“Just curious.”
“God, are you getting a heart?” He clapped him good-naturedly on the shoulder. “Are you getting a moral compass? I’m proud of you, Spencer! You’re feeling bad about this natural disaster, aren’t you?”
“He’s your brother. He’s smart. I was just wondering what he was saying.”
“Mostly he’s saying he’s pissed at Franklin McCoy. Mostly he’s saying his house is a mess.”
“Interesting.”
“He’ll be okay. He is smart, you’re right. And he’s loaded. His wife is pretty. He’s everything I’m not.”
Spencer nodded, but he didn’t disagree with him. Philip rather hoped—expected, in fact—that he would. And so they both were quiet for a moment. Finally Spencer said, “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Do you ever think about those Russian dudes? I can’t get that moment when they were killed out of my head. The poor bastards. I’ve had nightmares about getting attacked just like that. I keep thinking of the knife in that one guy’s neck.”
“Well, that’s cheery.”
“A few times, I’ve woken up with the sweats. I know it’s unreasonable…actually, I don’t know that at all…I tell myself it’s unreasonable, but I really do worry sometimes that those Russian guys are going to come after me for ratting them out.”
“I know you do.”
“I mean, if you were them, wouldn’t you want a guy like me dead?”
“You didn’t rat them out. You told the police the name of the service you used.”
“And that might be all it takes to get a person killed, right? Some of those dudes are already back on the street. They paid their bail and they’re out. And now I’ve agreed to testify. That can’t be good.”
“Remember, those dudes didn’t kill anyone. I’m serious. The killers here were those two girls. And I don’t think those girls have got anything against us,” he said, and he recalled the way the blond one had ravenously clawed at him, the muscles in her beautiful neck growing taut as she arched back her head. Afterward, he’d imagined he would somehow find the right words to ask Nicole to grab him just like that. To roll her head back like that. Alas, he could now take that little bit of wordsmithing off his to-do list.
“I guess. But don’t you wish you could somehow delete the images of those poor bastards bleeding out from your brain?”
“Honestly? I don’t think about that so much.”
“Are you serious?”
He shrugged. “Look: obviously I’m never going to forget it. Obviously I was a second away from wetting my pants when it was going on. But mostly I think about how amazing those girls were before they went banshee.”
“Well, I’ve learned my lesson. I have so learned my lesson.”
“I have, too,” Philip said, but in one of those moments of rare and uncharacteristic self-awareness, he thought of that woman in white upstairs now in the hotel room, naked atop the older guy, and he realized he hadn’t. He knew in his heart he’d learned nothing at all.
…
“I’m really not hungry,” Kristin said, dropping the menu back on her placemat at the restaurant. It was a single sheet of paper, calligraphed and copied that day because the menu changed daily at the little bistro near the school—though rarely did anyone from the school eat there, at least during the school day. Today the restaurant was filled with ladies of a certain generation who lunched. And that generation was her mother’s. Other than a table with an elderly gentleman in a bowtie surrounded by three women, Richard was the only male in the small dining room.
“Really? You have to eat,” Richard said.
“I did. I had some soup during my first break. If I’d known you were coming, I wouldn’t have…but I did. Sorry.”
“Have some coffee. Please. So I’m not eating alone.”
“Of course.”
“I just thought a surprise lunch would be nice.”
“It is,” she said, and she reached across the table and took his hands. “This is really sweet of you. I appreciate it. And it is nice. It really is.”
“I have to admit, I was a little afraid you wouldn’t want to be seen in public with me. I was afraid it might be too embarrassing.”
“Oh, I’m fine. Or I’m getting fine. I don’t know. I think I’m actually more worried about your embarrassment at the moment.”
He turned toward the table with the four older customers. They were indeed glancing surreptitiously at him. He gave them a small wave, and instantly they all looked down at their entrées. “Well, I earned it,” he said to Kristin.
“I know. But a lot of men get away with a lot worse.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“But you’re still not hungry.”