Millicent didn’t say anything. We looked at the river for a while.
Finally, without looking at me, she said, “I won’t stay at home.”
“You prefer sex with strangers?” I said.
“Being high helps.”
I looked at the river some more. The black water moved effortlessly toward the harbor as it had in 1630. Except in 1630 you could probably drink it.
“Let’s compromise,” I said. “You don’t have sex with any strangers for a while, and I won’t drag you home.”
She thought about that.
“So where am I supposed to live?” she said.
“With me.”
Chapter 15
I was talking on the phone to Julie. It was nearly noon. Rosie was sitting on my feet under the desk. Millicent was asleep on the floor at the other end of the loft on an inflatable mattress I kept for guests.
“She’s staying with you?” Julie said.
“Un huh.”
“Do you have any idea what a crimp that will put in your sex life?”
“How much crimpier can it get?” I said.
“It’s already crimped?”
“Big time,” I said.
“I’m crushed. I spent several minutes every day envying you.”
“Spend the time finding me a nice guy who’s good-looking and straight.”
“You’re after my husband?”
“Besides Michael,” I said.
“Oh. I guess that’s kind of hard. Have you met anyone?”
“A pimp named Pharaoh Fox,” I said.
“Pimps can be fun,” Julie said. “How long is she going to stay with you?”
“At least until I find out why she left.”
“You don’t believe she just got fed up?”
“No. She was lying about that.”
“You’re sure.”
“I’m a licensed investigator,” I said.
“Of course. How are you going to find out?”
“I’m a licensed investigator.”
“You know, some kids leave home to punish the parents.”
“I know.”
“So that the more degrading and shocking their circumstances, the more horrified the parents are. And the more horrified the parents are, the more desirable the circumstances.”
“Sort of like suicides,” I said. “‘See what you’ve made me do.”’
“Do you like her?” Julie said.
“No.”
“Why not.”
“I can’t say.”
“Because you don’t know or because she might hear you?”
“The latter.”
“Is she angry and hostile.”
“Yes.”
“Hates her parents?”
“You bet.”
“And every other adult.”
“I’d guess so.”
“Including you?”
“More or less, though I think there’s some puzzlement.”
“Because you don’t give her the adult party line?”
“Something like that.”
Julie laughed.
“You’ve never bought the adult party line yourself, Sunny.”
“And my mother certainly has tried to sell it to me.”
“So maybe you and, what’s her name, Millicent, are a good match.”
“I’ve got to be better than Pharaoh Fox,” I said.
“Who?”
“The gentleman who represented her,” I said.
“Her pimp.”
“Yes.”
“You know, there’s one thing you ought to remember,” Julie said. Her voice dropped a little as she shifted into her professional mode. “Some women rather like being whores, if the circumstances are not too degrading. They like the physical sensation, they like the easy money, they like the semblance of male attention.”
“What’s not to like?” I said.
“A lot, as you well know. But in many cases, these women are able to distance themselves from the actuality of their situation.”
“And,” I said, “in some cases they’re lesbians.”
“The ultimate manipulation of men,” Julie said. “Do you think Millicent is a lesbian?”
“I have no way to know,” I said.
“It would explain some things,” Julie said.
“Can’t work that way,” I said. “Find the explanation and fit the circumstances to it. It’s got to be the other way around.”
“Well, you can keep the possibility in mind.”
At the other end of the loft, Millicent, still in her shorts and tank top, dragged herself out of bed and went into the bathroom.
“I better hang up now,” I said. “My guest will be wanting breakfast.”
“Breakfast? It’s twenty of one in the afternoon.”
“She’s been working nights,” I said.
Chapter 16
“You got some coffee?” Millicent said.
“Cups in the cupboard,” I said. “Coffee in the green canisters. The one with the dot on the top is decaf.”
Millicent looked at the coffeemaker and the canisters and me.
“I don’t know how to make coffee,” she said, the way you’d explain to an idiot that you were unable to fly.
“I’ll show you,” I said.
“Whyn’t you just make it for me,” she said. “You’re the one who brought me here.”
“It’s better if you don’t have to depend on someone to make your coffee,” I said. “See, the filter goes in here, then the coffee, and the water here.”
She watched me, radiant with contempt, as I made the coffee.
“Next time you can make it,” I said.
“Sure,” she said.
While the coffee brewed, she sat on a stool at my kitchen counter and stared at nothing.
“Do you want the paper?” I said.
She shook her head.
“Would you like something to eat?” I said.
She made a face. When the coffee had brewed I poured some in a cup and handed it to her.
“You got cream and sugar?” she said.
“The sugar’s right there in the bowl, the spoons are in the drawer right below where you’re sitting,” I said. “Milk’s in the refrigerator.”
She didn’t move. I didn’t move. Finally she got up and went to the refrigerator and got some milk. I went back to reading a book by Vincent Scully. The loft was quiet. Rosie got up from where she had been lying on my feet and went over and looked up at Millicent in case she might be going to eat something.
“Is that a dog?” Millicent said.
“That’s Rosie,” I said. “Rosie is a miniature bull terrier.”
“Does he bite.”
“She does not,” I said.
“I hate dogs,” Millicent said.
“How endearing,” I said.
“Huh?”
“It’s fun sharing,” I said.
She looked at me a little suspiciously.
“Well, I do. They don’t do anything. They just hang around and eat and poop all over the place.”
“Actually,” I said, “that’s not true. Dogs are naturally rather careful where they poop. It’s why you can housebreak them.”
“Well, I don’t like them anyway,” she said.
“Because they don’t do anything useful?” I said.
“I don’t know, why are you always asking me stuff? I say something and you want to talk all about it.”
“And you don’t,” I said.
“No.”
“Then why do you say it?”
“Say what?”
“Stuff you don’t want to talk about?”
“I don’t know.”
We were quiet. She got up and went and got more coffee and brought it back and added milk and sugar and sat back on the stool. Rosie never moved from the position she had assumed at the bottom, her nose pointed straight up at Millicent, her squat body motionless. She looked like a small black-and-white pyramid.
“Isn’t she cute?” I said.
“Who?”
“Rosie.”
Millicent shrugged.
“What good is she?”