by Craig Nova
“Well?” said the man in the car.
“I want my friend to come with me,” said Gaelle.
“You mean the boy?” said the man.
“Yes.”
She turned so that he could see her face, and as she moved her head it was as though a change were sweeping over her … then she waited, the scarred side toward the car. The man inside was silent. The driver stared straight ahead.
“Of course, before this happened, you had a different attitude,” said the man. “Didn’t you?”
“Yes,” said Gaelle. She looked around. Was it better to be in the car or on the street. Felix stood at the side of the building, hands in his pocket.
“Like what?” he said.
She turned and stared at the man, not wanting to give him anything beyond her physical presence. If she was going to have to talk, she was going to have to get paid, especially since she couldn’t lie, not in her current mood. It took energy to lie.
“I don’t know,” she said. She shrugged. “I want my friend to come.”
“Why don’t you just get in?” said the man.
He sniffed a little, as though her perfume and her beguiling fragrance blew slowly in the open window. “Felix,” she said. “Felix!”
“It won’t take long,” said the man in the car.
“No?” she said. “Where do you want to go?”
“To my apartment,” the man said. “We could have a glass of champagne. We could listen to opera. Do you like opera?”
“No,” said Gaelle. “It’s too pretty.”
Felix came up to the car.
“Yes?” he said.
“I want you to come,” said Gaelle.
“What’s the idea?” said Felix. “I can wait here, and if someone else—”
“I want you to come,” said Gaelle.
“I don’t get it,” said Felix. “I thought we had everything settled.”
“Tell me,” said the man. “Did you have any ambitions? Any desires?”
“Hey,” said Felix. “That’s personal. It costs.”
“All right,” the man said. He reached into his pocket, took out his wallet, and removed a bill. Felix took it with a wild jab, like a snake killing a rat. Felix opened the door.
“Will you come?” said Gaelle. “Please, baby. Be nice.”
“You’ve got to get hold of yourself,” said Felix. “I’m not saying I don’t understand. I’m saying you’re letting your nerves run away with you.”
“Please, baby,” she said. “I’m asking you.”
“OK,” he said. “Sure.”
Felix always bent a little at the waist, like a man trying to run under water dripping from a roof, and now he came into the car, with that same bent-over, protective way of moving.
“I’m here to help,” he said. “You know that.”
“Here,” said the man in the back. He flipped down the jump seat, and Felix got in and sat on it, hands together in his lap. It was as though he always sat there, and this quickness, this ability to fit in someplace new, took Gaelle’s breath away.
“Well?” said the man in the back. He held out his hand, white there in the darkness of the car to Gaelle, who stood on the curb.
“Hey,” said Felix. “Gaelle. Are you listening, or not?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Then come on,” he said. “Be sweet.”
She felt herself rise on the running board, the car tilting in her direction, and then she disappeared into the passenger compartment, the door clicking shut behind her. That click. The car pulled into traffic, and then she smelled the odor of the pomade that the man in the back of the car used, and as the perfume of it swept around her she wondered if they had already contacted Felix. If they had promised him something to help out with this. She looked closely now, and Felix glanced at her once and then out the window, just as blank and ordinary as always. It was one of the things she had always liked about him, his frank, unshakeable ability to continue, no matter what.
They went up Hof Jager Allee, into the Tiergarten, where it was darker. The driver seemed to be a part of the machine. The man next to her said, “I wonder if it’s going to rain.”
“It ain’t going to rain,” said Felix. “It’s too late for any of that. Take it from me.”
“Oh,” said the man. “I can depend on you?”
“As much as anyone,” said Felix. He turned to Gaelle. “Don’t you think that’s right?”
“I depend on you,” she said.
“That’s good,” said Felix. “That makes me feel better.”
The man glanced at Gaelle. That was how they usually began, with a small, delicious glance. The driver went up to the middle of the Tiergarten and turned right onto Charlottenburger. The trees appeared beguiling, and Gaelle wished that she could get out and walk among them. Often, late at night, when she was finished with her work, she went into the park, needing a bath but craving the dark even more. She was happy there, or something like happy, calm and hidden.
“Where are we going?” she said.
“Neu König Strasse,” he said.
“Oh?” said Felix. He shrugged. Nationalists, he guessed. He didn’t really like the Communists more than the Social Democrats. Everybody had an angle, he guessed.
The man next to Gaelle put his hand on the seat, by her hip. She felt her almost gravitational effect on him as he leaned her way, just to get a little closer to … what was it? Possibility and beauty, tragedy and fate?
The man turned to Gaelle. “And so, tell me, what did you want to do. Before.”
“Me?” said Gaelle. The car slowed down. She looked at the chrome handle of the door and moved a little closer to it. Just shifting her weight. It was almost sexy, as though she were too bothered to sit still. Felix watched her. He had never seen her work before.
“A dream,” the man said. “Did you have a dream?”
