lips formed into some kind of conciliatory expression and he pretended to be fascinated by the assorted soft drinks and bottles of water lined up in the refrigerated case on the back wall. In the reflection of the case’s glass he could see her watching him. But why? What about him was arousing her suspicion? What else could she tell simply by watching him? Something obvious he had missed? Was he tracking in blood, for the love of God? Surely not, but the problem was, he couldn’t very well inventory himself right there in front of her. Why had he come here? Why was he risking everything just so he could piss in a clean urinal and fill his stomach with empty calories? How breathtakingly stupid could he be?
It flashed through his mind: he could kill her with his bare hands and then steal the security tape. But where would that tape be located? He could get that information from the girl, he could make her tell him before he killed her—
Without further thought, he walked across the store to the bathroom. He was headed to a urinal but suddenly found himself opting for a stall. His hands went flat against side walls and he balanced himself, as his heartbeat ricocheted against his chest and his legs buckled.
What had he missed? What mistake had he made? Why had he done it? In the end, why was it worth all the risk involved?
Then he exhaled and raised his chin. Remember, he told himself. Remember the anger. The betrayal. The wound to your pride. Let it motivate you now, just as it did last night, before you carried it out. Stay focused. Stay mad.
He took a breath, finished his business in the bathroom, and assessed himself in the mirror. He felt better. Screw up now, and everything you’ve done is for naught.
He strode confidently out of the bathroom and brought three power bars, a bottle of Evian, and a large cup of store-made coffee up to the register. The girl had returned to her paperback novel, which she laid facedown, revealing a crumbling spine and the words La comédie des menteurs.
Menteurs. Liars. He smiled at the girl but didn’t speak. He paid in cash and left. Once he was safely inside his car, he felt very much like laughing.
CHAPTER 17
I GAVE MY ARMS a long stretch and smiled at the ceiling. I was lying naked on a bed in a small bedroom. The pillows and comforter were all over the floor. A chair lay overturned.
I got up, feeling the full effects of last night. Every muscle was sore, every movement painful. My head was pounding.
And I felt great.
I found a cotton robe in an adjoining bathroom and threw it on. I walked into the large main room, where everything had started last night with Damon. No sign of him. I sighed. He was a man of his word. “Just one night,” he’d said.
Just one night, but everything was different. The dose of fantasy had really been a dose of reality. I couldn’t go back to Jeffrey. Whatever I’d tasted last night, not love but something —I had to have that something. I wouldn’t become Serena, dabbling in occasional affairs to keep life interesting. I wouldn’t be Winnie, living with a mysterious, distant man she no longer knew.
Richie and Elena. It would be hard. But it wasn’t like they lived with us much, anyway. I’d move back to the States. I’d move somewhere close to their boarding school in Connecticut. Hey, I’d ask them if they even wanted to stay in boarding school. Jeffrey hadn’t given them much choice. But screw him. Let him stay in Switzerland and fuck the ambassador to his heart’s content. I wasn’t living a charade anymore. Not for another day. I was done.
No—I was just beginning. I hadn’t been playing someone else this weekend. I’d become someone else.
Winnie stumbled into the main room. She looked like someone else, too, but not in a good way. Her hair was flat and her eyes dull and bloodshot. She had on a large T-shirt and her legs were bare.
“Top of the morning,” I said. “Was it fun?”
“They’re gone,” she
It flashed through his mind: he could kill her with his bare hands and then steal the security tape. But where would that tape be located? He could get that information from the girl, he could make her tell him before he killed her—
Without further thought, he walked across the store to the bathroom. He was headed to a urinal but suddenly found himself opting for a stall. His hands went flat against side walls and he balanced himself, as his heartbeat ricocheted against his chest and his legs buckled.
What had he missed? What mistake had he made? Why had he done it? In the end, why was it worth all the risk involved?
Then he exhaled and raised his chin. Remember, he told himself. Remember the anger. The betrayal. The wound to your pride. Let it motivate you now, just as it did last night, before you carried it out. Stay focused. Stay mad.
He took a breath, finished his business in the bathroom, and assessed himself in the mirror. He felt better. Screw up now, and everything you’ve done is for naught.
He strode confidently out of the bathroom and brought three power bars, a bottle of Evian, and a large cup of store-made coffee up to the register. The girl had returned to her paperback novel, which she laid facedown, revealing a crumbling spine and the words La comédie des menteurs.
Menteurs. Liars. He smiled at the girl but didn’t speak. He paid in cash and left. Once he was safely inside his car, he felt very much like laughing.
CHAPTER 17
I GAVE MY ARMS a long stretch and smiled at the ceiling. I was lying naked on a bed in a small bedroom. The pillows and comforter were all over the floor. A chair lay overturned.
I got up, feeling the full effects of last night. Every muscle was sore, every movement painful. My head was pounding.
And I felt great.
I found a cotton robe in an adjoining bathroom and threw it on. I walked into the large main room, where everything had started last night with Damon. No sign of him. I sighed. He was a man of his word. “Just one night,” he’d said.
Just one night, but everything was different. The dose of fantasy had really been a dose of reality. I couldn’t go back to Jeffrey. Whatever I’d tasted last night, not love but something —I had to have that something. I wouldn’t become Serena, dabbling in occasional affairs to keep life interesting. I wouldn’t be Winnie, living with a mysterious, distant man she no longer knew.
Richie and Elena. It would be hard. But it wasn’t like they lived with us much, anyway. I’d move back to the States. I’d move somewhere close to their boarding school in Connecticut. Hey, I’d ask them if they even wanted to stay in boarding school. Jeffrey hadn’t given them much choice. But screw him. Let him stay in Switzerland and fuck the ambassador to his heart’s content. I wasn’t living a charade anymore. Not for another day. I was done.
No—I was just beginning. I hadn’t been playing someone else this weekend. I’d become someone else.
Winnie stumbled into the main room. She looked like someone else, too, but not in a good way. Her hair was flat and her eyes dull and bloodshot. She had on a large T-shirt and her legs were bare.
“Top of the morning,” I said. “Was it fun?”
“They’re gone,” she
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