One: Will Success Spoil Faye Valentine?
It's no surprise that, out of the survivors, Faye Valentine was the easiest one to reach. For close to five years, now, she's been living the good life, debt-free and riding high on the success of her book, movie, and endorsement deals. Now living on Venus, she's agreed to meet me at home for the interview.
"Home" being a penthouse suite at the top of one of Venus's towers. I'm greeted by a housekeeper, who lets me into a common room to wait for Ms. Valentine's arrival (she is, unsurprisingly given her reputation, late). Though not anywhere near as tall as most of the same sort of buildings on Mars, it's still a breathtaking view from the top, looking out on the red landscape below. The suite itself is less luxurious than I expected. Sure, there's the soft, comfortable couches and pillows I anticipated, and a small, but well-stocked bar...but despite the view, there's not much in the way of indulgences. Most of the furnishings, even the ritzy ones, are decidedly old-fashioned. Practically 20th century.
There's no modern computer or entertainment center...though I do see an old- school television that looks like it's been extensively modified to pick up standard broadcasts. Underneath it is an unfamiliar black box, vaguely electronic looking. The letters on the front say BETA. And, adding to my surprise, the suite itself is very small...almost claustrophobic. Other than the large foyer (which seems empty and lifeless...the sort of place one could host a party in, but not really spend any time in otherwise), there are just three doors leading from the common room. I hear the housekeeper puttering about in one, which from the sounds of her labors, is a bathroom. Presumably the other two doors lead to a bedroom and a kitchen. Very small. Even with the view, I know that she must be able to afford more. I almost conclude that perhaps she's fallen back into debt...but that's almost impossible, if her reported earnings are accurate. She must have her own reasons for living like this.
I see a copy of the book gathering dust on a shelf, and another volume that looks like a photo album lying nearby. This one is spotless, save for a general look of being well-read. I don't want to be caught looking through her things when she arrives, but curiosity gets the better of me. Inside are numerous pictures of the people on the Bebop, Spike and Jet, a few of the dog. A hazy shot or two of a scrawny kid, the photo quality less remarkable than that of the old Bigfoot film. A couple of Faye, which makes me wonder who took the picture. Clippings of their various busts. A bunch of other things. Scanning through it quickly, I see that the last page in the book holds the tiny column that was Spike's obituary. I decide it's best to leave this book alone unless she lets me see it herself.
Which is a wise decision, because no sooner have I closed the book and headed back towards my seat, than the door opens and in walks Faye Valentine herself. The housekeeper fidgets out of the bathroom and introduces me.
"Ma'am, this is Mr. Mendoza, from the magazine." I wonder what sort of protocol is right for this interview, and almost kiss her hand, but decide to simply bow instead. She must have noticed my indecision, because her eyes have that sort of half-amused, half-calculating look Wendy Hayashibara kept using when she played her in the movie. She sort of shakes her head and smirks.
"Nice to meet you Mr. Mendoza. Have a seat. I'm just going to get changed."
Physically, she looks very much the same as she did back then, despite ten years gone by. Admittedly, she's only 33 (for all intents and purposes), but you'd think you could see where the years went, what with how hard her life has been...but except for a few lines around the corners of her eyes and mouth, there's no telling. The crazy irony is that she's actually 87, legally, but could still pass for a girl fresh out of college. She's wearing a red formal gown as she goes into one of the doors...and I'm half expecting her to wear the yellow hotpants getup when she comes out, but instead it's a loose shirt and jeans. She is, however, wearing the trademark hairband, which helps cement the image of who she used to be.
"Sorry about that. I just came from a casino opening...they require the most ridiculous clothes for those things. This is more my style, at least it is now." She's idly filing a nail, disinterested. The interview gig is old hat for her.
"You came from a casino opening? That's a little ironic."
"Tell me about it. Ten years ago, if anyone at a casino knew who I was, it'd be followed by security tossing me out at gunpoint." She smirks again. "After a strip search." Nervous cough from my corner. "Of course, now, its good business to let the most famous card cheat in the system show up at the opening, just because someone wrote a book about her. Crazy."
