“Do you think it’s possible for you to go back without me?” I say as I catch up to Naomi.
“Seems too risky to try it,” she says. She doesn’t look at me.
“It’s just that my life here seems so good. So much better than the one I had before.”
Naomi stops again and glares at me. “You’re a goddamn reality star who’s knocked up some chick you don’t even know. As soon as your looks fade you will be out of marketable skills.”
“But knowing what I know now about life and death, I could turn his life around. This guy has opportunities. I wouldn’t squander them. I could do something more important.”
“You don’t even know if you will remember anything. What if the lessons you learned haven’t been strong enough to translate into your new life?”
“I’ve been on grief watch for a decade. I think I learned a thing or two,” I say. This time I take the lead walking.
“Looks like this building doesn’t have a doorman.”
“Oh good. Hopefully I won’t get slapped at this one.” My cheek still stings.
There is a directory with buttons attached for each apartment. The name D. Pine is scrawled on a white sticker next to a black button.
“I guess he’s not that famous,” I say.
“He’s an up and comer.” Naomi backs up and looks at the building.
“What are you looking for?”
“A fire escape or something.” She shields her eyes with her left hand and puts her right hand on her hip. The sun is shining on her red hair, revealing gray roots and pink scalp.
“Why?”
“To climb.” She looks at me and shrugs and says, “You, I mean. Not me. I’m not climbing shit with this ancient body. I swear to Christ my hip already feels like it has an icepick jammed into it.”
“But we don’t know which apartment is Dylan’s.”
Naomi turns to me with a fire in her eyes I’ve never seen. It’s Naomi’s rage with the force of Juniper’s decades behind it.
“At least I’m fucking doing something!” She closes the gap between us and pushes me with her palms. I stumble back but don’t dare defend myself.
If I stick around, I can’t be known as the guy who beat up Juniper Haskell, a woman half his size and old enough to be his grandma.
“You’re so goddamn apathetic and easily distracted. How can you even be both of those things?” She shoves me again and this time I fall flat on my ass.
“Calm the fuck down!” I stay on the sidewalk. It’s covered in cigarette butts and unknown liquids but at least she can’t push me down again from here.
Everyone around us is pointing and saying our names to each other. People are pointing their phones at us.
Juniper Haskell is going apeshit on Andy Sullivan and New York City is here to bear witness.
Naomi leans forward with her hand out. I reach toward her and she pulls her hand away. She thrusts her face toward mine. The spit glob hits below my left eye and runs slowly down my cheek.
“WHAT THE FUCK?” The only wiping material I have is my shirtsleeve.
“You’re on your own. Stay here. I don’t care anymore.” The rage is gone. She just looks tired.
Naomi heads toward the small crowd we’ve attracted. A woman with thick glasses and a fanny pack pushes a small notebook in front of her and asks for her autograph. Naomi flips her off and the woman gasps.
I lose sight of her as she goes through the crowd.
I’m back on my feet and dusting my ass when a pretty girl approaches. She’s young, maybe about twenty. She’s wearing tight short-shorts and tiny jacket.
“Andy! What are you doing here? I thought you were locked away in Connecticut for the next few weeks.” She smiles, revealing unnaturally white teeth.
“I am. I mean, I was. I have to go back. I just need to take care of something in the city.” I sound like an idiot.
“I hope you’re here to see Rochelle,” she says. She’s standing close enough for me to smell her floral perfume. “She told me you haven’t talked in a couple of weeks.”
“I want to call her. But dumbest thing ever, I can’t get into my phone.”
She shakes her head and says, “You’ve said some idiotic shit, but that one tops the list. Just fucking call her, asshole.” She turns to walk away, and I grab her arm. “I’m on my way to an audition. I don’t have time for this shit.”
“I’m serious.” I hand her my phone and say, “I can’t remember my code.”
The girl rolls her eyes and pokes at the screen. “Here.” She hands it back to me.
I’m looking at a different photograph. This one is of me and a pretty brunette. We’re smiling like we’re in love.
“What was the code?”
“I took a wild guess: six nine six nine.” She adds the word “douchebag” as she walks away.
Chapter 32
We’re down to just under sixteen hours. Or I’m down to just under sixteen hours, depending on how this shakes out. I decide on the most direct route: I ring the damn buzzer.
“Yeah?” It’s a young man’s voice.
“Is this Dylan Pine?” I’m speaking closely into the intercom like I’m trying to tell a secret.
“Depends on who this is.” His voice is deep and confident, cocky.
“It’s Juniper Haskell,” I say.
Laughter bursts through the intercom. Then he says, “I’m in 401.”
The door buzzes and I pull it open. There are stairs on the right. Those would have been my first choice in my own body. I always took the stairs. I had to counteract the booze calories somehow. But the stairs seem daunting now. Instead I push the button for the elevator.
Dylan greets me outside the elevator when I reach the fourth floor. His lean, muscular arms are crossed over his chest. He’s wearing a button-down purple shirt and fashionably-ripped jeans. The look is complete with Doris’ dumb smirk.
“Have you ever peed standing up, Naomi? It’s truly marvelous.”
“How did you know it was me?” I step off the elevator onto worn, faded red paisley carpeting in the hallway. The elevator doors close behind me, creaking and groaning as they go.
“I recognize the name.” She looks me up and down and says, “You really lost the vapid soul body lottery with that one.”
“Tell me about it.”
I follow Doris into an apartment. It’s a decent sized studio apartment with new furniture.
“Short-term body jumps are never a good idea.”
“Ernesto didn’t know much about it.”
“Ernesto doesn’t know everything. But the good news about your body is that if you stay with it, you can learn how to live without depending on your sexuality. That’s a valuable lesson.”
“Thanks for the advice,” I say. “How do you like the new digs?”
New Doris says, “Not bad. It won’t be long until I have something bigger.”
“You know we need you to come back.”
“We both know that’s not going to happen.” She steps over to the refrigerator and pulls out two bottles of beer. She opens them both and hands one to me. “You know, I never cared for beer when I was alive. But it’s gotten better. And it seems to agree with Dylan’s constitution.” Doris pulls up her shirt and shows me an amazing set of abs.
“Do you think of yourself as Dylan yet?”
“No.” She shakes her head and lowers the shirt. “This must be why we erase the memories. It’s hard to get comfortable when you move into a new body. But I’ll get there.”
The beer is cold down my throat and warm in my stomach. Alcohol. I’ve missed it and didn’t even know it.
“How much time do you have left to return with me?” she asks.