Page 34 of That Weekend in Paris
He gave me a long questioning look. “Is that how you really see it?”
I lifted my shoulders in a nonchalant shrug. “Aaron was a grown man. He made his own choices, decisions, and those led to a certain outcome.”
“An outcome you helped create,” he said.
“Might I ask why you care so much about Aaron?”
“He’s a friend from way back, and I hated seeing him torn up the way he was.”
“Oh, you hated it so much that you’re using what you know about it to go to bed with me and keep it from the guy who’s given you your best gig to date. Am I warm?”
He didn’t even bother to look ashamed, and I recognized in him something I knew to be accurate about myself. Other people liked to deny the fact that self came first. We were all taught the golden rule growing up that we should do unto others as we would have done unto us, but what I know to be true, and I am now sure Pete actually lived by, was the fact that the other people were just kidding themselves. We all live for self.
Wasn’t it the rare person who would actually step aside and wait for the other people in the burning movie theater to get out first? Wasn’t it far more likely that most people would step over anyone in the way to keep the flames from consuming them?
My analogy wasn’t far off in comparison to Pete using what he knew about me. He would be literally burning my life down, the life I had recently redesigned for myself, and I wasn’t about to give up.
“Enough talk,” I said. “Let’s get on with things.”
“Hmm, romance, I like it,” Pete said.
“You do know you’re pushing your luck, right?”
He chuckled softly. “I’m guessing, yes. So, one night with you here and now, and you will never hear from my lips another word about anything other than my sincerest best wishes for you and Klein and your glowing happy future, babies and all.”
“Shut up,” I said and lifted my face to his.
It was two A.M. when I woke up and all but rolled Pete out of my bed. Spending the night was not part of the deal. “Please, go, now,” I said.
He stumbled to his feet, shaking himself awake and saying, “I’d be offended, but judging from your response a couple of hours ago, I don’t think I’m being kicked out for lack of performance.”
“You really are an arrogant bastard, aren’t you?”
“Just stating the facts, ma’am,” he said, pulling on his jeans and shrugging into his sweater. “I know I thoroughly enjoyed myself, and it’s not that I wouldn’t have guessed as much, but I can certainly see why Klein lets you hang around.”
“You’re disgusting. Get out.”
“All right, all right,” he said, grabbing his shoes and backing out of the room. “The pleasure was all mine, ma’am, and a little of yours, too.”
I pulled a book off my nightstand and hurled it at the doorway, but he’d closed the door behind him, and the hardback landed with a solid thud against the wood.
I barely suppressed a scream, pressing my lips together and arching my back until I heard the apartment door open and close. I hated letting anyone get the best of me.
If Pete had really had any idea what I’m capable of, he would never have come to my apartment that night. I picture the stack of pillboxes Klein uses to dole out his daily supplements. Since his stint in rehab, he takes a ton of different things, having bought into his doctor’s recommendations for attempting to undo some of the damage his heavy drinking did to his nutrient status over the last few years.
When Klein sets his mind to something, no one is more disciplined or dedicated than he is. This handy bit of knowledge served me well in coming up with my retribution plan. He doesn’t know I still have the key to his place. He’d actually never given me one. I’d lifted a spare from his kitchen drawer, taken it to the hardware store one morning while Klein was still sleeping and had a copy made.
I’d always believed in planning for the unexpected. But somehow, even though I had not anticipated Klein ending things with us, I always liked to have money in the bank where options were concerned. Having a key to Klein’s house had undoubtedly given me options.
He keeps two weeks’ worth of supplements in dosing containers at a time to prevent having to redo them so often. That had given me fourteen days to play with, and when I’d learned of his trip to Paris, I slipped into his house one afternoon, planting my little concoction as something to take along with him. It had been so easy, really. I’d simply opened a few of the capsules with ingredients indiscernible from the color of what I was replacing it with.
He would discover the first surprise on day three of his trip. I’d taken pity on him, deliberately waiting, avoiding the day of his concert. No point in depriving all of those people who paid to see him on their night out. My timeframe was generous, I thought. A few little punishments doled out within the two weeks. Plenty of time for Klein to change his mind about us. And if he doesn’t, my last pillbox surprise will be something very different from the killer headache he is likely to experience with the kinder examples of my efforts.
Dillon
“At sunrise, everything is luminous but not clear.”
?Norman Maclean
