She could live with her mother and listen to her complaints and make molded salads and never have to think again.

“Are you all right?” Ryan said.

“Fine.”

“You don’t look fine. You listening or trying to hide?”

She stood with her head down, staring at the counter. “I think I’ll go back to bed,” Denise said.

“I’ll tell you something. This is the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life,” Ryan said. “I’m telling you everything, but I could be losing something I want very much.” He waited.

She was aware of the silence and felt him watching her.

“What? The money?”

“Shit. You’re not listening.” Ryan waited again. “Well, it’s up to you. Either you’re not listening or you don’t believe me.”

She did believe him, because she wanted to believe him, but she needed assurance and protection and time; so she said, “Why should I?”

“You know why?” Ryan said. “Because I’m all you’ve got. You want the money, then you’ve got to trust somebody.”

She looked up at him now. “I haven’t said I want it.”

As she started to look away Ryan reached across the counter and raised her face with his hand and held it a moment.

“And you haven’t said you don’t want it. Goddamn it, wake up and listen to me!”

He saw her eyes come alive. When he took his hand away she continued to stare at him. Good. He held her gaze and told her quietly she had three ways to go. She could trust Mr. Perez. She could believe him and sign his papers and end up with nothing. And if she gave him any trouble, it was very likely he would have her killed. Mr. Perez wanted it all. Or she could trust Virgil Royal and ask him to help her, believing Virgil only wanted what was owed him. But if she got past Mr. Perez, Virgil would kill her for the whole prize. Either way, Mr. Perez or Virgil. They killed people or had them killed and didn’t think much of it.

“Or you can trust me,” Ryan said. “I want to help you get it, the whole hundred and fifty thousand if that’s possible, because I owe you something. Look at it another way, I think I owe them something, too.”

“And what would I owe you?” Denise said. Staring at him was not hard now. She was getting back her confidence.

“You don’t owe me anything.”

“Why not?”

He was uncomfortable again and it made him mad.

“I’m not looking for anything,” Ryan said, “or trying to make a deal with you. I’ve been playing enough games, I want to get this thing done and feel good about it, about myself. You understand? You’ve been to enough meetings, you ought to know what I’m talking about.”

Her eyes were watery, red-looking. He knew she was aware of herself, and the way she kept staring at him, not letting go, surprised him.

She said, “How would we do it?”

“I call Perez, tell him you’re in the bag,” Ryan said. “If he comes over with the papers, I can probably get them signed.”

“Yeah, then what?”

“You can’t even hold on to the pen. I tell him, leave the papers, I’ll get you to sign when you start to come out of it.”

Denise waited.

“If he’s made out the power of attorney paper, that he sends to the company, then we’ll know the name of the stock.”

“He doesn’t seem dumb,” Denise said, “somebody that’d make a mistake.”

Ryan shook his head. “No, he isn’t dumb, but maybe he’s overanxious.”

Mr. Perez sounded calm on the phone, though, the son of a bitch. Polite and in control. He said he and Raymond would be right out.

Raymond was there with him in the hotel suite. Mr. Perez hung up the phone. He said, “You heard the saying, Don’t ever shit a shitter?”

Raymond nodded. “I know it well.”

“I don’t believe our friend does,” Mr. Perez said.

Ryan came back from the A&P with two half gallons and a fifth of Gallo Rhine. He put the fifth on the counter, opened the two half gallons and poured them into the sink.

“Don’t look,” Ryan said.

Denise didn’t say anything. She turned to the paint table, picked up the full ashtray, and reached down for the empty wine jug on the floor.

“No, leave those,” Ryan said. He put the two empty half gallons on the counter. “Dirty dishes, everything. You’re not getting ready for company, you’re on a drunk.”

Denise watched him, holding her arms, cold. “Will I be in bed?”

“Not in it, on top of the covers, with the raincoat, and barefoot. That’s a good touch, the raincoat.”

“It’s what I wear,” Denise said.

Ryan smiled at her. “So it won’t be too hard to fake, will it? Your eyes are great.”

“Thanks,” Denise said.

Ryan opened the door. Mr. Perez came in, followed by Raymond Gidre, who was wearing only a suit coat, his shoulders tightly hunched.

“Cold enough for you?” Ryan said.

“Jes-us,” Raymond said.

Mr. Perez walked over to the counter, laid his attachй case down flat, and snapped it open.

“She called me this morning about five,” Ryan said. “You can see what she’s had.”

“Like a couple of gallons,” Raymond said. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, little skinny thing.”

“Where is she?” Mr. Perez said. He had typewritten papers in his hand and was taking a pen out of his inside pocket, his gloves still on. He was wearing a gray hat, a gray herringbone topcoat with a black velvet collar, and the thin, tight-fitting gray gloves that looked like suede.

“She’s in the bedroom,” Ryan said. “You want to take your coat off?”

Guess not. Mr. Perez didn’t bother to answer. He took the papers and pen and went through the hall area into the bedroom. Ryan followed him, seeing Denise lying on her side in the raincoat, her white feet drawn up, her eyes closed. Mr. Perez sat on the edge of the bed looking down at her.

“Miz Leary,” Mr. Perez said, “how you feeling, dear?”

Denise made a sound or mumbled something, burrowing into the pillow, that Ryan couldn’t hear.

“That’s a shame, little girl taking sick. Honey, look at me. I got something for you.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Denise said, barely moving her mouth, eyes still closed.

Mr. Perez said, “Is that nice?”

“I guess she talks like that,” Ryan said, “when she’s been drinking. You should’ve heard her before.”

Mr. Perez nudged her gently. “I’d just like you to sign these papers, little girl, then you can sleep long as you want.”

Denise asked him, slurring the words just right, why he didn’t fuck off and leave her alone and get his ass off the bed. Mr. Perez looked over his shoulder. As Raymond came in, Mr. Perez said, “Sit her up,” losing some of his sweetness.

Between them they got her upright, leaning heavily against Raymond, her legs doubled under her beneath the raincoat. Raymond pulled the collar of the raincoat out a little, trying to look inside. Mr. Perez put the pen in her hand.

“Pull the table over.”

Raymond grabbed the night table with one hand and gave it a jerk to bring it over in front of them, letting the lamp with the glass chimney fall and shatter to the floor. Denise opened her eyes.

“What’re you doing? Hey, for Christ’s sake-”

“There she is,” Mr. Perez said. “Got your little eyes open?”

Ryan went over and began picking up the pieces of broken glass, listening to Mr. Perez’s sweet words.

“That’s a good girl, hold the pen. There. Now, see those papers? Right in front of you on the table. All you got to do is sign your name where you see the little Xs. Precious, you see them? Down there at the bottom. Write ‘Denise L. Leary.’ You don’t have to worry having it notarized, I’ll get that done for you.” To Raymond he said, “Take her hand and put it there.”

Raymond tried to. Denise pulled her hand away and let the pen drop to the floor.

“Get it, Raymond.”

Ryan stood up, carefully holding the pieces of broken glass. As he started out, Mr. Perez was saying, “Now, let’s try it again. Come on, sugar, you can do it. Hold the pen. That’s it.”