“I had a boyfriend,” she said.
She looked around now. Why was she telling the truth? They moved along the avenue. “He wanted to pretend nothing had happened to me, but it was impossible. He tried.”
“And what happened,” said the man, “when he tried?”
She thought, I’m not going to get weak. No weeping. But she wasn’t able to forget her boyfriend, who had finally put his head in her lap and cried inconsolably, not knowing what to do, or how to confront this thing that had happened to her.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said. “What good does it do?”
“It’s interesting to think about the past,” said the man.
“It depends,” said Gaelle.
The neon of Berlin went by in a blur, like a rainbow laid on its side.
“Tell me,” said the man. “Do you make much money?”
“What’s it to you?” said Felix.
“Just curious,” said the man.
“It’s not healthy to be too curious,” said Felix.
The man looked Gaelle.
“Yes,” he said. “That’s right, isn’t it?”
Felix shrugged. “Where’s the apartment?” he said.
“Not too far,” said the man.
The car pulled up in front of a row of flats.
“Here we are,” said the man.
Felix opened the door. She got out. The man came across the seat and got out, too, and even though he was in the street and she was on the curb, he was much taller than she was. His complete calmness was worse, she thought, than if he had been nervous. He turned to the driver and said, “Wait here.”
He gestured toward the front door of a building. A few marble steps, a lamp, some brass that could have been polished but now just had a dull, tarnished glow in the light from the street. The hall was marble, as though they were in a tunnel through an enormous blue cheese, the veins of mold black and green. They went up to the lift, into the cage. From up above, like some machine of utter indifference, the gears and the pulleys started drawing them up.
“It’s cold,” said
the man.
“What’s cold?” said Felix.
“The champagne,” he said.
“Have you got something to eat?” said Felix.
“Of course,” said the man. “Are you hungry?”
“She should eat,” said Felix. “She should take care of herself. I’ve been trying to tell her, but she won’t listen.”
“Maybe later,” said the man.
“I’m all right,” said Gaelle.
The door of the cage swung open, and all three of them walked up to the front door. Felix went in first and looked around, as though to make a list of anything valuable. Then Gaelle. Then the man. He passed them both and went into the living room, which had a view of Berlin: the avenues, the darkness of the Tiergarten, the lights on the streets like drops of water on a web.
“Come in,” said the man.
He turned on a floor lamp. She sat close to it and looked out at the city. Felix sat down like a gargoyle, or a stone figure that was so still as to be hardly breathing. He looked around. Some crystal doodads, a picture, a gold lighter, what would the entire lot bring? The man went into the kitchen.
“What do you think?” said Gaelle.
“Maybe the frame is worth more than the picture, see?” he said. He gestured.
“Maybe,” said Gaelle. “But I mean about this guy?”
“Him?” said Felix. “The usual. He might take his time. Nothing to worry about.”
From the kitchen she heard the sound of a cork coming out of a champagne bottle. The man came in, the tray and the champagne and the glasses on it gliding in front of the window like a tray in a cabaret magic show. Floating in the dark.
“Here,” he said.
He gave her a glass. Felix refused by a shake of his head.
“I’m all right,” he said.
The man took Gaelle’s other hand, and like a couple in a dream they went through the apartment to his bedroom. Felix just glanced at them once and turned back to going over the things in the room, the slight, almost imperceptible movement of his eyes showing what a precise inventory he was taking.
The bedroom also had a view of the red, yellow, and blue lights of the city, at once cool and romantic. A chair stood at the side of the bed. The bubbles in the champagne rose in tiny globes, which she thought of as small worlds, all moving with a kind of rush. She sat down on the chair and faced him.
“There’s so much trouble in the city these days,” he said. “Have you noticed?”
“I guess,” said Gaelle. “I’m not interested in trouble.”
She smiled, crossed her legs.
“Of course, you can have a coffee and a sweet when there’s street fighting,” he said. “Is that what you do?”
“I don’t know,” she said.
He nodded and sipped his champagne. Then she thought, He isn’t going to touch me, at least not that way. He isn’t going to ask me to do that.
“Or maybe drugs,” he said. “I’ll bet you like them? What do you like? Maybe that’s something we could help you with.”
“What do you want?” she said.
He looked right at her, thinking it over.
“It’s pretty straightforward,” he said.
He sat on the bed next to her, the mattress giving in with his weight. He was heavier than he looked.
“You don’t mind if I sit a little closer, do you?” he said.
“Fine. You’re paying for it,” she said.
“That’s right,” he said.
He sipped the champagne, the bubbles rising in those wavering chains.
“Have you ever put a piece of caramelized ginger in your champagne?” he said. “It makes more bubbles.”
“No,” she said.
He glanced over at her and then out the window.
“There’s so much trouble in the city these days,” he said. “And I guess because of that I came to see you tonight. We’ve been watching you.”
