The Schwarzschild Radius (26 page)

Greyson spent the next fifteen minutes checking to see if anything was missing. Then he found something that wasn’t supposed to be there. On the carpet, near the laptop, was the plastic cap of a flash drive.

orry I wrecked the night,” said Rachel outside.

“Don’t sweat it. There’s more where he came from. The world is full of asshole guys willing to pay for us. And by the way, that’s why you get paid up front.”

“Listen, yesterday when we went to see your friends―”

“Yeah.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“The answer is yes.”

“Huh?”

“Yes, I’m HIV positive.”

“I’m…”

“Skip the condolences. I’m going to beat this.”

“What about the men you sleep with. Do they―”

“Some of them know.”

“And it makes no difference to them?”

“For some of them, it increases the thrill. What can I tell you? Kirsten was positive, too. We were going to beat this together. But everyone I love leaves.”

Rachel looked behind them to make sure they weren’t being followed.

“How did you two meet?” asked Rachel.

“I was in the Mid-Manhattan Library one day last year. I was feeling pretty lonely and I went on Facebook. I looked through a bunch of guys’ profiles, then I told myself I really needed a friend, not a lay, so I looked through the girls’ profiles. She was from Minnesota, blonde, really pretty, and fifteen. She was on the streets over there, and we started corresponding, and a funny thing happened. It became something to look forward to. That I had someone. We started talking on the phone, and I told her, since she was already on the streets, why not come to New York and stay with me. It’s better than the streets. I have an apartment, sort of. I remember the day I was waiting for her at Port Authority. I was waiting for her with all my heart, and when she got off that bus we just fell into each other’s arms.

“We started doing outcalls, but I wouldn’t let her fuck any of the guys. She just danced. I wanted to keep something clean in this world and she was clean. And she was mine. But they started offering her a lot of cash and she gave in. She told everyone she was twelve and she looked it. Eventually, she moved in with a boyfriend and we drifted apart. And now she’s dead.” The wind blew her hair away from her face, but there were no tears.

“Let’s not talk about that. Look, we’re doing good. Let’s head back to my place.”

Rachel was torn between getting into the memory sticks and keeping Sonia company. They both needed a friend tonight.

“Sure. Where’s your place?”

“We’ll take the D uptown.”

The apartment was on Tremont Avenue in the South Bronx, not a place you’d want to be at two in the morning. It was a fifth floor walkup.

“Mi casa es su casa,” said Sonia.

“Thanks.” There was a couch that looked like it came in off the street, a TV set and in the bedroom, a mattress on the floor. No pictures on the wall.

“As you can see, my money doesn’t go into interior decorating. I invest in HIV cocktails.”

“What are you taking?”

“I started this new drug called Atripla. It takes the place of three other drugs. You only take one pill a night instead of twenty pills a day. Twelve-hundred a month. It’s been okay, except for the depression. Fifth floor may not be the best place when you’re taking that. Well, make yourself at home. Bathroom’s over there.”

After brushing her teeth, Rachel was trying to decide on where to lie down. The couch didn’t do it for her. The mattress was a twin.

“I need to get a cover for that couch,” said Sonia. “You can share the bed, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure. Hey, thanks for sticking up for me back there.”

“Forget it. We have to stick together. We’ll be fine.” She took her pill and threw back a glass of water.

Rachel laid down on the mattress with her jeans on, not knowing whether to take them off.

Sonia stripped down to her panties, flipped off the light, and slid under the covers. Rachel took off her jeans and left her tube top on. She was oddly bashful now in the dark with this girl. She’d never been in bed with anyone.

“You mind if I hug you?” asked Sonia.

“Sure.” The girl’s arms wrapped around Rachel and their breasts were touching. Rachel didn’t mind. She couldn’t see Sonia’s face in the dark, but it was right next to hers. Sonia’s breath brushed her neck. She knew she couldn’t get to sleep in this position, but didn’t want to do anything to change it. They held each other like that for three minutes, then Sonia’s lips brushed against hers. Rachel kissed her back, then put her head next to Sonia’s neck and they went to sleep.

The next morning Rachel had to excuse herself and rushed back to the dorm. She hated having to leave Sonia so abruptly, but she didn’t have any time to lose. After digging her digital camera out of one of the boxes, she sat down at the desk and inserted the first memory stick into it.

There were pictures of what looked like Amsterdam with canals and tour boats and bicycles chained to the railing. There were some shots of Greyson in a hotel room dressed elegantly. Then the venue changed and it looked like a third world country, somewhere in Asia. The shots were taken from an open taxi of some kind. Shots taken inside a strip club. Naked dancers, bright, gaudy lights, and bored-looking Westerners. Greyson seemed interested enough to take over thirty photos of various angles of the girls’ bodies. The scene switched to the inside of a hotel room. A nude young girl. Another one coming out of the bathroom. Then there were close-ups of the girls performing oral sex on him, she guessed, since his face wasn’t in the frame.

Next stick. Back in New York. There was a picture of an Egyptian obelisk in Central Park. Rachel had seen that once. Next, his apartment studio. A naked model on the same bed Rachel had posed on. Rachel could still hear the orders being shouted out like a military drill. The photos had an artistic look to them, Rachel grudgingly admitted. He had control of the light, the angle, contrast, brightness. He had control of everything except himself.

The next photos were of Rachel herself. She could hardly look at them. The humiliation. The fight against tears. She could barely believe that was her. It seemed like someone else. At least he would never get the satisfaction of looking at them and doing God knows what while he looked at them.

Next stick. This was a boy, about thirteen, also naked on the bed, also posing for Greyson. He was smiling, almost enjoying what he was doing.

The next image was of Olivia.

achel held her sister in her hands and dreaded advancing the frame for fear that she would be gone forever. Olivia was posing naked on the same bed and was smiling.
What could possess her
, thought Rachel? Why had she chosen this? Rachel had never seen her more beautiful, her long Asian hair that Rachel had always envied falling across her breasts. Did Greyson enhance that beauty with his manipulation of light and shadow to magnify the horror of its destruction? Rachel pressed the advance button.

Olivia was giving someone―presumably Greyson––oral sex. She looked straight into the lens. He abandoned any pretense of artistry when he attempted to shoot himself having sex. There were off-kilter snaps of Olivia kneeling over him; he over her with the shadow of the camera on Olivia’s chest. There were other, pensive shots when they had finished. In one frame, Olivia was wearing the Bali theatrical mask Rachel had seen in his house.