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supposed to make up for man’s imperfections.
Love, real love,
is supposed to be enough.”
    Ordinarily Wade wouldn’t have been too
concerned; this was just more of Jervis’ rhetoric. But although the
words were the same, the spirit in which they’d been spoken was
entirely different. The spirit was finality—total loss. This was
not just another girl dumps boy story. This was
dissolution of self.
    But Jervis slapped his hands down as if to
prove he’d roused himself. “Anyway, enough of my moaning and
groaning,” he asserted. “There’s nothing worse than a sad sack
feeling sorry for himself. Things just got out of hand for a few
weeks. But I’m okay now, really.”
    “ You sure about that?” Wade
questioned.
    “ Positive. Time to get back
to my life.”
    “ That’s the spirit!” Tom
said.
    But Wade felt sad; he could see through
this. Jervis’ smile was as false as one carved in clay. Despite the
smile, there was nothing left for him but his loss. Wade could see
it in an instant: Jervis was never going to get over this, no
matter how happy he tried to act.

    ««—»»

    • A student named Nina
McCulloch lay awake. Above the bed hung a crucifix. Nina believed
fervently in God, and she believed that Jesus had died for her
sins. In the next room, through the wall, she could hear her
roommate, Elizabeth, who clearly didn’t believe in God. Elizabeth had
invited friends over to do drugs. They did drugs most every night,
and this bothered Nina. Drugs were a manifestation of Satan, and
people who did them became incarnates of the devil. Nina found that
she could not easily sleep when all that separated her from the
Lord of Darkness was one mere dorm wall. All night long Elizabeth
and her friends inhaled the satanic white powder while Nina tossed
and turned and prayed in snatches for God to protect her from
evil.

    • A man named Czanek waited
in the vacant parking lot. Eventually his client pulled up in a
silver Rolls Royce. The headlights flashed. Hokey, Czanek thought. He
got into the Rolls. “Good evening,” the client said. “Has the
matter returned to normal?” “No,” Czanek said. “Same guy, same
moves, and I keep picking up weird stuff on the bugs. They keep
mentioning trances.” “Trances?” “Trances. I can’t figure it.” “Keep on it,” the
client said. Czanek handed him the manila folder, which contained
pictures. The client thumbed through them and remarked: “Amusing.”
Why would a guy want to keep seeing pictures of his wife fucking another man? But,
hey, it was his money. The client passed him an envelope full of
ten hundred dollar bills. “Next week,” the client said. “Yes, sir,”
Czanek replied, “and don’t worry, nothing will happen to you. If
they try to make a move on you, I’ll know. I’ll protect you.” “Do
you really think that’s what’s happening? The insurance, the
inheritance?” “Could be,” Czanek said. Suddenly the client was
hugging him, sobbing. “Protect me! I’m afraid!” This was
embarrassing. Czanek tried to console the old man: “Don’t worry, if
that fat scumbag tries to move on you, I’ll blow his shit away from
a thousand yards.” “Would you really do that? For me?” Of course he
would. What, kiss all this money goodbye? “I’ll protect you,”
Czanek repeated, and patted the client’s shoulder. He went back to
his own car. The Rolls drove off. The client’s name was
Saltenstall.

    • A cop named Porker sat at
the booking desk, eating a box of cream filled doughnuts.
Another cop named Peerce sat at the super’s desk, flipping the
cylinder of his Ruger Blackhawk and musing over a glossy mag
called Cum Shot Revue. Another cop named White sat in the back office. The door was
locked. He was counting this month’s grease. Still another cop
named Lydia Prentiss sat alone in her bed, wondering where her life
had gone.

    • A student named Lois
Hartley sat on her boyfriend’s couch. The boy was named Zyro, and
he was