She took a sip of the champagne and let the bubbles roll across her tongue, the slight pricking of them oddly refreshing, and as she felt the fizz of them, she thought, There isn’t much time. Now is the time to think of something.
“All kinds of people come to see you,” said the man.
“A lot of people come to see me,” said Gaelle.
“Of course, of course,” said the man.
He shrugged.
“Look,” she said, “if you want to do something, let’s take care of it.”
“In a minute,” he said. “My business is information.”
“What’s that to me?” she said.
“Yes, what that’s to you?” he said.
She sat quietly, and the man did, too, and all she could hear was the slight rustling of his starched shirt as he breathed and as he reached out to take the class of champagne. Was it a good idea to deny that she had ever sold anything? She hadn’t dealt with this man, but maybe she had done something with one of his friends. He pursed his lips, touched the glass.
“Do you want me to take off my dress?” she said.
“Not yet,” he said.
He spoke with an abstract air, as though he wanted her naked not because he had desire, but because she would be more vulnerable. He sat very still, staring out at the city. She guessed that he was trying to make a decision of some kind, and as she glanced at him, and felt the silence that surrounded him like the odor of dry ice, she guessed that she could break off the champagne glass, keeping just the stem. But then, she thought, what if someone else is here in the apartment.
She began to stand up, but he took her hand with a speed that was utterly surprising. It was a kind of perfect gesture, quick, precise, gently taking her wrist.
“Don’t make it harder for me,” he said.
“What is hard for you?” she said.
“I’m trying to be graceful. I’m not a gangster. I want you to understand that.”
“Look,” she said. “I’ve got to go. Felix!”
“What?” said Felix.
“Hush,” said the man.
“Felix!”
She pulled herself away and stood back, toward the window. It was a piece of glass that was about six feet high by five feet wide, and she felt the city behind her, the distance between here and the street below.
“You really are very smart, aren’t you?” he said.
“No,” she said. “You think what I do is smart?”
“That depends on what we’re talking about,” he said.
She stepped back, against the cool glass, which was like ice. She could remember being on the black ice when she had been a kid, stretched out after falling. What had been the promise of the black ice, indifference, danger, absolute certainty of how little she really mattered in a world that was so cold? Felix came in and stood in the doorway. Then he stepped in, coming closer.
The champagne glass was on the night table by the bed, but it was too far to reach. Just her, the window, the man, who was so tall and had such white hands. Everything seemed to have been leading up to this anyway, the night, the fear, the previous customers who had come in her and then walked away, as though they were filling her with some profound indifference. They were so intense just before they did it and so disinterested afterward.
She moved along the window, putting her hands against it. Felix watched her.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” the man said.
“Take off your dress,” said Felix. “I think that’s the best thing. Let him see how nice you are.”
Gaelle lifted the dress over her head and stood there, her skin white against the city, her nipples dark, her collarbones prominent. The glass was cold glass against her hips.
“Look,” he said. “I want something from you.”
“I can accommodate you,” she said.
“I hope so,” the man said. “We’ve been watching you. We know you see all kinds of people. Why, ordinary …”
“… Whores,” she said, adding the word he was trying to avoid.
“Yes, ordinary women like you have only one kind of client. But you see all kinds. You are something special. All kinds of people. And maybe they tell you things.”
“What kinds of things?” she said.
“Oh, if you are seeing someone from the left, maybe they might mention how much money is coming into Berlin from Russia. That’s something we’d like to know. And if it’s from our side, well, we’d like to know who can’t keep his mouth shut. Of course, if the Communists are planning a demonstration, we’d like to know that, or if they are hiding weapons.” He looked at her for a moment. “If you hear something, come to see me.”
He took a sip of his champagne and let the bubbles wash over his tongue.
“Will you help me?” he said.
“Sure, sure,” she said. “I’ll help you.”
“That’s good,” he said. “You have no idea how smart that is. Why, have you noticed the news in the papers? People get hurt all the time. Why, they’re found in the river. In the park.”
She swallowed.
“Let’s talk about something else,” she said.
He took a number of large bills out of his pocket and passed them over.
“A gesture of good faith,” he said.
Gaelle went away from the window, still afraid of being pushed through it, still considering the first spiderweb of cracks. Then she thought, no, it probably wouldn’t be his style to do that. This is all the fun part, at least for him.
Gaelle put on her dress, pulled it over her small hips, straightened it. Well, she had bought some time.
“My name is Bruno Hauptmann,” he said. “Say it.”
“Bruno Hauptmann,” she said.
He took a card from his pocket with an address on it, and he passed it over.
“If you come across something, you can find me here,” he said.
She took the card.
“And no lies,” he said.
Then they went downstairs and got into the car, Felix folding the money, putting it in his pocket, and showing her the gold lighter that he had picked up from the table. It glowed there in the dark. She let go a long, slow breath.
