Authors: Daniel Price

Slick (46 page)

BOOK: Slick

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[mrvl_girl] In other words, yes, but you damn well better take my check for that auto damage.

[pr_demon] Hey, not a problem.

[mrvl_girl] AND you better cash it.

[pr_demon] . o 0 (Damn!)

[mrvl_girl] Seriously.

[pr_demon] Seriously. I’ll take it. I’ll cash it. I promise.

[mrvl_girl] Good. It’s been hanging over me for nine days now.

[pr_demon] Are you okay?

The question earned me a few moments of radio silence.

[mrvl_girl] What makes you ask? You can’t even see me.

[pr_demon] Subtext, baby. Subtext.

[mrvl_girl] Oh, you’re good.

[pr_demon] I’m good.

[mrvl_girl] DAMN good.

[pr_demon] Damn right. So what’s the problem? Can you talk about it? Or is it the Subject We Dare Not Speak?

[mrvl_girl] No. It’s not maternal. It’s marital.

[pr_demon] Oh.

[mrvl_girl] But I won’t get into that either.

[pr_demon] Right. Fair enough. You want me to piss off then?

[mrvl_girl] No. I want you to talk to me all night. Again.

This time I was the one who paused, apparently long enough to cause concern.

[mrvl_girl] Look, in case you’re worried, I don’t see this as an escalating thing. Our relationship is purely textual.

[pr_demon] I know. We just seem to be having an awful lot of text.

[mrvl_girl] Okay. You tell me your problem with that and I’ll tell you mine.

[pr_demon] I don’t want to become an issue in your family.

[mrvl_girl] You mean marital or maternal?

[pr_demon] I don’t know. You tell me.

[mrvl_girl] Well, I can rule out the former. In order for you to become a marital issue, we’d have to screw. Outdoors. Right on top of his azaleas. And his cat.

[pr_demon] Wow. It sure takes a lot to upset Neil.

[mrvl_girl] No it doesn’t. Now should we talk about the maternal issue?

[pr_demon] Yes, because I’m not quite sure what it is.

[mrvl_girl] I just feel like we’re somehow cheating on Madison.

[pr_demon] I’ve felt that a little too. It’s silly, though.

[mrvl_girl] Not in her head.

[pr_demon] Why? What do you think is going on in her head?

[mrvl_girl] I’m guessing pictures of you.

[pr_demon] Oh come on.

[mrvl_girl] It’s true.

[pr_demon] How do you know?

[mrvl_girl] Because I can read minds. Didn’t I tell you?

[pr_demon] I think you’re misreading this one.

[mrvl_girl] I think you’re just being humble.

[pr_demon] No. I mean it. If she’s in love with anything, it’s the work.

[mrvl_girl] How do YOU know?

[pr_demon] Because I can read subtext. Didn’t you notice?

I didn’t like the direction this was heading. I didn’t think it was fair of Jean to push her daughter out on a limb like this. More important, I didn’t think she was right.

[pr_demon] I’m serious. I would know.

[mrvl_girl] Yeah. I think you would too.

[pr_demon] So then what’s the issue?

[mrvl_girl] I guess the issue is what you would do with that knowledge.

[pr_demon] Ahhhh. I was wondering when we’d finally get to this.

[mrvl_girl] It’s my biggest fear.

[pr_demon] Hey, I don’t blame you for having it. I just wish there was something I can say to ease your mind.

[mrvl_girl] It’s not that I think you’re twisted or evil or anything...

[pr_demon] Praise indeed.

[mrvl_girl] It’s just that you’re human. She’s pretty. And she would do anything you wanted. Anything. You’d just have to ask.

[pr_demon] Uh...

[mrvl_girl] And the worst part is, I’d never know. You'd totally get away with it.

[pr_demon] You enjoy torturing yourself like this?

[mrvl_girl] A little. But only when I’m in a pissy mood.

[pr_demon] Yeah, well stop it. You’re weirding me out.

[mrvl_girl] Fine. What’s your biggest fear?

[pr_demon] You mean about you?

[mrvl_girl] No. In general.

[pr_demon] Mediocrity.

[mrvl_girl] Wait. Back up. You have a fear about me?

[pr_demon] Currently, yes. But it’s a nutty one.

[mrvl_girl] What, that I’m a psycho-killer?

[pr_demon] No.

[mrvl_girl] A vampire? An alien? A Lutheran?

[pr_demon] No, that you’re Madison.

The cursor blinked for a good twenty seconds. Poor thing. If she could see my face, my own sardonic smirk, she’d know I wasn’t very committed to this particular nightmare. It was just one of a million bleak angles that crossed my field of vision, one of many droll predictions being whispered among the viewers in my inner cineplex. There was always a twist. There was always a wild third-act surprise, especially when a promising thing looked a little too promising. It was just Hollywood dharma.

Admittedly, I had gotten an early start on my suspicion. Last Sunday, in Jean’s first e-mail to me, I had noticed a non-motherly use of the word “cool.” That was enough to trigger an opening round of What If... ? What if Madison was posing as Jean? What if she had co-opted her mother’s account? What if she had set up a server function to redirect all incoming messages from me before Jean could ever read them? It’s much easier than it sounds, especially for someone as sharp as Madison. Ultimately the real Jean would try to contact me, but what if her daughter was sly enough to set up a two-way deception? What if Jean was hearing from “me” all along, and hearing that everything was fine?

It was exactly the kind of stunt I could see a bright but unstable teenage girl devising, until she was inevitably caught. As the week progressed, small observations kept fueling the uncertainty. The fact that I only heard from Jean at night, when Madison was home. The fact that Madison kept yawning after Jean and I had our first late-night exchange. The fact that she delivered the classic X-Men comic herself, then demanded I thank her mother by e-mail. That was certainly a chin-scratcher.

Like Jean, I often tortured myself with dark, exotic notions, but this one never kept me up at night. It certainly didn’t stop my relationships from evolving. And the more I got to know them both, the quieter my theories became.

But then Jean had to shake the whole damn tree, just moments ago, with her bizarrely suggestive rant about what her little girl would do if only I asked. Her grim supposition instantly resurrected mine, only now that I knew those two, now that I cherished my rapport with both mother and daughter, the thought was downright terrifying. It was enough to make me queasy.