“Sure, if you want.”
“Seriously? You’re amazing.”
“Well, I do my best.”
“You succeed—look at all these great fucking movies.Fright Night,Starman,The Adventures of Baron Munchausen, Terminator...you love all of these?”
He sounded incredulous, she thought. And she knew why. They were such old movies for someone like her to love. They were weird, she was sure, for someone like her. But she couldn’t tell him why she loved these weird old things. She couldn’t tell him about watching with her mother, because then she’d have to talk about all of that stuff. So instead she went with something light and noncommittal.
“I wouldn’t have them if I didn’t,” she said, and he seemed to fall silent then. She could still see him at the end of the third row, looking and looking with eyes as wonder-filled as his voice, but the comments came to an abrupt stop. They came to so abrupt a stop that it worried her a little. Had he guessed why she liked stuff like that? Was he going to ask? And even worse...
Had he seen her secret shame?
She didn’t think he was in the right place, but it had been so long since she watched anything of his she couldn’t be sure. She just had to follow him in some vain hope of heading him off at the pass—a feat that got more futile as time went on. Just as she was sure she’d reached him he would disappear around another corner, until she started to feel lost in her own library. She rounded an L-shaped section, expecting to see him on the other side, but he wasn’t there anymore.
Somehow she’d created an impossible labyrinth, with walls that slid suddenly sideways and corridors that took you to nowhere. Next thing she knew there’d be staircases on the ceiling, and Holden floating upside down above her head.
She had to ask.
“Hey, where are you?”
“Over here, by the random movie section,” he said, and relief flooded through her. He hadn’t worked it out yet. He wasn’t even close, in fact. After a second he added more, in so bemused a tone she could have kissed him. She could have kept him like that forever, in a permanent state of blissful ignorance. “None of these are in order.”
“I don’t need any kind of order,” she said, and for one glorious moment he seemed satisfied with that. She saw him through the gaps between boxes, finding this movie and that movie like unearthing buried treasure, just having fun with the idea of everything being a big jumble.
But eventually he was compelled to mention the problem.
“How do you ever find anything, though?” he asked, and she had to think fast.
Unfortunately, thinking fast was not her strong suit.
“Oh...well...they kind of are. All theStar Treksare together, all the sitcoms are together, all the horror is together and so on.”
“Yeah but there’s no alphabetical.”
She saw him glancing up and up, as though searching for the elusive ABCs.
She hated to disappoint him. She hated it so much.
“I don’t like alphabetical,” she said, but knew that wouldn’t be the end of the matter. He had hold of the end of the string now, and was pulling and pulling on it. And when it finally came free, there was laughter in his voice. He sounded so amused, which was somehow much worse than contempt.
“Wait...are these in order of actor?”
“Um...see the thing about that is—”
“Theyarein order of actor. You’ve got ten movies here starring James Spader.” He laughed, oh God he laughed. “You like James Spader, huh? Got a little crush on him?”
“That could possibly be the case.”
“Have a thing for smart redheads, maybe?”
“Well I do sort—”
“Guess that explains why you’re not into me.”
She thought she’d misheard, for a second. His tone was not the tone she was used to, all bright with amusement and affection. It was a touch darker, as if he’d just tasted something bitter. And the actual words...surely he couldn’t mean what she thought he meant? But before she could even ask about it or make it better, he’d already moved on to some other flummoxing, unfathomable point.
“Oh my God, Alan Rickman? That...is a really hard standard to meet. I can’t even do a British accent, as you probably know if you’ve seen my completely excruciating attempt at a period drama.” She held her breath, knowing what was coming. He’d moved a little farther to the left now, so couldn’t really fail to see it—though she somehow hoped he wouldn’t. She hoped she hoped she hoped and all in vain. “Christ youhaveseen it. And you’ve also seen the one with killer spiders...great, that should have given you a wonderful impression of my ability to fail at acting. Man you’ve got quite a few here you...”
