by Elena Hearty
“It came off Mrs. Grayson. Rich let me keep it.”
Paul snorted. “That is fucking priceless. I told him not to mess with that tenant. I can't believe you thought to grind silver up like that. Unbelievable. You're unbelievable is what you are. I'm impressed.”
“You're not upset about Charles?”
Paul kicked a stone on the ground and watched it land in a nearby puddle. “No. You know what's funny? When I walked in there and saw him dead on Rich's carpet, I was just happy it wasn’t you. Charles has changed a lot in the past twelve years, and I don't think I'll be missing him. In the end, I think I'm relieved.”
“So how long were you following me?”
"Aways. I could have caught up with you a few blocks ago, but I thought I'd let you keep going a little while longer. I thought for sure you'd let that guy help you. The guy with the cell phone. Why did you pull away from him like that?"
“I was afraid,” she whispered, tensing at the memory.
“Of what? You'd won. Against all odds you did it. You were out. All you had to do was ask someone—anyone—for help. Why didn't you?”
Lenore's lips trembled. “I don't know what I was afraid of. I thought I'd feel safe when I finally escaped the apartment, but I didn't. I felt scared.” Frigid tears rolled down her cheeks.
“But scared of what? That's the part where you're losing me.”
“I don't know,” she said, wringing her hands. “How am I…” She trailed off because a terrible question was forming in her mind.
“What, kiddo?”
“How am I ever supposed to function in the outside world now?”
He shot her a wan smile. "I'm not so sure you were doing such a great job with that before I met you. But I'll tell you something—I don't think the outside world is where you fit in. You fit in with me, though, and there's something to be said for that, I think. Charles always wanted to be like me, but with you, that wasn't the case. Shit. I wanted to be more like you.”
“So what happens now?”
Paul met her eyes. “You know what happens now.”
She took a deep breath. “Rich is going to kill me, isn't he?”
For a rare moment, Paul was not smiling. “Yeah, kiddo. Yeah, I think he is.”
“You'll stay with me?”
“I'll stay. I'll be there the entire time if you'll let me.”
Lenore wiped her tears away and nodded, glancing around the alleyway. “Could you do it? Could you just take me right here and get it over with?”
“I knew you were going to ask me to do that, and the answer's no.”
“Why not?”
“Because I'd enjoy it, that's why. Jesus Christ. Do you really want me to enjoy you like that? I'd feel like I just fucked my sister.”
“Then don't feed on me. Snap my neck. Just make it quick.”
“No,” he whispered, growing quiet. “I don't want to snap your neck, Lenore. And I definitely don't want to kill you in some filthy back alley like this.” He looked up at the sky. “You know what I want to do, actually?”
“What?”
“I want to get you something to eat. Let's go to the diner. Are you game? Let's warm you up with some coffee.” Paul extended his hand to Lenore, and she took it.
✽✽✽
The waitress placed a pot of coffee and two empty cups on the table. She seemed to be making a conscious effort not to stare at the burns on Lenore's arm, but the effort failed miserably. “You okay, hon?” she asked finally.
Lenore nodded. “You should see the other guy.”
Paul snickered.
The waitress gave them a quizzical glance before heading back into the kitchen.
Lenore shook seven packets of sugar into her coffee. “If I had asked that man on the street for help earlier, would I have gotten away?”
Paul shook his head. “You wouldn't have gotten away, but you would have made it a hell of a lot harder on us, that's for sure. Rich would have had to start calling in favors left and right. You shouldn't have made it so easy.” He leaned forward and slid his cup across the table. “Hey, do you think you could fill me up? Let's toast your victory.”
Lenore filled his cup.
And Paul raised it, saying “To the biggest badass I know.”
She met his glass with her own and smiled. “To me.”
He stared at the blood in the container for a long moment before taking a sip. “Are you feeling better now? Not so panicky anymore?”
“Yeah. I feel a lot better now, thanks.” And Lenore did feel better. It was good to see Paul again, and it was good to be back at the diner. But mostly, it was good to have six Xanax in her system. And the terrible reality of where they were heading after dinner seemed like business as usual; Richard was going to kill her; so what else was new?
“It’s been a while since we did this,” Paul said. “Don’t you want to ask me how things are going?”
“No. Not really. I’m slightly preoccupied with my own problems at the moment.” She sighed. “For instance: My feet are killing me. I’m pretty sure I ran over some broken glass somewhere.” She lifted her left foot onto the table. “Do you see glass in there?”
"What, were you raised in a barn?" he asked, grinning. "This is a high-class establishment. You can't do that type of thing in here." He studied her foot, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I don't see any glass, but it's hard to tell; the bottom's completely black. Let's see the other one." He waved her other foot onto the table. "This one I can see something. Tell me if this hurts." Paul pressed his hand against her heel.
“Yes. YES. Shit. Yes, asshole. You can stop pressing on it now.”
