“Kyra,” I say.
“Kyra?”
“You were married to her, you prick.”
He shakes his head. “I . . . I don’t understand.”
“She was my woman. My completion. You were with her, so that means that you were with me, too.”
“Your . . . your woman?” His eyebrows slam together. “I don’t understand . . .”
“It was all for your money, you piece of shit! That’s all we married you for. But then you presented us with that fucking prenuptial agreement on our wedding day. You asshole! You spineless son of-a-bitch!”
My hands begin to shake as I think back to that day. Back to the moment when Kyra sent me a text telling me about the prenuptial agreement he wanted her to sign.
“Five million dollars for every five years of marriage. You asshole!”
My blood is boiling. My heart racing.
I take the blade and lay it against his Adam’s apple.
It’s his time!
I want to drag it across. I want to watch it break the skin and watch as blood oozes out. I want to watch his skin grow pale as his life seeps away.
“After all of the time we’d put in with you, we had no choice but to sign it and go through with the fucking wedding.”
I press the blade into his skin. Just a little more pressure and it would be over for him.
“I wanted to kill you so that we could collect on our money, but Kyra . . .” I pause and close my eyes tightly for a moment. Talking about her this much is so hard, so agonizing.
It’s his time!
I take a breath and then continue. “She convinced me to not do it. She would have been the primary suspect, and if that happened, it would have been too hard to get our money. I didn’t want to listen, but she was right. We couldn’t kill you. So we had to find another way out.”
I pause and glare at him. I’m on fire. On the verge of losing it.
It’s his fucking time!
I spit in his face again.
“Lisette was supposed to have been that way out, but the bitch said no. And then she told you about what we were trying to do. And you, thinking that you were a fucking man, tried to kick us out. But we came up with another solution. We got Charles Goodell to do business with you and because of all of the extra income you gained by your new relationship with him, your fucking prenup was negated. We were six months away from collecting our money when . . .”
I stop talking. I don’t want to say what I’m about to say. It’s a reality that torments me day in and day out.
I press the knife harder against his flesh. Tears fall from my eyes. I can’t hold them back. I shake my head.
I was going to wait to kill him. I wanted that bitch to watch him die. But it’s too hard. The plan can be altered a little bit. He can die now. There’s someone else that bitch can watch die.
I tighten my grip around the blade’s handle and stare down at Myles.
He watches me with terrified eyes. “Please,” he whispers. “Please . . . don’t. I beg you . . .”
I look at him for a long second. It is his fucking time.
I drag the blade across his throat. His eyes open wider as his blood flows from the four-inch gash I make. He tries to speak, but can only gasp and gurgle. He thrashes, trying to break free from the ropes as though something he could do would prevent the inevitable.
“An eye for an eye,” I say.
I stand up and step away from the bed and blood. I watch him suffer. I watch him deal with the fact that in another few seconds, he’s going to be dead.
“An eye for a fucking eye.”
He thrashes again and then goes still. The light is fading in his eyes. The rise and fall of his chest is getting slower. He looks at me as his last breath slips from his lips.
I look back at him for a long moment and then move away, and go back to the bathroom. I turn on the hot water and wash his blood off of the blade. I want it to be clean for her turn.
I turn off the water when the last of his blood washes down the drain. I told you it was his time.
I nod. “And soon it will be hers.”
34
“It’s been awhile. I was really surprised when I got your voice mail.”
Back at Barnes&Noble. Early morning. Sitting across from Aida. I’d called her the night before and had gotten her voice mail. I was surprised she hadn’t answered. I hate leaving messages, but I left one telling her to meet me in the morning. I’d told Marlene that Aida had nothing to do with what was going on. That anything dealing with Kyra had happened before she’d come into the picture. I did believe my own words, but I wanted to talk to Aida face to face and see for myself that there was no tension in her body language. That there was no worry in her eyes.
I wanted to be sure that she was safe.
I said, “I’ve been busy.”
Aida smiled. “I know. Marlene told me you’ve taken on a new client.”
I nodded. “I have.”
“It’s been awhile since you’ve had one. I was beginning to wonder if you’d gotten bored with the job.”
Although I’d warned her about the dangers of our profession, I hadn’t told her about Kyra. Kyra had been an exception to the rule. She was a freak of nature in the way that a hurricane blowing through the streets of New York would be. I didn’t think there’d be another Kyra or another situation similar in any way.
I shook my head. “I wasn’t bored. I just needed a break. Besides, I trained you, so I knew you had things under control.”
Aida smiled. She was still a little rough around the edges, but she’d definitely grown in the six months I’d known her. It was a growth that wasn’t evident in her height or the way she dressed.
Her eyes.
That’s where her growth had been evident. If you didn’t know her, you’d never notice, and even if you did, if you looked too fast, you’d miss it. Miss the change in them. The increase in the level of maturity in her gaze. The intensity of the self-awareness and the depth of the scrutiny beneath her brown pupils.