"You still clean them out, then?" She shoots me a look, another Hayashibara one. That actress must have spent some serious time around Valentine to pick them up so dead-on.
"Are you kidding me? They expect me to cheat...hell, they watch me do it with big grins on their faces. The publicity is worth it for those morons. What's the point in cheating someone if they still come out ahead? There's no fun in doing it...and there's no need anymore, either." Back to the nail. "Most of the time I just go to the lounge, wait for a song I know, and do some drinking. Casinos are a real drag nowadays." She twirls the file idly. "Look...are you going to get to the real questions anytime soon? I know you haven't come here to chit chat about celebrity ribbon- cuttings or poker table tactics."
"I'm sorry, Ms. Valentine."
"Please, call me Faye." This isn't imagined familiarity, she practically recoils when I call her Ms. She doesn't do 'respectable' very well.
"Faye, then. Obviously, I'm here because it's been 10 years since the Red Dragon battle."
"Since Spike left, you mean."
"...yes. You know what an influence your story was on the subculture...because of that, I wanted to get your thoughts about your time on the Bebop...you know, in retrospect."
"You and every other kid with a press pass." She takes a second to light up a cigarette. For a second, she looks over at me and faintly scowls. "Look, I've said all this stuff so many times now, are you really sure it's necessary to do it all over again?"
"I'm only trying to be fair. If I'm going to do this story right, I'll need your side of it." She just sighs.
"Fine...fine. Let's do it. What do you want to cover first."
"Well, if I could, I'd like to know what happened when you found out about Spike. You kind of glossed over it in the book, ending it like you did. You know, with the 'bang.'"
"That was kind of Hal's idea. If I was the one in charge, the book wouldn't have ended...I would have just kept adding more and more, keep venting until I finally felt used up...but then, it would never've been published. I'm not really a writer. Honestly, I didn't even know about the last words, it was something Hal got off a police statement from one of the witnesses.
"I was where you'd expect I was. Back on the Bebop. Spike had only been gone for a couple of hours when reports started coming in over the comm. Neither of us said anything. I think Jet saw it coming, but I was still hoping he'd come back. You don't say you're going to find out if you're really alive, and then go and get yourself killed. But even so, he didn't come back.
"It took a few weeks to...you know...deal with it all. Jet sort of went on autopilot, fixing the ship, making the rounds. He never said anything. He did fix the Redtail for me during that time. In fact, the only thing he said to me was to tell me that it was repaired. I figured he just wanted me to leave."
"So, then, those stories that claim the two of you had a relationship...that was untrue?" She frowns...but if she's irritated, part of her also looks sad.
"No. Not like you mean, anyway. Have you ever made out with your mother?"
"Are you kidding me?"
"That's what I mean. When Spike and Ed and I were all on the ship...Jet was sort of like our Dad, keeping us all fed and in line, telling us what to do even if none of us ever listened. He was so paternal that...it would have felt weird if anything happened with him. But, since it was like that, when he fixed the ship, just like he wanted me to leave, it was like I was getting thrown out by my parents." She takes a drag and looks up.
"Even if we did anything, back after Spike left...and it would have been weird, trust me...I don't know if it would have been genuine. I know I was messed up, and I think Jet was really hurt too. You can't count on relationships built on shit like that." Suddenly, she smiles, but it's one of her smirking cat-grins. "Not that I was ever much of one to count on relationships, period."
"Even Spike?"
"Spike is...complicated." She stands up. "Do you want anything to drink?"
"Rum and coke, please." Faye makes her way to the bar, and proceeds to mix us some drinks. She sits back down on the couch opposite me. The words she says almost sound rehearsed. This is obviously something she's thought a lot about.
"If Jet was like my dad, then at first, Spike was a big brother. We'd fight and bicker and make each other's lives hell...but it was mutual. We also had each other's backs. Comrades, I guess.
"That all changed, for me, after the Whitney thing. Whitney had been my knight in shining armor, and when he died, it took me awhile to get over it."
