Here in the Dark by Alexis Soloski

Author:Alexis Soloski
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Flatiron Books

11

PRIVACY

Further dreams hound me toward morning, and even though I can’t recall them in any detail, they leave me edgy and bleary in a way that even a heroic coffee can’t soothe. I shake out an Ativan and score it with my thumbnail, downing the larger half. Some people have a cocaine pinky. Give me a benzo thumb any day.

Chemically quieted, I compose my five hundred words on the Hrotsvitha play, starting with the meat of the review and then working outward toward the introduction and the kicker. I email the file, along with a proposed headline, “Breast Intentions,” which I know will play well online. As I hit send, I remember Roger’s occasional nudge that I develop a stronger social media presence—join Instagram, reserve my quips for Twitter. I’ve resisted it so far. But Nora, I realize, seems much less obstinate. If Luck Be a Lady searches for her, won’t they expect a reasonable size-eight online footprint?

I am not a social creature, online or off it, and mostly ignorant of what it takes to create a credible profile. Justine, unsurprisingly, excels at social media. She has nearly a hundred thousand followers on Instagram and had monetized a quiet corner of YouTube until some killjoy reported her tongue-twister videos as obscene. In fairness, they absolutely were. But I can’t ask Justine for help. Even the alibi I’ve prepared—this sham piece of embedded journalism about the life of a working actor—would make her wary. She knows what happens when I act as anyone other than myself.

So understanding that this is what I shouldn’t do and enjoying that sharp, sickly feeling of doing it anyway, I dial Charlie’s number. I gave him mine, as promised, but in the week since we slept together, I’ve responded to his texts with the minimum character count. When he hears my voice, he speaks with puppyish eagerness. I’m grateful he can’t lick me through the phone.

“Hey!” he says. “If it isn’t my old pal Number Withheld.”

“It’s a cheap way to retain my aura of mystery,” I say, leaning back against a pillow. “How’s the indoor weather?”

“Not bad. Corinne’s been testing a hail effect. I don’t think we’ll ever get clearance. One of the chips hit Darren in the eye and sort of half blinded him, so he’s wearing a patch and making a lot of pirate jokes. But it’s all good. How are you? Has the season slowed down for you yet?”

“Actually, I’m free tonight—”

“Great! Do you want to get dinner? Or maybe see a band. I have a friend who’s playing a show in Red Hook—”

“Dinner’s possible,” I say, smiling to gentle my voice. “But I could use a favor first. You said that you manage Jack Frost’s Insta?”

“Yeah. Sure. What do you need?”

“Nothing too tricky. Social media mostly. I’ll explain later. What time do you finish work?”

“Around five. Why don’t you come by the warehouse then? And maybe—”

“Sure, Charlie. Absolutely,” I say, already hovering a finger above disconnect. “See you tonight.”

I check my email.

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