from hell pulled down his shirt on one side, which made him look disheveled, shiftless. The sight of his whiskers made him think he’d better shave soon or he’d end up looking like his old acquaintance Yasser Arafat. These Islamists made him nostalgic for that bombastic fart.
The more he looked, the more he realized those fingers looked monstrous and cruel, insane, like something Idi Amin might have sported at a Ugandan state dinner—where the meat was always of questionable provenance.
But as Birk’s exuberance ebbed, it wasn’t the thumb and index finger on his shirt that alarmed him most, and it certainly wasn’t his pointer, newly tucked away. It was the finger that Raggedy Ass was smearing with blood right now, and straightening by clamping the wire cutters on it. Leaving it bizarrely erect. Birk dearly wished he hadn’t.
“Ah, Birk,” Raggedy Ass said with good ol’ boy familiarity, “you are something else.”
Yeah, I sure am. But when Birk stared at his middle finger, his “fuck you” finger boldly challenging the world, he felt a reinvigorating rush of defiance.
* * *
Senator Higgens trundled to the elevator with a throbbing headache. No question, she’d had too much to drink last night, but had she said too much to that persnickety, white bread meteorologist?
Dear God, spare me every last one of your true believers, and deliver me to cynicism, blight, and the most sorely begotten. Amen.
Sheesh, her mood was foul.
In the restaurant, she collapsed into a seat at a table for four. A waiter hurried over with a carafe and poured coffee.
“I look like I need it that bad, huh, bubba?” He didn’t reply. Maybe “bubba” was an unknown in these here parts. Maybe her eyes, red as wild roses, were enough to silence him. But enough to keep her quiet? Not with the need she had: “Give me a bloody Mary, too.”
Her tired eyes rose to the huge screen on the wall of the lobby, but her grimace quickly turned to a smile wide as the ocean blue when she spied Rick Birk’s bloody bandage.
Yes, yes, yes. Another one of his worthless fingers had been chopped off and hung from his shirt. Whoopee.
But what made Higgens laugh so hard that she almost sprayed coffee all over the white tablecloth was the finger that hadn’t been clipped yet, but that was, deliciously enough, next in line: his middle finger, and it stood straight as an English guard.
Well, fuck you back, Birk, Higgens chortled to herself, mirth overwhelming her once again, along with the realization that no hair of the dog—the bloody Mary had arrived—could ever equal the undistilled spirits of revenge.
* * *
“I’m coming home,” Jenna told Dafoe. She’d packed her bags after Marv had hung up, then given herself a couple of minutes to catch her breath before calling her guy.
She reclined on a chaise lounge with a creamy iced coffee. In a few minutes she’d have to leave for the airport, and she wanted to use the time to enjoy the view, the brew, and her boyfriend. Nicci already had booked them on a commercial flight. Jenna was fine with that, realizing that her days of chartered Gulfstream jets—and outsize carbon footprints—had likely begun and ended with her trip to the Maldives.
“Today? That’s great news,” Dafoe said. “It is great news, isn’t it?” he added tentatively.
“Yes, definitely. I won’t numb you with details now, but I don’t think I was cut out for the news end of the business, not the way Marv and a certain unmentionable producer do it.” Nicci came over, holding up her laptop so Jenna could see an e-mail. “Marv just sent a message saying that Nicci and I have been suspended from The Morning Show. Whatever that means. Probably that we’re fired.”
“The other networks will be bidding for you.”
“Maybe for Nicci, but I’m starting to think that I might be better off taking a position at a college. One thing I’ll tell you is that I’m not taking this lying down. I’ve got a call in to Marv’s boss.”
“I don’t care where you end up, as long as it’s here a good part of the time.”
“So it’s okay if I come directly from JFK to your place?”
“Are you kidding? Need a ride?”
“No, you keep your eyes on those cows, and I’ll grab a cab to Penn Station and take the train up.”
Rafan strolled onto the balcony with a carafe of iced coffee as Jenna hung up. He poured her a refill and perched on the end of