"Even with the debts?" She smiles.
"Hey, when a gentleman dies saving your life, he isn't any less of a gentleman for doing it before getting his accounts in order. Of course...once we found out the truth, any illusions I had about Whitney were understandably shattered." A quick drink and drag. "I actually managed to sue Whitney and Bacchus, once I got famous. That was a nice little revenge.
"Anyway, being over Whitney, I started to look at Spike a little differently. He was always a handsome guy, but I didn't really notice past the arguing until then. The attitude was attractive too. Sure, he was a bit of a jerk, but not in a bad way. And he didn't care about anything. It's hard to describe why that was so appealing, but you get the idea. The Tongpu situation was another big moment. Even though I didn't entirely realize it myself, I think Spike knew then I had a thing for him." I decide not to question her about Tongpu, another facet of the book that no one could ever confirm or deny. Instead I keep asking about Spike.
"How do you think he felt about that?"
"I already told you. He didn't care about anything. That is, anything except Julia and getting even with Vicious. Look where that got him.
"If you really want to know what I think about Spike, I'll tell you this much. I cared a lot about him. He was a brother and a partner. Sometimes I wish he could've been more than that. Hell, sometimes I wish I could've been more like he was. He was an idiot, a martyr, a bastard and a saint...everything anyone's ever said about him."
"Sounds almost like he was a hero of yours."
"Yeah, to me and every other dumb kid he came across." I grin a little as she says this.
"And every dumb kid who's come across him since then." She smiles.
"Well, that's true enough. Cheers." We clink the glasses together.
"Do you have any contact with the other survivors?" Faye seems to flinch at that word.
"Not really. I told you how it was with Jet, and I haven't heard from him for years. Ed...I get little messages from her now and then...nothing that you can use to prove she exists, if that's what you're getting at. You are going to try and track them down, right?"
"If it's possible." I shrug and drain my glass. "They're both notoriously hard to find. Every once and awhile someone pops up claiming to be Ed, but you usually manage to debunk those, don't you?" It's true, she's revealed several Ed hoaxes to be shams since she got famous. Anyone who came forward as the real Ed stands to make a mountain of money if it was the truth, but as Faye always maintained, the real Edward wouldn't have any interest in that. "As for Jet, we know he exists, but it's impossible to pin him down. Once he's discovered, he always winds up disappearing, and he never answers any questions."
"Sounds like Jet. Took us ages to get a straight answer about how he lost his arm. Other than platitudes about being cautious, that is. I know there's no need to look for him as a bounty hunter or a cop...whenever something ended, Jet never was one to go back to it. He might be back on Ganymede...I can't see him living here, or on Earth."
"Why not Mars?" Again, she sighs.
"Same reason I live here. It's where it all happened. Mars is a big place, but it's not big enough for me. After everything that went down, I couldn't see myself living there. Jet either."
"Oh. So, then...are you still with Mr. McLauren? I know the two of you were living together back when the book was published...forgive me if this is too personal." She shrugs, not looking offended.
"After what I've just told you, you're worried about Hal? Please. We split up a year or two ago. Mutual, pretty much. I think he was in love with the story mostly. Once he got to tell it, there wasn't much reason for him to stick around after that. Which is alright...I don't know if there was much reason for me to stay with him other than to let it all out. I was...not myself when I met Hal."
"I understand. One last question, then I'll leave you alone. What do you think of the rumors that Spike is still alive somewhere?"
Faye sits a long time before she answers, just looking into her glass. "All the wannabes want to think its possible. Back in my time, people were saying the same things about Kurt Cobain and Tupac Shakur. Some were even still saying it about Elvis. I know that if anyone could survive what happened, it was Spike. You know the story about the cathedral shoot-out. And I know that no one ever managed to ID his body...but there were lots of Red Dragons unaccounted for, too, that no one accepts as anything other than dead. I wish Spike was still alive. I miss him, more than I can tell you. But, I think that if he was still around, I'd have heard something. God, I know he didn't care much about anything, but I'd like to think that if he was still alive, he would have at least let us know.
