Nobody Gets The Girl (22 page)

The man who stepped before the microphone was
dressed in an expensive silk suit. He wore a fedora, and sported
gold and diamonds on his fingers, his wrists, and his tiepin. His
shoes were Italian leather. Everything revealed him to be a man of
success, wealth, and good, if a bit flamboyant, taste.

The bar before him was nearly empty. The
lights were off on the stage, the candles on the tables
extinguished, the chairs turned upside down on the tabletops. Far
across the room, two men sat. He knew their names. They were Tony
and Jake. Tony was the barkeeper, Jake was his friend. It wasn't
unusual for them to hang around the empty bar and watch the little
television that hung over it, chatting into the wee hours of the
night.

The man on the stage took the microphone in
his hands.

"Hi," he said. "I'm Richard Rogers, but my
friends call me Nobody."

He started to wander around the stage,
trailing the mike cord. "There's kind of a funny story behind that.
It involves a time machine and a condom that didn't break."

He looked out over the empty tables and
listened to the silence that greeted his opening material.

"Oh," he said. "Guess you've heard it."

He pushed his hat back. He took out a
cigarette and placed the tip in the corner of his mouth. "But
that's OK. That's OK. I've got all kinds of material. I mean to
tell you, I've seen some crazy shit in my time. I've slept in the
Lincoln Bedroom. I've traveled all over the world. I was there when
Jerusalem bit the dust. I mean, the stuff I could tell you about,
it would make your head explode."

He paused to light his cigarette. "Oh, yeah.
Yeah. I've seen that. I've seen heads explode."

Across the room, Jake chuckled at something
Tony said.

Encouraged, Nobody pressed on. "So, the long
and short of it is, I'm invisible. I mean, really, no one can see
me. And this has its advantages. Like, you see my watch? It's a
Rolex. You know what it cost me? Nothing! 'Cause I'm fucking
invisible, man!"

He sat the mike back into its stand. He was
starting to feel warmed up.

"This tie. You know how much they wanted for
this tie? Six hundred dollars! I mean, come on! I saw this thing in
a shop downtown and I thought, 'Hey, snazzy!' Then I saw the price!
Yow! I mean, what kind of idiot drops six hundred bucks on a tie?
Not me, baby! 'Cause I'm fucking invisible!"

"Heh," he said, smoothing his tie back down.
"Yeah. And you guys. Come on, guys, tell me what you'd do if you
were invisible. Come on, admit it. You'd use your newfound ability
to look at naked chicks. Yeah. Yeah, I've done that."

Tony and Jake continued to chat. They were
watching some beer commercial that prominently featured women in
bathing suits.

"Those women in that commercial. I've seen
'em naked. Probably. They all sort of run together after a while.
I mean, I've hung out at the freakin' Playboy mansion. I've seen my
share of pussy. Seen ‘em and smelled ‘em. I just shove my nose into
any crotch that catches my fancy and take a big whiff. That’s the
invisible life, dudes!"

He loosened his tie. He felt like he was
buzzing. He had no script; he had nothing practiced. He didn't need
it now. He just talked and people thought he was funny. And if he
got into trouble, there was always a silly walk.

"And women, good God, women say the
raunchiest things when men aren't around. I swear, you ever turn
invisible, go hang out in a women's restroom for an hour. You'll
hear shit that’ll make your hair fall out. When men aren't around,
women are just downright crude. I heard these two girls once, they
were riding in a car, and this one was talking about her
boyfriend's penis. I'm not kidding. A twenty-minute drive, and the
whole way she keeps describing this penis, talking about what kind
of veins it has, talking about, I swear, what kind of moods it has.
I mean, come on! Men could never carry on a conversation for twenty
minutes about the physical attributes of their girlfriends. They
need, what, three words, tops,"—he lowered his voice and swaggered
into his he-man stance—"Hooters. Big ones."

He chuckled deeply, doing his macho man slow
laugh.

He straightened up, wiping his brow. He took
a long drag off his cigarette, then blew a perfect smoke ring. How
come he could only do this when no one was watching?

He looked at Jake and Tony, shaking their
heads about something on TV. He felt some of the energy drain from
him. He tapped the mike with his finger.

"This thing on?"

It wasn't.

He looked at his watch. Four in the morning.
Time to wrap this up.

