Page 61 of So Silent

Prince. Ellie Prince. Not West. She was Eleanor Rosalie Prince, and Frank could go rot in prison for the rest of his life.

She heaved a far less satisfied sigh and headed upstairs to change. She was long past hating the parts of herself that would never get over her marriage to the world’s most notorious serial killer, but it would be nice if she could at least stop thinking of herself by his name.

It’s not that she had any love left for him. She could remember loving him, but the man she loved never existed, and it was easy for her to realize that. So why did she still have to blot out the word West on half of the signatures she wrote?

Think about Michael, she told herself. That’s what Dr. Brown said. When you get stuck thinking about Frank, think about Michael and how much better your life is now.

She thought about Michael, his lopsided grin, his hardboiled exterior that so poorly hid the gooey marshmallow underneath. She thought about how loved she felt with him, how sexy it made her feel when she would catch him staring at her, how precious he made her believe she was when they would spend their nights cuddling on the couch watching tv.

She never realized how much those little things mattered. She used to think she was kind of a boring person. Who looks forward to watching tv every night?

Well, she had a big, strong, loving teddy bear of a man to watch tv with, and he belonged all to her and no one else. Faith might be the hot swimsuit model bombshell that Ellie never was, but she wasn’t taking Michael to bed every night anymore, was she?

She sighed again as she pulled one of his t-shirts over her head. There she went again, making it about her insecurities. Dr. Brown told her that her jealousy had nothing to do with Faith and everything to do with feeling like she wasn’t good enough.

Ellie didn’t even care if that was true or not anymore. She just wanted it to end. She wanted to love her husband, stop thinking about her ex and stop thinking about her husband’s ex. Why was that so stinking hard?

She pulled on a pair of pants and headed outside to get the mail. Michael was home at eight o’clock. She would check the mail, go upstairs to shower, dress in something slinky and make dinner. When Michael got home, she would give him “the look” and pretend to be irritated that he was going to let her dinner go to waste just to get into her oops-did-I-forget-to-wear-pants?

Dr. Brown said that was just avoiding the issue, but Dr. Brown could go soak her head. It made Ellie feel good to seduce Michael.

She checked the mail and found the usual collection of bills. The only letter that wasn’t a bill was addressed to her. When she read the return address, she gasped.

Only one person would be writing her from prison.

Don’t read it. Don’t read it, don’t read it, don’t read it, burn it, don’t read it.

But she opened the envelope. There was nothing else she could do, really.

A puff of dust shot from the envelope into her face. She cried out and coughed as the powder worked into her eyes and mouth and nose.

“What the hell? What the hell was… was…”

She heard the thump, but she was asleep before she realized the sound was her head hitting the floor.

***

Michael grinned at Faith and extended his middle finger. She laughed and stuck her tongue out at him. He resisted the urge to make a crass joke about her tongue and turned back to his paperwork.

“Next time, I’m making you do the paperwork,” he muttered.

Behind him, Desrouleaux chuckled. “I swear, Prince, you’d think you two were still dating.”

“I lost a bet,” Michael explained. “Why the hell would the Eagles throw the fucking ball when Jarvis has two thousand rushing yards? For God’s sake, what was Cleveland’s defense going to do to stop him? Cry and make him feel bad?”

Desrouleaux laughed. “See, your mistake was expecting the Eagles’ coaches to use their brains. You should have known better.”

“Yeah, yeah. Well, I’m making her buy me the most expensive item on the menu at Chauncey’s when she takes me out for my birthday next week.”

“Chauncey’s? Christ, are you still dating her?”

“Nope. She just owes me back rent for the year of crap I had to deal with back when we were dating.”

Desrouleaux smiled impishly. “Back rent, huh?”

“Watch it,” Michael warned playfully. “Only I get to make those jokes.”

Desrouleaux lifted his hands. “I didn’t say anything.”

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