Stewart and Jean by J. Boyett Page A

Foreigner’s “I Want to Know What Love Is” came blaring from the karaoke machine, along with the first few lyrics, passionately crooned by a drunk with what sounded like a cold, so they had some groans and laughs about that as well. By the time their beers arrived they were ready to settle back in to talking about Jean and Stewart, and Kevin. “Even if Kevin was ‘only pretending’ he was going to rape Jean, he deserved what he got,” she pronounced. “Anyway, why would he do that? Only a person who was dangerous anyway would do that.”
    Charles was nodding. Even as he did so, however, he said, uncertainly, “Oh—I don’t know....” Marissa bared her teeth at him a little. But he sensed that his best shot was to stick to his guns and not give in to her at the first pressure—besides, he did think she was possibly being not completely fair. “I don’t mean Jean was wrong to shoot him if she thought he was a threat. I just mean it’s not, you know, totally incomprehensible why he might have acted like that. Even though it’s still wrong!”
    “Enlighten me. Why might he have?”
    “Well, you know. Stewart said he was, like, a macho guy. And kind of an asshole.”
    “Stewart said he was an asshole?”
    “Not in so many words, but yeah, basically. An asshole, but not a bad guy. Like, a sexist, but not a misogynist exactly. And not a rapist, according to Stewart. Not a racist, but a guy who liked to tell racist jokes, to rile people up.”
    “Okay.”
    “But a guy like that.... The way Stewart told it, Jean really bought the show Kevin put on for people. Like, she took it more seriously than he meant people to. She thought he really was all those things. And maybe Kevin got offended, or even got his feelings hurt, even though of course it’s his own fault if people think he really is what he pretends to be. Because guys who have this big asshole front, lots of times they’re actually really sensitive, and the front is because they’re insecure. So even though it’s irrational, a guy like that might take offense that someone took him seriously. Because he’s insecure and over-sensitive, which is the whole reason for the front in the first place. And if he isn’t willing to admit to himself that that’s the dynamic, he’s that much more likely to get mad at Jean and want to get back at her, for having thought he was such a bad guy. And the way he does that is to act like she’s right. To him, the point probably was that she’d feel stupid once she realized how totally harmless he actually was. He didn’t realize she couldn’t tell the difference between his acting-out, and the real thing.”
    Marissa said, “Okay,” not as if she were necessarily accepting his theory, but as if she would consider it. She looked like she was fine-tuning her evaluation of Charles, too. “You must be pretty sensitive, yourself, to rattle off a psych profile like that.”
    “Well. I don’t know how sensitive I am. I mean, I still think it sounds like he engineered a situation where Jean was totally within her rights to shoot him.”
    “No, I don’t mean ‘sensitive’ as in ‘you old dumb softie,’ I mean it as in ‘smart,’ ‘perceptive,’ stuff like that.”
    “Oh. Okay. In that case.”
    There was a group singing “Bohemian Rhapsody,” and they’d gotten to the baroque part right before the hard-rock freakout, the part with all the “Scaramouche” stuff, and they were falling all over each other and generally fucking up. Charles and Marissa laughed, and mocked the singers for a bit, until Marissa hoisted her beer and said, “How many drinks’ll it take to get you up there singing with me?”
    “More than I can afford.” Immediately Charles wished he hadn’t said that. Hopefully, Marissa would think he was only joking (even though it was true). She did kind of laugh a little as she swigged her beer, which was nearly half-gone.... He would definitely have to pay both their tabs now, just to