Page 436 - Some Dance to Remember

406 Jack Fritscher

“What movie are you?”
“I’m the oldest movie in the world.”
“Definitely an Agatha Christie plot...” Ryan feebly tried to escape
Solly’s intense logic. “...narrated by Rod Serling’s silver-tongued devil.”
“You still have the gun I gave you?”
“It’s somewhere in the house.”
Solly laid flat his snare. “Sometimes it’s not wrong to murder.”
“I hate reverse psychology.” Ryan put both hands to his forehead.
“Why does everyone use it on me?”
“He tampered with your affection. He took your money and your
hospitality. He got you raped. He broke into your house. He assaulted the
very writer in you. He stole your manuscript for Universal Appeal. He took
your photographs. How can you live with yourself if you don’t get even?”
“I love him too much to get even.”
“Now he hustles. Publicly. For money.”
“You’re obsessed with hustlers,” Ryan said.
“He hustled you.”
“He never hustled me.”
“He turned your head and took your heart. That’s the ultimate hustle.”
“I want...”
“What do you want?”
Ryan sat still in the dark “I want him to know my pain.”
“Then scare him. Let him know murderers are everywhere.”
“I want him to know how far we’ve both fallen.”
“Then kill him.”
In the street below, a Muni bus roared up Geary. It was full of light
in the dark street. Inside were only the driver and one weary passenger
alone in the back of the bus.
“I have to, don’t I?”
A man’s motives need not coincide with civilization when his style of
love has not.
“Cut! Print!” Solly said. “End of scene.” He flicked on the lamp,
returned them to reality, and offered Ryan his glass of Coca-Cola. “You’re
not the only one, buster, who can pull off a talk scene.”
“Very funny,” Ryan said.
“I’m cheaper than a shrink. You’ve got to let it out.”
“I’m so sad I can’t even cry.”
“Then write.”
“Write? I’m a hack, remember?”
“Use your writing,” Solly said “Write a revenge story. Title it ‘Lords

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