...But Home is Nowhere: Charlie & Margaux.

[charlesdoherty]

"You're insane," I mutter. "Where are you going to stay? George's?" I'm blocking her path to the the front door, letting each lock disappear beneath my palms.

"Move, Charlie!" She shouts. The bitch can't even carry her luggage.

"Where will you go?"

"I don't know. I can't be with you. I can't stand to be with you. You make me--"

"'You make me sick.' I know, I know."

"Move!" She shoves me - hard - aside, grinding her teeth. I stumble into the wall. Storming forward, I latch onto her elbows, nearly shaking the life out of her. My eyes start to water, and I'm blasting the debris from my heart to her. Between some time or another, I ask myself if this is a dream. And before I can acknowledge reality, she leaves without kissing me.

[Noir City]

30 days later.


"Margaux, like Margaux Hemingway?"

"Oui. If that's how you want to remember me. The dead girl stretched out in a Los Angeles coroner's slate ten years ago."

"I didn't mean for it--"

"It's okay, really."

"What happened to them?"

"To who?" She rolled the solo French cigarette on the table before picking it up and sucking the match's flame in.

"The Manhattan lovers." Shelley paused. "Should you really be smoking... I mean, is that healthy for the--"

"Toutes les tentatives ont ete des echecs complets."
all the time it was a complete failure.

"But I thought you said that..."

"Mais entre eux c'etait toujours... complicite. I don't know."
between them there was always complexity.

"Did she ever find love again?"

"No. Deux balles de 22. Vingt trois... et adieu."
no. two .22 bullets. twenty three... and goodbye.

"That's it? She just gave up?"

"That's it." Some ash landed on her lapel. "So, are we at an agreement then?"

"Fifteen hundred per painting, and the gallery will take six percent of sales. Although... The Manhattan Lovers painted series of three will be an exception. Twenty three hundred per canvas."

Days later, Margaux found herself eating glazed walnuts in front of Paris Dixon's art gallery, six months pregnant. The Manhattan Lovers series displayed right in the window. Although it was hard to make herself out in the oil, Charlie's face was unmistakable.

<font color="#000000"><font size="1">[ July 15, 2006 10:10 PM: Message edited by: fishhook grief (i'll catch you) ]</font></font>

<font color="#000000" size="1">[ July 16, 2006 02:05 AM: Message edited by: fishhook grief (i'll catch you) ]</font>

[charlesdoherty]

<center>one week later </center>

"Ahem, is Margaret there?"

"No."

"Yes she is."

"No, asshole, she's not. Ye can't call here anymore."

"Wait, who're you?"

"Bye."

The phone hangs up and I try back again. There's no answer. I try back one more time and there's still no answer.

From freedom, I turn right on misery and end up at my place in seconds. The space is quiet and depressing. I can still smell Margaux on my sheets, even after I've washed them eight times.

The light on my answering machine is blinking and I check my voicemail.

"Charlie," a voice whispers, then the message ends.

[Noir City]

<center>

The Manhattan Lovers.

The Paris Dixon Art Gallery is pleased to present workings of Margaux Alixandrie. Although relatively new to the world of oil paintings, Alixandrie is no stranger to illustration. Her drawings are found in over two dozen French children books. We will be offering a total of eight paintings, as well as the magnificent series titled The Manhattan Lovers, both brilliant and moving. Her entire showcase is edgy, and we hope to see how she grows over time.

</center>

Margaux stood with her shallow glass of red wine. It was half past nine. The unveiling of her pieces was going well, over eighty of New York's most influential art celebrities/supporters had shown up.

Congratulated her.

"You can't be any older than twenty."

She had a blank smile.

"I'm sorry, I don't think we've been introduced."

He ignored her inquisition.

"All of New York is applauding you."

She still looked stunning, six months pregnant or not. In fact, there was a modest bulge if anything. She never left the house wearing anything but black.

"You flatter me."

"Tell me, Margaux, is that Charles Doherty in your most famous pieces?"

"Excuse me?"

"He was a colleague of mine. I actually ran into him a week ago."

She couldn't hide her curiosity.

"Oh?"

"Yes, he looked better than when I saw him last."

She looked heartbroken.

"When was that?"

"Why, when you two were together. Both fresh in Manhattan. You two lovebirds just came up from Miami. Wasn't that how the story goes?"

