Donovan Creed 11 - Because We Can! Page 8
“It was dark when he found the truck. He didn’t see the torso hanging from the hook.”
“Bullshit! He pumped gas in a station lit up like Rockerfeller Square! Oh, and the pump he used was five feet from the one he intended to use because, as I said, the body was hung up on the gas pump next to his truck!”
“He was hog bit, right?”
“So?”
“He was probably delirious by the time he made it to the gas station.”
“In which case he shouldn’t have been drivin’.”
“I agree. Charge him for reckless endangerment and release him to my custody.”
“You’re as crazy as he is.”
I press a button on my cell phone, explain the situation to the White House. They contact the U.S. Attorney General’s office, and thirty minutes later, Jack’s in my limo, reunited with Jill. You’d think she’d be all over him, but when he tries to embrace her she pushes him away, wrinkles her nose, and says, “The stink coming off you makes pig shit smell like honeysuckle.”
As we wait for the sketch artist to show up my thoughts turn to Callie. I wonder what she had planned in New York City that was so important she had to get back right away.
11.
Callie and Kathleen.
CALLIE’S ALONE IN Kathleen’s living room, peeking through the blinds. Here’s what she knows: Addie has band practice till 5:30, and Kathleen should already be home, since she gets off work at 3:05.
Must be nice being a teacher, she thinks. Home by 3:30, weekends off, winter breaks, Thanksgiving, two weeks for Christmas, twelve weeks’ summer vacation….
Callie’s eyes are drawn to a chubby girl with pink hair walking on the sidewalk in front of Kathleen’s house. As she passes by, Callie notices a printed message on the butt of her sweatpants that reads, “What Would Scooby Doo?”
Seems like everyone’s got something written on their asses these days.
Kathleen’s car suddenly turns the corner, pulls into the driveway. When Kathleen enters the house she goes straight to the bathroom. Callie gives her a moment of privacy, while listening at the door. The toilet flushes, then Kathleen washes her hands. She opens the door, sees Callie and screams.
“What the hell are you doing in my home?” she shouts.
“You know who I am?”
Kathleen regains her composure. “Of course. I saw you at Donovan’s fake funeral, remember? But never mind that. I don’t want you here. Please leave, before I call the police.”
Callie laughs. “That has to be the emptiest threat I’ve ever heard. I could kill you before you take two steps toward the phone.”
“What do you want?”
“Shall I get straight to the point?”
“Please do.”
“No small talk? No polite chatter?”
“Wrong woman, wrong place. What do you want?”
“Offer me some tea.”
“Fuck you.”
Callie says, “There she is. The real Kathleen. Thanks for letting her out. That makes it so much easier for me.”
Kathleen says nothing, just glares at her, seething with fury.
Callie says, “Let’s sit in the living room.”
“I don’t think so.”
“I insist.”
“I have to pick Addie up from band practice.”
“In an hour. Now come, sit. I have a question for you. It’s about Addie.”
Kathleen follows her into the living room, sits on the couch. Callie chooses the straight-backed chair directly opposite.
Kathleen says, “What could you possibly want to ask me about my daughter?”
“I was wondering what arrangements you’ve made for her.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Arrangements. You know, for Addie’s future. In the event something happens to you.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“Not yet.”
Kathleen frowns. “I don’t have much practice conversing with murderers. Perhaps you should just say what’s on your mind.”
“Very well. I’d like to ask about your intentions.”
“My…what? Intentions?”
“That’s right.”
“With regard to…?”
“Donovan Creed.”
“Oh. Well, that’s my business, isn’t it?”
Callie studies Kathleen’s posture. This woman clearly has no idea how to defend herself. She’s leaning back on the couch, neck and head behind her torso, which means Callie could deliver a death strike faster than Kathleen could shift her body forward.
“Stay away from Creed,” Callie says. “I won’t ask again.”
“That was asking?”
“Call him, text him, contact him in any way, for any reason…”
“And?”
“I’ll kill you with less concern than I’d show a stink bug.”
“You’re a real charmer. I can see why Donovan’s so crazy about you.”
“Consider this your last warning.”
Kathleen smiles. “You don’t have the ability to frighten me…Bitch!”
Callie’s right eyebrow arches the slightest bit. Other than that, there’s no change in her expression. She looks at the frumpy creature on the couch and wonders what Creed could have possibly seen in her.
And what was it she just said? That I don’t have the ability to frighten her?
Creed always says there are two ways to fight someone: your way and his. And your way is better. I agree.
Callie’s eyes go vacant. Her voice goes flat. “Think again, Kathleen. Because when you’re gone, I’ll have Creed manipulate the system.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“He and I will gain full custody of Addie, regardless of your wishes. And guess who’ll spend the most time with her? Me. I’ll teach her everything I know about guns, poisons, and fighting. I’ll introduce her to my world, and teach her to kill.”
“That is utter bullshit. Donovan would never allow it.”
“No? Ask me what his daughter’s doing for a living these days.”
