"What if I did?
"You know I care about you. But I care about him too, and ..."
"From the waist down."
"Pardon?" She was a genteel woman, she said Pardon? instead of What?
"I said, from the waist down. That's how you really care about me. Want me to spell it out for you?"
"I don't know what's got into you, you've been so mean lately."
"No fun at all."
"Well, actually, no."
"Then piss off."
After that they'd had a fight, and she'd cried, which strangely enough had made Jimmy feel better. After that they'd finished the Scotch. After that they'd had more sex, and this time Jimmy had enjoyed himself but his lover hadn't, because he'd been too rough and fast and had not said anything flattering to her the way he usually did. Great ass, and so on and so forth.
He shouldn't have been so crabby. She was a fine woman with real tits and problems of her own. He wondered whether he'd ever see her again. Most likely he would, because she'd had that I can cure you look in her eyes when she'd left.
After Jimmy had taken a leak and was getting the beer out of the fridge, his intercom buzzed. There she was, right on cue. Immediately he felt surly again. He went over to the speakerphone. "Go away," he said.
"It's Crake. I'm downstairs."
"I don't believe it," said Jimmy. He punched in the numbers for the videocam in the lobby: it was Crake, all right, giving him the finger and the grin.
"Let me in," said Crake, and Jimmy did, because right then Crake was about the only person he wanted to see.
Crake was much the same. He had the same dark clothing. He wasn't even balder.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" said Jimmy. After the initial surge of pleasure he felt embarrassed that he wasn't dressed yet, and that his apartment was knee-deep in dust bunnies and cigarette butts and dirty glassware and empty Nubbins containers, but Crake didn't seem to notice.
"Nice to feel I'm welcome," said Crake.
"Sorry
. Things haven't been too good lately," said Jimmy.
"Yeah. I saw that. Your mother. I e-mailed, but you didn't answer."
"I haven't been picking up my e-mails," said Jimmy.
"Understandable. It was on brainfrizz: inciting to violence, membership in a banned organization, hampering the dissemination of commercial products, treasonable crimes against society. I guess that last was the demos she was in. Throwing bricks or something. Too bad, she was a nice lady."
Neither nice nor lady was applicable in Jimmy's view, but he wasn't up to debating this, not so early in the day. "Want a beer?" he said.
"No thanks," said Crake. "I just came to see you. See if you were all right."
"I'm all right," said Jimmy.
Crake looked at him. "Let's go to the pleeblands," he said. "Troll a few bars."
"This is a joke, right?" said Jimmy.
"No, really. I've got the passes. My regular one, and one for you."
By which Jimmy knew that Crake really must be somebody. He was impressed. But much more than that, he was touched that Crake would experience concern for him, would come all this way to seek him out. Even though they hadn't been in close touch lately - Jimmy's fault - Crake was still his friend.