"Fuck you all for coming," he said. “I’m here
all week. I’m Nobody.”

He flicked his cigarette into the huge potted
tree at the edge of the stage. He dropped down from the stage and
made his way over to the bar. While Tony and Jake watched the
television, he snagged a bottle of tequila and a shot glass.

He did a shot, then took a suck of a bar
lime. He shuddered as it took hold.

"You believe this?" said Jake, pointing at
the television.

It was Rail Blade he was pointing at. Rail
Blade was on TV. Nobody perked up. Had it been a year already? Was
she back to destroy the imperfect world?

He realized quickly that this was old
footage. They were watching some tabloid TV show about the sinister
alien origins of Rail Blade and the Thrill.

"What's to believe?" said Tony.

"That they're aliens. I mean, come on, look
at this woman. She's not no damn alien."

"Jake, she has steel spikes shooting out of
her ankles. There's a clue."

"I dunno," said Jake. "I mean, spikes or no,
you gotta admit she's one hot babe."

"Did her," said Nobody.

"I just think she's spooky," said Tony. "She
weirds me out."

"Brother, you don't know the half of it,"
said Nobody, doing another shot. He wiped his mouth, then stuck in
another cigarette.

"How 'bout her sister?" said Jake.

"Who? The Thrill? She's pretty hot I
guess."

"Had her," said Nobody, lighting his
cigarette with his diamond studded gold lighter.

"But," said Tony, "I hear she's got some kind
of mind control. I mean, you know I don't like women who mess with
my head."

"Oh brother, preach it!" said Nobody.
"Amen."

"I saw them once," said Jake.

"Get out."

"Really. I was in D.C. for the dome
celebration. There was some kind of attack by this huge baby
doll—don't look at me like that, it was a damn ten-story baby doll
with a gun for a head—and everyone was panicking when all of a
sudden the Thrill flew over our heads and yelled, 'Stay calm! Keep
down!’" Jake looked dreamily into the distance as he spoke of
her.

"So what did you do?" asked Tony.

"I stayed calm. I kept down. But it didn't
feel like mind control. It was just something that seemed like
really good advice. Still does."

"Huh," said Tony. He glanced down to the end
of the bar. His eyes locked where Nobody was sitting.

"What?" said Jake.

Tony walked toward Nobody. "How'd this bottle
of tequila get down here?"

Nobody grabbed at the bottle as Tony took it,
his fingers passing though as if it were made of smoke.

"Excuse me," Nobody said. "I'm not done."

"Maybe you got mice," said Jake,
chuckling.

"Damn big mice," said Tony.

Nobody leaned back in his stool and blew a
perfect smoke ring. He blew a lot of perfect smoke rings these
days.

As Jake and Tony returned their gaze to the
television, Nobody ventured behind the bar once more for the
tequila. Behind the booze was a large mirror, and he revealed his
face as he took the bottle into his grasp.

He studied himself, in this $300 fedora, with
his gold tie clasp. He didn't look bad, he thought. He needed a
haircut, sure. But living on the road had been good to him. He'd
aged well over the months, his face growing a little tanner, a
little more rugged. He looked like a mature, seasoned man of the
world. If only his eyes weren't so bloodshot and wet.

"Yeah," he said. "Kind of a funny story."

NOBODY SWIRLED THE
ice in his
margarita with the wedge of lime. He scooped the lime across the
rim of the glass, gathering up salt, then licked it. He
contemplated the lime, with its withered brownish edges. Why did
bar limes always look like they'd been cut two weeks before?

By now, the bar was completely empty. The
barkeep and his friend had turned off the television and gone home.
It was five-thirty in the morning, and Nobody had sampled a little
of everything in the bar. Sadly, the bar didn't have a jukebox.

"Strike up the steel guitar, boys," said
Nobody, his voice slurred. "I've lost my woman, my house, my car,
my job, everything that used to be me has gone and died. All I've
got left is booze and cheap thrills. I'm living in a goddamn
country song."

He stared down at the margarita. "OK. So
maybe the margarita is more a Jimmy Buffet thing. Gotta have the
right props."

He rose drunkenly from the stool and crept
his way behind the bar, looking for a bottle of whiskey.

"Whiskey river, take my lime," he sang
softly. "It's done turned all brown and dry..."

