Later, the next night in fact, three of us, Craig McDermott,Courtney and myself, are in a cab heading toward Nell's andtalking about Evian water. Courtney, in an Armani mink, has justadmitted, giggling, that she uses Evian for ice cubes, which sparksa conversation about the diʃerences in bottled water, and atCourtney's request we each try to list as many brands as we can.Courtney starts, counting each name oʃ on one of her ɹngers."Well, there's Sparcal, Perrier, San Pellegrino, Poland Spring,Calistoga ..." She stops, stuck, and looks over at McDermott forhelp.He sighs, then lists, "Canadian Spring, Canadian Calm,Montclair, which is also from Canada, Vittel from France, Crodo,which is Italian ..." He stops and rubs his chin thoughtfully,thinking of one more, then announces it as if surprised. "Elan."And though it seems he's on the verge of naming another one,Craig lapses into an unilluminating silence."Elan?" Courtney asks."It's from Switzerland," he says."Oh," she says, then turns to me. "It's your turn, Patrick."Staring out the window of the cab, lost in thought, the silenceI'm causing ɹlling me with a nameless dread, numbly, by rote, Ilist the following. "You forgot Alpenwasser, Down Under, Schat,which is from Lebanon, Qubol and Cold Springs—""I said that one already," Courtney cuts in, accusingly."No," I say. "You said Poland Spring.""Is that right?" Courtney murmurs, then tugging atMcDermott's overcoat, "Is he right, Craig?""Probably." McDermott shrugs. "I guess.""You must also remember that one should always buy mineralwater in glass bottles. You shouldn't buy it in plastic ones," I sayominously, then wait for one of them to ask me why."Why?" Courtney's voice is tinged with actual interest."Because it oxidizes," I explain. "You want it to be crisp, withno aftertaste."After a long, confused, Courtney-like pause, McDermott admits,staring out the window, "He's right.""I really don't understand the diʃerences in water," Courtneymurmurs. She's sitting between McDermott and myself in theback of the cab and under the mink has on a wool twill suit byGivenchy, tights by Calvin Klein and shoes by Warren Susan AllenEdmonds. Earlier, in this same cab, when I touched the minksuggestively, with no intent other than to check its quality andshe could sense this, Courtney quietly asked me if I had a breathmint. I said nothing."What do you mean?" McDermott inquires solemnly."Well," she says, "I mean what's really the diʃerence betweensomething like spring water and natural water, for instance, or, Imean, is there one?""Courtney. Natural water is any water from an undergroundsource," Craig sighs, still staring out the window. "Mineralcontent hasn't been changed, although the water may have beendisinfected or ɹltered." McDermott is wearing a wool tuxedo withnotched lapels by Gianni Versace, and he reeks of Xeryus.I momentarily break out of my conscious inertia to explainfurther: "And in spring water, minerals may have been added orremoved and it's usually ɹltered, not processed." I pause."Seventy-ɹve percent of all bottled water in America is actuallyspring water." I pause again, then ask the cab, "Did anyone knowthat?"A long, soulless pause follows and then Courtney asks anotherquestion, this one only half ɹnished. "The diʃerences betweendistilled and puriɹed water is ...?"I'm not really listening to any of this conversation, not even tomyself, because I'm thinking of ways to get rid of Bethany's body,or at least debating whether or not I should keep it in myapartment another day or so. If I decide to get rid of it tonight, Ican easily stuʃ what's left of her into a Hefty garbage bag andleave it in the stairwell; or I can exert the extra eʃort and drag itinto the street, leaving it with the rest of the trash on the curb. Icould even take it to the apartment in Hell's Kitchen and pourlime over it, smoke a cigar and watch it dissolve while listeningto my Walkman, but I want to keep the men's bodies separatefrom the women's, and besides, I also want to watch Bloodhungry,the videotape I rented this afternoon—its ad line reads, "Someclowns make you laugh, but Bobo will make you die and thenhe'll eat your body"—and a midnight trip to Hell's Kitchen, evenwithout a stop at Bellvue's for a small bite to eat, wouldn't giveme enough time. Bethany's bones and most of her intestines andɻesh will probably get dumped into the incinerator down the hallfrom my apartment.Courtney, McDermott and I have just left a Morgan Stanleyparty that took place near the Seaport at the tip of Manhattan ina new club called Goldcard, which seemed like a vast city of itsown and where I ran into Walter Rhodes, a total Canadian, whomI haven't seen since Exeter and who also, like McDermott, reekedof Xeryus, and I actually told him, "Listen, I'm trying to stay awayfrom people. I'm avoiding even speaking to them," and then Iasked to be excused. Only slightly stunned, Walter said, "Uh,sure, I, um, understand." I'm wearing a six-button doublebreasted wool-crepe tuxedo with pleated trousers and a silkgrosgrain bow tie, all by Valentino. Luis Carruthers is in Atlantafor the week. I did a line of coke with Herbert Gittes at Goldcardand before McDermott hailed this cab to head for Nell's I took aHalcion to get rid of the edge from the cocaine, but it hasn't sunkin yet. Courtney seems attracted to McDermott and since herChembank card wasn't functioning tonight, at least