“So they’re like mistresses?” Charlie said. “Like in Europe?”
“I suppose,” Ray said. “But did you ever get the impression that mistresses worked this hard to look good? I think fuck puppet is more accurate, because when they get too old to hold the attention of their guy, they’ve got nothing more going. They’ll be done, like marionettes with no one at the strings.”
“Jeez, Ray, that’s harsh.” Maybe Ray is stalking one of these women, Charlie thought.
Ray shrugged.
Charlie looked up and down the line of perfect derrieres, then felt the weight of his years alone or in the company of a child and two giant dogs, and said, “I want a fuck puppet.”
Aha! thought Ray. He’s picking a victim. “Me, too,” he said. “But guys like us don’t get fuck puppets, Charlie. We just get ignored by them.”
Aha! Charlie thought. The bitter sociopath comes out. “So that’s why you brought me here, so I could show I was out of shape in front of gorgeous women who wouldn’t notice?”
“No, the fuck puppets are fun to look at, but there’s some normal women who come here, too.” Who won’t talk to me either, Ray thought.
“Who won’t talk to you either,” Charlie said. Because they can tell that you are a psychokiller.
“We’ll see in the juice bar after our workout,” Ray said. Where I’ll sit at an angle so I can watch you pick your victim.
You sick fuck, they thought.
Charlie awoke to find not one, but three new names in his date book, and the last one, a Madison McKerny, had only three days for him to retrieve her soul vessel. Charlie kept a stack of newspapers in the house and, typically, would go back for a month looking for an obituary of his new client. More often, if the hellhounds would give him some peace, he would simply wait for the name to appear in the obituary section, then go find the soul vessel when it was easy to get into the house, with mourners or posing as an estate buyer. But this time he had only three days, and Madison McKerny hadn’t appeared in the obituaries, so that meant she was probably still alive, and he couldn’t find her in the phone book either, so he was going to need to get moving quickly. Mrs. Ling and Mrs. Korjev liked to do their marketing on Saturdays, so he called his sister, Jane, and asked her to come watch Sophie.
“I want a baby brother,” Sophie announced to her Auntie Jane.
“Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry, you can’t have a baby brother, because that would mean that Daddy had sex, and that’s never going to happen again.”
“Jane, don’t talk to her that way,” Charlie said. He was making sandwiches for them and wondering why he always got stuck making the sandwiches. To Sophie, he said, “Honey, why don’t you go in your room and play with Alvin and Mohammed, Daddy needs to talk with Auntie Jane.”
“Okay,” Sophie said, skipping off to her room.
“And don’t change clothes again, those are fine,” Charlie said. “That’s the fourth outfit she’s had on today,” he said to Jane. “She changes clothes like you change girlfriends.”
“Ouch. Be gentle, Chuck, I’m sensitive and I can still kick your ass.”
Charlie spanked some mayonnaise onto a whole wheat slice to show he was serious. “Jane, I’m not sure it’s healthy for her to have all these different aunties around. She’s already had a hard time losing her mother, and now you’ve moved away—I just don’t think she should keep getting attached to these women only to have them yanked out of her life. She needs a consistent female influence.”
“First, I have not moved away, I’ve moved across town, and I see her every bit as often as when I lived in the building. Second, it’s not like I’m promiscuous, I’m just shitty at relationships. Third, Cassie and I have been together for three months, and we’re doing fine so far, which is why I’ve moved out. And fourth, Sophie did not lose her mother, she never had her mother, she had you, and if you’re going to be a decent human being, you need to get laid.”
“That’s what I mean, you can’t talk like that in front of Sophie.”
“Charlie, it’s true! Even Sophie can see it. She doesn’t even know what it is and she can tell that you’re not getting any.”
Charlie stopped constructing sandwiches and came over to the counter. “It’s not sex, Jane. It’s human contact. I was getting my hair cut the other day and the hairdresser’s breast rubbed against my shoulder and I almost came. Then I almost cried.”
“Sounds like sex to me, little brother. Have you been with anyone since Rachel died?”
“You know I haven’t.”
“That’s wrong. Rachel wouldn’t want that for you. You have to know that. I mean she took pity on you and hooked up with you, and that couldn’t have been easy for her, knowing she could do so much better.”
“Took pity on me?”
“That’s what I’m saying. She was a sweet woman, and you’re much more pitiful now than you were then. You had more hair then, and you didn’t have a kid and two dogs the size of Volvos. Hell, there’s probably some order of nuns that would do you now, just as a holy act of mercy. Or penance.”
“Stop it, Jane.”
“The Sisters of Perpetual Nookiless Suffering.”
“I’m not that bad,” Charlie said.
“The Holy Order of Saint Bonny of the BJ, patron saint of Web porn and incurable wankers.”
“Okay, Jane, I’m sorry I said that about you changing girlfriends. I was out of line.”
Jane leaned back on her bar stool and crossed her arms, looking satisfied but skeptical. “But the problem remains.”
“I’m fine. I have Sophie and I have the business, I don’t need a girlfriend.”
“A girlfriend? A girlfriend is too ambitious for you. You just need someone to have sex with.”
“I do not.”
“Yes, you do.”
“Yes, I do,” Charlie said, defeated. “But I have to go. Are you okay to watch Sophie?”
“Sure, I’m going to take her to my place. I have an obnoxious neighbor up the street that I’d like to introduce to the puppies. Will they poop on command?”
“They will if Sophie tells them.”
“Perfect. We’ll see you tonight. Promise me you’ll ask someone out. Or at least look for someone to ask out.”
“I promise.”
“Good. Did you get that new blue pinstripe tailored yet?”
“Stay out of my closet.”
“Don’t you need to get going?”
Ray figured that it had probably started when Charlie murdered all those little animals he brought home for his daughter. Maybe buying the big black dogs was a cry for help—pets that someone would really notice being gone. According to the movies, they all started out that way—with the little animals, then before long they moved up to hitchhikers, hookers, and pretty soon they were mummifying a whole flock of counselors at some remote summer camp and posing the crusty remains around a card table in their mountain lair. The mountain lair didn’t fit the profile for Charlie, since he had allergies, but that might just be an indication of his diabolical genius. (Ray had been a street cop, so it hadn’t really been necessary for him to study criminal profiling, and his theories tended toward the colorful, a side effect of his Beta Male imagination and large DVD collection.)