She seemed to be lost in the memory of Charlie and her pre-pregnancy.

"I suppose so." She became slightly uncomfortable.

"Some men never appreciate a beauty like you. Men like Charles. They get you knocked up and then leave you. I personally could never--"

"I don't believe that my personal life is any of your damn business. Excuse me, I have guests to tend to." Margaux spun on her heels and left.

<font color="#000000" size="1">[ July 18, 2006 10:10 PM: Message edited by: fishhook grief (i'll catch you) ]</font>

[Noir City]

"I haven't heard from you in awhile."

She liked how he cared.

"I've been busy with my new paintings..."

"I heard about the success of The Manhattan Lovers. Congratulations."

"Thank you."

"I've been meaning to fly out to New York to see them. To see you."

"Sure."

"So... How have you been feeling?"

"Comme un oiseau sans ailes."
like a bird without wings.

"You sound just like your mother."

"Well, what can I say? I'm my mother's daughter."

"Don't scare me like that."

"Sure."

"You have to forget about Charlie and move on--"

"I'm hanging up."

"I know you thought it was lo--"

Click.

Her phone immediately started to ring again.

"What?"

"Margaux? It's Mischa, at The Paris Dixon Gallery?"

"Oh, yes. Hello."

"We've got a buyer for three of your paintings, but he insists on having you come down to receive payment. I think he'd like to meet the artist."

"Oh?" It seemed peculiar, but not impossible. "Sure, I'll be there in ten minutes."

She forgot all about her father and their conversation during the cab ride.

She stepped into the gallery, Mischa's contagious smile greeted her.

"I'd like you to meet Luther Smith, he owns Wilshire Publishing Company."

And it was no other than the supposed colleague of Charles Doherty.

"Why hello, Mister Smith." Margaux was not happy.

"Hello, Margaux. It's a pleasure seeing you again."

"You two know each other?" Mischa seemed shocked, before excusing herself to help a customer.

"I hope you don't mind me requesting your presence here. For I actually have come to bring you news." He couldn't of been any younger than forty-five. Dressed like a detective, and with a clever smile always in hand.

"Look, I really appreciate your interest in my paintings, but--"

"I thought about you last Friday. I was actually late to a dinner at Atelier. Speaking of which, have you ever had their Osetra caviar and--"

"I don't see where this is go--"

"Well, I happened to be on the Upper East Side, when I happened to run into our dear friend Charles. He was with a lovely woman, she looked just like a model. Legs that looked like they went on for miles. I stopped and chatted with him, naturally. I believe the girl's name was Natalie. She could not have been older than seventeen. Actually, I know for a fact that she was just too young for him."

Right then and there, Margaux thought she was going to be sick.

But he kept going on, much to his own delight.

<font color="#000000" size="1">[ July 16, 2006 10:23 PM: Message edited by: fishhook grief (i'll catch you) ]</font>

[charlesdoherty]

<center>Mischa and Luther</center>

"Mr. Smith?"

"Yes?"

"What did you say to her?"

"Nothing, but can you tell me something?"

"What?"

"Where does she live?"

"I..."

"Ah, forget it."

"I don't think now is a good time. She just got out of an awfu--"

"I'm not trying to marry her, I just want to see how she's doing."

"And you have to do that in person, right?"

"Look, I said forget it."

"I don't like playing matchmaker, but I can give you her phone number."

"I'll get a pen."

[Noir City]

The Company of James Theodore.

"What did he do this time?"

"I don't know. I was looking through his--"

"Did he become too tame for you?"

"What?"

"Well. He must've started to bore you, or something."

"No. Just because things went wrong between us..."

"It was probably your fault."

"How could you say that?"

"It wouldn't be the first time."

"This was a mistake."

"Well, what are you waiting for?"

"Pardon?"

"Isn't it about that time to get up and leave another person behind?"

<font color="#000000" size="1">[ July 18, 2006 10:12 PM: Message edited by: fishhook grief (i'll catch you) ]</font>

[charlesdoherty]

<center>dinner at Atelier</center>

I can hear Mr. Duncan speaking to me but I'm not listening. My focus is tuned in on Charles Doherty and the young lady sitting across from him. I start to think about...


her.

