I put on some workout sweats and went back to the gym. Three more sets. That’s when I can think. When I’m pushing weight, my brain goes somewhere else.
Then I went back to the little suite. Took another shower. The one in the gym was better, but I didn’t want to take a chance on her walking in.
Seven twenty-one, the clock said. With a little moon.
I didn’t see her anywhere. And I wasn’t going to test those new clothes until I knew she was out of the house.
So I went back to the kitchen and made myself a protein shake.
I wasn’t even surprised to see the mixer, all laid out on the counter.
“I’m good at that, huh?”
“Good at what?”
“Shopping. Got you everything you needed, didn’t I?”
“I … guess you did.”
“That’s my role. And I’ve got it down pat.”
“What’s ‘role’? Like ‘job’? Or like a role in a movie?”
“The last one. I’m the gold-digger the rich old guy married. I drive my fancy little car around and buy things, see?”
“Yeah. That’s what you meant before.”
“What are you—?”
“You work. But people who see you working, maybe even people who think they know you, they don’t. Playing that role, it’s just part of the job.”
She reached behind her, laid her palms flat, did a hand-press to lift her butt off the counter, held it a good fifteen, twenty seconds, then let herself down slow. She hadn’t been lying about using that fancy gym.
“So what was that before, more acting?”
She cocked her head to the side, like she was listening.
“When you acted like I thought you were stupid, remember?”
She smiled, showing off those perfect teeth.
“That must have hurt,” I said.
“What? I do presses like that every—”
“The implants.”
“Are you serious? You go to sleep, you wake up with new ones. A couple of weeks on the painkillers, you’re good to go.”
“I wasn’t talking about—”
“How could you know that?”
“Know what? Look, you lost me a while back. I can’t do this stuff.”
“Stuff?”
“Talk in … code, like.”
“Don’t like dress-up, do you, Wilson? Okay, then, tell me how you could possibly know it did hurt. A lot. Most of the time, it’s just like I said … no big deal. But the job Albie paid for, they had to take the old ones out first. Those were over the muscle, not under, the way you’re supposed to have it done. But I was just a kid that first time. And the pig who ran the club said I needed them if I wanted to work the front pole, make some real money.
“It took me three months to pay off that bill. Five grand. Back then, I could’ve flown first-class for that much cash, but I didn’t know that. I was even grateful to that sleazeball for fronting me the money. He probably split the fee with the cutter. Then he let me work it all off. Five hundred a week. Plus points, which is why I had to do the whole three months.”
“I didn’t know that. Any of that.”
“But you said—”
“I was talking about your teeth. I know people, had that done. Not even their whole mouth, just a few. They said that hurt, so I figured, you got a whole new set, it had to hurt even more.”
“Maybe I just have good dental hygiene.”
“That keeps teeth white, maybe. But it can’t make them perfect, like yours are.”
“So maybe I’m wearing dentures.”
“Like those things you take out at night? Not a chance.”
“I suppose you’re sure about that, too?”
“Yeah, I am. You work too hard at … everything, I guess. You don’t take shortcuts.”
“There wasn’t one to take—my teeth were mostly rotted out, plus I had impacted wisdom teeth.… They had to come out anyway. So I guess I’m the one who should be saying I’m sorry, huh?”
“You don’t have to say anything.”
And she didn’t. Sat there without moving until I finished. Then I asked her, “So can I borrow the Lincoln?”
“Now?”
“Yeah.”
She hopped off the countertop and walked past me. I could hear her rooting around in that big white handbag she’d been carrying when she came in. Taking a lot of time to find the keys. I would have bet serious money she was bending over. I didn’t turn around.
When her heels started clicking, I shifted position so I could see her coming. She put down a photocopy of the Lincoln’s registration and insurance card. And a letter signed by her saying I was using the car with her permission. The letter was on some fancy