Billy Summers

The Tripp Donovans of the world have a nose for a certain kind of girl, Billy thinks. They are shy girls who make friends slowly because they aren’t very good at making the first move. They are mildly pretty girls who have been bludgeoned by beauty on TV, in the movies, on the Internet, and in the celebrity magazines so that they see themselves not as mildly pretty but as plain, or even sort of ugly. They see their bad features – the too-wide mouth, the too-close-set eyes – and ignore the good ones. These are girls who have been told by the fashion mags in the beauty shops, and often by their own mothers, that they need to lose twenty pounds. They despair over the size of their boobs, butts, and feet. To be asked out is a wonder, but then there is the agony of what to wear. This certain kind of girl can call girlfriends to discuss that, but only if she has them. Alice, new in the city, does not. But on their movie date, Tripp doesn’t seem to mind her clothes or her too-wide mouth. Tripp is funny. Tripp is charming. Tripp is complimentary. And he’s a perfect gentleman. He kisses her after the movie date, but it’s a wanted kiss, a desired kiss, and he doesn’t spoil it by sticking his tongue in her mouth or grabbing at her breasts.

Tripp is a student at one of the local colleges. Billy asks how old he is, thinking she probably won’t know, but thanks to the wonders of Facebook, she does. Tripp Donovan is twenty-four.

‘Little old to still be going to college.’

‘I think he’s a grad student. He’s doing advanced studies.’

Advanced studies, Billy thinks. Right.

Of course Tripp suggested Alice come by his crib for a drink before heading out to the Bucket, and of course she agreed. The aforementioned crib was in one of those Sherwood Heights condos near the Interstate. Alice took the bus because she doesn’t have a car. Tripp was waiting for her outside, the perfect gentleman. He kissed her on the cheek and took her up to the third floor in the elevator. It was a big apartment. He could only afford it, Tripp said, because he and his roommates split the rent. The roommates were Hank and Jack. Alice doesn’t know their last names. She tells Billy that they seemed perfectly nice, came out to the living room to meet her, then went back into one of the bedrooms where some sports show was playing on TV. Or maybe it was a video game, she’s not sure which.

‘So that’s where your memory starts to get foggy?’

‘No, they just shut the door when they went back in.’ Alice is using the washcloth to dab at her cheeks and forehead.

Tripp asked if she wanted a beer. Alice tells Billy she doesn’t care for beer but took one to be polite. Then, when Tripp saw she was going slow on the Heinie, he asked if she wanted a gin and tonic. The door to Jack’s room opened and the sound from the TV went off and Jack said, ‘Did I hear someone mention gin and tonic?’

So they all have g-and-t’s, and that’s when Alice says things started to get fogged-in. She thought it was because she’s not used to alcohol. Tripp suggested she have another. Because, he said, the second drink will fight the first. He said it’s a known fact. One of the roommates put on some music and she thinks she remembers dancing in the living room with Tripp, and that’s where her memory pretty much runs out.

She picks up the washcloth and breathes through it again for a little while. Her bra is still underneath the coffee table, looking like a small animal that died.

‘Now it’s your turn,’ she says.

Billy tells her what he saw and did, beginning with the screech of brakes and tires and ending with putting her to bed. She thinks it over, then says, ‘Tripp doesn’t own a van. He has a Mustang. He picked me up in it when we went to the movies.’

Billy thinks of Ken Hoff, who also had a Mustang. And died in it. ‘Nice car,’ he says. ‘Was your roommate jealous?’

‘I’m on my own. It’s just a small place.’ As soon as the words are out, Billy can see she thinks she’s made a mistake telling him she’s on her own. He could point out that Tripp Donovan probably also knew this but doesn’t. She puts the washcloth over her face again and breathes, but this time her breath keeps whooping.

‘Give me that,’ Billy says. This time he wets it under the kitchen tap, keeping an eye on her while he does it, but he doesn’t think she’ll break for the door wearing nothing but a thin T-shirt. He comes back. ‘Try again. Slow deep breaths.’

When her respiration eases, he says ‘Come with me. I want to show you something.’

He takes her out of the apartment, up the stairs, into the foyer. He points to the vomit drying on the wall. ‘That’s from when I brought you in.’

‘Whose underwear is that? Is it yours?’

‘Yes. I was getting ready to go to bed. It was falling down while I was trying to keep you from choking. It was actually kind of comical.’

She doesn’t smile, only repeats that Tripp doesn’t drive a van.

‘I imagine it belongs to one of his roommates.’