Jumper 1 - Jumper by Steven Gould Page A

Okay." He was grinning. "He's your date. It's not without cultural precedent."
    Millie looked at me. "Shut your mouth. Something will fly in it."
    She pulled me off to the kitchen, where the bar was set up.
    I decided not to comment.
    She introduced me to a series of persons. I smiled and shook hands, but said very little. Millie had a glass of wine. I followed her with my ginger ale.
    Sometime later, I found myself on the patio with Millie and two of her acquaintances. We were talking about New York, its crime, and its poverty. The one person who hadn't been there had the strongest opinions.
    "I don't buy the homeless thing," this woman was saying. "I think they're on drugs or lazy. They don't want to work so they beg."
    I raised my eyebrows. "That's pretty black and white."
    "What are you saying, that it's a racist thing?"
    Millie hid her mouth behind her hand.
    "No. I'm saying your viewpoint is too simplistic. Sure there are people like you describe. But I've also seen women with kids who can't get work because the only address they have is a street corner and..."
    Millie put her hand on my arm. "That's Mark," she said quietly.
    I looked over at the door. The guy standing there was a little taller than me with wide shoulders. He had blond hair and a beard. There was a girl under one of his arms with her arms around his waist. He was looking our way, at Millie.
    I looked back at the woman with the opinions. "You would be surprised at the number of people on the street who don't fit your profile." I let it drop.
    Millie pulled in on herself, crossing her arms.
    Mark continued to stare.
    The band started a slow number, Otis Redding's "Sittin' on the Dock of the Bay." "Come on, Millie. Let's dance."
    She turned her head sharply, as if she'd forgotten I was there, and gave me a small smile. "Okay."
    "Please excuse us," I said, and led her across the patio, to the door that led to the dance floor. Mark seemed to watch us the whole way.
    "Jesus Christ," Millie said in my ear after we were on the floor. "Did you see the way he was staring?"
    "Yeah. Don't let him bother you."
    "Easier said than done."
    I stroked her back and she relaxed a little, swaying mechanically to the music.
    "How long does it take?"
    "Huh?" I pressed her a little closer. She didn't seem to mind.
    "To get over somebody? Especially when they won't leave you alone."
    "Who broke up with who?"
    She stiffened slightly. "I broke up with him. He was sleeping with Sissy."
    "Sissy."
    "Yeah. The limpet mine under his arm."
    "Ah. But you still cared about him. And he betrayed you."
    Her body stiffened and she buried her face in my neck.
    I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Mark.
    I shrugged his hand off and continued dancing.
    He grabbed at my arm. Millie saw him and stepped away. I turned to face him.
    "Just want to cut in, man," he said, arms spread. There was a smile on his face, but it was mean.
    I took Millie's arm and walked off the dance floor. He followed, tried to turn Millie around by the shoulder. I felt sick to my stomach, remote, the way I did when I knew Dad had been drinking and was going to punish me. I stepped between him and Millie. He shoved me back into Millie. She was wearing heels and one of them caught in the door sill. She flailed her arms to keep from falling.
    I steadied her, then looked around.
    We were standing by the door to the room. There was a row of light switches behind me. Mark was standing with his legs spread wide apart, his hands raised. The closest dancers had stopped and were watching us.
    I felt like throwing up. I felt like running. I felt like killing Mark for making me feel this way, for treating Millie the way he had.
    I turned abruptly and used both hands to switch off the lights. The room went dark, the only light coming from the patio door. I jumped behind Mark, a position I'd marked before hitting the switches, grabbed him around the waist, and lifted him from the floor. He flailed his arms and one of his elbows smacked