"I'll try 'Naomi and Lateef.'"
"You're only the second person to pick that. Most everybody picks 'Flaming Panties.' It's really sick, too. The mind that comes up with stuff like that."
"They're not your stories."
"I don't make them up. I just recite them."
"I thought they were your stories."
"If I made up 'Flaming Panties,' I don't know, I think I'd run a sword through my body. It is _the_ sickest."
Selvy heard the man in the outer office talking to someone. He seemed agitated, although the words weren't clearly audible through the closed door.
"If you get stimulated by the story, pay attention, you can give me an extra ten if you want, or an extra twenty, depending. We leave it up to customer preference. What's wrong?"
"Nothing," he said.
"That's just Stony making life hard for the kid who brings his sandwich."
Selvy nodded.
"The 'Story of Naomi and Lateef,'" she said, standing momentarily to unzip the shift down the back, then stepping out of it and sitting down again. She looked at him impatiently.
"What?" he said, "If you keep your clothes on, it means you're a cop."
"I see. I didn't realize."
"Nude storytelling, it says on the door."
"Everybody, that means."
"You're catching on," she said.
"There are some people I'm trying to avoid, more or less."
"We all get naked. If you don't, you're a cop. That's what they told me. I'm also supposed to say we recommend the twenty-dollar activity, which is the one we need the bed for. That goes in at the part we came to before."
"I've got a better idea."
"Of course if you're ashamed. We get all sorts. Maybe we can work out a compromise. I don't think a person ought to be forced to get undressed in front of a stranger. It's just everybody's so casual about their bodies."
"There are some people I'm trying to avoid. What say you and I go out and get something to eat. Come on, put on your dress, we'll go. Is there a back way?"
"Whoa, big fella."
"I'll take the twenty-dollar activity. Just not here, okay? We'll grab a bite, come on."
"Come, go; eat, sleep; dress, undress."
"Nadine. Is that your name?"
"Yes."
"How old are you?"
"Never mind."
"You'll never reach twenty if you hang around here much longer. I'm your last chance."
"At least you're smiling. You'd better be smiling."
"Come on, we'll go to Little Rock."
"What a thing to say."
"Get your clothes on."
"My sister lives in Little Rock," she said.
Dressed, she led the way through a series of storerooms. They emerged in a larger room occupied by a woman wearing black boots, a long black military shirt and an iron cross hanging from her neck. The shirt included a red armband with a black swastika set inside a circular field of white. The woman sat smoking, her feet propped on the top rung of a small ladder.
"Passing through."
"You're the new one."
"Nadine Rademacher. Hi. How's business."
"Sucks," the woman said.
"Enjoy your break."
"Who's Johnny Lonesome?"
"Just a hanger-on," Nadine said. "Can't get rid of the kid."
In the corridor they passed the same man Selvy had seen earlier, standing in a different doorway this time.
"Photograph live nudes."
"Angelo, why don't you go home?" Nadine said.
"Busload of Japanese coming down from the Hilton."
At the top of the stairway Selvy asked Nadine to wait a moment. He followed the same route he'd taken after entering. Turning the corner into an empty hallway he palmed his.38 and held it flat against his thigh. Went past the window, the room full of novelties. Opened the black metal door. No one there. Stony's racing form on the desk. He walked through into the studio. Empty. He holstered the gun and went out to find Nadine.
The street was even more crowded than it had been. Apparently there'd been action. Squad cars, an ambulance, a TV crew. People made faces for the camera. Selvy scanned the crowd, then led Nadine along the front of the building and down a cross street to the nearest restaurant. It was a dark cellar, a steak place, and the waiter wore spats. Only two other tables were occupied. An extramarital affair at one. Judge Crater at the other.
"My drama teacher talked me off L.A.," Nadine said. "He kept saying New York. New York actors. Character actors. People with faces."
"He seemed to think faces were important, did he?"
"He kept saying faces. People with faces. He said I wouldn't learn anything in a place where there's just one basic face."
The waiter glided by.
"Kitchen's closing if you want to order."
The old man nearby, with long white stringy hair, sipped his complimentary cordial.
"So you're an actress," Selvy said.
"Aspiring."
"That place you work at."
"It was all a storage area. Is that what you mean? Why is it set up so everything's so hard to get to? They kept materials there. Books, rubber and leather, film equipment, editing equipment, everything. Then somebody in the organization decided to open it up to street trade, even though it's hidden away on the second and third floor. It's the accountants, Stony said. A tax matter. You're not a cop. We established that. Am I right?"
"Right."
"Talerico," she said, fixing him with a meaningful look.
"Familiar."
"There's two of them. Paul. That's the one who's here. One of the New York families, as you can well imagine. Pornography, trucking, vending machines. Don't you love it? That's the legitimate end. The other one. That's Vincent. He's upstate or somewhere. They're cousins, I think."
"I know the names," Selvy said.
"Vincent's in charge of acquiring, Stony said. Acquisitions. He specializes in first-run movies. When they can't get rights by bargaining, they send Vincent. He gets the film. He just takes it. Then they make their own prints. Then they distribute,"
She hunched way down in her chair, conspiratorially, her face just inches above the table top.
"They call him Vinny the Eye. Don't you love it? It's so dumb, I love it. I've only seen Paul. He was in the other day. Everybody went around saying, '_Paul's here, Paul, he's in the building_.' I was disappointed in Paul. I was not impressed. It was disillusioning for a country girl like myself. I think Vinny's the Hollywood one. The dresser. The fancy gangster type. It's really dumb. I wish he'd come around so I could see him."
When the food came she didn't waste time, obviously hungry. Watching her eat relaxed him. It occurred to Selvy he hadn't been hungry in years. He'd experienced weakness and discomfort from lack of food, But he hadn't desired it really, except to ease the discomfort. He tried to recall the last time he'd felt a real desire for food.
"Are you seriously going to Little Rock?" she said.
"Thereabouts, sure, why not."
"Ever since I've been working in that place I keep thinking the whole world smells of Lysol."
"You owe me a story, you know."
"'Naomi and Lateef.'"
"I might change my mind," he said.
"All I know, I'm not doing 'Flaming Panties.' That story's so sick I've been changing it little by little. A little every day. I don't care who complains. It's a story that relies on combinations. Incest is just the beginning. It _starts_ with incest. Then near the end it just becomes reciting words. Some words I just won't say. It piles on the phrases. It becomes red meat."
"Your customers."
"They laugh, mostly. Some get embarrassed. You'd be surprised."
"Sitting there naked, laughing."