Audrey to speak. Audrey waited for Jayne to grow wings and fly away. Her hair was the phony color of a fire engine, and she’d shaped it into a chin-length bob. Her mouth and teeth protruded, horse-like, from her face. She had three gold studs in one ear and two in the other. The skin surrounding them was swollen, like she hadn’t worn jewelry in a long time and had recently popped open her skin with the sharp ends of her earring posts to get them to fit.
“I’ll bet you had a long day,” Jayne said. Her voice was sandy. She smelled like fertilizer and smoke—Winston cigarettes.
“I wanted to say hi. Also, I thought you might like these.” Jayne thrust a pile of glossy papers in Audrey’s direction.
Audrey accepted them with a tight-lipped grin. She was sure they had something to do with Hari Krishnas, the evil Freemason conspiracy, or rescuing cats from cruel and unusual juggling. But no, she realized when she glanced down. Just take-out menus. Chinese, Indian, Greek, and Middle Eastern.
Jayne bopped her head up and down. “I figured…You know. You’d probably be tired. I heard it was somebody young moving here, and I thought, thank God. They’re all, like a hundred years old, you know?”
“They are?”
Jayne puckered her lips and rolled her eyes to the ceiling, in what Audrey could only guess was an imitation of a dead person, halfway decayed. “Fossils! Bat-shit crazy, to boot. This one guy downstairs, Mr. Galton, only ever wears a plain, white mask. What is that? Fucking creepy.” She leaned in close, and lowered her voice, “And 14D’s a taxidermist. Evvie Waugh. Animals all over the walls. Basically, we live with Michael Myers and Norman Bates.”
Audrey lowered her voice, too. “I thought…I haven’t seen any of them, but they seem strange. I feel like they’ve been watching me.”
Jayne nodded. “Totally. That’s because they are watching you. They were born and raised in The Breve, and they’ve got nothing else to do but sit around and spy on the young people. I swear to God, sometimes I think they peek at me through the opposite end of my peephole. But they’re harmless, and my place is dirt cheap. I moved in three months ago, and if I hadn’t found it, I would have wound up with a twenty-year-old rich-girl-hipster roommate in Brooklyn. And not even near the park! Totally embarrassing. So, I’m never leaving. When I die, they can bury me under the floor.”
Audrey chortled. A little at the delivery, a lot at the messenger. “Sorry,” she said.
“Why? I’m very funny. I’m doing stand up at the Laugh Factory next week—my first real gig!” As she spoke, Jayne bounced against the doorframe with her hip like she was made of rubber. Back and forth. Back and forth. Audrey couldn’t figure out if it was a nervous habit or a happy one. Maybe both.
“You should come to one of my shows. I’ve got like, three friends, but they’re all married, so they don’t count. I hate it when they make their kids call me Auntie Jayne, and what the hell do I care if they shit green or brown? Anyway, if you come, I’ll comp you. That’s what it’s called: comping, for complimentary. But that’s not my real job. The rest of the time I’m in sales at L’Oreal. Westchester office, so it’s a backward commute. They laid off half the staff last month. Everybody was wandering out of their cubicles carrying cardboard boxes and crying. I hope I never cry when I get fired from a job I don’t even like. I mean, what’s the matter with them? You’d think they weren’t going to get unemployment. Anyway, if you ever need makeup or whatever, just shout. I’ll give you samples and shit. Oh, I hope you don’t mind that I keep cursing. Do you mind? I’ve got a real potty mouth.”
Audrey shook her head. “No, I don’t mind.”
“You’re awesome!” Jayne declared. In her excitement, she hip-checked herself against the door hard enough to hurt, and her bounce-back wasn’t nearly as resilient. She limped a little but kept smiling.
Audrey shook her head. Was this chick for real? Then again, nobody else had come knocking, so she decided to play along. “You’re awesome, too!” she said, then chuckled, because she hadn’t used the word “awesome” since…ever.
Jayne clasped her hand and squeezed, but didn’t shake, like they were New Age hippies practicing touch therapy. Her skin was surprisingly cold. “Okay! It’s so good to