Chapter 25
APRIL
“Have you ever seen the movie Strangers on a Train?” Eddie asked me.
We were lying in the extremely uncomfortable hotel bed.
I was tired of only hanging out with Eddie in this tiny hotel room. I wanted to have dinner with him. Show him off around town. Fly to the Caribbean with him and drink mojitos on the beach.
I knew none of this was possible, at least for now. But I did look forward to the day when I didn’t have to hide the man lying in front of me.
“It sounds familiar, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen it,” I said. “It’s old, isn’t it?”
“I prefer to think of it as a classic.”
“Is there a reason we’re talking about a random old movie?”
“I didn’t just bring it up out of the cold blue sky.”
“You’re being weird. Should I watch the movie?”
“No. In fact, you should definitely not watch it. They could potentially use that against you.”
“Use what against me? And who are they?”
“We’ll get back to that. Let’s talk about what you said after Margie left.”
Now he had my full attention. I sat up on the bed. “What about it?”
“Did you mean it?”
“No, of course not.”
“Of course not? I mean, you have now met with me for three straight weeks, and we haven’t been playing tiddlywinks.”
“A lot of people cheat on their spouses. They don’t all want them …” I couldn’t get myself to say the word. Not that it mattered. I could tell immediately that Eddie was going to finish the sentence for me.
“Want them dead? Isn’t that what you said?”
“It’s what I said. It’s not what I meant.”
“The recording was pretty clear.”
“I already admitted I said it. But I didn’t mean it.”
“Okay then.” He walked to the bathroom, where he urinated with the door open. Eddie could be so crass.
“What does the train movie have to do with this?” I yelled.
He washed his hands and came back to the room and sat next to me. He was wearing a pair of boxers and nothing else. He reached for my hands, which I willingly gave him, and then he set them in his.
“In the movie, two men meet on a train and have a long conversation. One of them is a tennis pro who wants to divorce his wife. The other is a psychopath who wants his father dead. The psychopath proposes that they exchange kills. The tennis pro would kill the psychopath’s father, and the psychopath would kill the tennis pro’s wife. ”
“I think I’m following.”
“I know it’s a bit convoluted.”
“So you’re the psychopath?”
“Cute.”
“You’re certainly not a tennis pro.”
“Even cuter.”
“I mean, you’re kidding, right?” I asked.
He tightened his grip on my hands. “I’m only kidding if you don’t want to go through with it. If you do want to, then I’m deathly serious.”
“Who do you want killed?”
“I’m not going to tell you that unless this is something you’re seriously considering. If you’re a no right out of the gate, then I don’t see the need.”
“I’m not a killer,” I said forcefully.
“I’m not, either.” He laughed. “But I’m also not someone who wants to sit around forever, while my wife takes advantage of me. Just like your husband is doing with you.”
“So you want your spouse dead, too?”
Eddie looked me over, debating what to say next.
“I guess we’re both fucked if this conversation ever came to light.
So I can tell you. No, it’s not her I want dead.
It’s her rich parents I mentioned last time.
You see, Lucy doesn’t have very much money herself.
Her parents are filthy rich, but she has turned down any financial assistance from them.
Again and again and again and a-fucking-gain. ”
“She sounds like a good woman.”
“She repeatedly gets pregnant and then tells me she’s aborted another one. She’s a savage.”
“Jeez. That’s terrible,” I said, because what else are you going to say in that situation? Truth be told, his answer seemed a bit performative, and I’m not sure I believed it.
“That’s only half of it. I could spend an hour on what a real-life witch my wife is.”
His mentioning an hour made me look down at my watch. I was still certain that David would never find out, but I nonetheless wanted to keep most of these excursions under forty-five minutes. Thirty or fewer was even better.
“Listen, Eddie. I’m not going to lie. I love having sex with you. I look forward to seeing you. A lot. But I’m not a killer.”
“Okay. Have fun waking up at four-thirty for the next thirty years. Maybe one of these years, that coffee shop will turn a profit and you can pay for a vacation for you and your already wealthy husband.”
“That hurts.”
“It’s supposed to. The truth usually does.”
That hit home more than his original comment. Eddie was right. David had become a shitty husband and never wanted to spend his money anymore. The guy made well over a million a year, and the last time we’d taken a vacation was six months ago. And it was to San Diego. Big fucking whoop.
But I couldn’t let Eddie know that. He was talking about murder, and as I’d made abundantly clear, I’m not a murderer. Well, I don’t think I’m one. Never say never, right?
“I’m done with this conversation,” I said.
He flashed me a smile. He had about five different versions. This one was the condescending type, as if to say You’ll come around.
“Okay,” he said. “Same time next week?”
I hated what I was about to say, but the truth was that I still found Eddie irresistible.
“Why wait? I’ve still got a few minutes before I have to go.”