The J.A.P. Chronicles by Isabel Rose

Author:Isabel Rose
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction
ISBN: 9780385515849
Publisher: Crown
Published: 2005-05-17T00:00:00+00:00

Several weeks passed, during which time inspiration stayed at bay. And then one evening, Jude came home from work and asked Arden where she planned to go. Arden was lying on the divan, smoking and trying to come up with an idea.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” she said, exhaling toward the ceiling.

“Well,” Jude said, pouring himself a scotch, “Lydie gets the apartment on the first of the month, which is in”—he took a sip of his drink, turned his back to her, and looked out the window—“which is in four days.”

Jude was wearing the royal blue Calvin Klein shirt she had given him for his birthday and there was a large unattractive sweat stain between his shoulder blades. There were also sweat rings around his armpits. It wasn't hot in the apartment. Something was up.

“Didn't you— I thought—” Arden searched for the right question to ask. “I thought the deal was off. Isn't it— Wasn't it— Didn't you—”

“Nope,” Jude said with eerie calm. “The deal is on. Very much on.” He turned then and looked at her, a queer smile on his lupine face.

“Excuse me?” she said, the right side of her upper lip beginning an involuntary dance of rage.

“Why should I excuse you?” He was still smiling queerly. He flipped his hair and fixed his gaze on her in such a way that Arden had to get up and move away. She paced from one corner of the living room to the other and back again, her upper lip stuck now in a full-on snarl. She retrieved a cigarette from a pack hidden in a porcelain vase on top of the piano and smoked furiously for a few long moments.

“So what are we going to do?” she finally asked. “Where do you want to go? Why is everything always my decision?”

Arden noticed the smallest hint of guilt on Jude's face before he dived back into his drink. Finally, he said, “I'm not going anywhere, babe.”

There was a stare-off. Then Arden said, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“What part of ‘I'm not going anywhere' isn't clear to you?” Jude replied debonairly.

Arden eyed the vase on top of the piano, wondering whether she'd actually kill him if she smashed it over his head. If she screamed and cried and flung the vase against the wall, would he change his mind? She thought about yelling “You useless piece of shit!” or something like that, but in reality she only managed to say in a tiny, tight voice: “I'll have another idea soon, Jude. I wish you'd have greater respect for the artistic process.”

“I have tremendous respect for the artistic process,” Jude shot back. “If nothing else, my interaction with Lydie over the past few weeks has confirmed that.”

It was the movement of his steely gray eyes, the quick flicker to the left on the word interaction, that told her she was in trouble.

“What on earth do you expect me to do?” she cried. “What the fuck am I supposed to fucking do in four fucking days?”

“Get out,” Jude said.

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