Three Women in a Mirror Read Online Free PDF Page A

that’s going to change. None of that stuff with David. Because this time it’s about love. He’ll be the great story that will erase all the previous ones—all the muddled, shabby, dead-end ones.
    She sighed. First with ecstasy, then anxiety. Could she do it? Would she have the courage to try to hook up with him?
    She felt a rush of panic. In the space of a few seconds she had begun to tremble and perspire. Slipping off her stool, she stood up on her heels and walked unsteadily toward the restroom.
    I’m going to have to get my mojo back. And right now! Otherwise I won’t even be able to say hi to David.
    Halfway down the steps to the basement she began to feel better; she was leaving the noise behind to enter a world where there was nothing but memories, muffled echoes through the walls. She’d left the glaring, noisy, merciless set behind, she was going deeper now, into the cottony, secret foundation of the discotheque. Here she would find a different atmosphere, a labyrinth of walls, corridors, dampness, the smell of bodies, and darkness.
    There, in the red light that simplified faces, she saw the usual people: Bob, Robbie, Tom, Priscilla, Drew, Scott, Ted, Lance. She stopped right by Buddy: he had white skin, but the clothes and hair of a black man, with baggy pants and a colored shirt and dreadlocks:
    â€œBuddy, do you have some dessert for me?”
    â€œSure do. Some meringue.”
    â€œPerfect.”
    â€œHow much are you offering?”
    She pulled a bill out of her bustier.
    â€œA hundred dollars.”
    He handed her an envelope.
    â€œHere.”
    She didn’t thank him, because she knew he was cheating her. She went off with her pouch of cocaine and locked herself in the women’s restroom.
    She took a mirror and a straw from the tiny handbag hanging from a golden handcuff on her left arm. She lined up the powder, then inhaled it.
    â€œAh!”
    David could show up at any minute; now she’d have the energy to deal with him. What a relief, she had just rescued her next adventure.
    Walking back down the corridor, she worked it out: she had slept with almost all the boys who stood there leaning against the wall with cell phones in their hands. Now that she felt better, Anny smiled at them as she walked by. Fewer than half of them responded. Inwardly this made her angry:
They won’t even say hi, yet they’re happy to fuck me. What scumbags . . .
Not one of them had kept her. Not one of them had fought for her. Why not?
    She stumbled into something on the floor—a girl throwing up—and caught herself on the first solid thing that came to hand. It was Tom, a dark-haired boy with a three-day beard, well-groomed in a naturally hairy way; he claimed to be a meditation teacher, which was a way of having multiple affairs with women. Anny had added to his collection for a night or two.
    â€œHey, Tom, just who I wanted to see. Am I a good lay?”
    He let out a whistle, as if he’d just been given a math problem.
    â€œDon’t go complicating your life, Anny.”
    â€œWhich means?”
    â€œYou’re an easy lay.”
    He rubbed his cheeks: he’d just solved a really tricky equation. She insisted, “What grade would you give me?”
    â€œAverage.”
    â€œNo better than that?”
    â€œAverage is already not bad.”
    â€œNeither good nor bad. Why aren’t you giving me higher?”
    â€œBecause you don’t really like it, babe.”
    He emphasized his words. When he saw her uncomprehending grimace, he went on, “You behave like a bitch but you’re not one. You act like you want it, but you don’t really like it. You don’t enjoy your own body; you don’t enjoy the guys you go with. You’ve got your habits, that’s all.”
    â€œHabits?”
    â€œThe habit of sleeping around. The habit of never saying no. But that doesn’t mean you’re a good