Any Woman's Blues_ A Novel of Obsession - Erica Jong [96]
“I hate the world we’ve made! I hate it!”
“Baby, come, sit down. I’ll buy you a drink.”
“A drink! That’s all you can fucking think of. A world so ugly you have to be anesthetized to bear it! I don’t want to live in this world. I want to go back to Connecticut and hide! This is the fucking last days of the Roman Empire. If I were God, I’d kill off everyone and start over again.”
Wayne leads me into a little bistro, a sort of cave where small marble tables stud the gloom and the chairs are woven Parisian café chairs. The crowd is Eurotrash to match the furniture, debutramps (with trust funds) pretending to be artists, gay male models pretending to be straight.
Wayne orders wine for himself. I ask for a Diet Coke with lime. I’m still crying and shaking. I hold on to my glass for dear life.
“Baby, it’s just a performance,” says Wayne.
“Those are real animals and real blood and a real woman and a real man. Don’t give me this performance art shit. We allow stuff like this—but sex freaks us out. It’s crazy, Wayne, crazy. I don’t want to live in a world like this. I want people to be kind and tender and love each other. Why is it all so fucked up?”
Wayne puts his arm around me. “I’d never have brought you if I’d thought you’d freak out. I guess that leaves out Madame Ada, the dominatrix. That was to be our next stop. But if it upsets you, we can catch a movie instead. Maybe Bambi’s playing. Okay by me, Leila. I just thought you should see this for your art. It’s important. It’s what’s happening downtown. I think you need to know.”
I look at him with sheer hatred (especially because of the Bambi remark). “Why?”
“Because it’s the secret history of our epoch. Like my bills, it calls into question what we value. We’re part of this, and unless we find the secret part of ourselves that loves this stuff, we haven’t a prayer for abolishing terrorism or torture. You have to find the torturer in your own heart. That’s why I want you to meet Madame Ada. But if it’s too rich for your blood, forget it. We’ll do it another time.”
Wayne calls over the waiter, who scribbles out a check. From his elegant black calf billfold Wayne produces a splendid representation of a hundred-dollar bill done in a rainbow of colors, like some banana republic currency.
The waiter, a gay young thing of twenty-two or so, with a bolt in his left ear and a gold pirate hoop in his right, stares at the bill, then says, “I’m terribly sorry, sir, I can’t accept this. We take American Express, Visa, MasterCard. . . .”
“Excuse me,” says Wayne. “Do you know what this bill is worth?”
“No, sir.”
“I’d say it’s worth about at least one hundred times its face value. If you sell it—to Leo Castelli down the block or to Holly Solomon or anyone—you could pocket a clear profit of nine thousand nine hundred dollars. Do you know what you could do with nine thousand nine hundred dollars?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Acting classes for a year!” says Wayne. “A new car—albeit a little Korean one. Time. Do you know what time is worth?”
“Sir—I’m terribly sorry, I cannot take this. Amex, Master, Visa—even a personal check with proper ID.”
“What’s a year of your life worth? You could live for a year without working this crummy job—if you lived modestly. What’s that worth to you?”
“Sir, please,” says the waiter, clearly upset.
“What’s your name?” asks Wayne.
“Bruce,” says the waiter. “Bruce Berlinger.”
“And what do you do?”
“I’m an actor, sir, take classes with Stella Adler, sir.”
“Well, Bruce, that’ll buy a lot of classes with the old buzzard—and a lot of time. Surely you want that.”
“Sir, thank you, but I cannot accept this.”
“Why? You could ante up the tab out of your pay, sell the bill to any reputable art dealer, repay yourself, and pocket the difference. You’d be nine thousand nine hundred dollars richer. How can you turn this down?”
“Sir,” Bruce says, “I j-just c-c-can’t.”
“So split the difference with your boss, if it makes you feel any better.”
“Please, sir.”
“Well, it’s my duty to warn you that you are giving up a year of life by doing this. Also that you clearly