Worry about what you're going to tell the cops." "I'm not sure I'm going to the police." She hesitated. "What do you think would happen if we just left that boat out there?" I smiled. "Right in front of your father's mansion? Very convenient. Well, it would go something like this: They'll dust for prints, and they'll find yours because you didn't wipe the place down, and even if you did, they'll find some- thing somewhere. You don't have a record, so the cops will sit on things for a while. Then they'll ask a few questions. Your name will come up, then your father's. There will be a few wrong steps here and there, but eventually they'll get around to you. I give it a week after they board the boat. What's the matter?" "I was arrested once. Drunk driving, after a party. I went through a stop sign. I was seventeen." "Well," I said, "that does it. They'll be able to match your prints. That doesn't give you much time. Maybe you should leave the country, save yourself all the bullshit. You've got money. Go to Switzerland. You used to live there once. I may even visit you from time to time. Personally, I think you should talk to the cops. Just show them that film Matson made. Who knows, you might get off--or maybe they will." "I told my father not to show you that." "But you knew he would." "Why would you say that?" she asked. "Because I know you and I know him. You're both first- 47
class manipulators, and even though you know I know it, you can't help yourself. Besides, he was trying to make a point, but it may have been a tactical error now that I think about it. Maybe he thought I'd get overheated and chew a hole in the boat like a shark. Anyway, whatever you do, you'd better do it fast. I'll even drive you to the airport--no charge, of course." She reared back and threw the can of soda at me. I waited to gauge the trajectory of her arm, then moved only slightly. The can went over my head, and I heard it hit the wall and then the floor. I took my Coke and placed it closer to her. "Here," I said. "Try again." She reached for the can, but I grabbed it first and threw it over her head. Like the first, it hit the wall just beneath the clock and fell and rolled and spilled itself across the brown tile. "Get out," I said. "We're all out of drinks here." She stood up. She wore a yellow sundress that clung to her hips and fell into the curve of her thigh and stayed there long enough for me to realize she wasn't wearing any underwear. Even through the coldness, I knew I was going to miss look- ing at her, so I took as long a look as I could, and I let her see me doing it. It was my last drink before the lifelong desert of not seeing her anymore, and I wanted to fill up my cup for the endless time ahead. I held the door for her. She seemed shocked. "You're just going to let me go. I know you won't sink the boat. You have . . . what, morals? Okay, but what about me? You don't have anything left for me at all?" "I have plenty left for you, but it isn't anything that's going to help you with Matson." "Oh," she said. "So it was just the sex?" "You're shallow; you're not very bright, and you're a liar of the first magnitude. What else could it have been?" 48
That rocked her, and I had the morbid pleasure of seeing the hurt spread across her face until all her exquisite fea- tures seemed to be pulling away from each other. What was I doing but killing myself by saying things that I didn't be- lieve? It was only when I'd said them that I realized how long I'd been imagining just this moment, just this time. It was my big scene, and I'd played it the way I had dreamed of playing it. I'd gotten the knife in and twisted it big time, but what I couldn't understand was why it felt like I was the one who had been stabbed. Vivian turned, and I held the door and watched her walk past Sternfeld and out to her car. The birds were singing back and forth across the street to one another from out of the palm trees. She walked away slowly, holding her head
class manipulators, and even though you know I know it, you can't help yourself. Besides, he was trying to make a point, but it may have been a tactical error now that I think about it. Maybe he thought I'd get overheated and chew a hole in the boat like a shark. Anyway, whatever you do, you'd better do it fast. I'll even drive you to the airport--no charge, of course." She reared back and threw the can of soda at me. I waited to gauge the trajectory of her arm, then moved only slightly. The can went over my head, and I heard it hit the wall and then the floor. I took my Coke and placed it closer to her. "Here," I said. "Try again." She reached for the can, but I grabbed it first and threw it over her head. Like the first, it hit the wall just beneath the clock and fell and rolled and spilled itself across the brown tile. "Get out," I said. "We're all out of drinks here." She stood up. She wore a yellow sundress that clung to her hips and fell into the curve of her thigh and stayed there long enough for me to realize she wasn't wearing any underwear. Even through the coldness, I knew I was going to miss look- ing at her, so I took as long a look as I could, and I let her see me doing it. It was my last drink before the lifelong desert of not seeing her anymore, and I wanted to fill up my cup for the endless time ahead. I held the door for her. She seemed shocked. "You're just going to let me go. I know you won't sink the boat. You have . . . what, morals? Okay, but what about me? You don't have anything left for me at all?" "I have plenty left for you, but it isn't anything that's going to help you with Matson." "Oh," she said. "So it was just the sex?" "You're shallow; you're not very bright, and you're a liar of the first magnitude. What else could it have been?" 48
That rocked her, and I had the morbid pleasure of seeing the hurt spread across her face until all her exquisite fea- tures seemed to be pulling away from each other. What was I doing but killing myself by saying things that I didn't be- lieve? It was only when I'd said them that I realized how long I'd been imagining just this moment, just this time. It was my big scene, and I'd played it the way I had dreamed of playing it. I'd gotten the knife in and twisted it big time, but what I couldn't understand was why it felt like I was the one who had been stabbed. Vivian turned, and I held the door and watched her walk past Sternfeld and out to her car. The birds were singing back and forth across the street to one another from out of the palm trees. She walked away slowly, holding her head
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