"I don't like to admit it, but you can only draw so many conclusions. Either he's alive and wants nothing to do with all of this...which I can actually see...he always hated hangers-on and attention...or he's dead. It's all the same, in the end."
"I see. Well, Ms. Valent...I mean, Faye...thank you for your time." I stand and motion towards the door. "It's been an honor."
"Mr. Mendoza?" I turn back towards her and nod. "Are you serious about trying to find Jet and Ed?"
"Completely serious. It would mean so much to me to actually speak with them." I smile sheepishly. "I was pretty into Hard Luck Woman myself, when it first came out. They're my heroes as much as the next dumb kid's.
"But I want to know the whole truth about the story, it's imperative I know how it all turned out...and if they can help, I don't have much choice. I have to keep on looking."
If Faye takes offense at the implication that her story is not enough of the complete truth, then she doesn't show it. She simply stares out the window for a minute. "I can help you find Ed. Her last message indicated she was in the old American Southwest a month or two back. You might be able to find her with that."
"I thought you said there was nothing you could do to prove she exists..." She flashes the confident half-smile once again."
"Hey, I made a good living off lying to people for years...old habits die hard. Besides, you reporters are usually so humorless. You're not much of an exception either, kid. But you seem okay. So go on, good luck. And if you find Ed, I doubt there's anyone else in the system who's better qualified to help you find Jet."
"Thank you. I'll let you know if I dig up anything. Thank you so much."
"No problem." We shake hands and I open the door to leave. As she closes it, she says one more thing. "Hey, if you find Jet...tell him..." She lets the words trail off.
"Tell him what?"
"That, whatever it was I did, I'm sorry. It's important that he knows."
"I'll do my best, Faye. Goodbye."
The ride back to the hotel is long and dreary. Whatever else Venus may be, it's certainly no Mars...which is the whole point, obviously. Just before turning in for bed, I book passage on a shuttle bound for Earth. I've got some serious searching to do.
It's no surprise that, out of the survivors, Faye Valentine was the easiest one to reach. For close to five years, now, she's been living the good life, debt-free and riding high on the success of her book, movie, and endorsement deals. Now living on Venus, she's agreed to meet me at home for the interview.
"Home" being a penthouse suite at the top of one of Venus's towers. I'm greeted by a housekeeper, who lets me into a common room to wait for Ms. Valentine's arrival (she is, unsurprisingly given her reputation, late). Though not anywhere near as tall as most of the same sort of buildings on Mars, it's still a breathtaking view from the top, looking out on the red landscape below. The suite itself is less luxurious than I expected. Sure, there's the soft, comfortable couches and pillows I anticipated, and a small, but well-stocked bar...but despite the view, there's not much in the way of indulgences. Most of the furnishings, even the ritzy ones, are decidedly old-fashioned. Practically 20th century.
There's no modern computer or entertainment center...though I do see an old- school television that looks like it's been extensively modified to pick up standard broadcasts. Underneath it is an unfamiliar black box, vaguely electronic looking. The letters on the front say BETA. And, adding to my surprise, the suite itself is very small...almost claustrophobic. Other than the large foyer (which seems empty and lifeless...the sort of place one could host a party in, but not really spend any time in otherwise), there are just three doors leading from the common room. I hear the housekeeper puttering about in one, which from the sounds of her labors, is a bathroom. Presumably the other two doors lead to a bedroom and a kitchen. Very small. Even with the view, I know that she must be able to afford more. I almost conclude that perhaps she's fallen back into debt...but that's almost impossible, if her reported earnings are accurate. She must have her own reasons for living like this.
