How It Ended: New and Collected Stories - By Jay McInerney Page 0,65
said as he slid across the seat to take her place at the wheel. He reached out the window and slapped a foil packet in her hands.
She watched the wheels spin as the van fishtailed up the street with its vanity plate: THE MAGI. They'd been the Magi before Lori signed on with them—Zac's girlfriend had given him a copy of a way cool novel, The Magus, which “had this, like, magician guy doing all this, like, crazy shit”—and since the band already had a local following, they'd just added to the name: Lori and the Magi.
Jeffrey was fooling with the lights on the Christmas tree when she came in. “Jesus, I thought you'd died on the thruway.”
She detected the note of petulance in his voice.
“Almost.”
Tired as she was, she wanted to lift his mood, and she bounded over to kiss him, tasting the sweet-sour tang of whiskey on his breath.
“You know, until I was about twelve I thought all men smelled like scotch. I thought it was a—what do you call it? A secondary sexual characteristic, like facial hair.”
“How are the three wise men? Following any stars tonight?”
“I just hope they can make it to Brooklyn.” She told the story of the trip—most of it anyway—trying to strike a fine balance between comedy and suspense.
“Jesus,” he said, “when are you going to get rid of those clowns?”
The Magi were a source of some friction in the household. She kissed him again. “As soon as you learn to play bass and drums.”
He turned away to adjust one of the lights on the tree. “So how was the last gig?”
“I would've called,” she said, “but I didn't want to wake you. Forty-two Buffalo metalheads in a bar the size of this apartment.”
“How do they compare to Syracuse metalheads?”
“A little hairier, I think.”
“Ah, the glamour of the rock-and-roll life.”
“How's the play?”
“Incomprehensible. But the lighting's going to be a killer.”
She went into the kitchen and got a beer. “I am so fucking beat,” she said.
“I was kind of hoping we could go out.”
“Out? Tonight?”
“I sort of felt like dancing.”
“Is this, like, a tradition in your family? Going to some club on Christmas Eve?”
“It's my answer to midnight Mass.”
It was their first Christmas together, so they didn't have their own traditions yet. Well, why not dancing? Lori wanted to please him. He was practically the first guy she'd ever gone out with who wasn't a complete asshole. Or bi. Or a junkie. Who was, in fact, so far as she could tell after six months, a great guy. Just as she was starting to make a name for herself singing songs about what creeps guys were, she'd gone and fallen in love. Hooked up with a lover and a band at almost the same moment.
As much as she wanted to go right to sleep, she was conscious of the occasion. She liked to imagine they might be spending future Christmases together, and it seemed important to set the right precedents. He'd bought the tree and gone insane with the lights—it was his profession, after all. One of the first things she'd liked about him: lighting designer. The very concept—a man who taught light how to act. In the places she played, she felt lucky to get a spotlight. And how matter-of-factly he'd said it, like another guy would say computer programmer.
Seeing the lights and the wrapped presents beneath the tree, she suddenly felt guilty.
“Is that really what you want to do? Go dancing?”
“Don't worry about it,” he said. “It was just an idea.”
“It's not that I don't want to stay up with you,” she said, moving closer to him on the couch and kissing his ear. “I think I could summon the energy to give you a special Christmas treat.”
“A treat? Could it be … the Vulcan mind meld?”
“It's not your mind I'm interested in.”
“That's good. For both our sakes.”
“Maybe a shower will revive me.”
“Don't worry about it. We can celebrate tomorrow.”
Jeffrey seemed sincere, but she felt terrible about disappointing him.
In the bedroom, she lay down and dozed off almost immediately. Waking a few minutes later, she suddenly remembered the packet Rory had given her. That was the answer. Jeffrey was so excited about their first Christmas together, and she didn't want to let him down—especially now. In Syracuse she'd seen an old lover, Will Porter. He'd come to the gig and then she'd gone back to his apartment after, ostensibly because he didn't like to hang out in bars. A year out of