Kissing the Beehive by Jonathan Carroll Read Free Book Online Page B

par for my course.
    "What are you working on now? Can I ask that question, or is it too personal?" Her voice had some doubt in it, a little unsureness.
    "No, not at all. I was writing a novel, but something happened recently that got me going on another project. I'm very excited about it."
    "Can you say what it's about? By the way, are you a Pisces?"
    I stopped and cleared my throat. I don't like astrology. Don't like people asking my sign. Too often when you tell them, they nod their heads sagely as if your birth date explains why everything about you is so fucked-up. It didn't surprise me that Veronica guessed correctly.
    "Yes. How did you know?"
    "You're a fish. I can smell it." She smiled and left it at that.
    "What do you mean? I smell like a fish?"
    "No, _you_ smell like good cologne. Probably . . . Hermes? Hermes or Romeo Gigli. You smell great. I don't mean that."
    I signaled to the waiter. "Time for another drink."
    To my surprise, she leaned forward and took firm hold of my elbow.
    "Listen, I'm just a fan. I'm nobody. The last thing in the world I want to do is offend you. Your face says I just pissed you off, big-time. Please know I didn't mean to. Should I leave? Shit. I'm so sorry."
    She slid her chair back. I grabbed it. "Veronica, I just drove two hours to New York. Four minutes into our conversation you say I'm a fish and now you're _leaving_? I think we should run our tape back a ways and start again.
    What do you think?"
    "I think I'm scared to open my mouth."
    "Don't be; I like your honesty. You asked what I was working on. Let's start there." I let go of her chair and sat back. She stared at me and didn't move.
    "When I was fifteen, I found the body of a girl who had been murdered."
    Telling the whole story took only a few minutes. When I was finished, she sat silently looking at the table. Only after a good long pause did she raise her eyes and look at me. Her expression said she had figured something out. "Pauline Ostrova was your dead mermaid. The end of childhood. All those impossible combinations we can only know and accept when we're young, you know? Woman and fish. Young and dead. Sex and murder . . ."
    "Oxymoron."
    She nodded slowly. "Precisely. Childhood is all opposites. You're either too hot or too cold. It's hate or love, nothing else, and it shifts back and forth in a second. What _you_ had in that fifteen-year-old minute was all of
    'em together in one. Right then in your life, a dead girl _ivas_ sexy. Of course you wanted to stare at her underpants. That .makes sense to me."
    "You mean I wasn't a burgeoning fifteen-year-old necrophiliac?"
    "I don't know about you, Sam, but at fifteen I would have had sex with anything. You have a wonderful mouth, you know. I think I will have a drink."
    She had vodka with ice. Her large hand with its salmon-colored fingernails wrapped around that glass of clear liquid was somehow so alluring that I sighed. When I looked at her, she was looking at me. She smiled guiltily, as if I'd caught her at something. She began talking quickly.
    "I heard an interesting story today. A friend of mine owns a restaurant up on Sixty-eighth Street.
    A few months ago, a man came in and ordered filet mignon. My friend prides himself on buying Page 22

    the absolute best and freshest meat every day. I don't know anything about it, but the food tastes pretty good to me. So the customer had the filet and when he was done, said it was the best steak he'd ever eaten. The place is expensive, but every day for the next week he comes in and orders another filet. Big tipper, completely satisfied, always full of compliments.
    "One day my friend didn't get to the market, or something went wrong, whatever, they didn't buy fresh meat. It was like from yesterday, but who cares, right? The customer comes in for his filet. When it's served, instead of taking a bite, he immediately bends over and sniffs it. Then he cuts a tiny piece, tastes it, and puts down his silver. 'This meat isn't fresh.'