High Profile

Lloyd scooted on his butt backward away from Jesse and scrambled to his feet. Jesse could see his eyes shifting, looking for a weapon. Lloyd picked up a brass candleholder from the dining-room table, charged at Jesse, and tried to hit him with it. Jesse deflected Lloyd’s swing with his left forearm, grabbed him by the hair, and ran him forward behind his own momentum into the wall headfirst. Lloyd let go of the candlestick holder and went to his knees and stayed there, trying to get his legs under him. He had more stuff in him than Jesse had expected. Jesse’s business was to get rid of whatever stuff Lloyd had. He kicked him in the stomach and Lloyd yelped and fell flat on the floor and doubled up in pain and a kind of fetal concealment. Jesse walked to a red leather armchair near the front door and sat in it and said nothing. Lloyd stayed doubled up on the floor, groaning softly and occasionally.

Something annoying impinged faintly on Jesse’s consciousness. He listened. There was a television on somewhere in the apartment. He couldn’t hear what was being said. But he knew from the sound of it that it was blather.

After a time when the only sound in the place was the distant and indistinct blather, Lloyd stopped groaning on the floor.

“I never did anything to your wife,” he said.

“You’ve been stalking her.”

“I never—”

“I’m not here to debate,” Jesse said.

He stood and walked over to where Lloyd lay on the ground, took his gun from his hip, and bent over and put the muzzle of the gun against the bridge of Lloyd’s nose.

“If you stalk her again, or bother her in any way, or have anything at all to do with her, I’ll kill you,” he said.

“Jesus Christ, Stone.” Lloyd’s voice was up a full octave.

Jesse pressed the gun harder against Lloyd’s forehead.

“You understand that?”

“Yes, Jesus Christ, yes. I promise I’ll never go near her again. I promise.”

Jesse stood motionless for a moment, the gun pressed against Lloyd. He could feel the air going in and out of his lungs. He could feel the latissimus dorsi bunch. He could almost feel it. It was as if he were able to project himself ahead into the sudden discharge of energy that came with a gunshot.

“Please,” Lloyd said. “Please. I won’t ever bother her again.”

Jesse took in all the air his lungs would hold and let it out slowly, and straightened and put the gun back in its holster.

“Get up,” he said. “Sit in a chair. Tell me your side of it.”

Lloyd got painfully to his feet. Jesse made no attempt to help him. Half-bent and slow, Lloyd got himself to a big, barrel-backed chair and sank into it. They looked at each other.

“I don’t want to make you mad,” Lloyd said.

“Let’s keep it simple,” Jesse said. “You leave Jenn alone, you’ll have no problem with me. You bother her again and I’ll kill you.”

Lloyd nodded slowly.

“Can I get a drink?” he said.

“Sure.”

“You want one?” Lloyd said.

“No.”

Lloyd went stiffly to the kitchen, filled a lowball glass with ice, poured a lot of Jack Daniel’s over the ice, and brought it back. He sat and looked at Jesse and took a drink.

“I, you’re sure you don’t want something.”

“I’m sure,” Jesse said.

“I, ah, I liked Jenn a lot,” Lloyd said.

The normalness of having bourbon on the rocks in his living room made Lloyd a little calmer. Pretty soon, Jesse knew, the whiskey would help as well... Coupla good old boys, Jesse thought, having a Jack on the rocks, talking about broads.

“And I thought she liked me,” Lloyd said. “But I think now that she just wanted me to get her into modeling, and television commercials, and, you know, help her career.”

Jesse nodded.

“She was using me.”

“Probably she wanted both,” Jesse said.

“What do you mean?”

“Probably wanted to be in love with you and wanted you to help her, and she couldn’t separate the two out either.”

“I don’t get it,” Lloyd said.

“No,” Jesse said. “You probably don’t.”

60

They sat on the seawall at the town beach in the early evening, looking out across the deserted beach at the empty ocean. Sunny looked great, he thought. Black sleeveless top, white jeans, big sunglasses. Jesse looked sideways at her. She was staring straight out to sea. He’d never been able to figure out what made a face look intelligent.

“You spoke to Tim Lloyd,” Sunny said.

“Yes.”

Maybe it wasn’t in the face. Maybe it was behind the face.

“And?” Sunny said.

“He felt used,” Jesse said. “He felt she was exploiting him to get ahead.”

“I’m shocked,” Sunny said, “shocked, I tell you.”

Jesse nodded. He had stopped studying her face and was also looking at the ocean.

“He stalked her so he’d feel powerful,” Sunny said.

“I know,” Jesse said.

“To compensate for feeling so not powerful,” Sunny said, “after she ditched him, or however he experienced it.”

“I know.”

They stared out at the ocean together. It was calm as evening arrived. The water moved gently and the surface of it was almost slick.

Jesse said, “He and I agreed that he’d stay away from Jenn.”