<center>--</center>

I'm having dinner with Kim, an aquaintance of Margaret. She says she's a regular here and she shows me the best items on the menu. Sadly I can't pronounce them so she helps me. When I struggle she laughs and pinches my knee. I forget all about Margaret. Just for a minute.

"Chuck, you're so dopey," she says flirtatiously.

I smile back and this guy whose name I can't remember approaches our table.

"Charles. Hi."

"Hi, how's it going?"

"Fine. I mean, good."

"Chuck, you're so dopey," Kim repeats. I realize she has had one too many drinks. Fake IDs go a long way. "Introduce me." Kim daintily holds out her hand.

"Kim, this is..."

"Mr. Smith." He helps himself, kissing her knuckles. "Anyway, I spotted your...Margaux at her, uhm, exhibit. Boy does the canvas love you."

"Everybody and everything loves Charlie," Kim adds.

"No they don't, Kim," I correct her without a trace of amusement.

"Yes they do--"

"A friend?" Smith asks, pointing at Kim.

"Uh, yeah."

"Yeeess," Kim confirms. "We're strictly...friends."

"Right. You two seem...very friendly." He nods and sways in front of our table. I think he's trying to get at something but I don't feel very comfortable with him standing there, scrutinizing us. The asshole.

"Well...I'm going to use the restroom. I'll uh, excuse me." I leave. Perfect timing.<center>--</center>

<font color="#000000" size="1">[ July 18, 2006 09:21 PM: Message edited by: pot roast king ]</font>

[Noir City]

"Don't you know who this is?"

"If I did, I wouldn't be asking."

"Luther Smith."

"Who?"

"Only the man who just paid your rent."

She was silent on her end of the telephone.

"I just paid you forty five hundred for three paintings."

She caught on.

"Oh. Yes. Right, Mr. Smith."

She paused.

"How did you get my number?"

He chuckled.

"Nothing to worry yourself over, Margaux. I'm calling to ask if you'd like to join me for dinner at Atelier this ev--"

"I apologize, Mr. Sm--"

"Luther."

"--Luther. I don't date clients."

"Well, first off, it's just dinner, my dear. And that's really a shame because I happened to get a little tip from the hostess that Charles is going to be there."

He was waiting for it.

"Charlie," she whispered into the receiver.

"I'll expect to pick you u--"

"I'll meet you there."

"Now, Margaux, what kind of gentleman would I be? I insist on picking you up at your home...."

She knew this game.

"Fine. Whatever." She gave him her address. This place was just temporary, right? This walk-in-closet of an apartment that she was renting on a month to month basis.

And just like that, Luther Smith, who so many women turned down because they thought his eyes were beady and black and that he was just downright repulsive, got a date with the it-girl of the New York art scene.

<font color="#000000" size="1">[ July 18, 2006 10:03 PM: Message edited by: fishhook grief (i'll catch you) ]</font>

[Noir City]

Ladies Room. Toilet Stall Phone Calls.

"Margaret."

"What's up, Kim?"

"You wouldn't believe who I'm having dinner with at Atelier."

"Who?"

"Guess!"

"Uhm. Christian?"

"No! Guess again."

"That sales guy you like from Armani?"

"Guess again."

"Brad Pitt? Christ, why don't you just tell me."

"Charles Doherty."

"You're kidding."

"No! ... Look, this might sound really bad, but we've been friends for a really long time, right? And you're kind of starting a new romance with--"

"You want to hook up with Charlie?"

"You make it sound bad!"

"Well..."

"I mean, you said you were done with him. And you know that Christian and I have been on a really long break. I mean, I can barely tell if Christian is going to take me to the Hamptons like he promised two months ago. On top of all of that, I don't even know if I'm going to get into NYU, and you know how hard my parents have been on--"

"Fine, whatever, Kim. Just don't..."

"Don't what? I've got condoms in my purse."

"That's not what I was going to say..."

"Then what are you..."

"You know he's got a girlfriend."

"Not anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"Marge. Margo, whatever her name is... I think she's out of the picture."

"How do you know?"

"You should see the way he looks at me..."

"Kim, you know, uh, Charlie is sort of a..."

"I gotta go! He's going to think I fell in. I'll call you later and tell you all about it!"

<font color="#000000" size="1">[ July 18, 2006 10:33 PM: Message edited by: fishhook grief (i'll catch you) ]</font>