You're pissed at the rangers for interfering, but not so pissed that you really want to do something about it, so you just grab your bike and head back into town.
It's still early, and there's not much to do. You see some grade-school kids shooting hoops, and for a lack of anything better to do you watch them awhile and then wander over to give them pointers. You are soon very popular with them because you are so encouraging and helpful, and they have a lot of fun as you tease and play with them. It's always good to practice random acts of pointless kindness: it keeps you sharp and able to do the "benevolent" thing at the drop of a hat.
Afterwards you bike over to Chris Yves's house. She fronts another band, with which you have a long-running but friendly rivalry. She likes you, though she's not interested in you—for one thing, she's just recovering from a breakup with her most recent person of significance, and that would be a powerful strike against you even if that person had not been named Nancy and also been a person of the female persuasion. Chris is rebellious, but she takes her causes pretty seriously, and she's not always happy that your own cool alienation isn't directed at the improvement of the world.
Anyway, her band should be getting together in a bit to practice, so you think you'll snag a front-row seat, pretending to be spying out the competition while really looking for a chance to stir Chris up a bit. She's got fire, and though you don't want to be burned, you like it when she pays attention to you.
There's no one there when you pull up, though the garage door is up. You hear voices, though, and then Chris's head pops up from behind some equipment. She's talking on her cell phone, and she does a double take when she sees you. You can't hear what she says, but she talks a bit more while glaring at you, and then she snaps the phone shut and frowns at you.
"You've a nerve showing up here, Karter," she says.
"Just looking for a good seat for when practice starts," you hoot. "Say, is there a place around here I can get and fill up some water balloons? I wanna be as disruptive as possible."
"Shut up." She sounds serious. You raise your eyebrows.
"No, I don't think I want to talk to you," she says at last. "Not while I'm this pissed."
"Whatever is it, dearest?" you ask.
She actually hurls a nearby water bottle at your head; you curse as you duck. "Fuck, Yves, don't talk if you don't want to, but don't throw things, either."
"Pick it up, Karter. Pick it up and bring it over here."
You stare at her, then slowly back up—while still watching her carefully—and pick up the bottle, which has busted open. You then get off your bike and slowly walk up to her.
"Put it in the garbage."
You drop it in the canister she has pointed at.
"I'm tired of picking up after you, Karter. Start picking up after yourself."
"And what messes of mine are you talking about?"
"All those broken hearts you scatter around."
"I don't break hearts, Yves. They drop them at my feet and shatter all by themselves."
She swings a fist and you duck out of the way.
"Who were you talking to?" you ask.
"Can't you guess?" You're silent. "Jesus, Karter, there are so many you can't figure out who it might be?"
"I just can't figure out who would be so worked up."
"Is that why you fuck them? Because you think they don't mind?"
"Fuck with them, Yves. The preposition's important. I never 'fuck' them. That's my rule."
"And that makes it so much better? You jab them here—" she pokes you hard in the chest "—instead of here." She actually catches the side of one of your nuts, and you back away from her.
"And I don't fuck with them, either. I'm perfectly sincere when I go out. In fact, I'm still sincere about most of them."
She screams at you. "You can't be sincere about two dozen girls all at the same time!"
"Sure I can. It's called being indecisive."
She swings again, but you're ready for her this time, and as her fist goes past you wrap your arms around her, pinning them to her torso. "Okay, Yves, seriously. It's not fair throwing rhetorical questions at me. Tell me what this is all about, and we'll talk about it like grown ups."
"You're a fucking child, Karter. That's the problem."
"I'm not letting you go."
"Fuck you."
"Please, Chris." Use of your given names is a kind "time out" signal. It means "no more games."
She screams again in fury and struggles, but she's no match for you. Eventually she sags. "Chris, please tell me. Whose life have I fucked up?"
"Too many, but that was Darcy on the phone."
"Oh, fuck." You let her go. She looks at you, wild-eyed. "Just go get a butcher knife or a letter opener, or fuck, just go get a rusty fork," you say in disgust. "There's no point arguing because this is totally unfair. Kill me now, kill me slowly and painfully, cuz I can't win."
"What do you mean?"
"Darcy is what I mean. No one can beat her. She always wins." You lean back against a crate. "I don't stand a chance in this conversation."
She stares at you, and you look back sourly.
"Well?" you finally say. "Aren't you going to throw something at me? Now's your chance. Throw something heavy that will leave a mark. I won't even try to get out of the way. I'll let you throw it and then I'll go home and you'll have the satisfaction of having struck a blow for—"
"Shut up, Karter."
Another silence.
"Well?"
"Well, say something, Karter. Defend yourself."
"I don't know the charges."
"I think you do. You have talked to her since last Saturday."
"But I don't know what she's been telling you."
Her hand goes to the neck of her guitar. You look down at it and deliberately do not flinch. She freezes, then let's go.
"You think she's lying to me?" she spits.
"No, but I know there's at least two perspectives, and I have to know what hers is before I can understand how I've fucked things up."
"Well, how about you give me your perspective, then, and let me judge. I'm fair-minded."
You regard her carefully, but not for too long. "Yeah, I know you're fair-minded, Chris," you say calmly, with a bit of tiredness in your voice. "That's why it hurts to have you throwing things at me without even telling me what it's all about."
