He looks into Hugo’s eyes.“Would you tell me your name, please?” he says in that same easy, casual tone.“Irving, he’s Jim Tremaine!” I cry out. “Look, he’s even got an ID card, Hu— uh, Jim, go get—”“I know he has an ID, Linda,” Irving interrupts. His voice has suddenly gone very cold. “I also know, now, that it was obtained under false pretenses.” The irrelevant thought flashes through my mind that this, like so much legalese, is a stupid way to say it; whoever heard of true pretenses?But I focus on the present. “You want a birth certificate, then?” I demand. “I can show you that, too.”Irving sighs. “Linda, I can get a photo. The real Jim Tremaine had a driver’s license back home. Do I need to do that?”“Dammit, Irving—” I start, but this time it’s Hugo who stops me.“No, Linda,” he says. “I think this day will come. I hope not, and I hope not so soon, but it has come. This man will not be deceived, I cannot be someone I am not.” He turns back to Irving. “I am Ougo of the Calvalli,” he. And tell her you'll get help. You and her together. You'll see a counselor, you'll work this through.I knocked. There, I did it.The door opened and, there she was, beautiful, just beautiful. Her hair was all in curls. She must've had it done again. It looked... she looked amazing. She was wearing a tight white turtleneck sweater and white jeans that clung to her legs like they had been painted on."Come in and sit down," she said coldly. She sat on the easy chair across from the couch. I sat down.She was ... she was mad. I could see her biting her lip. Her eyes were stern. She was really angry."I know what you did," she said. "I know what you and your fucking whore did YOU SICK FUCK!" Jenny, wait! What..." I couldn't get a word in. What was going on?"You sick, sick fuck!" she was furious, screaming at the top of her lungs. "You fucked my mother on my fucking bed when Katie was right here! Right fucking here!" She was pointing violently at Katie's room. She was fuming mad. Her entire.
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