Small Steps - Louis Sachar [59]
“Sorry about that,” Kaira said once the guy left.
Armpit shrugged.
“So what were you about to tell me?”
He wasn’t sure it was the right time anymore. Everyone in the café seemed to be looking at them.
“About the concert?” Kaira prompted.
Armpit took a breath. “Okay, here’s the thing. You know the letter you sent me?”
Kaira laughed. “Yeah, I think I remember it. Talk about embarrassing!”
“Right. So will you write me another letter? One that’s not so embarrassing?”
Kaira smiled, then leaned close and whispered, “Maybe it will be more embarrassing.”
“No, that’s not what I meant. I mean write one sometime this weekend. You don’t have to mail it. Just write it in your handwriting and give it to me.”
“Why?”
“There’s this guy who wants to buy it for a hundred and fifty dollars.”
“What?”
That came out wrong. He wasn’t used to drinking coffee, and it felt like his brain was racing off in different directions.
“Let me explain.”
“Yeah, I think you better.”
“See, I didn’t get the tickets from a scalper. Well, technically I did, but I didn’t buy them.”
“You’re not making any sense.”
“See, I have this friend. And he was scalping tickets. We bought twelve tickets for your concert. I paid for the tickets, and he sold them, and we split the profit.”
“You’re a ticket scalper.”
“My friend is. Was. And he’s the one who gave me the phony tickets.”
“Your friend?”
“But now there’s this other guy who will tell the police unless I sell him your letter. So I was thinking if you wrote another letter that wasn’t too embarrassing, I could sell him that one, and my friend won’t go to jail.”
“Why don’t I just write you ten letters? Then you can make a thousand dollars!”
“You don’t understand. It’s not about money.”
“No, you don’t care about money. Just want to keep your friend out of jail.”
“Right.”
“So how does this other guy know about my letter?”
“My friend told him.”
“You are unbelievable.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Maybe you should have your friend explain it to me!” She stood up. “You’re just another hustler. Anything for money.”
“What do you know about money?” Armpit asked. “You don’t have a clue. You say you want to just sing in places like this and pass around the hat. You wouldn’t know how to live like that. Here, buy a jacket. Only a thousand dollars. Charge it to your room. You wouldn’t have a clue.”
“Oh, I don’t have a clue?” asked Kaira. She stood up. “I just have one question,” she said. “Who was it who kissed me? You, or your friend?”
She picked up her cup and tossed the contents at him, splattering him with coffee and cream.
Several people applauded. A woman in red leather said, “You go, girl!”
She did just that. Right out the door.
Armpit sat there a moment, wiping himself with a napkin as he tried to figure out why Kaira thought X-Ray had kissed her.
32
It was a long walk back to the hotel. Kaira was nowhere to be seen, and he supposed she’d taken a cab. He doubted she had any cash on her, but when she got to the hotel she could probably call somebody to come down and pay the driver.
He headed back up through Chinatown. He wasn’t exactly sure of the way, but he knew the general direction. The streets were steeper than he remembered, and after a while he had to take off his coffee-stained sweatshirt and tie it around his waist. He carried Ginny’s present in a flat paper bag.
He wondered whether he should try to talk to Kaira when he got back to the hotel, or wait a day, or maybe just fly back to Austin. It would be pretty weird spending the weekend in the hotel with her hating him and everybody on the tour knowing about it. Maybe just write her a note.
He’d thought asking her to write the second letter was such a great plan, but now it just seemed so lame. What good would it have done? Detective Newberg was smart. She’d eventually figure out he was Armpit, whether Felix told her or not.
He had tried to take too big a step, and the current had knocked him off his feet and was washing him away. All his efforts, at school and at work, were for nothing. X-Ray