The Weight (28 page)

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Authors: Andrew Vachss

BOOK: The Weight
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She made some sound I couldn’t understand, then just turned around and kind of stomped out.

The machines were incredible. Better than I’d ever used. Took me only a few minutes, and I had it down. Thirty minutes on, ten off. Three times.

I wanted to try that sauna, but I didn’t know how it worked.

Didn’t see a sign of her on my way back to that little suite.

“Wake up, tough guy. No way I’m carrying that load in here myself.”

I’d heard her coming this time; so I’d kept my eyes closed, breathing regular, the way you sleep.

The trunk of the Lincoln was packed. Boxes and boxes. Like she bought out the store. A lot of stores. Took me four trips to get it all into the kitchen.

What’s she think, I’m fucking moving in here?
I thought. But I kept it to myself.

I figured she’d go off somewhere, but when I got back to my own space, I saw a bunch of clothes laid out everywhere, like a store window.

“I’m taking myself a nice long bath,” I heard her say from behind me somewhere. “Try on this stuff.”

When I turned around, she was gone.

Everything fit. Fit real good. Nobody’s got that good an eye, specially for stuff like underwear and socks. She even had the right-size shoes.

Maybe she’d come in while I was sleeping?

That didn’t feel right. Unless there was something in that water … but I’d picked it out myself.

And it was too big a risk for her, pull a stunt like that just to get clothing sizes.

More games?

I put on some workout sweats and went back to the gym. Three more sets. That’s when I can think. When I’m pushing weight, my brain goes somewhere else.

Then I went back to the little suite. Took another shower. The one in the gym was better, but I didn’t want to take a chance on her walking in.

Seven twenty-one, the clock said. With a little moon.

I didn’t see her anywhere. And I wasn’t going to test those new clothes until I knew she was out of the house.

So I went back to the kitchen and made myself a protein shake.

I wasn’t even surprised to see the mixer, all laid out on the counter.

“I’m good at that, huh?”

“Good at what?”

“Shopping. Got you everything you needed, didn’t I?”

“I … guess you did.”

“That’s my role. And I’ve got it down pat.”

“What’s ‘role’? Like ‘job’? Or like a role in a movie?”

“The last one. I’m the gold-digger the rich old guy married. I drive my fancy little car around and buy things, see?”

“Yeah. That’s what you meant before.”

“What are you—?”

“You work. But people who see you working, maybe even people who think they know you, they don’t. Playing that role, it’s just part of the job.”

She reached behind her, laid her palms flat, did a hand-press to lift her butt off the counter, held it a good fifteen, twenty seconds,
then let herself down slow. She hadn’t been lying about using that fancy gym.

“So what was that before, more acting?”

She cocked her head to the side, like she was listening.

“When you acted like I thought you were stupid, remember?”

She smiled, showing off those perfect teeth.

“That must have hurt,” I said.

“What? I do presses like that every—”

“The implants.”

“Are you serious? You go to sleep, you wake up with new ones. A couple of weeks on the painkillers, you’re good to go.”

“I wasn’t talking about—”

“How could you know that?”

“Know what? Look, you lost me a while back. I can’t do this stuff.”

“Stuff?”

“Talk in … code, like.”

“Don’t like dress-up, do you, Wilson? Okay, then, tell me how you could possibly know it
did
hurt. A lot. Most of the time, it’s just like I said … no big deal. But the job Albie paid for, they had to take the old ones out first. Those were over the muscle, not under, the way you’re supposed to have it done. But I was just a kid that first time. And the pig who ran the club said I needed them if I wanted to work the front pole, make some
real
money.

“It took me three months to pay off that bill. Five grand. Back then, I could’ve flown first-class for that much cash, but I didn’t know that. I was even grateful to that sleazeball for fronting me the money. He probably split the fee with the cutter. Then he let me work it all off. Five hundred a week. Plus points, which is why I had to do the whole three months.”

“I didn’t know that. Any of that.”

“But you
said
—”

“I was talking about your teeth. I know people, had that done. Not even their whole mouth, just a few. They said
that
hurt, so I figured, you got a whole new set, it had to hurt even more.”

“Maybe I just have good dental hygiene.”

“That keeps teeth white, maybe. But it can’t make them perfect, like yours are.”

“So maybe I’m wearing dentures.”

“Like those things you take out at night? Not a chance.”

“I suppose you’re sure about that, too?”

“Yeah, I am. You work too hard at … everything, I guess. You don’t take shortcuts.”

“There wasn’t one to take—my teeth were mostly rotted out, plus I had impacted wisdom teeth.… They had to come out anyway. So I guess I’m the one who should be saying I’m sorry, huh?”

“You don’t have to say anything.”

And she didn’t. Sat there without moving until I finished. Then I asked her, “So can I borrow the Lincoln?”

“Now?”

“Yeah.”

She hopped off the countertop and walked past me. I could hear her rooting around in that big white handbag she’d been carrying when she came in. Taking a lot of time to find the keys. I would have bet serious money she was bending over. I didn’t turn around.

When her heels started clicking, I shifted position so I could see her coming. She put down a photocopy of the Lincoln’s registration and insurance card. And a letter signed by her saying I was using the car with her permission. The letter was on some fancy stationery, said she was an interior decorator. It was even notarized. And I had a Florida driver’s license, too. With my picture on it.

“This is
better
than perfect. Thanks.”

“Hold on. First off, you understand that we’re still in Leon County, but just barely?”

“Huh?”

“Ah, I mean, it’s probably forty-five minutes to get into the parts of Tallahassee you’re looking for.”

“Okay, so how do I—?”

“See these buttons on the key fob? The yellow one turns off the sensors at the front. Always hit it
before
you go between those stone pillars. The red one opens the garage door. It’s pretty long-range—you don’t have to be close for it to work. The door’ll be open; you just drive in. Press the red one again and the door closes behind you.”

I nodded to tell her I got what she was saying.

“Good. Now take a look at this,” she said.

It was just a drawing of the dashboard, black-and-white except for one big green button.

“You push that button and this screen here”—she tapped where she wanted me to look—“lights up like a big map. There’ll be a thick red arrow, like one of those ‘You Are Here’ signs at the mall. It’s preset. So, no matter where you end up, just tap that button again. All you have to do is follow the arrow, and you’ll get right back here. You don’t even have to look at it; there’s a voice that’ll tell you when to turn.”

“Damn!”

“In the trunk, there’s a lot of athletic equipment. Used equipment, years old. I’m pretty sure there’s a couple of baseball bats. One wood, one aluminum, if I remember right.”

“Okay.”

She handed me a black knife, the kind that you can open with your thumb. The top edge was all ridges, like a saw. “In case you get a hangnail or something.”

“Thank you.”

She put her hands behind her back. It didn’t look like she was showing off her chest that time; it looked like she wanted to make sure she didn’t touch me.

The new shoes were as comfortable as if I’d been wearing them for years. Black lace-ups with a one-piece sole and heel. The chinos had a tongue-and-groove thing in front. The light-blue T-shirt felt like silk. The jacket was a darker blue, made of some kind of fiber that would breathe. It only came to my waist, so I tucked in the T-shirt.

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