linxy - part XIII
Max buys the first round of beers and we sit in
the field boxes watching batting practice. He’s just gotten back from the
tour and is still a little jetlagged from the flight.
"You should see the bitch Linx dragged in
this time," Henry exclaims with a hint of excitement. "A regular nun.
Scared to death."
I lean over to Max and shake my head. "Not
a nun. Not even a virgin." Max nods. "She’s scared of Henry though,
that’s for sure."
Henry throws his head back and howls with laughter.
Never have I been in the presence of a man who so delighted in evil, who so
aptly fit the real definition of Sadism. Max chugs back half of his beer and
considers the situation.
"What happened to that other girl? Emily?"
I draw a finger across my throat to shut Max up but he insists on putting the
gun to his own head. "You two were great. She was a blast at parties. A
real slut."
Henry squints at somebody on the field and gets
out a cigarette. No smoking signs mean nothing to him.
"Emily was put back on the market," I
answer quickly. "She and Henry had a falling out." Max slinks back
in his chair and I nod at him to let the issue drop.
"Emily was a whore, in every bad sense of
the word. She’s lucky that guy in London wanted her. If I thought she was
still in this country, she’d be in the ground." He
exhales towards the field for emphasis.
Henry doesn’t handle rejection well. There
is no guy in London. Emily escaped. In a way, this is why I pity Olivia more
than I would other girls. She has to bear the brunt of Emily’s misbehavior.
Henry has no one to take it out on. He loves Jessi, so she won’t suffer.
She’ll just get laid more. Olivia, she’ll be a whipping girl for all
of his frustrations.
Max stretches his arms up and gives me the finger
behind Henry’s back. I just shrug at him. I tried to get him to shut up
and he didn’t get the message. "Well, this new bitch. I bet she’s
hot at least," he says, trying to get Henry back on track.
"Very hot. Red hot. She’ll learn how
to be a good fuck in no time. I have no doubts about that."
After the Cubs game I go back to her room and find
her sound asleep. Her cheeks and eyes are red and puffy from crying. I push
her leg under the covers and make sure the blanket is tucked in, then light
a cigarette and sit in the armchair to watch her for a while. She’s not
a bitch. Henry called her a bitch. I blink heavily. My head is fuzzy from the
beers we threw back. She stirs and coughs.
"Linx?"
I don’t answer. The room is pitch black to
her, but my eyes have had time to adjust. "Are you in here?" I hear
her chain rattle. She rustles around in bed, turns and flops her arms out to
the sides. "Linx," she says again, softer.
She looks like an angel.