The bar was filled with several clusters, milling and circulating and laughing a little too loudly, the general crowd trying a little too hard to have a good time, as opposed to the hard-core drunks at the small tables near the far end of the bar.
It’s funny how you can find the person you’re looking for in a crowd, even if you didn’t know you were looking. A bright-eyed dark-haired girl standing with her blonde friend right at the center of everything, for example, watching faces and sharing confidences and trying to look carefree. At first I thought, maybe they’re more than friends-they were hanging close and you can’t tell these days. But when she turned around, her eyes said she was looking and not finding. And it just hit me hard, as soon as I saw those eyes full-on: I just knew who she was. I knew what she was feeling all too well. It wasn’t a memory, it was like I was inside that feeling, inside her, the hope and bitterness flashing through me all at once. There are other feelings I’d have chosen to revisit before that one.
Max nudged me. “Ask her to dance,” he said. “Go on.”
“Go away,” I said. “We’re incognito.”
“You’re a man out for dinner with his business partner. We’re on a business trip-we leave in the morning. A convenient cover story. Get used to having one.” He leaned into my ear. “She’ll like you,” he said.
“You know that for a fact?” I asked but he just sat back, staring at the ceiling, all innocent eyes. When the waiter brought us our two out of the 800 beers of the World, I asked him to bring her and her friend whatever they were drinking. Max said, “No-ask her to dance,” but this was how I knew to do it. And, as soon as they got the drinks, she smiled at me and I smiled back and three seconds later, the two of them were sitting down in the booth next to us.
“I’m Tess,” she said, holding out her hand. “This is Cindy. Thanks for the drinks.”
“I’m Greg,” I said “and this is Max.” I hadn’t thought twice about it but when I looked over at him now, he looked petrified, frozen in place. He sat straight as a ramrod with his eyes flashing, sharp, like he was surrounded by a vile of snakes. The girls somehow didn’t seem to notice, which was kind of amazing.
Cindy offered her hand. Max shook it, jerky, out-of-synch. She didn’t seem to notice this either. Tess, meanwhile, was staring at me with eyes the size of flying saucers.
“You guys aren’t from around here,” she said.
“You know everybody around here?” I said and they both laughed, which was charitable-it wasn’t much of a joke.
“Actually, I do,” she answered. “I’m the county registrar. If you have a last name, I can tell you what you paid in taxes last year.” She nestled up next to me, our arms and legs touching-her skin was warm, nice muscle tone. She was actually pretty buff. “Assuming you filed.”
“Don’t tell her anything,” Cindy said and we laughed some more.
“We pay no taxes in this area,” Max said, forcing himself to speak. “We’re just here overnight-our businesses are upriver. We have inspections to do tomorrow.” I kicked him under the table- lighten up, dude. He was treating them like the Board of Directors.
“I didn’t think there was anyplace around here people wanted to go,” Cindy said; I laughed at this too before realizing she was serious.
Every time I looked at Tess, the world calmed down. I didn’t feel like I had to do anything in particular to get her to like me. At the same time, Cindy was listening to Max go over the details of our profit projections, all moon-eyes, like it was the most romantic thing anyone had ever said to her. Max kept smiling really hard, which only made his face more frightening-looking.
“What do you do?” I asked Cindy, trying to keep the train from going completely off the tracks.
“I’m a trainer,” she said, with a little hesitation.
“Cindy’s a Worldie,” Tess said in a vague combination of envy and disdain.
“I’m a third-level,” Cindy burst now, with the zest of the true believer. “I train graduates and other trainers. We’ve got people who come back ten and fifteen times, to make sure they get it, to keep their hope level up. We’ve only been open a year here but we’ve already got a base of almost 200 just in this area.”
“If she keeps doing what she’d doing,” Tess added, “she’ll move up to state level.”
“It’s so spiritual!” Cindy exhaled. I saw Max shrinking into the corner of the booth but it was too late to stop myself-the words were already halfway out of my mouth.
“ Your World? Y’know, Max actually used to know Jim Avery.”
If a look could strangle you across a table, I’d have been dead in a dumpster one second later.
“Omigod, you know him?” Cindy turned with a beatific look. “He changed my life-he taught me to believe in my dreams. Isn’t it-?”
“ Knew him,” Max interrupted roughly. “ Knew. Years ago. For a very short period of time.”
“When? What was he like?” Cindy sputtered. “What happened? Have you kept in contact? Would he know you if he saw you again?”
“You want to dance?” I asked Tess and we both jumped out of the booth. I felt the back of my head burning hot but I’d seen that one coming and just kept putting one foot in front of the other.
It was a slow song and I got to hold her pretty much beginning to end. I hadn’t held a woman in a long time. It was terrifyingly wonderful, though I don’t know why terrifying. I’d had women in my arms before. We talked all the way through the song but the words got less and less important as we went on.
‘You really aren’t staying around?” she said.
“Business,” I shrugged, genuinely unhappy about my fictional life, whose consequences were the same as my real one. Which is the merger, I guess, that makes a good cover story work.
“I never thought I’d meet someone like you in a place like this,” she said and that turned me around all of a sudden. We’d had one dance and I was a little light-headed too but I couldn’t get three words out of my mouth two or three days earlier, so I had an excuse. What was hers? Then she said, “You want to go to the car and fool around a little?” which put me over the limit. I dragged her off the floor and back to the table.
Renn was wedged into a corner of the booth, bending spoons without touching them while Cindy explained the world according to Jim Avery to him. He wasn’t even trying to hide his discomfort. Was he gay? I wondered and then rejected the thought. If he was gay, they’d be best friends and discussing window treatments. Maybe he was in the closet? Whatever the reason, he was ignoring her and she just kept yammering, oblivious, like she was getting paid by the word.
“Excuse us a second,” I interrupted and grabbed Renn by the shoulder. I might have pulled him out of his chair; I was kind of running on instinct. I’m not sure if he was shocked or relieved but he let me drag him a few feet away.
“What are you mad about?” he protested, shouting over the music.
“You’re making us wonderful,” I said, shouting back. “You’re forcing them to like us.”
“You’re getting lucky and I’m learning how believing in myself-and paying Jim Avery a monthly stipend-will make all my problems seem insignificant. I’m six minutes into a fifteen minute monologue, all of which I’ve already heard her rehearse twice in her head-so, again, what are you mad about?”