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the floor.
“What about the girl, the one he had moved in with?” This was Maury again. Tess would have to tell him later that they were not partners in this enterprise, that he was to stop asking questions. “Did you know her? Do you know where they lived?”
Another yawn, another scratch. “Naw. I saw her once, when Eddie stopped by. She was pretty, like a little doll. Real blond hair, big blue eyes, and cheeks that looked like she had little pink circles painted on them, but natural, you know? I noticed her because she looked like one of the sorority girls around here, except kind of sad-looking, too. Like she was tuned into some frequency only she could hear. He called her lady. At first, I thought it was generic, like ‘my old lady.’ But it might have been her name.”
“Blond hair, blue eyes, pink cheeks, sad-looking. Anything more, uh, specific?”
He shook his head. “Naw. Beautiful girls are everywhere in Austin. You get kind of numb to them after a while. Not numb, exactly, but you stop making those real fine distinctions. It’s like eating too much Mexican food. Just burns out your taste buds.”
Maury nodded in commiseration. Tess was mystified—she hadn’t noticed that Austin was so burdened with pulchritude, although she had observed that bodies here ran to a taut, lean look quite unlike the mesomorphs back home.
“Here’s the number where I’m staying, please have him call if he should stop by again.” She handed over one of her business cards, skeptical of how it would fare in this apartment’s filing system. “One last thing, do you know where he played?”
“Played what?”
“With his band. Where did they perform?”
“I didn’t even know he was in a band, but I guess everyone in Austin is. Everyone who’s not a movie star or in software,” he amended. “Man, what you damn Yankees have wrought.”
“Yankee? Crow was from Virginia and I live in Baltimore. Check a map sometime, Maryland lies below the Mason-Dixon line.”
“You telling me you’re a Southerner?”
It was an astute question, one no Baltimorean could answer. The map said one thing, the city’s architecture said something else, its race relations something else again. It was both, it was neither. “Just giving you a little geography lesson.”
“What’s this about, anyway? Eddie in trouble? He seemed like a good guy, but you never know.”
Tess avoided his questions by asking one of her own. “What do you do, anyway?”
“Me? I’m a student.”
“You look like you’re almost thirty.”
“Try thirty-five. But I’ll have my master’s by the time I’m forty if I don’t get distracted again, wander off to Mexico for a while. I worked a couple years down in San Miguel de Allende, but that’s almost too American now. I’m thinking Merida, maybe farther down the coast in the Yucatan. Tulum. Or I could just keep going, all the way to Belize. I don’t know. Whatever comes next.”
“Whatever comes next,” she repeated to Maury, once they were back in the car.
“What does come next?” he asked. “Where do you want to go now?”
“I was just quoting Crow’s tenant. Seems like an enviable way to live. Except that when I lived that way, I didn’t realize how free I was. I just thought I was unemployed.”
Maury held his forefinger and thumb out toward her. “You are about this close to singing a Joni Mitchell song and you don’t even know it.”
“No, what I’m saying is that things are different here. In warm climates, people are more relaxed about being down on their luck, because spending a night outside isn’t a matter of life and death.”
“So, you don’t have any homeless guys up in Baltimore?” he asked.
“Okay, my theory needs a little refining.” Still, there was something in the weather here, or the water, that changed one’s perceptions of time and possibilities. If Crow had caught this local fever, he could be anywhere.
With anyone.
Chapter 5
T hey took a
“What about the girl, the one he had moved in with?” This was Maury again. Tess would have to tell him later that they were not partners in this enterprise, that he was to stop asking questions. “Did you know her? Do you know where they lived?”
Another yawn, another scratch. “Naw. I saw her once, when Eddie stopped by. She was pretty, like a little doll. Real blond hair, big blue eyes, and cheeks that looked like she had little pink circles painted on them, but natural, you know? I noticed her because she looked like one of the sorority girls around here, except kind of sad-looking, too. Like she was tuned into some frequency only she could hear. He called her lady. At first, I thought it was generic, like ‘my old lady.’ But it might have been her name.”
“Blond hair, blue eyes, pink cheeks, sad-looking. Anything more, uh, specific?”
He shook his head. “Naw. Beautiful girls are everywhere in Austin. You get kind of numb to them after a while. Not numb, exactly, but you stop making those real fine distinctions. It’s like eating too much Mexican food. Just burns out your taste buds.”
Maury nodded in commiseration. Tess was mystified—she hadn’t noticed that Austin was so burdened with pulchritude, although she had observed that bodies here ran to a taut, lean look quite unlike the mesomorphs back home.
“Here’s the number where I’m staying, please have him call if he should stop by again.” She handed over one of her business cards, skeptical of how it would fare in this apartment’s filing system. “One last thing, do you know where he played?”
“Played what?”
“With his band. Where did they perform?”
“I didn’t even know he was in a band, but I guess everyone in Austin is. Everyone who’s not a movie star or in software,” he amended. “Man, what you damn Yankees have wrought.”
“Yankee? Crow was from Virginia and I live in Baltimore. Check a map sometime, Maryland lies below the Mason-Dixon line.”
“You telling me you’re a Southerner?”
It was an astute question, one no Baltimorean could answer. The map said one thing, the city’s architecture said something else, its race relations something else again. It was both, it was neither. “Just giving you a little geography lesson.”
“What’s this about, anyway? Eddie in trouble? He seemed like a good guy, but you never know.”
Tess avoided his questions by asking one of her own. “What do you do, anyway?”
“Me? I’m a student.”
“You look like you’re almost thirty.”
“Try thirty-five. But I’ll have my master’s by the time I’m forty if I don’t get distracted again, wander off to Mexico for a while. I worked a couple years down in San Miguel de Allende, but that’s almost too American now. I’m thinking Merida, maybe farther down the coast in the Yucatan. Tulum. Or I could just keep going, all the way to Belize. I don’t know. Whatever comes next.”
“Whatever comes next,” she repeated to Maury, once they were back in the car.
“What does come next?” he asked. “Where do you want to go now?”
“I was just quoting Crow’s tenant. Seems like an enviable way to live. Except that when I lived that way, I didn’t realize how free I was. I just thought I was unemployed.”
Maury held his forefinger and thumb out toward her. “You are about this close to singing a Joni Mitchell song and you don’t even know it.”
“No, what I’m saying is that things are different here. In warm climates, people are more relaxed about being down on their luck, because spending a night outside isn’t a matter of life and death.”
“So, you don’t have any homeless guys up in Baltimore?” he asked.
“Okay, my theory needs a little refining.” Still, there was something in the weather here, or the water, that changed one’s perceptions of time and possibilities. If Crow had caught this local fever, he could be anywhere.
With anyone.
Chapter 5
T hey took a
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