Mean Woman Blues

it out, goes down to make a deal with them; they take her money, then they turn right around and throw her ass in jail.”
    He felt the beginnings of a smile playing about his formerly thin (now quite attractive) mouth. “This is sounding good.”
    “It’s better than you think. This same thing happened to me in college.”
    “You got thrown in jail for check kiting?”
    “Oh, no. I most certainly didn’t. The bank manager sat me down, explained it was illegal, gave me a chance to make good, and that was that. But it gave me an idea. I started asking around. Just in the office and in— uh— a bar last night. I found six people it happened to. And not one of them ended up in jail.”
    He stroked the lower part of his face. “Viewer empathy.”
    “Hell, yeah, viewer empathy— like, half the population’s been there. I’ve backgrounded the girl, and she’s totally clean. Also dumb as a rock when it comes to math; no way she would have tried to scam the bank. I mean the only way she could do that would be to step into it, which she did. Now get this; I’ve also researched the bank, and their fees are twenty-five percent higher, on average, than those of other banks, plus they have more of them. They charge teller fees, for God’s sake. There’s a five-dollar penalty for not using the ATM!”
    “I’m liking this a lot.”
    “Well, that’s the tip of the iceberg. I’ve got incredible stuff on the banking industry in general. This is big, David. This could be one of our best yet.”
    He was still thinking. “Everybody goes to banks.”
    “Yeah, and everybody’s intimidated by them.”
    “Tracie, this is terrific. I really can’t thank you enough for this.”
    “It’s my job.” But he could see she was eating it up.
    “No, you always go the extra mile. I admire your work so much.”
    “Really? Well, I do try to be thorough.”
    “No, you’re great. Really. I’m deeply, deeply impressed.”
    He could see she left on a cloud, a cloud he knew exactly how to produce. Women were so insecure. All you had to do was praise them a little bit, and they fell in love with you at the very least; if you worked it right, they were your servant for life.
    * * *
    Isaac had talked Terri into letting him paint her portrait, something he was desperate to do while she still had the blue hair. Or maybe he wanted to do it because it was a way to feel close to her when they were so obviously moving apart. She had bugged him once or twice about lying to her, and all he’d been able to do was shrug and say he was sorry, he didn’t know why he’d done it. Which was another lie that drove another wedge between them. He knew exactly why he’d done it: because normal people have mothers that they go to see on Mother’s Day; they don’t have grown-up nieces whose fathers are incarcerated. He wasn’t ready to open the door to conversations about his family.
    And now, since her arrest, she’d been so self-absorbed he hardly knew her anymore. As he worked, he argued with himself, about to go nuts with love and frustration. Maybe it wasn’t love. Maybe he’d never loved Terri. If he loved her, he had to trust her, right? And if he trusted her, why wouldn’t he open up about his family? Maybe it was guilt and frustration. Maybe she wasn’t right for him; maybe he needed to break up with her.
    As soon as it occurred to him to break up with her, he had to excuse himself.
    When he came back from the bathroom, he found that she’d lit up a cigarette. Before he could stop himself, he gasped.
    “What?” she asked, drawing her robe around her. She was posing nude. He couldn’t stand painting a woman with clothes on, even if he painted her only above the neck; the energy didn’t flow right. In his life, he’d spent a lot of time meditating; energy was a big thing to Isaac.
    She was out of the pose, back in the robe, and a blue cloud was rising above her. She stank; the room stank. Everything was different from the way it had been three minutes ago. He felt almost as if he wanted to cry.
    “Isaac, what is it?” she said again. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
    “I didn’t expect you to be smoking,” he said.
    “What do you mean? I’ve been smoking ever since I got arrested. That and eating chocolate and fries and every kind of junk food— I bet I’ve gained ten pounds. Christ I’m a mess!”
    She was. The wonderful blue hair was greasy. He didn’t even want to paint her today.
    “Terri…” He