She may not have experienced anything tragic, but in her eyes I could see that the experiences she’d had thus far were shaping her, molding her. I’d exposed her to situations she knew existed, but only at a superficial level. Now she was in deep and, by the gleam in her eye, she was enjoying the depth to which she’d gotten so far.
“So I hear you’re working on a new client.”
Aida nodded. “Yeah. Setting up a woman’s husband.”
“Does she want pictures?”
“No. She wants to walk in on us, but she doesn’t want us doing anything.”
“I see.”
Aida’s mouth dropped at the corners slightly.
“It looks as though you’re disappointed.”
Aida shook her head. “Not really disappointed. I just don’t really understand her. She wants to walk in so that she can use that to force him to go to marriage counseling.”
“I see.”
“I mean, what the hell? She’s so completely fucking dependant on this guy, it just doesn’t make sense to me. I mean how can she be that weak? How could any woman be that fucking weak?”
I raised an eyebrow. It was a question I’d stopped asking a long time ago. It just was.
Aida sighed. “Personally, I don’t even understand what the hell he sees in her. She’s attractive, but aside from that, she doesn’t really have anything going for herself.”
I looked at her closely. Her jaw seemed to be getting tighter as she spoke. The muscles in her shoulders and neck becoming more tense.
“I mean, really . . . she’s probably the last person I’d really have expected him to be with.”
My eyes unblinking and very serious, I said, “This seems to be bothering you quite a bit. His being with her.”
Aida shook her head. “N . . . no. It’s not.”
I closed my eyes a bit. “How many times have you gone out with him?”
She shrugged. “Just a couple. M
et him for coffee twice, and had dinner another time.”
“Have you fucked him?”
Aida’s eyes opened wide and her back straightened ever so slightly. Had I not been waiting for the reaction I could have missed it. But I was waiting.
In our profession, fucking was part of the job sometimes. But only when it was necessary to ensure that the husband slipped on the particular day that was requested, or when requested by the pissed off or very desperate wife.
It’s all about the thrill of the chase for men. They go after pussy with all guns blazing, their ears pinned back, the pink of their gums showing as their teeth are bared. Their intensity is high and the fire in their eyes is bright. When they want it, they want it now and they want it bad. They want that release.
But men have short attention spans. And after their load is shot, the fire dims. They’ll never turn down an opportunity for more pussy of course, but they won’t necessarily go after it with the same zeal.
Fucking was a powerful tool to be used, but contrary to popular belief, not fucking a man was an extremely more potent hand to play.
Put the pussy in the man’s face.
Give him a good, long whiff of it.
Let him practically feel its wetness, its warmth around his shaft.
Then pull it away suddenly without reason, without apology as his dick throbs and is on the verge of exploding.
This was a tactic, that, when employed, would make a man go crazy. This was a tactic that men couldn’t handle. They had to have it. They couldn’t take the almost have.
I’d told Aida about this skill, but as I watched her, I knew that her answer was going to be a lie.
She shook her head and stammered a little as she said, “No.”
I looked at her. I’d observed from a distance once or twice and had seen her work. She was good and had learned a lot. But she was also young. And no matter how much I tried to show her the ropes, her youth was a barrier that only time could truly break down.
I accepted that.
I said, “OK.”
Her chest collapsed as she tried to discreetly let out a sigh of relief.
I held back a smile.
She quickly took a sip of the Frappuccino she bought. I took a sip of my latte.
“So other than your client, everything else is going well?” I asked.
She nodded. “Yes.”
There seemed to be something more to her answer, but I left it alone. “Has anyone bothered you? Left calls, letters, etcetera?”
She shook her head. “No. Why? Should I be worried about something?”
I looked at her. Thought about telling her about the clippings and my mother’s visit, but doing that would have required me to talk about Kyra and what had happened. She’d had no calls, no letters, or strange visits; as I told Marlene–she had nothing to worry about.
I shook my head and took another sip of my latte, which was growing tepid. “No. You’re still new to this. Just remember to be careful.”
Aida smiled. “I will. And believe me, I am.”
I nodded.
“Lisette . . .” She paused and traced a finger around the rim of her bottle. There was a crease in her forehead as her thin eyebrows closed together.
I said, “Yes?”
“Can . . . can I ask you something?”
I watched her and said, “Yes?”
She opened her mouth and then hesitated. Looked like she was contemplating changing her mind, before she said, “Have you ever found yourself getting–I don’t know–caught up with any of the men you’ve set up?”
I looked at her with hard eyes.
She looked down at her Frappuccino.
Had I been caught up?
I thought about Ryan. Like Marlene’s ex, Steve. Attractive and incredibly cocksure. He was also smooth and honest. He was married and he left it up to the woman to decide whether she could handle it or not. It was wrong, and made him an ass, but there was a nobility to his infidelity that I liked.
Had I been caught up?
I was intrigued by him. I liked the way he worked his dick, hence the sex that contradicted my tactic theory. He was away on business, but in a couple of days, he was going to return, and when he did, I was going to set him up because his sister-in-law was paying me to do so.
