“I’ll make some dinner,” Esmé said. “I bet you haven’t been eating. How about a beer?” She left for the kitchen.
Esmé never offered her beer. It was a bribe.
Beer made Vivian think of Tooley’s. The death behind that bar had been in the news all weekend. Aiden must think it was Vivian who was responsible. What if he told someone about her? She needed to talk to him and convince him the murder was nothing to do with her. She laughed bitterly. And maybe she could convince herself as well. But she kept on putting off the phone call; she couldn’t bear the thought of what he might say.
In the middle of dinner the doorbell rang. Vivian inhaled sharply and hope fluttered in her chest, but before she found the sense to rise, Esmé bounded to her feet and went to answer the door. Vivian sat, her hands clenched around her knife and fork, unable to eat. When Esmé came back with Tomas, the newcomer from the Ordeal, Vivian felt as if she’d been kicked in the gut.
“I’m going out, baby,” Esmé said. “You gonna be all right?”
“Sure,” Vivian replied wanly.
After Esmé left she went to bed early. Sleep was her only escape.
By the next night she could stand it no longer; she waited until Esmé had left for Tooley’s, then dialed Aiden’s number. She hoped she could catch him before he went to work.
He answered.
“Aiden?”
He hung up.
She waited, a cold lump in her stomach. Maybe he’d regret hanging up on her and call her back. The phone didn’t ring. Perhaps he was waiting for her to phone him so it wouldn’t look as if he was too eager to give in. Perhaps he needed her to insist. She called again.
He answered.
“Aiden, please…”
He hung up again.
She called back, stabbing the buttons, barely seeing the numbers through the prickling blur in front of her eyes. A recorded message came on. She slammed the phone down and snatched up a dish and flung it against the wall. Paper clips went flying. The dish crashed to the floor and skidded down the hall. Hot tears stung her raw cheeks.
A slip of familiar paper fluttered down to the surface of the table-Bingo’s number. Vivian must have left it by the phone when she’d called to thank Bingo for the night of movies and popcorn.
Of course, Vivian thought, and she wiped an arm across her eyes.
I’ll call Bingo. She’s good friends with Aiden. I’ll tell her we’ve had a fight and he won’t talk to me. She’ll persuade him for me.
Vivian reached for the phone again.
“Bingo. Hi! It’s Vivian.”
“You’ve got your nerve talking to me.” Bingo’s voice was taut and angry. Her words left Vivian stunned.
“What?”
“You know damn well what,” Bingo replied.
But Vivian didn’t. “I don’t understand.”
“After what you did to Aiden.”
Oh, Great Moon, he’d told her, Vivian thought.
How could he tell her?
And how could Bingo sound so matter-of-fact? Shouldn’t she be afraid? “We had a fight,” Vivian said, trying to get back to the scenario she’d invented, yet floundering in confusion over Bingo’s attack.
“A fight! I’ll say. Another one of your jealous rages. He told me about them. He was afraid to even look at another girl in case you went off on him. I was surprised when he told me. I thought you were more intelligent than that. It just goes to show I can’t judge people at all.”
“Jealous rages?” Vivian found herself repeating stupidly. What lies had Aiden invented?
“Don’t act innocent with me,” Bingo said. “I’ve known Aiden for years. I care about him. He usually tells me things. It pisses me off that I didn’t even know it was going on. For Christ’s sake, you even said
I was trying to steal him from you. And after I went out of my way to be friends.” Vivian could hear the hurt in Bingo’s voice and knew she would never believe a denial.
“I love him, Bingo,” she said wearily, knowing it was useless. “I did something to frighten him, that’s why he told you what he did. I didn’t mean to upset him. I would take it back if I could, but I can’t. I only want to tell him how sorry I am and to make him understand. Please help me.”
Vivian could hear the hiss as Bingo inhaled through her clenched teeth before she answered. “He understands perfectly well why you threw a chair through his window when he tried to break up with you,” Bingo said. “You’re a crazy, jealous, spiteful bitch, and he doesn’t want to see you ever again. He’s in even deeper shit with his father now. If you want to do something for Aiden, you can send his parents money for that window and then get the hell out of his life.” She hung up.
Vivian replaced the receiver slowly and quietly, her knuckles white with the effort not to smash the phone to shards. For a moment she had thought she’d found a path to Aiden; now she discovered it blocked by an avalanche of lies.
So that’s what he’s telling them, she thought.
I’m a crazy bitch to be avoided. Now he can stop seeing me and keep his friends safe from me at the same time.
Vivian ran to her room and threw herself on her bed. She clutched her pillow tightly to her hollow gut. He was so cruel. He didn’t want her, so he’d made sure nobody would.
But he hadn’t told anyone what she was. Did that mean he still cared a little or was he afraid no one would believe him? If there was another killing would he brave their disbelief? She needed to know his intentions. She needed to know how safe she was. And she needed to see him again, because she yearned for his arms around her.
Aiden’s car was at the far end of the College City Shopping Center parking lot, by the wooded strip that separated the shops from the movie theater. Perfect. She could sit beneath the trees and watch his car and no one would notice. She could sit still for a long time if need be.
The scant last quarter of the moon wouldn’t rise until past midnight, but Vega gleamed brilliantly in the southern sky, the only star bright enough to defy the parking lot lights. Vivian longed for the velvet country sky encrusted with stars. Under such a sky, all nights were cool, all nights were joyous, all nights were forever. She made do with fireflies for stars and watched the parking lot through motionless, mildewed leaves.
At ten many of the storefronts dimmed. Employees left close behind the last customers, and the parking lot emptied. At ten-thirty a timer turned off most of the parking lot lights, and the strip where Vivian sat was plunged into deeper shadow. The only bright spot left was the undulating marquee lights of the video store, alerting summer-school juniors that there was still time to rent
Surf Nazis Must Die.
At eleven the video store lights went off, and Vivian eased into a crouch. Fifteen minutes passed before she heard his footsteps along the tarmac. Even then, her only movement was the twitching of her nostrils as she took in his scent. He reached his car. His keys jingled. She was in motion.
One arm slipped around his waist; a hand went over his mouth. She yanked him back under the trees, feeling him squeal against her palm as his feet left the earth. She clutched his back tight against her breasts and whispered into his ear, “I can run faster than you, remember.”
He trembled at her words, and the smell of his sweat was pungent with fear. It saddened her to threaten him, but she suspected this was the only way she could make him stay. “I want us to talk,” she said. “Promise you won’t run away or yell.”
He nodded, jerking her hand up and down. For a moment she enjoyed the feel of her thighs against his. She gently licked his ear to show him she wouldn’t really damage him. He whimpered and it cut her to the quick. She released him.
He turned and stepped back from her arms. “What do you want?” he asked, and his voice was high, his face white.
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