“Kimberly?”
“She’s in the business now. Except that she goes by the code name Maybe Taylor.”
Kathleen’s eyes go wide.
Callie says, “Don’t fuck with me, Kathleen. Because I not only will kill you, I want to. Now give me your cell phone.”
Kathleen’s face goes red. “What do you mean?”
“You’ve been recording this entire discussion.”
Kathleen pauses, then produces her cell phone. Callie clicks rewind, and listens to their conversation.
“I should kill you now and get it over with.”
“I won’t call Donovan. You have my word.”
Callie erases the recording, then gives her a long, hard look. “And if he contacts you?”
“I’ll tell him to never call again.”
Callie says, “I know what you’re thinking. You should have left well enough alone. You shouldn’t have met him for dinner. That’s right, you shouldn’t have. But you did. And now you’ve got me in your life and I bet you wish there was something you could do to make me go away.”
“Yes.”
“Not going to happen. It’s a near certainty that the last face you’ll see on this earth before dying is mine. Because we can’t trust each other. It might eventually cross your mind to run away, quit your job, change your identity, try to find a safe place to raise Addie. But deep down you know that won’t work because you know what I’m capable of.”
“Yes.”
“Except you don’t.”
“Excuse me?”
“You have no idea what I’m capable of.”
Callie reaches into her handbag, removes a folded sheet of paper, hands it to Kathleen.
She reads it silently, then says, “Addie’s school would never allow you to pick her up. Not in a million years. Especially after I warn them.”
“But you signed it, yes?”
Kathleen studies
the signature. “How did you do that?”
“Think about what I can do with your signature. Your last will and testament? Addie’s inheritance? By this time tomorrow I’ll own your identity, which means I can destroy your credit in a matter of minutes. Sell your house without your knowledge. Clean out your bank accounts. Read your emails. Monitor your phone calls and activities. Take over your social media accounts. Send letters to your friends and colleagues that will convince them you’re bi-polar. Destroy every romantic relationship you attempt to have. Make Addie a social pariah by frightening the parents of her friends. Is any of this sinking in?”
Kathleen starts to speak, changes her mind.
“Say it,” Callie says.
“You’re evil. Pure evil.”
“Not true. If I were pure evil I’d kill Addie to prove I’m serious.” She pauses. “But I would never punish her for something you did.” She pauses again. “Unless I had to.”
Kathleen says, “You won’t have to.”
Callie tosses Kathleen’s cell phone back to her and says, “Call him.”
“Excuse me?”
“Call Creed. On speaker. Tell him it was nice to see him last night, but make sure he knows it’s over. You want no contact. You can’t be friends. Be convincing.”
“I don’t have his number.”
“That’s a lie.” Callie says. Then adds, “I didn’t realize you were a liar.”
“I’m not a liar. I simply forgot.”
“That’s the first thing a liar would say.”
Kathleen has a different concern in mind, and voices it. “When I call Donovan? What if he says he wants to see me?”
Callie says, “That would be really bad. For both of you.”
She removes a handgun from her bag and attaches a silencer to it. Then points it at Kathleen’s face and says, “Call him. Let’s see what he has to say.”
12.
CREED ANSWERS THE phone by saying, “Not a good idea, Kathleen.”
“I agree. That’s why I’m calling. I wanted to be clear.”
“Go ahead.”
“Last night was fun. And good for Addie, I think. But I didn’t want you to get the wrong impression.”
“What’s the right impression?”
“I have no interest in reconnecting. It’s not you, it’s your lifestyle.”
“I feel the same way. But I thought I made that clear last night, before leaving.”
“You did. But there’s one thing we left unsaid.”
“What’s that?”
“I’d prefer you never call me again, or contact me in any way.”
He pauses. “That seems like an odd request. I already told you Callie and I are a couple. Why would I call or contact you?”
“You shouldn’t.”
Callie motions her to hang up.
Kathleen says, “What I’m trying to say, I don’t want to contact you again, and hope you understand. We’re different people now.”
“Okay. Strange conversation, since we already had it last night, but thanks for making it even more clear. I’ll lose your number and you’ll lose mine.”
“Thank you, Donovan.”
“I wish you and Addie all the best.”
“You, too.”
They hang up and Callie says, “Where do you keep your dildo?”
“My what?”
“Dildo.”
“I don’t have one of those.”
“Are you lying again?”
Kathleen squeezes her eyes shut, shakes her head slightly. Then says, “There might be something on the top shelf of my bedroom closet.”
“Get it.”
Kathleen’s eyes go wide. “You wouldn’t dare!”
Callie says, “Don’t flatter yourself.”
She follows Kathleen to the bedroom closet, waits for her to produce the dildo. When she does, Callie says, “Pretend that’s Creed. And show me what he likes.”
“What?”
“You’re drab. Unkempt. Mousy.”
“I—What?”