He looked up at her and smiled. “Just wanted to make sure. Do you want me to get it out for you?”
“Please.”
He squeezed her foot and extracted a small shard of glass. “There. All better.”
“Thanks,” she said, bringing her feet back underneath the table.
Paul leaned back in his seat. “You could have planned your escape a little better. I would have worn shoes, personally.”
"The only shoes I've had to wear this entire time have been my flip-flops. I had to kick them off when I started running; they were slowing me down."
“I also would have brought my medicine with me,” he added, looking very much amused.
Lenore rolled her eyes. “Well, thank God you caught up with me to tell me everything I was doing wrong. Who knows what might have happened.”
“Have you decided what you want to order?” he asked, gesturing to the menu. “Get whatever you want. Actually, you know what? You always talk about getting the pie, but you never do. Why don't you get it this time?”
She shook her head. “Paul, I really don't have much of an appetite right now.” This was not true, of course. But—deep down—Lenore knew she would be ordering her last meal, and that thought was almost too depressing to contemplate; better to die hungry.
“That's fine. Let's just sit here. Plenty of time to get your appetite back.” He took another sip from his cup. “Would it help if I told you I'm not going to take you back?”
“You aren't?”
“No. Won't do it.” He shook his head decisively.
Lenore took a deep breath, trembling, smiling. “What are you going to tell Rich?”
“Fuck Rich. You escaped fair and square and you never have to see him again. You never have to see that basement again.”
Paul's phone began vibrating. “Well, speak of the devil,” he said. “Rich wants to know if I've found you. Would you mind if I took a picture? Let's set his mind at ease.”
Paul aimed his phone at Lenore, and she posed, shooting her middle finger in the air.
“Awesome,” Paul giggled. He took another drink from his cup. “That ought to keep him happy for a while.”
Paul's phone vibrated again.
“What does he want now?” Lenore asked.
Paul downed the rest of his drink, staring at the message on the screen
with a half smile. “I think if I read this out loud they'd kick me out of the restaurant for indecency.” He typed something into the phone and hit send before handing his cup to Lenore. “Would you mind giving me a refill?”
She complied. “What did you tell Rich?”
“That's my little secret,” he said, closing his phone, “but I don't think he'll be interrupting our conversation again. Let's not even talk about Rich. Let's talk about what we're going to do when we get out of here. Want to watch a bunch of zombie movies tonight? I'll stop by the store and get some Toaster Pastries. You can stay at my place for a while. Does that sound good to you? You don't have anywhere to go, do you?”
“No,” she whispered, stirring her coffee.
“It's settled then.” He took another hefty sip. “Is there anything you want to grab from Rich's place and take up with you to the penthouse? You don't have to go in there. Just make a list and I'll get everything you need, okay?”
She watched Paul finish his second cup and stared at the tube in her arm. “That sounds good, Paul,” she said softly.
It sounds too good to be true.
Her heart began racing. “Tell me more things that we'll do when we get back. You won't lock the door on me, right?”
“No, I wouldn't do that to you. Maybe I'll even set you up with an apartment in the building. Would that work for you? Rich would be furious, but I'll bet he'd get over it. I'd help you with rent for a while until you got back on your feet. We'll get you your old job back, even.”
Bullshit.
Lenore nodded, wincing at the same time. “And you'll keep my medicine in steady supply?”
“Definitely.” Paul grinned at her from across the table, but his eyes were not smiling. “Hey, would you mind topping me off?”
Her hands shook as the released more fluid into the container. “Not at all.”
He raised the cup to his lips. “Thanks, I appreciate it.” Paul drank deeply. “Why aren't you touching your coffee?”
“I'm not thirsty.” Lenore's eyes dashed toward the exit.
“Calm down,” he said, following her gaze. “You're doing great. Try to relax. Just keep talking to me.”
She shook her head at him. “This isn’t Lamaze, Paul. Don’t try to talk me through this. And stop trying to feed me some bullshit fantasy about how I’ll get my life back.”
“Lenore, it's going to be okay,” he whispered.
“What exactly is your definition of okay? Why couldn't you have snapped my neck in the alley? What are we doing here, Paul? What the fuck is this?”
“Jesus Christ. Keep it down. Sorry. I thought this was better.”
“That you plan on draining me right here while I have coffee and dessert? That I get a front row seat at my own execution? Does that sound better to you?”
Paul flinched at her words. “What do you want from me? Do you have any idea what Rich is planning to do to you? Do you want me to show you the eight text messages he's sent me since I left his place? They’re very detailed.” Paul took several sips from his cup. “Look, I don't like this either. Do you have any idea how uncomfortable this is for me? I'm sorry I didn't get it over with in the alleyway. Do you want me to take you back there?”
Lenore was silent.
“Believe me,” Paul continued. “If I snap your neck, it's going to hurt. Is this really so bad? Is talking to me really such a bad way to go?”
“What do I have to talk about? Oh, wait. I know. Remember when you tricked me into going to the diner with you and then you murdered me? Remember how pissed off I was?”