Had I been caught up?
I looked at Aida as she watched me, her finger circling her bottled drink. In time, she’d figure out how to not get in over her head, the way she was now. This was something I couldn’t teach her.
I said, “No. Have you?”
She looked at me for a lingering second and then looked to the right as a woman at the counter by the café complained about her coffee not being hot enough. Aida stared at her for a moment before she looked back at me. “No,” she said, her voice strong. “Never. I know better than that.”
I stared at her for a few seconds, and then nodded, grabbed my purse, and stood up. “Of course you do,” I said. “I have an appointment I have to get to. Call me when your job is finished.”
“OK.”
I looked at her. Everyone went through certain experiences in life that helped define them. Aida was having hers, as I’d had mine.
Speaking of experiences.
I turned around and walked away. I still hadn’t found Myles and that had me upset. I’d called his job, and all I’d gotten was that he had gone away for a few days, and they didn’t know when he’d be back. A family emergency, they’d been told.
The excuse had been good enough for the people in his company, but it hadn’t been for me.
Something was wrong.
I could feel it.
And it had to do with the someone who was out there. The someone who had yet to make his or her presence known.
I grabbed my BlackBerry and hit speed dial #1 for Marlene.
“Lisette,” she answered.
It was quiet on her end. Benjamin must have been napping. “Lisa,” I said. “Have you talked to her?”
Marlene sighed. “No. But I did find out that she had an emergency and had to leave the country for a few days. She’s supposed to be coming back home on Saturday morning.”
“I want you talking to her when her plane lands,” I said, my voice no-nonsense.
“OK.”
I was about to end the call when Marlene said, “Ummm . . . I hate to tell you this, but Rebecca Stantin called again.”
I clenched my jaw.
“She told me what she wants. Is she serious?”
I shook my head as I headed to my car. Rebecca Stantin. She was really starting to annoy me. I said, “Unfortunately.”
“What do you want me to do about her? She’s pretty insistent about wanting to work with you.”
I stood beside my car, my keys in my hand, and looked around in the bookstore’s parking lot. Some people were getting into their cars and driving away. Others were just opening their doors, while some were closing them and heading to the store’s entrance. I looked at all of them with hard, scrutinizing eyes. Wondered if any of them was the someone I needed to find.
I was on edge and, goddammit, that bothered me.
I exhaled and said, “You think of something to tell her, Marlene. I don’t have time for her shit.”
I ended the call, opened my car door, and tossed my BlackBerry onto the passenger seat.
Before I got in and pulled off, I took one last look around.
I’ll find you, I thought. I’ll find you.
35
Saturday night.
My last night with Ryan.
His sister-in-law’s night of retribution.
I’d called Shante earlier in the day to confirm that everything had still been in order.
“Everything is set,” she’d said. “I stopped by their house and begged Sam to come on an overnight trip to Atlantic City with me and some other girlfriends of mine. She resisted at first, but I, along with my dear old brother-in-law, managed to convince her that she needed to get out a
nd have some fun. Now she’s out getting her hair and nails done. I’m going back around six o’clock to pick her up. I’m sure you’ll get a call from Ryan before then.”
The tone in Shante’s voice had been higher than usual, and the speed in which she talked was faster. She was beyond excited for the moment.
I said, “I thought it was just supposed to have been a night out in the city.”
“I figured an overnight trip would be better.”
The variation in the plan bothered me. “How are you going to get her back to the house if you’re supposed to be going to Atlantic City?”
“I’m going to pretend to get a call from another friend, who has an emergency and needs my help. I’ll tell Sam that I need to take her home and get to my friend’s house right away.”
“And if Sam says she can go with you instead of inconveniencing you by having you take her home?”
“She won’t. The friend I’ll bring up is one she doesn’t like.”
“OK.”
“I’ll make sure we’re back at her house by one-thirty. I trust that you’ll be ready?”
“I will. And I trust that you’ll have the rest of the money for me tomorrow.”
“Yes. Absolutely.”
Everything finalized, I called Ryan about an hour later.
“I’m glad your maybe became a yes,” he said, answering the call.
“How was the fucking on the beach?”
“Nowhere near as good as it would have been with you. I’m glad you called. I thought about you while I was gone. If I’d had your number, I would have called you and asked you to come and meet me somewhere.”
“It would have been a wasted call.”
“At least I would have gotten to hear your voice.”
I hmmed.
“So are you free tonight?”
“Nothing’s come up . . . yet.”
“Good. Have you ever been to the Hamptons?”
“Once or twice.”
“Make it a third time and come and see me. I’ll cook dinner for you.”
“Won’t your wife have a problem with an extra house guest?”
“She won’t be home. She’s going to Atlantic City with her sister. They’ll be staying overnight.”
“I see.”
“Say yes, Lisette. We’ll have dinner, some wine, and afterward we can take a late-night swim. I have an in-ground, nine-foot pool.”
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