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“I’m not sure I understand either,” Brigitte says.
Is there anything worse in the world than having to explain yourself? Serves me right for starting this.
“Am I an unforgivable asshole? Unfair? Do I use people? Did I ever use either of you?”
“Used for what?” says Carlos. “If this is about the drinks and food, don’t sweat it. You’ll always eat and drink free as long as I run the place.”
Brigitte says, “I don’t think he’s talking about that. I think he’s talking about love.”
That fucking word.
“Never mind,” I say.
“Oh, Jimmy, I was only teasing.”
“I know, and it’s not about that. It’s that whether I’m fucked up or not is beside the point. What’s important is that the other person thinks I’m maybe too fucked up.”
Brigitte shakes her head.
“That’s not it at all. If someone unfairly accuses you of bad behavior or neglect, you are entitled to be upset, even angry about it.”
I hate this. I can’t deal with this angst bullshit. This is when I dream of Hell. Of the arena, where everything was simple and the closest thing to a next day was a knife in the belly or a club in the eye. Give me blood all the livelong day. What I can’t take is all this being-human-and-being-responsible craziness. I want to tear my own head off. I want to go and snap Mason’s neck. Chaya was right. I hate this place. Let the world burn and me with it.
“Never mind. Stupid question. Let’s drop it.”
Carlos picks up our glasses.
“For what it’s worth, you’re all right by me. I’ll get us all another round.”
He moves off to get our drinks, but I think what he’s really doing is leaving me alone with Brigitte.
“I understand that these things are hard for you, but we’re both alike. Killing is easier than being with someone. But it’s not impossible. And you can always talk to me about it.”
I look past her at the band posters on the wall. I feel ridiculous. Helpless under the weight of all this emotional garbage.
“Thanks. It’s never going to happen, but thanks anyway.”
She laughs a little like she knew what I was going to say. And she looks away. She’s thinking about Traven. She wants to ask me more about him, but she knows I won’t tell her so she lets it go.
She says, “In this world of blame and accusations, I do have one piece of news that might make you feel better.”
“What’s that?”
“I saw Tuatha yesterday, to give her my condolences on Saragossa’s passing. She knows that Audsley Ishii has accused you of being involved in his death.”
“Is she getting a necktie party ready for me? Should I catch the first stage out of Dodge?”
Please say yes. I could use a fight right now.
“No. She wants you to know that she doesn’t believe a word of it. And she’s ordered Audsley to leave you alone.”
“Good luck with that.”
“Do you think he’ll disobey her?”
“He needs someone to blame and we’ve never gotten along. I’m John Dillinger to him and no one is going to talk him out of it.”
“You don’t sound sorry.”
