Published 1994

Les Price

Looking at Tim, one cannot help feeling great waves of uncertainty, an absence of aim, of purpose, as if he is a person who simply doesn't matter.

Tim Price

"I thought Jamie was killed instantly," I say, standing there.
"He was." Dirk shrugs. "What? Why?"
"You told Raymond he, um, bled to death."
"Christ - what's the difference? I mean, really," Dirk says. "Jesus, his parents had the fucking wake at Spago for Christ sakes. I mean, come on, guy."
"No, really, Dirk," I'm saying. "Why did you tell Raymond that?" Pause. "Is that the truth?"
Dirk looks up. "I hope it made him feel worse."
"Yeah?" I ask, trying not to grin.
Dirk stares at me hard, then stops, losing interest. "You never grasp anything, Tim. You look okay, but nothing works."

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