Page 8 of Four Blondes

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“How do you know I’m not?”

“Oh, come off it,” Zack said. He stood up. Walked to her. Touched her hair. “I didn’t invite you here to be my girlfriend,” he said.

“Then why did you invite me?”

“I didn’t. You invited yourself Remember?”

“Fuck off,” Janey said softly.

“Come here,” he said. “Sit down. My dear, you’re as transparent as that shirt you’re wearing. Everyone knows what your game is. You’re available. For the summer. Providing the man is rich enough. At least I want to know why.”

“Because I just want to have a good summer,” Janey screamed. “Is there anything wrong with that?”

“But you don’t do anything,” Zack said. He snorted some more cocaine.

“I don’t do anything because I don’t want to. I don’t have to.”

“You don’t feel much of anything, do you, Janey?”

“No,” she said. She shrugged. “Even if the sex is great, it doesn’t mean anything. Because the guy isn’t going to stick around. So why not b

eat men at their own game. Use them. I’m a feminist, Zack,” she said, which somehow made her feel better.

“Oh, the modern woman speaks,” Zack said. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-eight,” Janey said, casually lying. She’d been fibbing about her age for professional reasons for so long that she actually believed it.

“You look older,” he said, and laughed. “You use men, but you yourself are totally useless. You think your views are revolutionary, but they’re not. They’re just annoying and immature.”

“And yours aren’t?”

“As a matter of fact, they’re not,” Zack said. “I’m what you Yanks would call a self-made man. Everything I have, I got myself” He lit up a cigarette. “But along the way, I noticed something curious. I lost my emotions. My ability to feel. It comes from having to fuck people over all the time to get what you think you want.” He smiled. Those teeth! Janey thought. “So you see, you and I are really quite alike.”

“I have my reasons,” Janey said.

“No doubt you do. But they’re probably very mundane,” he said. Janey reached across the couch and slapped him. He grabbed her wrist. “Very good,” he said. “You’re getting the idea.”

“I’m not mundane,” Janey hissed.

“Oh, but you are,” he said. He pushed her back against the couch. She didn’t struggle too much. “Degradation,” he said into her face. She could smell his breath. “That’s all that’s left for people like us. Degradation. It’s the only way we can feel.”

“You’re nuts,” Janey said.

“Come upstairs. Quickly!” he said. He grabbed her hand. He hopped up the stairs two at a time. He pulled her into the bedroom. “I’ve been looking forward to this all week.” He pulled off his shirt and pants. Underneath, he was wearing tatty stained briefs that were frayed in the leg holes. He turned around and pulled down his underpants. His bottom was splattered with pimples. “Hit me, Mum!” he shouted.

“I’m not your mum,” Janey said.

“Hit me, Mum! Please!”

Janey didn’t know what to do, so she started screaming. She backed toward the window. It was open. She backed out of it, onto the balcony. Then she ran to the edge and jumped over, onto the roof. She scrambled across that and jumped to the ground. “Owwww,” she screamed.

For a few minutes, she just lay there. Then she heard footsteps coming down the stairs and the front door banged open. Zack, still naked, and smoking a cigarette, walked toward her. “Get up, you silly cow. You’re not hurt.”

“Fuck off,” Janey said.

“I’d appreciate it if you’d leave the premises as quickly and expediently as possible,” Zack said. Then he went back in the house and snorted more cocaine.

Janey limped into the house. She passed Zack. He didn’t look up. She went into the kitchen to make a phone call. “Please, please be home,” she said, then, “Thank God.” She started sobbing. “It’s me. Something terrible has happened. I was with this English guy and he went crazy. I’m scared. Yes. Yes,” she said, sniveling, and gave the address. Then she went out onto the porch to wait.


Tags: Candace Bushnell Fiction