“Fine. You know what? Don't worry about talking. I'll do the talking, okay?” He shifted in his seat. “I feel like there's so much I want to say to you right now that I don't even know where to begin. First off, I want you to know something terrible—you asked me something about Angela the other night and I'd already forgotten her name. I'm pretty sure that in a few years I won't think about Charlie anymore either, but I'll still think about you. Once you asked me what made you different and I told you it was because you were my friend, but that couldn't be further from the truth. There's nothing I could offer that would either add or subtract from who you are. And you are without a doubt the toughest, weakest person I've ever met, and I'm going to remember you. I'll remember you for the rest of my life.”
Lenore glared at him. “I don't need a eulogy, Paul. I already know how awesome I am.”
“Okay, then try this on for size,” Paul said, laughing. “You were a terrible friend. I can't believe you tried to poison Charlie. I can't believe you double-crossed me like that after everything I did for you."
She started to chuckle involuntarily. “You know the other day when you asked me if I would have covered you up if you started bursting into flames?”
“Yeah?”
“I lied. There's no way I would have covered you up.”
Paul flung a sugar packet at her. “I could tell you were lying! Why would you lie?”
“Why would I tell the truth? You've been playing with me since you met me.”
“I play fair, though.”
"Well, I don't." She flung a sugar packet at him from underneath the table.
Paul jumped in his seat as it hit him on the knee. “Ouch. I can tell that now. Actually, I think I've known that since dinner theater.” He stared at her, his smile fading. “There’s nothing fair about this, is there?”
“No,” she whispered. “It isn’t fair. And you're a terrible friend, too, you know. But you're the only one I've got. You're the only friend I've had in years.”
He slid his cup to her. “You deserved better, kiddo. I wish I knew how to be a better friend to you, Lenore.”
Her face crumbled as she filled the container. “I'm scared, Paul. I'm really scared. I know begging doesn’t work with you guys, but I wish there was something I could say to change your mind.”
With this, Paul’s entire posture changed, and he rested his head in his hands, probably to support the weight of the enormous grin on his face. “Well, that would be terrible, wouldn’t it? If this entire time there had been something you could have said to change my mind? And you had never bothered to find out what it was?”
Her eyes grew wide. “WHAT? You piece of shit. Don’t you think I’ve been through enough tonight? How long would you have let that go on?”
Paul chuckled. “Two more cups.” He wiggled two fingers in front of her. “Stop clenching your jaw like that. I wasn’t anywhere close to draining you.”
“You piece of shit. You filthy piece of shit.”
But Paul was laughing too hard to listen. "You think you're so slick. You barely even filled my cup that last time. I swear you left that thing half empty. Like that would have helped you. Like that was the make or break."
Lenore grabbed his cup and spit in it. “There. Is that full enough for you now?” She slid it back over to him. “I hope you choke.”
“Oh. Very mature. Do you feel better now?”
“Yes.” She felt a lot better, actually.
“Do you remember what you said to me the first time I brought you here?”
“No.”
"You told me about Quantum Immortality and how you were trying to find your perfect universe. You said there had to be some scenario where you'd escape your fate. And I remember saying something along the lines of you were being overly optimistic, but now I think you might have been onto something. Let's just assume for a second that you never dragged Charlie into that game. He would never have tried to kill you. I wouldn't have tried to turn him. You would never have gotten your hands on that silver. Charlie wouldn't have come over for revenge; Rich wouldn't have forgotten to lock the door. You see what I'm saying? It's almost like you found your perfect universe after all."
“Almost.”
“Of course, this isn’t your perfect universe, though.” He grinned. “It’s mine. But I think there might be a place for you in it. You know, I was awfully hurt that you didn’t ask me how t
hings were going earlier. As your only friend, I'd think you'd want to know how I was doing.”
Lenore watched her only friend take a sip of the blood-spit mixture. “How's it going, Paul?”
"Terrible. Just terrible. Thanks for asking. Rich was right. I should never have turned Charlie. He turned into such a pain in the ass, I can't even tell you. It made me realize how completely dependent I was on him for food, though."
And then Lenore knew exactly where their conversation was headed. “You poor thing.”
“Aren't I? I've been trying to find a replacement. Ask me how that's going.”
And she prepared herself for a familiar argument. “How's that going?”
“Miserable. Now, the way I see it, you have a pretty big problem on your hands because Rich wants you dead. You need some protection. I also have a pretty big problem on my hands because I’ve lost my meal ticket. Maybe we could stop being such terrible friends to each other, and we could start helping each other out instead. What do you say?”
And she was happy to lose.
About the Author
Elena Hearty graduated from the University of Virginia in 2000 with a BS in computer science. After that, she bought a house, got married, and had two children, all while working full time to ensure that your online experience is replete with banner ads and pop-up windows.
You can learn more about Elena and her latest projects at http://elenahearty.com