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interest.
So this savage girl, the two of them say. What kind of fur was
it? James T. Couch sounds like a nervous man trying to sound casual.
James T. Couch s Irony sounds like an unconcerned man pretending to be
a nervous man trying to sound casual.
And this, she recalls, was supposed to be the normal one.
I don t know, James. Brown fur.
But it could be synthetic, right? I have to know that.
Ursula smiles and clenches her teeth. James T. Couch s Irony is every bit
as industrious as it s been over the last few days, pressing emphasis onto
random words, feigning concern, as though the fur were important to
him, as though his reputation were at stake from which Ursula is invited
to gather that the fur is not important to him and that his reputation is by
no means at stake, whereas in fact, since the fur flatly contradicts his last
report, she knows it s extremely important to him and his reputation is
very much at stake.
The Savage Gi r l 109
It could be synthetic, she mutters. She s due to meet Ivy s friend Sonja
Niellsen here; they haven t had a chance to talk since she first got to town.
Sonja is Ivy s only friend, so far as Ursula can make out, or at least the only
one who visits her the only nonimaginary one, at any rate. The two of
them are planning to get an apartment together after Ivy is discharged,
and Ursula wants to make sure Sonja is going to be a good influence. Ivy s
going to need all the good influences she can get. In their latest conversa-
tion Dr. Shivamurti admitted to Ursula that if her sister s coverage weren t
about to run out, they probably would have wanted to keep her in a while
longer. She advised her to try to get Ivy into a halfway house, but as it
turns out, even the most dubious-looking of these places have yearlong
waiting lists. The best that Ursula has managed to find is a couple of day-
care centers for the recovering insane, but she s pretty sure the decor of the
places alone will be enough to keep her sister from going anywhere near
them. So if Ivy is going to have any hope at all of readapting to the world,
Sonja is going to have to be helpful, patient, and understanding.
It s a delicate situation, and Ursula was hoping for a bit of privacy in
which to sound Sonja out properly, but privacy is something she s had very
little of since the day she met James T. Couch, who for some unfath-
omable reason has latched on to her like a barnacle. The coincidence of his
happening to show up here would be downright spooky were it not for the
fact that he so clearly belongs in this hellhole of a club. His outfit is even
slightly gaudier than usual for the occasion: a pair of tight orange slacks, a
pair of Day-Glo high-tops, and yet another of his trademark nonsensical
Japanese T-shirts, a garish appliqué of a cartoon car full of cartoon ani-
mals, with the accompanying quasi-English slogan The Driving Life: It s
all a fun! His new glasses are an eyeful as well, shaped like television
screens, the black frames wider on the outer sides to accommodate a col-
umn of costume knobs and dials.
You re the picture of elegance, as usual, he effuses, as though reading
her mind and, ironically, returning the compliment.
Thanks. It s true enough, though. The Banzer suit has lead to other
outfits, purchased with her own money or her own credit, anyway
from casual to evening wear; tonight it s something in between, a black
stretch-silk blouse and a matching skirt. It s been a while since she last
wore a skirt. She s also waxed her legs for the first time in years, and they
feel pleasantly cool and slippery in the air-conditioning.
And to think Chas told me you were a slob. He smiles another flash-
bulb smile, his thick lenses refracting the reddish light from the hanging
Moroccan lanterns and making his eyes look diabolically beady and small.
110 Al ex Shakar
He leans back against the wall and slides his head around like a charmed
snake s to the muted sound of the dance music, a layered agglomeration of
record static and tape hiss. The deejay, a girl with short bleached blond
hair in a tank top and baggy pants, stationed just beyond the Plexiglas
wall, slides her head around in a fashion exactly similar to Couch s. It takes
Ursula a moment to realize that this is no accident, for Couch, with deri-
sion, or admiration, or both, is mimicking her.
So what do you suppose is keeping Javier? he says.
He s coming, too?
You don t sound so happy! he says, surprised and mock-surprised. Is
there trouble in paradise?
What s that supposed to mean?
Oh, well, you two seem to have gotten to know each other pretty well.
His miniaturized eyes widen into the most innocent of looks, by which
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