Paranoia (170 of 170)

—of —
by Joseph Finder
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Macmillan: Paranoia

Paranoia by Joseph Finder. Copyright 2004 by Joseph Finder.
All Rights Reserved. Sharing not permitted.


My Porsche, fittingly, had been towed away. I'd parked it illegally last night; what did I expect?

So I walked out of the Trion building and looked around for a cab, but none was anywhere to be found. I suppose I could have used a phone in the lobby to call for one, but I felt an overwhelming, almost physical need to get out of there. Carrying the white cardboard box filled with the few things from my office, I walked along the side of the highway.

A few minutes later a bright red car pulled over to the curb, slowed down next to me. It was an Austin Mini Cooper, about the size of a toaster oven. The passenger's side window rolled down, and I could smell Alana's lush floral scent wafting through the city air.

She called out to me. "Hey, do you like it? I just got it. Isn't it fabulous?"

I nodded and attempted a cryptic smile. "Red's cop bait," I said.

"I never go over the speed limit."

I just nodded.

She said, "Suppose you get down off your motorcycle and give me a ticket?"

I nodded, kept walking, unwilling to play.

She inched her car alongside me. "Hey, what happened to your Porsche?"

"Got towed."

"Yuck. Where're you going?"

"Home. Harbor Suites." Not home for long, I realized with a jolt. I didn't own it.

"Well, you're not walking all the way. Not with that box. Come on, get in, I'll give you a ride."

"No thanks."

She followed alongside, driving slowly on the shoulder of the road. "Oh, come on, Adam, don't be mad."

I stopped, went over to the car, set down my box, put my hands on the car's low roof. Don't be mad? All along I'd been torturing myself because I thought I was manipulating her, and she was just doing a goddamned job. "You—they told you to sleep with me, didn't they?"

"Adam," she said sensibly. "Get real. That wasn't part of the job description. That's just what HR calls a fringe benefit, right?" She laughed her swooping laugh, and it chilled me. "They just wanted me to guide you along, pass along leads, that sort of thing. But then you came after me...."

"They just wanted you to guide me along," I echoed. "Oh, man. Oh, man. Makes me ill." I picked up the box and resumed walking.

"Adam, I was just doing what they told me to do. You of all people should understand that."

"Like we'll ever be able to trust each other? Even now—you're just doing what they want you to, aren't you?"

"Oh, please," said Alana. "Adam, darling. Don't be so goddamned paranoid."

"And I actually thought we had a nice relationship going," I said.

"It was fun. I had a great time."

"Did you."

"God, don't take it so seriously, Adam! It's just sex. And business. What's wrong with that? Trust me, I wasn't faking it!"

I kept walking, looking around for a cab, but there was nothing in sight. I didn't even know this part of town. I was lost.

"Come on, Adam," she said, inching the Mini along. "Get in the car."

I kept going.

"Oh, come on," she said, her voice like velvet, suggesting everything, promising nothing. "Will you just get in the car?"


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    Poem-a-Day Collection (30)

    Poem-a-Day Collection
    by Knopf
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    Poem-a-Day Collection by Knopf. Compilation copyright 2009 by Knopf.
    All Rights Reserved. Sharing not permitted.

    The Mistake

    By Jack Gilbert

    There is always the harrowing by mortality,
    the strafing by age, he thinks. Always defeats.
    Sorrows come like epidemics. But we are alive
    in the difficult way adults want to be alive.
    It is worth having the heart broken,
    a blessing to hurt for eighteen years
    because a woman is dead. He thinks of long
    before that, the summer he was with Gianna
    and her sister in Apulia. Having outwitted
    the General, their father, and driven south
    to the estate of the Contessa. Like an opera.
    The fiefdom stretching away to the horizon.
    Houses of the peasants burrowed into the walls
    of the compound. A butler with white gloves
    serving chicken in aspic. The pretty maid
    in her uniform bringing his breakfast each
    morning on a silver tray: toast both light
    and dark, hot chocolate and tea both. A world
    like Tosca. A feudal world crushed under
    the weight of passion without feeling.
    Gianna's virgin body helplessly in love.
    The young man wild with romance and appetite.
    Wondering whether he would ruin her by mistake.


    Buy Jack Gilbert The Dance Most Of All from Amazon here.

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    Excerpt from THE DANCE MOST OF ALL. Copyright © 2009 by Jack Gilbert. Excerpted by permission of Alfred A. Knopf, a division of Random House, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

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