giggled like a first grader because she undoubtedly knew the rest of the story.
“That’s because he doesn’t want you to know,” Joey went on.
“Must be a great movie.”
“Yep, he got drunk one night—and by the way, the drinking is now in no-man’s-land—so he called and told me he’d made his debut. It was a cheap cable flick about a young girl who finds a human leg washed up on a beach, and for the rest of the movie she has nightmares about being chased by a one-legged killer.”
“Where does the great Baxter Tate fit in?”
“Well, you have to watch real close or you’ll miss him. There’s a scene on a boat where the cops are gazing at the ocean, presumably looking for the rest of the body, though this is never clear. The movie has a lot of uncertainties. One of the deputies walks over to the sheriff and says, ‘Sir, we’re low on fuel.’ That’s our movie star.”
“Baxter is a deputy?”
“And a bad one. He has only that one line and delivers it like a frightened sophomore in the school play.”
“Was he sober?”
“Who knows, but I would say yes. If he’d been drunk, as usual, he would’ve nailed the line.”
“I can’t wait to see it.”
“Don’t, and don’t tell him I mentioned it. Hecalled the next morning, begging me not to watch it and threatening me if I told anyone. He’s a mess.”
And that reminded Blair of one of her friends who knew someone “out there” who landed a role in a new sitcom, and away she went. Kyle smiled and nodded as his brain switched compartments. Of the three roommates, Joey was the only one who could possibly help, if indeed help was possible. Baxter Tate was in dire need of intensive rehab. Alan Strock was thoroughly consumed with medical school at Ohio State and, of the four, was clearly the least likely to get involved.
For Joey, the stakes were high. He was on the tape, wondering aloud if Elaine was awake and conscious while Baxter did the deed, then Joey himself took a turn. He was currently handling accounts at a regional brokerage firm in Pittsburgh and had two promotions under his belt. He was goofy in love with Air Blair here, and any hint of an old rape charge would upset their perfect lives.
On the one hand, Kyle felt as though he was taking the fall for Joey. He hadn’t touched Elaine that night, yet it was his life and career now getting hijacked by Bennie Wright and his dirty little video. Shouldn’t Joey at least know about it?
And on the other hand, Kyle couldn’t convince himself that he should drop the bomb on Joey at this point. If he, Kyle, took the Scully & Pershing job and met the demands of Bennie Wright, and didn’t get caught, there was a decent chance the video would eventually be forgotten.
Hours later, during a break in the game, with Blair off in the ladies’ room, Kyle suggested they meetSunday for breakfast. He needed to leave town early, he said, and might it be possible to get together without Blair for an hour or so? Let her sleep in, maybe?
They met for bagels at a shop owned by a chain, a place that had not existed when Kyle was at Duquesne. Blair was still asleep somewhere, and Joey admitted to needing a break. “Sweet girl,” Kyle said more than once, and each time felt guilty for lying. He could not imagine a life with such a windbag. She had great legs, though, the type Joey had always coveted.
They talked about New York for a long time—life in a big firm, the grind of the city, the sports teams, other friends who were there, and so on. Kyle eventually brought the conversation around to the old Beta gang, and they played catch-up for a while. They laughed at pranks and hazing and parties and stupid stunts pulled by themselves and others. They were twenty-five now, far removed from the craziness of their early college days, and the nostalgia was fun for a few minutes. Several times, the “Elaine thing” was at the surface, waiting for a comment or a question, but Joey did not mention it.
“That’s because he doesn’t want you to know,” Joey went on.
“Must be a great movie.”
“Yep, he got drunk one night—and by the way, the drinking is now in no-man’s-land—so he called and told me he’d made his debut. It was a cheap cable flick about a young girl who finds a human leg washed up on a beach, and for the rest of the movie she has nightmares about being chased by a one-legged killer.”
“Where does the great Baxter Tate fit in?”
“Well, you have to watch real close or you’ll miss him. There’s a scene on a boat where the cops are gazing at the ocean, presumably looking for the rest of the body, though this is never clear. The movie has a lot of uncertainties. One of the deputies walks over to the sheriff and says, ‘Sir, we’re low on fuel.’ That’s our movie star.”
“Baxter is a deputy?”
“And a bad one. He has only that one line and delivers it like a frightened sophomore in the school play.”
“Was he sober?”
“Who knows, but I would say yes. If he’d been drunk, as usual, he would’ve nailed the line.”
“I can’t wait to see it.”
“Don’t, and don’t tell him I mentioned it. Hecalled the next morning, begging me not to watch it and threatening me if I told anyone. He’s a mess.”
And that reminded Blair of one of her friends who knew someone “out there” who landed a role in a new sitcom, and away she went. Kyle smiled and nodded as his brain switched compartments. Of the three roommates, Joey was the only one who could possibly help, if indeed help was possible. Baxter Tate was in dire need of intensive rehab. Alan Strock was thoroughly consumed with medical school at Ohio State and, of the four, was clearly the least likely to get involved.
For Joey, the stakes were high. He was on the tape, wondering aloud if Elaine was awake and conscious while Baxter did the deed, then Joey himself took a turn. He was currently handling accounts at a regional brokerage firm in Pittsburgh and had two promotions under his belt. He was goofy in love with Air Blair here, and any hint of an old rape charge would upset their perfect lives.
On the one hand, Kyle felt as though he was taking the fall for Joey. He hadn’t touched Elaine that night, yet it was his life and career now getting hijacked by Bennie Wright and his dirty little video. Shouldn’t Joey at least know about it?
And on the other hand, Kyle couldn’t convince himself that he should drop the bomb on Joey at this point. If he, Kyle, took the Scully & Pershing job and met the demands of Bennie Wright, and didn’t get caught, there was a decent chance the video would eventually be forgotten.
Hours later, during a break in the game, with Blair off in the ladies’ room, Kyle suggested they meetSunday for breakfast. He needed to leave town early, he said, and might it be possible to get together without Blair for an hour or so? Let her sleep in, maybe?
They met for bagels at a shop owned by a chain, a place that had not existed when Kyle was at Duquesne. Blair was still asleep somewhere, and Joey admitted to needing a break. “Sweet girl,” Kyle said more than once, and each time felt guilty for lying. He could not imagine a life with such a windbag. She had great legs, though, the type Joey had always coveted.
They talked about New York for a long time—life in a big firm, the grind of the city, the sports teams, other friends who were there, and so on. Kyle eventually brought the conversation around to the old Beta gang, and they played catch-up for a while. They laughed at pranks and hazing and parties and stupid stunts pulled by themselves and others. They were twenty-five now, far removed from the craziness of their early college days, and the nostalgia was fun for a few minutes. Several times, the “Elaine thing” was at the surface, waiting for a comment or a question, but Joey did not mention it.
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