waste two weeks of your time. Or mine. How does that sound?” She grinned. “You can take your things with you when you leave tonight. Good-bye, Mr. Owen.” She went back to the paper she was reading as if he weren't there.
Davey left the office and closed the door quietly.
Davey got his things together in no time at all, and he did it with a smile. He felt better than he had in months, satisfied with himself. A little scared, too, of course. He had no idea what he would do next, but it would at least be something that would allow him a little self-respect, even if it were nothing more than bussing tables.
Having gathered together the few belongings he had in the cubicle — a few pens and pencils, a tin of aspirin, some newspaper articles he'd cut out for one reason or another, all of which fit nicely into his briefcase — he said a silent good-bye to the tiny space he'd occupied for so long, turned his back on it, and walked away.
“Where are you going?” Casey asked him on his way out.
“I quit."
“You what? ” she hissed with a smile.
“Well, actually, I quit and then I was fired. I'll tell you all about it tonight if you're still coming over."
“Are you high? I wouldn't miss it for the world!"
He tossed a few good-byes to his coworkers as he left, smiling even at those whose names he could not remember. In fact, he was still smiling when he got into the empty elevator and as he crossed the lobby to the doors, opening his umbrella as he stepped outside.
He joined a small group of people waiting at the bus stop: two old ladies, a black woman juggling a baby on one arm and a bag in the other, and a few foul-mouthed teenagers. He collapsed his umbrella and tucked it under his arm; the rain had stopped, leaving only a chilly mist.
He looked around him at the others, catching snatches of their conversations. Then, for no reason, she came to mind again.
Smiling and cool.
Soft and smooth.
And oh so promising.
She was that way. Just a few blocks, around a few corners, and he could see her again.
He remembered the uncomfortable stickiness in his pants earlier. The shame and anger he'd felt.
The pleasure he'd felt at the touch of her soft, moist lips.
There was a hiss and wrenching sound as the bus came to a stop at the curb. The others filed in; Davey stepped toward the bus, looking from its door to his right, toward her...
He stepped up on the first step and reached into his coat pocket for a token. He felt its round flatness, so much like those four tokens he'd held in his hand earlier, the ones that had lifted the panel from the glass...
“Well,” the driver grunted impatiently at Davey, “you comin’ or goin', fella? I ain't got all fuckin’ day."
“Uh, I-yuh...” Davey looked up at him, fingered the token a moment, then let it drop again. He smiled at the driver and shook his head. “Never mind. Never ... mind.” Davey stepped away from the bus, the doors rattled shut, and it drove away in a belch of stinging exhaust.
Her booth was empty and she was still there, as if she had been waiting for him to return. When the panel rose, she was smiling.
As he walked out of Live Girls afterward, his hair was mussed, his breathing uneven, and his gait a bit unsteady. He could feel the biting sting again. He could feel the moist warmth soaking into his briefs against his skin.
He was bleeding.
3
____________________________
W ALTER B ENEDEK BELCHED FIRE INTO HIS NAPKIN AT THE same instant that Davey Owen walked out of Live Girls for the second time that day. He pushed aside the paper plate with leftover egg foo yong on it and leaned toward the window to watch the young man across the street. He seemed to be limping, trying hard to stay on his feet as he walked into the crowd and quickly disappeared from Benedek's view.
He leaned back in the small plastic chair and belched again, wishing he hadn't eaten the day's special in Lim's Chinese Kitchen, New
Davey left the office and closed the door quietly.
Davey got his things together in no time at all, and he did it with a smile. He felt better than he had in months, satisfied with himself. A little scared, too, of course. He had no idea what he would do next, but it would at least be something that would allow him a little self-respect, even if it were nothing more than bussing tables.
Having gathered together the few belongings he had in the cubicle — a few pens and pencils, a tin of aspirin, some newspaper articles he'd cut out for one reason or another, all of which fit nicely into his briefcase — he said a silent good-bye to the tiny space he'd occupied for so long, turned his back on it, and walked away.
“Where are you going?” Casey asked him on his way out.
“I quit."
“You what? ” she hissed with a smile.
“Well, actually, I quit and then I was fired. I'll tell you all about it tonight if you're still coming over."
“Are you high? I wouldn't miss it for the world!"
He tossed a few good-byes to his coworkers as he left, smiling even at those whose names he could not remember. In fact, he was still smiling when he got into the empty elevator and as he crossed the lobby to the doors, opening his umbrella as he stepped outside.
He joined a small group of people waiting at the bus stop: two old ladies, a black woman juggling a baby on one arm and a bag in the other, and a few foul-mouthed teenagers. He collapsed his umbrella and tucked it under his arm; the rain had stopped, leaving only a chilly mist.
He looked around him at the others, catching snatches of their conversations. Then, for no reason, she came to mind again.
Smiling and cool.
Soft and smooth.
And oh so promising.
She was that way. Just a few blocks, around a few corners, and he could see her again.
He remembered the uncomfortable stickiness in his pants earlier. The shame and anger he'd felt.
The pleasure he'd felt at the touch of her soft, moist lips.
There was a hiss and wrenching sound as the bus came to a stop at the curb. The others filed in; Davey stepped toward the bus, looking from its door to his right, toward her...
He stepped up on the first step and reached into his coat pocket for a token. He felt its round flatness, so much like those four tokens he'd held in his hand earlier, the ones that had lifted the panel from the glass...
“Well,” the driver grunted impatiently at Davey, “you comin’ or goin', fella? I ain't got all fuckin’ day."
“Uh, I-yuh...” Davey looked up at him, fingered the token a moment, then let it drop again. He smiled at the driver and shook his head. “Never mind. Never ... mind.” Davey stepped away from the bus, the doors rattled shut, and it drove away in a belch of stinging exhaust.
Her booth was empty and she was still there, as if she had been waiting for him to return. When the panel rose, she was smiling.
As he walked out of Live Girls afterward, his hair was mussed, his breathing uneven, and his gait a bit unsteady. He could feel the biting sting again. He could feel the moist warmth soaking into his briefs against his skin.
He was bleeding.
3
____________________________
W ALTER B ENEDEK BELCHED FIRE INTO HIS NAPKIN AT THE same instant that Davey Owen walked out of Live Girls for the second time that day. He pushed aside the paper plate with leftover egg foo yong on it and leaned toward the window to watch the young man across the street. He seemed to be limping, trying hard to stay on his feet as he walked into the crowd and quickly disappeared from Benedek's view.
He leaned back in the small plastic chair and belched again, wishing he hadn't eaten the day's special in Lim's Chinese Kitchen, New
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