sweet girl. Feminist, isn’t she? A nice, strong, smart girl? A bit thin for you though, Maddox? I thought you liked fleshy women.”
“Leave her alone, Cassandra,” I growl. “Or I swear I’ll—”
“Careful,” Cassandra says, and all the playfulness drains from her voice like water from a jug until she’s emptied, nothing left. “Or maybe Eden will learn everything about you, Maddox. Every dirty little thing.”
“You’ve got nothing,” I mutter. “Nothing at all.”
“Maybe not. But a girl can be wonderfully inventive, you know.”
“You’re a crazy bitch,” I say, keeping my voice quiet because a man and a woman walk right by us.
“Maybe.” Cassandra shrugs. “Listen, I have a proposition for you. If you leave with me, right now, I’ll forget all about her. I’ll leave Mason, and you leave sweet little Eden, and we can be together. You know it’s what you really want. She’s too good for you, too sweet.” She clutches her hands to her chest, eyes watering. “We can be together again.”
I shove past her. “No,” I say, as she takes a step back. “I don’t want you. You need help. I’m going back to work.”
“Fine,” she whispers. “You’ve made your choice.”
I pace away from her, anger rolling through me in waves. Goddamn crazy bitch. The cuts on my chest burn again, as though they’ve just now been reopened.