He returned to his stool with the whiskey. He
tilted the bottle up, filling his mouth, then spat out the
contents. "Whoa, let's not do that again," he giggled.

Behind him, he heard footsteps.

He looked over his shoulder. There was a man
standing in the shadows, looking at him.

"Howdy, partner," said Nobody.

"Partner," said the man in the shadows, with
a nod of his head.

"Wait a second... you heard me," said Nobody,
scratching his head.

"Hear you, see you. Smell you from over here.
You drinking that stuff or just wallowing in it?"

"Wallowing mostly," said Nobody, sighing.
"Wallowing in booze and misery. How come you can hear me? Wait,
don't tell me, I've drunk myself dead. You're the devil, come for
me at last."

"Good guess," said the stranger. He stepped
forward, into the dim light of the single candle Nobody had lit on
the bar.

"Well, well, well," said Nobody, recognizing
his guest. "If it ain't my old buddy Dr. Know."

"It ain't," said Dr. Know, sitting down next
to him. He looked different somehow. His hair was longer, his face
was thinner, and he was wearing blue jeans and a black leather
jacket. But what was really different, Nobody realized, was the
way he carried himself, loose and relaxed. He looked as if the
weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders.

"Doc, I gotta admit, I never thought I'd see
you again."

"You aren't seeing me again," said Doctor
Know. "This is our first meeting."

"Holy crap," said Nobody, his eyes widening.
"You've done messed things up with your time machine again. Jesus
Christ. When I go outside, I'm going to find a world run by apes,
aren't I?"

"The world's been run by apes for quite a
while now," said Dr. Know.

"So," said Nobody. "I guess you're feeling
pretty smug these days, huh? Looks like the world's starting to get
its act together. Everybody rallying together in defense of Earth.
And I saw in the paper that Hong Kong's decided to build one of
your dome thingies. Guess everything's going according to
plan."

"So it would seem," said Dr. Know. "But not
my plan."

"What do you mean?"

"I would never cage in humanity beneath
plastic skies. I would never subvert the liberties of people,
forcing them to live under an authoritarian scheme managed by a
shadow king only a handful of elites even know exists. All my life
I've fought for free will, free skies, and free love. By the way, I
gotta admit I admire you. Boffing both the Thrill and Rail Blade.
Sweet."

"You sick fuck," said Nobody. "No wonder they
both hate you."

"They hate me because they've been trained to
hate me. But I think you're trying to imply that they hate their
father. You still haven't figured out who I am, have you?"

"You're Dr. Know," said Nobody. "What, you
having an identity crisis or something?"

"I know exactly who I am," he answered. "I'm
Nikolas Knowbokov.

"A.K.A. Dr. Know," said Nobody.

"A.K.A. Rex Monday."

Nobody stared at the man next to him. He
reached for the whiskey, and took a sip.

"I'm a little drunk," Nobody admitted. "So
maybe I'm not catching this. You mean all this time, you've been
Rex Monday?"

"Yep. I've been Rex Monday. But I haven't
been Dr. Know."

Nobody lowered his head and shook it. "Who's
on first," he mumbled.

"So I've heard," said Rex Monday.

"And Dr. Know and Rex Monday are the same
person," said Nobody.

"No, not really."

"You are one mean bastard, messing with me
while I'm this drunk."

"I'm a mean bastard most of the time. I have
a lot of things to feel mean about. Like the fact that the world is
presently being run by my goddamn evil twin and I'm starting to
think he's actually going to get away with it."

"Evil twin," said Nobody, chuckling. Why
hadn't he thought of that? It seemed so obvious now. He nodded
slowly, and said it again. "Evil twin."

"I like to think of him as such, yes."

"My head hurts."

"Did he tell you he destroyed the universe in
1968?"

"Yeah."

"He lied," said Monday, tapping his chest. "I
destroyed the universe in 1968. I was the one whose mind provided
the template for its re-genesis. I imagined myself in the world,
and so someone very much like myself filled that role. But I was
still outside. I wasn't the cat in the box, I was still the one who
had opened the box. I watched, ghostlike, in horror as someone who
looked, sounded, and seemingly thought just like me carried on with
what should have been my life. And for years, that was all I could
do. Watch, while he gathered up wealth and power, watch while he
fucked my wife and fathered her children. I hated him. I despised
him. And I swore that one day I would kill him."