Page 70 of Deja Who
5) Celia the Hooker. Leah had met more than one in her professional capacity, but not one so thoroughly undamaged, unashamed, and indifferent to Leah’s services. “Don’t worry about it,” she said after the other girls had begged Leah to, as Terry put it, “Insight the shit out of us!” “I’m fine on my end.”
“But don’t you want to—”
“Tom Mulligan.”
Leah blinked. “Who is Tom Mulligan? Besides you, of course.”
“A regular guy. Nice childhood, nice college, got a nice job, married a nice girl, had nice kids.” Celia smiled a little. “Died a nice death at home, at age seventy-two, holding his wife’s hand. Cancer. He blew off chemo the third time; he felt the radiation was making him feel much worse than no radiation.”
“Imagine that.”
The other woman’s smile widened. “Yeah, crazy talk, right? That radiation can hasten your death? Anyway. I’m not in the second-oldest profession—I’m pretty sure agriculture was the first—because I was raped by an older brother or because I used to be Anne Boleyn. These were my choices.” She shrugged. “It’s boring.”
“You’re not boring.” Though it sounds as though Tom Mulligan was. Leah respected Celia’s wishes and did not express aloud the sentiment that Celia’s choices brought her to a Chicago jail cell in the middle of the day, something Tom Mulligan never experienced. “But it’s nice to have someone prove what I always say. That we didn’t all used to be famous people. Sometimes we were just John Smith. Or Tom Mulligan.”
“None of this is helping me with my problem,” the sociopath interrupted, and Leah had to laugh, because the thing was, Terry truly felt that sense of being wronged. Her sociopathy provided gargantuan levels of entitlement. It was never, ever her fault, she deserved everything she desired, and she believed that catechism the way the pope believed in tithing. Leah knew people felt sorry for people like Terry (“Oh but their lives are so empty since they can only love themselves and they’re forever chasing highs and never holding on to them so they’re always unfulfilled poor deluded creatures”) but Leah never bothered. People so ruthlessly set on forwarding their own self-interest needed no one’s pity.
So jail had been interesting. Just when they decided to play “weirdest place you’ve ever done it” (Celia was disqualified, and asked to be the judge), along came Detective Preston, wearing an unmistakable “just got chewed out by my boss” expression. He had let her out, then took the time to walk her out. If hecould be gracious in defeat, Leah could be gracious in entitled bitchiness, and gave him a proper apology. He seemed to appreciate it, and she was gratified to see he seemed to be paying attention to her words. Time, of course, would tell.
And then Archer.
And then Archer.
And then Archer.
