movie.â He could see straight down the huge chasm of her cleavage; he couldnât help it, there was literally nowhere else to look. It wasnât bad , but she was old, so it wasnât good either. She wore red lipstick and had a lot of curly gold-colored hair pulled back in a ponytail. She reminded him of one of his mumâs tennis friends. He liked his mumâs tennis friendsâthey were uncomplicated and didnât expect him to say muchâbut he preferred them not to have cleavage.
âThanks,â he said, trying to focus on her very shiny, friendly eyes. âNice to meet you.â
âWhat sort of car is it?â asked Frances.
âItâs a Lamborghini.â
âOoh la laâa Lamborghini!â She grinned up at him. âThis here is a Peugeot.â
âUh, yeah, I know,â he said, pained.
âDonât think much of the Peugeot?â She tilted her head to one side.
âItâs a heap of shit,â said Ben.
â Ben! â said Jessica, but Frances laughed delightedly.
âI love my little Peugeot,â purred Frances as she caressed her steering wheel.
âWell,â said Ben. âEach to their own.â
âFrances says nobody is answering the intercom,â said Jessica. âSheâs been sitting out here waiting for twenty minutes.â
Jessica was using her posh new voice, where she made each word sound as fat and round as an apple. She was using it almost exclusively now, except when she really lost her temper or got upset, like last night, when she forgot to be posh and yelled at him, âWhy canât you just be happy? Why are you ruining this?â
âHave you phoned them?â he said now to the cleavage lady. âMaybe thereâs something wrong with the intercom.â
âIâve left a message,â said Frances.
âI wonder if this is like a test,â said Jessica. âMaybe itâs part of our treatment plan.â She lifted her hair up to cool her neck. Sometimes, when she spoke normally, when she was just being herself, he couldforget the frozen forehead, the blowfish lips, the puffy cheeks, the camel eyelashes (âeyelash extensionsâ), the fake hair (âhair extensionsâ) and fake boobs, and there, for just a moment, was his sweet Jessica, the Jessica heâd known since high school.
âI thought that too!â said Frances.
Ben turned to look at the intercom.
âI could hardly read the instructions,â said Frances. âThey were so tiny.â
Ben could read them perfectly well. He punched in the code and pressed the green button.
âI will be absolutely furious if it works for you,â said Frances.
A tinny voice sprang from the intercom. âNamaste and welcome to Tranquillum House. How may I help you?â
âWhat the hell?â Frances mouthed in comical disbelief.
Ben shrugged. âJust needed a manâs touch.â
âOh you ,â she said. She reached out of the car and flicked his arm with her hand.
Jessica bent down next to the intercom and spoke too loudly. âWeâre here to check in.â It was cute, like Benâs grandma on the phone. âThe name is Chandler, Jessica and Benââ
There was a burst of static from the intercom and the gate began to creak open. Jessica straightened, tucked her hair behind her ear, worried as always about her dignity. She never used to take herself so seriously.
âI promise you I pressed that code correctly, or I thought I did!â said Frances, as she buckled her seatbelt and revved her tappety little engine. She gave them a little wave. âIâll see you in there! Donât try to race me with your fancy-schmancy Ferrari.â
âItâs a Lamborghini !â protested Ben.
Frances winked at him, as if she knew that perfectly well, and drove off, faster than he would have expected, or recommended, on this road.
As they walked back
Tom Clancy, Steve Pieczenik, Jeff Rovin