Posted by PK on April 22, 2003 at 18:05:42:
Gina insisted on cooking the girl thigh steaks herself, not that Petra had tried too hard to
dissuade her. Since the kitchen facilities in Gina's apartment were less than luxurious, the
meat (flash fried in a skillet) was accompanied only by microwaved home fries. Gina had
intended to return to her husband's house tonight, but had allowed herself to be talked out of
it when she found out what Petra had bought them for supper. Part of it was the thought of
eating Amy, of course. Gourmet dining, irresistible delicacy, and so on. As if Tony couldn't
buy her all the girlmeat she wanted if she asked. But that wouldn't be the same, somehow.
She was still here, she admitted to herself, at least in part because Petra had bought her a
meal. She would have been disappointed and hurt if Gina had declined the gift. So no sex
again tonight. She resolved to surprise Tony tomorrow morning. Dismiss his secretary, lock
the office door and seducing him into screwing her on the carpet. Shouldn't be too difficult.
Tony must be building up quite a charge, unless he was screwing someone else on the side.
Gina doubted it, if he was he'd probably have told her.
She served the steaks medium rare on warmed plates with a handful of fries each and a
bottle of decent Californian wine. Petra cut a piece of hers and ate it, chewing slowly.
"Good," she said, nodding, and ate some more. She had been quieter than usual for some
time, though she didn't seem distressed exactly, just pensive and, what, introspective?
A fey mood is upon her, Gina thought. I pray it bodes no ill.
In fact Petra had not freaked out, doubtless contrary to Eddie's expectations and Gina's
fears, since watching the Asian girl being slaughtered. Quite the opposite. She had
performed her duties flawlessly and without any sign of nerves, even when she had
personally served the prime cuts of Amy to the guests who had ordered her. She had
seemed a little preoccupied. To the customers she was professional, efficient and even
cheerful. She didn't speak to anyone else except to pass orders.
Gina recognised the phase, or thought she did. She ate her own steak with relish and picked
up her wineglass.
Petra lifted her own and clinked it against hers. "To Amy," she said. "I didn't know her and I
never will, but, fuck, she tastes good."
Gina concurred. "Quite delicious." She sipped. "I'll drink to that." She watched Petra
apprehensively.
"She knew," Petra said conversationally. "She was expecting it."
Oh yes, a fey mood is upon her. Here it comes. "Probably," Gina said, more to indicate that
she was listening than to contribute anything else.
"Probably a Buddhist or something," Petra went on. "You know, a couple of hours ago she
was walking round on those legs." The same could be said of any of the others the family had
ordered to their doom and both of them knew that.
"That's the attraction," Gina said. And you know that. No need to say it. On the other hand,
no need to make it like pulling teeth either. Give the girl a cue. There had to be a point buried
somewhere in this. "What's changed?"
"She didn't have a choice." She smiled at me.
"Bullshit," Gina said. "We all have choices. The options vary, that's all."
"She smiled at me."
Right. Music to accompany. Gina set the aural stage: All I want...."Mona Lisa of the table?" Is
to lie in the ocean..."Sorry."
Petra shook her head. "I kept the smile. I can still see it. I didn't care, that's why..."
Why she was calm when she was serving. Gina nodded and said: "How did you feel about
that?" Oh FUCK me. I'm a psychiatrist. I could be rich and famous. Shoot me now before it's
too late....
"She was in me, you know? I was serving me. I had to do it right."
"In you?" Gina said. Kid's got good stuff in her, Helen said. Surprised me.
So?
So eat her. Helen laughed. As the moon howls at the wind, she laughed. Gina sidetracked
but the laughter was still there.
"You know," Petra said. "You told me."
No, she hadn't. She hadn't told the girl anything, really. Point a finger at the moon, a dog will
only see the finger. "You looked into her eyes," she said. The eyes have it. Don't look...don't
look at the eyes...the scene from an old Hammer horror film came back to her vividly. There
are some things which only to see is the ultimate catastrophe.
Switch to the upbeat. Spice with the absurd.
Life is a big tambourine/ The more that you shake it the better it seems.....carry me down to
the sea again.
"I did," Petra said.
"Contact."
"Right."
For a moment the two women stared at each other. Petra shook her head. "I'd better go."
"You don't have to."
Petra seemed to be struggling to express something. She shook her head again. "You were
right," she said at last.
"About what?"
"The bet. It was fair. As much as anything is." She got up and then hesitated. "Sorry, I've got
to ask. I've been wondering. Do you hate me? Not that I'd blame you, I just..."
"Have to know. No," Gina said. "Of course I don't. Have I been acting like I do?"
Petra sat down again. "No, not really. I just get the feeling that something's going on I don't
understand. Sometimes I think I'm being set up, other times I think it's just me, I got myself
into this and what's been happening to me..." She made a helpless gesture. "Maybe it's a
learning experience, I don't know. I know you think I'm a spoiled, silly little bitch who's had it
easy all her life. Well, okay, I am. My folks started taking me to dining clubs with them since I
came of age and I ate people I didn't know or care about and, you know, it was okay because
that's what we do. The family. The lower orders were just there for our amusement. I'm not
going to kid you, it was a kick, I enjoyed it. The downside is, I don't know who I can trust. I
thought I was a fucking Princess. Stupid. Now...." She shook her head.
"You think your parents don't love you," Gina suggested helpfully.
