Page 81 of To Die For

“End of the Road?”

“Yeah, that’s it.”

“We’re set, then.” Wyatt’s choice was a typical shoot-em-up, with the hero fighting for his life in the mountains, and of course there was the requisite half-naked beautiful woman whom he rescues, though why he’d bother when she’s always so cosmically stupid was beyond me. But if Wyatt liked it, that was his choice.

We went in the Taurus, and I breathed a sigh of relief at the change of scenery. The sun was very low, the afternoon shadows long, and the heat still intense enough that the car’s air-conditioning was working full blast. I angled the cold air toward my face because I didn’t want to sweat off the concealer over my bruises.

We arrived at the theater almost half an hour before showtime, so Wyatt cruised the streets for a little while. Henderson was about fifteen thousand people, just big enough to have the one four-screen theater. It was a nice theater, though, renovated a couple of years back to stadium seating. Being a typical man, Wyatt hated waiting for a movie to start, so we made it back to the theater with just five minutes to spare.

“My treat,” I said, taking out my money and stepping up to the ticket window. “One forPrenupand one forEnd of the Road.” I slid a twenty in the window.

“What?”I heard Wyatt say in outraged tones behind me, but I ignored him. The ticket clerk tore both tickets and pushed the two stubs through the window, along with my change.

I turned and gave him his ticket. “This way we can both see what we want,” I said reasonably, and led the way inside. Luckily, both movies started within minutes of each other.

He looked furious, but he went off to watch his choice and I sat in the dark by myself and had a very nice time, watching silly antics and not worrying about whether or not he was bored. The sex scenes were nice and hot, too, just the way I like them. They made me think about jumping Wyatt’s bones on the way home; I hadn’t made out in a car since I was a teenager, and the Taurus had a respectable backseat. Not a great one, but respectable. Nice suspension, too.

When the movie was over, I walked out smiling, having enjoyed the hour and fifty minutes. I had to wait a little while for Wyatt’s movie to finish, but I passed the time by looking at all the posters.

The movie hadn’t improved his mood any; he was still scowling like a thundercloud when he came out about ten minutes later. Without a word he seized my arm and marched me to the car.

“What in hell was that about?” he barked when we were in the car and no one else could hear him. “I thought we were going to see the same movie.”

“No, you didn’t want to see the movie I was interested in, and I didn’t want to see the one you liked. We’re both adults; we can go into movie theaters by ourselves.”

“The whole idea was to spend time together, to go out on adate,” he said between clenched teeth. “If you didn’t want to see the movie with me, we could have stayed at home.”

“But I wanted to seePrenup.”

“You could have seen it later; it’ll be on television in a few months.”

“The same goes forEnd of the Road.You didn’t have to sit in there if you didn’t want to; you could have watched the other one with me.”

“And been bored out of my mind by a chick flick?”

His attitude was getting to me. I crossed my arms and glared at him. “If you won’t watch a chick flick with me, give me one good reason why I should watch a dick flick with you. Unless I want to see it, too, that is.”

“And everything has to be your way, huh?”

“Now wait just a damn minute. I was perfectly happy watching the movie on my own; I didn’t insist you go with me. If anyone is insisting on things being her way, it’s you. ‘His way,’ I mean.”

He ground his teeth together. “I knew it would be like this. I knew it. You’re so damned high maintenance—”

“I amnot!” I was abruptly so furious with him I could have smacked him, except I’m a nonviolent person. Most of the time.

“Honey, if you look up ‘high maintenance’ in the dictionary, your picture is there. You want to know why I walked away two years ago? Because I knew it would be like this, and I figured I could save myself a lot of trouble by getting out early.”

He was so angry he was practically spitting out the words. My mouth fell open. “You threw us away because I’mhigh maintenance?” I shrieked the words. I’d thought his reason would be something deep, something important, like maybe he’d been going on an undercover job and he’d made a clean break with me in case he got killed, or something. But he’d dumped me because he thought I was high maintenance?

I grabbed the shoulder strap of my seat belt and twisted it as hard as I could, to keep myself from doing the same thing to his neck, or trying to. Since he outweighed me by about eighty pounds, I didn’t know how that would turn out. Well, I did know, and that’s why I strangled my seat belt instead of him.

“If I am high maintenance, you don’t have to worry about it!” I shouted at him. “Because I don’t depend on anyone; I take care of myself and do my own maintenance! I’ll get out of your hair and you can go back to your nice peaceful life—”

“Fuck that,” he said savagely, and kissed me. I was so angry I tried to bite him. He jerked back, laughed, and kissed me again. He threaded his fingers through my hair and tugged my head back, exposing my neck.

“Don’t you dare!” I tried to wriggle away from him, releasing my grip on the seat belt to push against his shoulders.

He dared, of course.

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