I see a copy of the book gathering dust on a shelf, and another volume that looks like a photo album lying nearby. This one is spotless, save for a general look of being well-read. I don't want to be caught looking through her things when she arrives, but curiosity gets the better of me. Inside are numerous pictures of the people on the Bebop, Spike and Jet, a few of the dog. A hazy shot or two of a scrawny kid, the photo quality less remarkable than that of the old Bigfoot film. A couple of Faye, which makes me wonder who took the picture. Clippings of their various busts. A bunch of other things. Scanning through it quickly, I see that the last page in the book holds the tiny column that was Spike's obituary. I decide it's best to leave this book alone unless she lets me see it herself.
Which is a wise decision, because no sooner have I closed the book and headed back towards my seat, than the door opens and in walks Faye Valentine herself. The housekeeper fidgets out of the bathroom and introduces me.
"Ma'am, this is Mr. Mendoza, from the magazine." I wonder what sort of protocol is right for this interview, and almost kiss her hand, but decide to simply bow instead. She must have noticed my indecision, because her eyes have that sort of half-amused, half-calculating look Wendy Hayashibara kept using when she played her in the movie. She sort of shakes her head and smirks.
"Nice to meet you Mr. Mendoza. Have a seat. I'm just going to get changed."
Physically, she looks very much the same as she did back then, despite ten years gone by. Admittedly, she's only 33 (for all intents and purposes), but you'd think you could see where the years went, what with how hard her life has been...but except for a few lines around the corners of her eyes and mouth, there's no telling. The crazy irony is that she's actually 87, legally, but could still pass for a girl fresh out of college. She's wearing a red formal gown as she goes into one of the doors...and I'm half expecting her to wear the yellow hotpants getup when she comes out, but instead it's a loose shirt and jeans. She is, however, wearing the trademark hairband, which helps cement the image of who she used to be.
"Sorry about that. I just came from a casino opening...they require the most ridiculous clothes for those things. This is more my style, at least it is now." She's idly filing a nail, disinterested. The interview gig is old hat for her.
"You came from a casino opening? That's a little ironic."
"Tell me about it. Ten years ago, if anyone at a casino knew who I was, it'd be followed by security tossing me out at gunpoint." She smirks again. "After a strip search." Nervous cough from my corner. "Of course, now, its good business to let the most famous card cheat in the system show up at the opening, just because someone wrote a book about her. Crazy."
"You still clean them out, then?" She shoots me a look, another Hayashibara one. That actress must have spent some serious time around Valentine to pick them up so dead-on.
"Are you kidding me? They expect me to cheat...hell, they watch me do it with big grins on their faces. The publicity is worth it for those morons. What's the point in cheating someone if they still come out ahead? There's no fun in doing it...and there's no need anymore, either." Back to the nail. "Most of the time I just go to the lounge, wait for a song I know, and do some drinking. Casinos are a real drag nowadays." She twirls the file idly. "Look...are you going to get to the real questions anytime soon? I know you haven't come here to chit chat about celebrity ribbon- cuttings or poker table tactics."
"I'm sorry, Ms. Valentine."
"Please, call me Faye." This isn't imagined familiarity, she practically recoils when I call her Ms. She doesn't do 'respectable' very well.
"Faye, then. Obviously, I'm here because it's been 10 years since the Red Dragon battle."
"Since Spike left, you mean."
"...yes. You know what an influence your story was on the subculture...because of that, I wanted to get your thoughts about your time on the Bebop...you know, in retrospect."
"You and every other kid with a press pass." She takes a second to light up a cigarette. For a second, she looks over at me and faintly scowls. "Look, I've said all this stuff so many times now, are you really sure it's necessary to do it all over again?"
"I'm only trying to be fair. If I'm going to do this story right, I'll need your side of it." She just sighs.
"Fine...fine. Let's do it. What do you want to cover first."
"Well, if I could, I'd like to know what happened when you found out about Spike. You kind of glossed over it in the book, ending it like you did. You know, with the 'bang.'"
"That was kind of Hal's idea. If I was the one in charge, the book wouldn't have ended...I would have just kept adding more and more, keep venting until I finally felt used up...but then, it would never've been published. I'm not really a writer. Honestly, I didn't even know about the last words, it was something Hal got off a police statement from one of the witnesses.