Petra smiled painfully. "Yeah. Pathetic, isn't it?"
"I don't know them that well," Gina said. "Just a minute." She got a couple of beers and
handed one to Petra. "Okay, here it is. My best guess. Your mother doesn't like you, but don't
take it personally, she doesn't like anybody. She's a cold bitch. Your father is a gutless
sycophant who's always played second fiddle to Anthony. If he cares about you at all, it's only
as an asset he can use. He wants to be a player but he's out of his league. You're a pawn."
Petra's pained smile took a wry twist. "Shit, don't sugar coat it. Tell me what you really think."
Learning irony, Gina noted, which is based on perspective. Her expression acknowledged the
fledgling attempt. "You asked. You also knew most of that already."
Petra nodded. "So, what's the game? Uncle Tony's running it, right?"
"If anybody is, yes. You annoyed him when you disrespected Helen. I'd guess he replaced
both her and you with me in some sense."
"So now he's, what, teaching me a lesson? Or trying to get me killed?"
"I'm not sure. One or the other, probably. He doesn't tell me everything. You tried to get me
killed.."
"Look, I didn't...."
"Water under the bridge. So it amused him to put us in the ring together and see what would
happen. I'm not sure if even he knows what he wants to happen."
Petra frowned. "Why did you marry him?"
Gina shrugged. "He's rich and handsome, he's great in bed. What's the downside? If he
divorces me I'll be rich, if I get eaten it won't matter. Fuck, Pet, I didn't exactly work it all out.
It seemed like a good idea at the time." And how did I get like this, Gina asked herself.
Herself, as usual, didn't have an answer. When exactly is the bath so warm that you know
you're being boiled?
"You don't know what's supposed to happen to me?"
"I don't think anybody does. This is the real world, not a Platonic ideal. Jazz, not classical
baroque. Jerry thinks in routines, he doesn't know that no plan survives contact with the
enemy."
"But Uncle Tony..."
"Is one or two steps beyond that. That's why..." Gina left it open, raising her eyebrows
quizzically.
"He always wins," Petra concluded. "And you?"
"I'll leave the game whenever I decide to," Gina said.
"And if I get chopped along the way?"
"I'll eat you if I can, you're tasty. Unless you'd prefer that I didn't." Memory: Helen's smile
broadened. She put her hand between Gina's legs, palm up, and slipped her forefinger into
Gina's cleft. It went in easily, the almost-skirt was no obstacle and of course Gina had no
panties on. She brought it out, slick with moisture and sniffed it, then licked it. "Ripe, juicy
and tender," she pronounced like a connoisseur. "They'd enjoy you. They've enjoyed girls like
you before. Lots of them." And: "I want Gina to have a souvenir. A place at the table...."
Oh yes, nice one Helen. Sucked in.
Petra took a long breath. "Any more beer?" Gina supplied it. "I don't suppose you're going to
tell me what I should do now."
Gina shook her head. "How would I know? I'm not you." Petra's lost expression made her try
to explain. "You don't have to play the game. It's your choice." How many more times would
she have to say it? How many more times...shit, classic Led Zep. Blues deluxe.
"Okay."
"Okay who?" Gina was drowning in memories. Knock, knock.
"Okay you can eat me if I get chopped."
"Thanks. Appreciated."
"You could look a little more enthusiastic," Petra grumbled.
Gina got up and took the girl by the shoulders. "I'll eat your pussy and thoroughly enjoy it,"
she said roughly. "Like the idea?" She kissed Petra on the mouth and bit her lip, not quite
hard enough to draw blood. For a brief moment, she hated herself. "Get out. Go away. If you
don't, you're meat, one way or another."
Petra wiped her lip with the back of her hand. She was close to tears. "I'm not running away,"
she said.
Gina shook her head in wonder. "You've got more guts than sense. They'll probably end up in
a bucket. Look, I'll spell it out for you, kid: I don't have a grudge with you any more. I can live
with it if you get yourself killed but I won't mind if you don't. I didn't set the terms of the bet,
you've done enough, you don't have to prove anything else to me. Which leaves what?
Prove yourself to your parents? Impress Tony?"
Petra looked uncertain. "Why are you trying to talk me out of it?"
Why was she? Gina wasn't entirely sure herself. "I'm not," she said. "If it's what you want to
do, go ahead. But..." But what?
"But what?"
"Don't do it for the wrong reasons."
"Wrong reasons? What are the right reasons? I don't know why you do what you do." And
maybe, Petra thought, that's what I wanted to know.
"This above all things, to thine own self be true," Gina said. If in doubt, quote Hamlet. But
how do you know...
"Shakespeare, right?"
"Right." Well, education in America wasn't quite dead. Thank you Franco Zeffirelli, thank you
Mel Gibson.
Petra thought about that for a minute. "But if you don't know..."
Who you are and what you want. "Yeah, right. 'Know thyself.' Some Greek philosopher, and
any number of mystics and plagiarists since. Quite a catch." Which leaves us where? Gina
gave up. "I give up," she said. "Three to go."
Petra nodded. "Yeah. Look, I'd better phone a cab. I can't keep doing this."
Gina shrugged. "I don't see why not. I'm in no state to go back to Tony tonight. Sleep with
me, I'll enjoy the company."
The look on Petra's face was painful to see. "Really?"
Side by side in bed:
And though it seems they smile with glee
I know in truth they envy me