The Sweet Edge Read Free Page B

was.”
    “No. You are beautiful.” Stella looks into Campbell’s dark eyes.
    “Wow, you are really drunk.”
    “Just a little.”
    “Maybe we can get you a cab.”
    Stella guided Campbell to the edge of the sidewalk. She held up her left arm to flag a cab. Several drove past them. Campbell started nudging his nose against Stella’s neck.
    “What’s your name?” asked Campbell.
    “Stella.”
    “Oh, that’s right. Street Car Named Desire. My name’s Campbell. Campbell Royce.”
    “How do you do Campbell?” Stella was still waving her arm valiantly.
    “My girlfriend broke up with me tonight. By text. And then she unfriended me on Facebook. She never showed up for dinner.”
    “Sorry to hear that.” Stella pushed herself forward to alleviate the heaviness of Campbell. He looked slender but his body seemed sinewy with muscle. He was allowing his body to relax against Stella. She could feel his heat and could smell a spiciness on his skin muted by the sour smell of alcohol.
    “I bought her a coat for two grand.”
    “Two grand could pay for one and a half months of rent for me.”
    “Cheap vodka.”
    “Yes, we’ve already established this. I drink cheap vodka.”
    “She used my credit card. I had to cancel it.”
    “You gave her a credit card?”
    “I had to cancel it.” Campbell was breathing in Stella’s ear. She could smell the slightly acrid smell of vodka on his breath.
    Stella waved her arm again when she saw a yellow taxi approaching. The taxi stopped and Stella rushed forward with Campbell dragging on her side. The taxi driver did not look happy. “Is he alright?” asked the French accented Haitian driver. Stella looked at the name plate. Pierre.
    “Hi, Pierre. He’s drunk. He lives on Park Avenue. Not sure of the exact address but my friend Campbell here can give you details.”
    “You come as well.”
    “No, I don’t live on Park Avenue.”
    “You come or I don’t take him.”
    Campbell moaned. “Where am I going?”
    Stella sighed. “Did you hear that Campbell? I have to escort you. Damn it.”
    “Damn it!” Campbell exclaimed.
    “You just get drunker by the minute. Alright, where do you live Campbell?”
    “Park Avenue.”
    “Where exactly on Park Avenue?” Stella was losing patience. Her strong drive to be a nice person was losing ground.
    “Twee, twee, sax.”
    “Great. Now you’re starting to sound like a kid. You heard the man. Three three six.”
    “You come?” asked the taxi driver.
    “Yes, yes. You better pay for my cab ride home Mr. Royce.”
    “Yep. I got money.”
    “Beautiful.”
    Campbell leaned his head back against the seat but was still gripping Stella’s arm. He found her warm and yielding. Stable. Campbell decided she wasn’t attractive. Her features didn’t look quite finished. It was as if an artist got bored in penciling in her face. It was not a felicitous blending of skin, hair and eyes. But there was something comforting about her face. She was a good person. Campbell understood that the moment he walked into the restaurant. Good people in Manhattan are a rarity , thought Campbell. Or maybe good people were rare in his career, his world. Stella was gripping the magazine tightly. He had watched her staring at. She looked reverential. Campbell wanted to yank it and yell that it was only a magazine not a deity. But maybe it was. Kristin worshipped beautiful things including her image. Why did women get so tangled up in the surface of things? Campbell wondered.
    The taxi stopped in front of a gilded and ornate building. The doorman rushed out and opened the taxi door.
    “Hello, Mr. Royce.” The doorman was short, squat and his maroon cap could barely contain his curly, cushiony hair.
    “Mr. Royce is drunk,” said Stella. “He’s all yours.”
    “Certainly, come along Mr. Royce.” The doorman pulled Campbell out of the cab.
    “Twenty-five dollars.” Pierre was staring at Stella expectantly.
    “Campbell!” Stella hollered.
    The doorman