Out of Sight

When she lowered her hand to the table, his hand came down to cover hers. She watched his expression as she brought her hand out slowly, his eyes not leaving hers, and laid her hand on his. The tips of her fingers brushed his knuckles, lightly back and forth. She said, "It takes hours to get a drink around here. There's only one waitress."

He looked away for a moment and started to get up.

"I can go to the bar."

"Don't leave me," Karen said.

He eased back in the chair.

"Those guys bother you?"

"No, they're all right. I meant, you just got here." She picked up her drink and placed it in front of him.

"Help yourself." She watched him take a sip.

He smacked his lips.

"Bourbon."

"You're close."

He said, "You mean Jack Daniel's isn't a bourbon?" She smiled at him and he said, "No, I guess it isn't. You like Jim Beam, Early Times?"

"They're okay."

"Wild Turkey?"

"Love it."

He said, "Well, we got that out of the way."

She watched him take another sip and place the glass in front of her.

"Did you ever see Stranger Than Paradise?"

He looked out at the snow and she knew he had.

"The two guys take the girl who just arrived from Czechoslovakia, someplace like that, to Cleveland to see Lake Erie? And there's so much snow you can't see the lake? That one?"

She was smiling at him.

He said, "Was that some land of test question?"

"One of the guys gives her a dress," Karen said.

"She takes it off, throws it in a trash bin and goes, That dress bugged me."

" He said, "You like to act goofy, don't you?"

"When I have time."

"What do you do for a living?"

"I'm a sales rep. I came here to call on a customer and they gave me a hard time because I'm a girl."

"Is that how you think of yourself?"

"What, as a sales rep?"

"A girl."

"I don't have a problem with it."

"I like your hair. And that suit."

"I had one just like it-well, it was the same idea, but I had to get rid of it."

"You did?"

"It smelled."

"Having it cleaned didn't help, huh?"

She said no. She asked him, "What do you do for a living, Gary?" and saw his eyes change, become almost solemn.

He said, "How far do we go with this?"

It stopped her, threw her off balance. Karen said, "Not yet.

Don't say anything yet. Okay?"

He said, "I don't think it works if we're somebody else. You know what I mean? Gary and Celeste, Jesus, what do they know about anything?"

She knew he was right, but had to take a moment before saying, "If we're not someone else then we're ourselves. But don't ask me where we're going with it or how it ends, okay?

Because I haven't a fucking clue. I've never played this before."

The way he said, "It's not a game," she knew he meant it.

"Well, does it make sense to you?"

He said, "It doesn't have to, it's something that happens. It's like seeing a person you never saw before-you could be passing on the street-and you look at each other…"

Karen was nodding.

"You make eye contact without meaning to."

"And for a few moments," Foley said, "there's a kind of recognition."

You look at each other and you know something."

"That no one else knows," Karen said.

"You see it in their eyes."

"And the next moment the person's gone," Foley said, "and it's too late to do anything about it, but you remember it because it was right there and you let it go, and you think, What if I had stopped and said something? It might happen only a few times in your life."

"Or once," Karen said.

"Why don't we get out of here."

"Where do you want to go?"

Karen looked up. The advertising guys were getting ready to leave, dropping napkins, pushing their chairs back, taking forever. Philip looked over, and then Andy. Andy waved. Karen watched them leave the table finally and make their way out.

It was quiet. She looked at Foley in the slim-cut navy-blue suit, his white shirt with its button-down collar, his burgundy and blue rep tie-the conservative business executive-looked in his eyes and said,

"Let's go to my place."

"Your room?"

"My suite. I showed my credentials and they upgraded me."

"You must do pretty well, in your business."

"I don't know, Jack. The way things are going I may be looking for work."

NINETEEN

Here was Maurice, White Boy Bob, Kenneth and the new one, Glenn, in the living room getting ready, guns and boxes of bullets on the coffee table. Moselle stood watching them from the foyer.

She got to meet this Glenn, but didn't mention anybody looking for him.

When he came, Maurice told him he was late and Glenn said, "Oh, is that right?" and told Maurice to look out the fucking window he'd know why.

Glenn saying his hands ached from gripping the fucking wheel, hanging on, man, trying to stay in the fucking tracks. A car'd go by and all the slop and shit from the road would hit the windshield. Maurice saying, "You suppose to be the ace driver, you pass the cars, they don't pass you." Glenn saying, "Oh, is that right?" Snippy, Moselle thought, for a man.