Zero History

squirrel suit. He was okay. Hot, too. Darrell?”
“Garreth,” said Hollis, probably for the first time in over a year, not wanting to.
“Is that why you’re here? He was English.”
“No,” said Hollis. “I mean yes, he was, but that’s not why I’m here.”
“You met him in Canada. Bigend introduce you? I didn’t meet him till later.”
“No,” Hollis said, dreading Heidi’s skill at this other, more painful unpacking. “They
never met.”
“You don’t do jocks,” said Heidi.
“He was different,” said Hollis.
“They all are,” said Heidi.
“Was fuckstick?”
“No,” said Heidi. “Not that way. That was me, trying to be different. He was as
undifferent as you can get, but he was somebody else’s undifferent. I just had this feeling
that I could step into somebody else’s shoes. Put all the tour stuff in boxes. Shop at malls.
Drive a car I’d never have thought of driving. Get a fucking break, you know? Timeout.”
“You didn’t seem very happy with it, when I saw you in L.A.”
“He turned out to be a closet creative. I married a tax lawyer. He started trying to
produce. Indie stuff. He was starting to mention directing.”
“And he’s in jail now?”
“No bond. We had the FBI in the office. Wearing those jackets with ‘FBI’ on the back.
They looked really good. Great look for a small production. But he couldn’t be on the
set.”
“But you’re okay, legally?”
“I had Inchmale’s lawyer, in New York. I won’t even lose the share of his legitimate
property I’m entitled to as the ex. Should they leave him any, which is unlikely. But
seriously, fuck it.”
Breakfast arrived, Hollis taking the tray from the Italian girl at the door, with a wink.
Tip her later.
Heidi batted her way out of the laundry pile. Sat on the edge of the bed, pulling on an
enormous hockey jersey which Hollis, born without the gene for following team sports,
recalled as having belonged to someone quite famous. Heidi definitely did jocks, though
only if they were sufficiently crazy. Drumming for the Curfew, she’d had a spectacularly
bad string of boxers, however good it might have been for publicity. She’d put one of
them out cold with a single punch, at a pre-Oscars party. Very frequently now, Hollis was
grateful for having had a pre-YouTube career.
“I never got what he did, Garret,” said Heidi, pouring herself half a cup of coffee, then
topping it up with what remained in the whiskey decanter.
“Garreth. Do you think that’s a good idea?”
Heidi shrugged, her shoulders almost lost within the jersey. “You know me. Get this