not at theautomated teller we stopped at (the reason being she uses it toooften to cut lines of coke with, though she would never admitthis; cocaine residue has, at various times, fucked up my cardalso) and McDermott's was working, she bypassed mine in favor ofhis, which means, knowing Courtney, that she wants to fuckMcDermott. But it doesn't really matter. Even though I'm morehandsome than Craig, we both look pretty much the same.Talking animals were the topic of this morning's Patty WintersShow. An octopus was ɻoating in a makeshift aquarium with amicrophone attached to one of its tentacles and it kept asking—orso its "trainer," who is positive that mollusks have vocal cords,assured us—for "cheese." I watched, vaguely transɹxed, until Istarted to sob. A beggar dressed as a Hawaiian frets over agarbage can on the darkened corner of Eighth and Tenth."With distilled or puriɹed water," McDermott is saying, "mostof the minerals have been removed. The water has been boiledand the steam condensed into puriɹed water.""Wheras distilled water has a ɻat taste and it's usually not fordrinking." I ɹnd myself yawning."And mineral water?" Courtney asks."It's not deɹned by the—" McDermott and I startsimultaneously."Go ahead," I say, yawning again, causing Courtney to yawnalso."No, you go ahead," he says apathetically."It's not deɹned by the FDA," I tell her. "It has no chemicals orsalts or sugars or caʃeine.""And sparkling water gets its ɹzz from carbon dioxide, right?"she asks."Yes." Both McDermott and I nod, staring straight ahead."I knew that," she says hesitantly, and by the tone of her voiceI can sense, without looking over, that she probably smiles whenshe says this."But only buy naturally sparkling water," I caution. "Becausethat means the carbon dioxide content is in the water at itssource.""Club soda and seltzer, for example, are artiɹciallycarbonated," McDermott explains."White Rock seltzer is an exception," I mention, nonplussed byMcDermott's ridiculous, incessant one-upmanship. "Ramlösasparkling mineral water is also very good."The cab is about to turn onto Fourteenth Street, but maybe fouror ɹve limousines are trying to make the same right so we missthe light. I curse the driver but an old Motown song from thesixties, maybe it's the Supremes, plays muted, up front, the soundblocked by the ɹberglass partition. I try to open it but it's lockedand won't slide across. Courtney asks, "What kind should youdrink after exercising?""Well," I sigh. "Whatever it is, it should be really cold.""Because?" she asks."Because it's absorbed faster than if it was at roomtemperature." Absently I check my Rolex. "It should probably bewater. Evian. But not in plastic.""My trainer says Gatorade's okay," McDermott counters."But don't you think water is the best ɻuid replacer since itenters the bloodstream faster than any other liquid?" I can't helpbut add, "Buddy?"I check my watch again. If I have one J&B on the rocks at Nell'sI can make it home in time to watch all of Bloodhungry by two.Again it's silent in the cab, which moves steadily toward thecrowd outside the club, the limousines dropping oʃ passengersthen moving on, each of us concentrating on that, and also on thesky above the city, which is heavy, looming with dark clouds. Thelimousines keep blaring their horns at each other, solvingnothing. My throat, because of the coke I did with Gittes, feelsparched and I swallow, trying to wet it. Posters for a sale atCrabtree & Evelyn line the boarded windows of abandonedtenement buildings on the other side of this street. Spell "mogul,"Bateman. How do you spell mogul? M-o-g-u-1. Mo-gul. Mog-ul.Ice, ghosts, aliens—"I don't like Evian," McDermott says somewhat sadly. "It's toosweet." He looks so miserable when he admits this that it movesme to agree.Glancing over at him in the darkness of the cab, realizing he'sprobably going to end up in bed with Courtney tonight, I feel aninstantaneous moment of pity for him."Yes, McDermott," I say slowly. "Evian is too sweet."Earlier, there was so much of Bethany's blood pooled on theɻoor that I could make out my reɻection in it while I reached forone of my cordless phones, and I watched myself make a haircutappointment at Gio's. Courtney breaks my trance by admitting, "Iwas afraid to try Pellegrino for the first time." She looks over atme nervously—expecting me to ... what, agree?—then at McDermott, who oʃers her a wan, tight smile. "But once I did, itwas ... ɹne.""How courageous," I murmur, yawning again, the cab inchingits way toward Nell's, then, raising my voice, "Listen, doesanyone know of a device you can hook up to your phone tosimulate that call-waiting sound?"Back at my place I stand over Bethany's body, sipping a drinkcontemplatively, studying its condition. Both eyelids are openhalfway and her lower teeth look as if they're jutting out sinceher lips have been torn—actually bitten—oʃ. Earlier in the day Ihad sawed oʃ her left arm, which is what ɹnally killed her, andright now I pick it up, holding it by the bone that protrudes fromwhere her hand used to be (I have no idea where it is now: thefreezer? the closet?), clenching it in my ɹst like a pipe, ɻesh andmuscle still clinging to it though a lot of it has been hacked orgnawed oʃ, and I bring it down on her head. It takes very fewblows, ɹve or six at most, to smash her jaw open completely, andonly two more for her face to cave in on itself.