“Your makeup’s a mess, your wardrobe sucks, you’re barely fit, your tits are small, you slouch when you sit, and you walk like you’re pushing a grocery cart….And yet you managed to keep Creed interested enough to consider marriage.”
“I can see how that would be hard for you to fathom.”
“I’ve been through your refrigerator and cupboard.”
“Excuse me?”
“You can’t cook.”
“Does that mean you won’t be joining us for dinner? Darn!”
“You’re unfunny, unexciting, colorless, and have a child. There’s only one possible explanation I can come up with for the attraction.”
“What’s that?”
“You must have been really good in bed.”
“I’m not comfortable discussing that part of our relationship with you.”
“Would you be more comfortable if I cut off your ears?”
Kathleen looks at the switchblade in Callie’s hand and wonders how it got there. Her hand was empty, now it’s holding a switchblade, but no time passed between the two events. She says, “You can’t be serious about this. I mean, sex is sex. We didn’t do anything weird, adventurous, or special.”
Callie’s not pleased with the response.
Not pleased at all.
“Before I leave, you’ll tell me everything you did to him sexually, and everything he did to you. You’ll give me details. Favorite position. Favorite place. Did he tie you up? Did he pull your hair? Did you slap each other? Did he spank you? Did you role play? You’re going to tell me what he liked, what he responded to, and how you reacted to everything he did.”
“I have no idea what that last part means.”
“It means you’re going to describe every sound you made while having sex. Every whimper and moan. If you cried softly in your pillow or yelled “Oh God!” at the top of your lungs, I want to hear about it. Then you’re going to demonstrate.”
“How?”
“By using the dildo and pretending its Creed.”
“You’re insane.”
“I’m thorough. Consider it prep.”
“For what?”
“Not that I owe you an answer, but I intend to be the best lover Creed’s ever had. And if you try to throw in something that never happened, I’ll eventually find out. And when I do, I’ll make you pay for it.”
“How could you possibly find out?”
“I’ll ask him.”
“He’d never tell.”
Callie smiles. “He’ll tell me anything I want to know, because I know how to ask him.”
“Then why don’t you? Why don’t you just ask him about the things we did?”
“That’s too direct. We’ll role play. I’ll tell him to pretend I’m you. Then I’ll start doing all the things you did to him, exactly the way you did them. I’ll walk him through it. At some point he’ll either say, “Yes!” or he’ll say, “No, Kathleen would never have done that.” And if he says that—”
Kathleen thinks about it. “You’re holding a knife.”
“That’s right.”
“You’re not going to make me take off my clothes, are you?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“The kiss.”
“What kiss?”
“I don’t care to see you naked, and shouldn’t have to if you give me a proper explanation of how you had sex. But you won’t be able to explain how you kissed him. That’s something you’ll have to demonstrate.”
“How?”
“By kissing me, and pretending I’m Creed.”
“That’s ridiculous! I could never do that.”
“You’ll be amazed what you can do if I insist. And I will.”
“But…you’re gay.”
“You’re just saying that because my sexual history has been influenced by gender confusion. But don’t think for a minute I’ll enjoy kissing you, because I’d rather lick the scab off a
dead dog’s foreskin.”
Kathleen winces with disgust.
Callie says, “Kissing you is research. Nothing else.”
“How long is this going to take?”
“That’s up to you.”
They kiss. Tentatively, at first, but after a few minutes Kathleen gets caught up in it. By the time Callie’s satisfied with the experiment, Kathleen’s face and neck are flushed.
“Lie on the bed and show me your moves,” Callie says.
A very mortified Kathleen demonstrates the various positions and tries to convey the pillow talk as best she can, but it’s coming across like a third-grader’s current events report.
“I’m not impressed,” Callie says.
Kathleen shrugs.
They go back to Kathleen’s den and sit. Callie pulls her phone from her jeans’ pocket and presses the notebook app.
“What now?” Kathleen says.
“Q and A.”
“You’re joking.”
“Question number one. Tell me about the first time you had sex with Creed. Leave nothing out.”
Kathleen shakes her head. “It doesn’t work that way.”
“What doesn’t?”
“You can’t just clinically analyze the magic that occurred between two people and try to reproduce it.”
“How do you know? Have you ever tried?”
“No, of course not. But you should just be yourself.”
“Being yourself is another way of saying you didn’t bother to prepare.”
“What do you mean?”
“This is the big difference between you and me, Kathleen. It’s why I’m better for him than you. Creed is easy to catch, but hard to keep. Somehow—don’t ask me how—you managed to catch him. But you blew it. You tried to keep him by just being yourself. Creed is a goal to achieve. A mountain to scale. A prize to not only win but hold on to. I’m willing to put in the time and effort necessary to give him the best me I can be. But to do that, I need to know everything about him.”
“And if you learn things you don’t like?”
“I’ll uncover them during the discovery phase, and practice dealing with them in advance. Consider it due diligence.”
“Discovery phase? Due diligence? This is how you define the romantic part of your relationship?”
“How about I ask the questions and you answer them.”
“How many are there?”