inside her socked foot. “Lady!” she repeated nervously, like this wasn’t the first time she’d stalked a new friend, and if she got ignored right now, or insulted, that wouldn’t be new, either.
Audrey put her out of her misery. “Tramp!”
At 14C, the same old woman who’d worn the vintage dressing gown this morning opened her door and stuck out her nose. Not her face, but her small, sharp nose, and a spill of glossy white hair. On the other side of 14B, at 14A, another door opened a crack—just enough for Audrey to see the tip of a gender-indeterminate, old, and sun-damaged forehead. The moment was surreal. Just as quickly, both doors closed.
Jayne dropped her socked foot gently to the floor. “I fell,” she announced. “Now it’s sprained. My knee. I’m a gimp. I’m still appearing at the Laugh Factory Saturday night. Wild horses couldn’t drag me. This shit happens all the time, but you’ve got to keep going, you know? You can’t ever give up…can you?” Jayne looked up at Audrey with tears in her green eyes and Audrey thought: This woman is a raw nerve of emotions. More aptly put, this woman is plain raw, like skin rubbed so tender it’s bleeding.
“No. You can’t ever give up, Jayne. I’m so sorry. What happened?”
Jayne wiped the water from eyes by running her thumbs just under the skin of her lower lashes so she didn’t smudge her makeup, which looked like it might have been applied with a spatula. For the first time in a long while, Audrey was tempted to touch another person. So she did. She put her hand on Jayne’s bony shoulder, then wasn’t quite sure what to do with it.
Smiling brightly, but with a quivering voice, Jayne said, “Cab hit me on my way to work. I didn’t sleep well—I’ve been having nightmares for a while now. So, anyway, I wasn’t looking when I crossed the street. Like an idiot. I’m so stupid!” She shook her head in disgust, still wearing that uncomfortably bright smile. “I rolled over the hood, like a stunt man or something. I’m all scraped up, but nothing serious except a bruised kneecap,” she said, then her voice got higher pitched, like at any second it would crack. “Wouldn’t you know it? I have a big break on the eve of my big break?”
“That’s awful,” Rachael said. To her surprise, tears pooled in her own eyes, too. What a crappy thing to happen to such a sweet, fragile girl. “Did they catch the driver?”
“No. Some towel-head Indian guy. They should deport them all back to Iran. Bomb that whole desert into a sheet of glass.”
Audrey frowned. “India, or Iran?”
Jayne nodded. “That’s right, I forgot. Indians are from India. Whoever’s hoarding those nukes. That’s who hit me…The thing is, I’m so funny, Addie—do you mind if I call you that?”
“I guess not.” Audrey dropped her hand from Jayne’s shoulder. Bad idea, this touching thing.
“Good. I like Addie better. Audrey’s so uptight, and you’re so cool.”
Audrey smiled. She’d been called a lot of things in her life. Cool was a welcome newcomer.
Jayne kept talking. “You wouldn’t believe how funny I am. Really, you wouldn’t. This won’t slow me down. I’ll make it part of the routine. They’ll piss their pants.”
“Of course they will,” Audrey said.
Jayne grinned so sweetly that Audrey grinned, too. “I KNEW you were awesome. Are we still having dinner? I’m starved.”
The idea was tempting. But she was tired, and not sure she could hold herself erect while Jayne blabber-mouthed her way through an entire meal. “Sure,” she finally said, deciding she’d prefer the company.
She opened the door to apartment 14B, then remembered the thing she’d built inside the open closet door and stopped short.
“What’s wrong?” Jayne asked.
She let out a breath. Impossible to explain. Still, it was far away, down the long hall and in the den. Maybe she could hide it before Jayne saw. Maybe Jayne was so batty she wouldn’t even notice it.
“Is it boys?” Jayne asked.
Audrey was about to shake her head, then realized that yes, in a way, it was boys. “Yeah…”
“Are you okay?”
Audrey looked at the brass lettering that read 14B. The movers had left a black skid mark, which she wiped clean with the heel of her palm. “No. I don’t think I am. I’ve got obsessive-compulsive disorder, and it makes me do things. I never got treated for it, but I guess I should have. There are other problems, too.” This was a perfect