"I was where you'd expect I was. Back on the Bebop. Spike had only been gone for a couple of hours when reports started coming in over the comm. Neither of us said anything. I think Jet saw it coming, but I was still hoping he'd come back. You don't say you're going to find out if you're really alive, and then go and get yourself killed. But even so, he didn't come back.
"It took a few weeks to...you know...deal with it all. Jet sort of went on autopilot, fixing the ship, making the rounds. He never said anything. He did fix the Redtail for me during that time. In fact, the only thing he said to me was to tell me that it was repaired. I figured he just wanted me to leave."
"So, then, those stories that claim the two of you had a relationship...that was untrue?" She frowns...but if she's irritated, part of her also looks sad.
"No. Not like you mean, anyway. Have you ever made out with your mother?"
"Are you kidding me?"
"That's what I mean. When Spike and Ed and I were all on the ship...Jet was sort of like our Dad, keeping us all fed and in line, telling us what to do even if none of us ever listened. He was so paternal that...it would have felt weird if anything happened with him. But, since it was like that, when he fixed the ship, just like he wanted me to leave, it was like I was getting thrown out by my parents." She takes a drag and looks up.
"Even if we did anything, back after Spike left...and it would have been weird, trust me...I don't know if it would have been genuine. I know I was messed up, and I think Jet was really hurt too. You can't count on relationships built on shit like that." Suddenly, she smiles, but it's one of her smirking cat-grins. "Not that I was ever much of one to count on relationships, period."
"Even Spike?"
"Spike is...complicated." She stands up. "Do you want anything to drink?"
"Rum and coke, please." Faye makes her way to the bar, and proceeds to mix us some drinks. She sits back down on the couch opposite me. The words she says almost sound rehearsed. This is obviously something she's thought a lot about.
"If Jet was like my dad, then at first, Spike was a big brother. We'd fight and bicker and make each other's lives hell...but it was mutual. We also had each other's backs. Comrades, I guess.
"That all changed, for me, after the Whitney thing. Whitney had been my knight in shining armor, and when he died, it took me awhile to get over it."
"Even with the debts?" She smiles.
"Hey, when a gentleman dies saving your life, he isn't any less of a gentleman for doing it before getting his accounts in order. Of course...once we found out the truth, any illusions I had about Whitney were understandably shattered." A quick drink and drag. "I actually managed to sue Whitney and Bacchus, once I got famous. That was a nice little revenge.
"Anyway, being over Whitney, I started to look at Spike a little differently. He was always a handsome guy, but I didn't really notice past the arguing until then. The attitude was attractive too. Sure, he was a bit of a jerk, but not in a bad way. And he didn't care about anything. It's hard to describe why that was so appealing, but you get the idea. The Tongpu situation was another big moment. Even though I didn't entirely realize it myself, I think Spike knew then I had a thing for him." I decide not to question her about Tongpu, another facet of the book that no one could ever confirm or deny. Instead I keep asking about Spike.
"How do you think he felt about that?"
"I already told you. He didn't care about anything. That is, anything except Julia and getting even with Vicious. Look where that got him.
"If you really want to know what I think about Spike, I'll tell you this much. I cared a lot about him. He was a brother and a partner. Sometimes I wish he could've been more than that. Hell, sometimes I wish I could've been more like he was. He was an idiot, a martyr, a bastard and a saint...everything anyone's ever said about him."
"Sounds almost like he was a hero of yours."
"Yeah, to me and every other dumb kid he came across." I grin a little as she says this.
"And every dumb kid who's come across him since then." She smiles.
"Well, that's true enough. Cheers." We clink the glasses together.
"Do you have any contact with the other survivors?" Faye seems to flinch at that word.
"Not really. I told you how it was with Jet, and I haven't heard from him for years. Ed...I get little messages from her now and then...nothing that you can use to prove she exists, if that's what you're getting at. You are going to try and track them down, right?"
