Killing Ways

‘Sit down,’ said Ren.

Gary nodded. ‘Ren, look, I know this is inappropriate.’

‘No it’s not—’

Oh, you’re not talking about calling in here.

‘I need you to do something for me,’ said Gary. ‘It’s … just … Karen was obviously wrong about you and me, but …’

Oh, no.

He nodded.

Jesus Christ, Gary.

‘And you need me to cover for you,’ said Ren.

‘Yes,’ said Gary. ‘I wouldn’t ask—’

Well, fuck that. I like Karen. We get along. I like Claire. I … respected you. Respected. Shit, Gary, you’re the moral one. Don’t make me lose faith in humanity. I didn’t realize how much I respected you until I stopped … round about two seconds ago.

‘Why would she have thought it was me, though?’ said Ren.

Gary gave her a patient look. ‘I know you enough to know you’re not a homewrecker,’ he said. ‘But, not all women see you that way.’

That’s not very fair. Though I am, even now, thinking about fucking you. What is wrong with me? But I never would. So, yes, it is unfair.

‘But I get along with Karen,’ said Ren. ‘I like her a lot.’

‘I know,’ said Gary, ‘she’s obviously not thinking straight right now.’

‘How come you didn’t cover your tracks better?’ said Ren. ‘What did she find out?’

‘My saving grace is your love of champagne …’ said Gary.

‘It’s my saving grace too,’ said Ren.

Gary shot out a laugh of relief. ‘A champagne cork … ended up in my overnight bag …’

La la la la la la la …

‘Karen found it,’ said Gary. ‘I needed an explanation. And you were the quickest one I thought of.’

‘So, I’ve already helped you on this …’ said Ren.

‘Yes …’ said Gary.

‘What do you need me to do?’ said Ren.

‘Back me up,’ said Gary. ‘Call her.’

This is grim.

‘So – let me get this straight,’ said Ren. ‘You said what exactly? That we were—’

‘In Breck,’ said Gary. ‘We had a bottle of champagne in the room, where my bag was open, but nothing happened between us. I hate champagne, she knows that. You were a safe and logical choice to be the person drinking it.’

‘Me, safe, logical and champagne …’ How have these words come together?

‘Well, it backfired anyway,’ said Gary. ‘She still thought something was going on.’

‘I’m kind of offended …’

‘Don’t be,’ said Gary. ‘She’s a wife who found a champagne cork in her husband’s overnight bag …’

‘I’d have a hard time believing anything after that.’

‘So, can you call her?’ said Gary.

‘Yes, of course,’ said Ren. ‘But … fuck.’

‘I know,’ said Gary.

‘If I’m going to do this very wrong thing,’ said Ren, ‘I’m going to do it right. You need to arm me with all the facts, so I don’t fuck up. There is no going back if I fuck this up. For either of us.’

Gary nodded. ‘Thanks.’

The fucking pressure.

‘Dates and times, please,’ said Ren. ‘And you’ll have to tell me who this woman is. I don’t want to know, that’s your business. But I need to know.’

‘I ended it,’ said Gary. ‘It’s over.’

‘Promise m—’

‘It’s over.’ He pulled out a notebook and tore out a page with a list of dates.

Alrighty, then.

‘Thanks, Ren. I appreciate this.’ He stood up.

I don’t want to do a quid pro quo, but …

‘Before you go,’ said Ren, ‘I want to run something by you …’

She got up and gathered together the photos she had brought home from the office.

‘Did you print these at Safe Streets?’ said Gary. ‘In color?’