That causes her to flinch.
"Look, you want my side of it?" you say. "Okay, here it is. Darcy is an amazing girl. But she's not good enough for me." Chris's jaw drops. "What? Did you expect me to say it was my fault and not hers, did you expect me to say 'Oh no, Darcy, it's not you, it's me'?" She continues to stare at you. "Sure, I can say that, and be sneered at for spouting clichés as well as being dishonest. But I think you expect more from me, Chris."
She shakes herself. "Okay. I'll give you points for, um, boldness. What's the rest of the explanation?"
You take a huge breath and exhale and look around. Think, Karter, think ...
"She's not a challenge. She's too easy to satisfy. Of all the girls—and yeah, there have been a lot of them—of all of them, I figured she'd be the hardest to figure out or to please, that she'd be the one I'd have to chase the longest and fight the hardest and have to do the most to impress—and it turns out I had her totally wrong."
Chris looks puzzled. "What do you mean?"
"What I said. I like a challenge. I thought she'd test me. Turns out I got an A-plus and extra credit just for putting my name down. Because that's all she wants."
"What's that?"
"My name. Me." A sour look begins to crawl over Chris's face. "She wants me as an ornament, Chris. And if I wanted to sit on someone's finger like a goddamn ring, if I wanted to screw someone's finger up my ass and let them wave me around and show me off, I'd go with Larry Farmer." She rolls her eyes. "What?"
"Yeah, she told me about your little 'boy toy' speech."
"I don't mind being a boy toy, Chris. Well, actually I guess I do, which is why I told Kristy Carlson I'd never ask her out."
"You what?"
"I told— That's a different story, and you can yell at me about that one afterwards. The point is, it's not the 'boy toy' thing I object to. Or being a lap dog, or a trophy boyfriend, or anything like that. Hell, if you wanted me as a boy toy or a lap dog or a trophy fuckbuddy, you'd have me in an instant, because I know I'd have to work my ass off to keep the job." Her face has taken on an alarming expression, but you bulldoze over it; it's not important what she feels so much as that she has felt it. "But Darcy's just keeping score. All I'd have to do is bob along at the end of her string. Not even that. I'd just have to hold still long enough she could put salt on my tail. She doesn't even want to grab me afterwards."
The alarmed expression hasn't disappeared from Chris's face, but you can see other wheels turning beneath it. She's silent for a moment.
"Actually," she says. "It sounds like you are saying it is her fault."
"Damn straight. What did I say at the start? She got me all out of sorts. Said yes when she was supposed to say no, threw herself on the ground with a smile instead of screaming her head off and running. Most guys would think that was awesome, and if I were the kind of guy who did fuck around and was looking for a nice pussy to park my cock in, we wouldn't be having this conversation. But she bores me."
Chris looks at you steadily for awhile. "What do you want, Karter?"
You look back at her, and then grin sharkishly. "I want what you give me, Yves. A hopeless chase."
She snorts. "Be serious."
"I am serious. Or at least as serious as you'll let me be without freaking out and hitting me again. I'll never have you and I know I'll never have you. I'll never please you and you are always mad at me, and you know what? I love it and I love you. You are and always will be just out of reach, and it makes me so hungry. I will always have you, because I will never actually get you." You're leaning in toward her, breathing heavily. You pause, then abruptly pull back. "Whereas, I only have to open my mouth and Darcy is stuffing herself down my throat and using her own hands to make me chew and swallow."
Chris looks wan and thoughtful. "Is that any reason to tease her?"
"Tease her?"
"You know, to give her a taste and then drop her?"
You snort. "What do you want me to do, marry her so I won't hurt her feelings?"
"No."
"Okay, what?"
"I don't think she's the way you think she is. I don't think she wants you as a ... a ..."
"A line on her resume."
Chris winces but doesn't argue. "Would you give her another chance?"
"No. That would be cruel. I've seen through her. Or, I've seen something I don't like in her. Either way, it's not an appealing idea."
"Well, what if she convinced you that you were wrong?"
You smile sourly. "You mean what if she started chasing me?"
Chris looks a little embarrassed. "Isn't it fun being chased?"
"Some things, like wolves, you don't want chasing you."
"You think she's a wolf?"
"No, she's worse. If they catch you, wolves will only eat you. She would try to improve me."
Chris stifles a small smile.
"Look, Chris, I've been a shit to a lot of girls. But I don't think I was a shit to Darcy. I just saved us both a lot of aggravation, that's all."
"You weren't very nice to her when you talked to her the other day."
"When she talked to me, you mean. She started it, and she wasn't very nice about it. She got on my nerves. But yeah, I shouldn't have been so nasty. Do you think I should find her tomorrow and apologize?"
"No."
"Okay, then. Are you and I still friends?"
"God damn it, Karter. Yes."
"Okay. Then give us a hug."
She rolls her eyes, but puts her arms around you.
Chris is smart. Chris is cool. Chris is sexy. And Chris is awfully fun to fight with. You lose more baffles of wit with her than you win, but it occurs to you that, with your new abilities, you could really make life hard for her. Albeit, in a way that would be fun for you. And if your battles ended with your possessing her? She'd be very useful if she were on your "team."
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