"If it's possible." I shrug and drain my glass. "They're both notoriously hard to find. Every once and awhile someone pops up claiming to be Ed, but you usually manage to debunk those, don't you?" It's true, she's revealed several Ed hoaxes to be shams since she got famous. Anyone who came forward as the real Ed stands to make a mountain of money if it was the truth, but as Faye always maintained, the real Edward wouldn't have any interest in that. "As for Jet, we know he exists, but it's impossible to pin him down. Once he's discovered, he always winds up disappearing, and he never answers any questions."
"Sounds like Jet. Took us ages to get a straight answer about how he lost his arm. Other than platitudes about being cautious, that is. I know there's no need to look for him as a bounty hunter or a cop...whenever something ended, Jet never was one to go back to it. He might be back on Ganymede...I can't see him living here, or on Earth."
"Why not Mars?" Again, she sighs.
"Same reason I live here. It's where it all happened. Mars is a big place, but it's not big enough for me. After everything that went down, I couldn't see myself living there. Jet either."
"Oh. So, then...are you still with Mr. McLauren? I know the two of you were living together back when the book was published...forgive me if this is too personal." She shrugs, not looking offended.
"After what I've just told you, you're worried about Hal? Please. We split up a year or two ago. Mutual, pretty much. I think he was in love with the story mostly. Once he got to tell it, there wasn't much reason for him to stick around after that. Which is alright...I don't know if there was much reason for me to stay with him other than to let it all out. I was...not myself when I met Hal."
"I understand. One last question, then I'll leave you alone. What do you think of the rumors that Spike is still alive somewhere?"
Faye sits a long time before she answers, just looking into her glass. "All the wannabes want to think its possible. Back in my time, people were saying the same things about Kurt Cobain and Tupac Shakur. Some were even still saying it about Elvis. I know that if anyone could survive what happened, it was Spike. You know the story about the cathedral shoot-out. And I know that no one ever managed to ID his body...but there were lots of Red Dragons unaccounted for, too, that no one accepts as anything other than dead. I wish Spike was still alive. I miss him, more than I can tell you. But, I think that if he was still around, I'd have heard something. God, I know he didn't care much about anything, but I'd like to think that if he was still alive, he would have at least let us know.
"I don't like to admit it, but you can only draw so many conclusions. Either he's alive and wants nothing to do with all of this...which I can actually see...he always hated hangers-on and attention...or he's dead. It's all the same, in the end."
"I see. Well, Ms. Valent...I mean, Faye...thank you for your time." I stand and motion towards the door. "It's been an honor."
"Mr. Mendoza?" I turn back towards her and nod. "Are you serious about trying to find Jet and Ed?"
"Completely serious. It would mean so much to me to actually speak with them." I smile sheepishly. "I was pretty into Hard Luck Woman myself, when it first came out. They're my heroes as much as the next dumb kid's.
"But I want to know the whole truth about the story, it's imperative I know how it all turned out...and if they can help, I don't have much choice. I have to keep on looking."
If Faye takes offense at the implication that her story is not enough of the complete truth, then she doesn't show it. She simply stares out the window for a minute. "I can help you find Ed. Her last message indicated she was in the old American Southwest a month or two back. You might be able to find her with that."
"I thought you said there was nothing you could do to prove she exists..." She flashes the confident half-smile once again."
"Hey, I made a good living off lying to people for years...old habits die hard. Besides, you reporters are usually so humorless. You're not much of an exception either, kid. But you seem okay. So go on, good luck. And if you find Ed, I doubt there's anyone else in the system who's better qualified to help you find Jet."
"Thank you. I'll let you know if I dig up anything. Thank you so much."
"No problem." We shake hands and I open the door to leave. As she closes it, she says one more thing. "Hey, if you find Jet...tell him..." She lets the words trail off.
"Tell him what?"
"That, whatever it was I did, I'm sorry. It's important that he knows."
"I'll do my best, Faye. Goodbye."
The ride back to the hotel is long and dreary. Whatever else Venus may be, it's certainly no Mars...which is the whole point, obviously. Just before turning in for bed, I book passage on a shuttle bound for Earth. I've got some serious searching to do.