Page 25 of The Love Destroyers

I went out to bars but didn’t drink much.

A few women came on to me, but I didn’t take them home.

I was probably depressed, a feeling that liked to creep up on me in the dark, short days of winter, especially when I was alone too much, away from the people who mattered.

I needed another job, but I didn’t have much keeping me in New York City anymore. Rosie, who’d been living here with me, was now married and in Asheville to stay. I’d palled around with Wally and the guys from the garage, but I wouldn’t be doing that anymore. Like I’d told Nicole, I’d turned my back on that kind of mess, which meant making a clean break from my old garage.

I wanted to be closer to my family, but I felt like I couldn’t, knowing Nicole was waiting for me like a spider. Ready to suck the truth from me.

Then Chuck called me out of the blue. After a meandering twenty minute conversation, he asked me to meet him for lunch. I had dick-all going on, so I went with him. It took him about forty minutes to stop talking about the bread rolls and get to the point—he was moving to Asheville, movingnow, and he wanted me to come with him. He said I could start out in thespare bedroom in his apartment, because he’d caught on to the fact that I was unemployed and would only have a three-digit number in my bank account after I paid next month’s rent on my mouse-infested one-bedroom apartment.

“I asked myself what I could get the kids that they’d really want for their engagement,” he said, watching me with a big grin, “and I realized that the only thing missing out there was me and you. And you know what? Claire told me they’d welcome having a new mechanic out there in Marshall. The old one, well…”

“Was a murderer,” I said, because I’d heard the story a time or two myself. Probably anyone who knew anyone within a fifty-mile radius of Marshall had heard it.

His smile actually faltered for half a second before being magically restored. “Which is why they’d be so happy to have a nice kid like you.”

I could have told him I was thirty-one, hardly a kid. Or that the populace of Marshall might not be happy about moving from one killer to another, but I didn’t want his head to explode. He was a good man, and I was glad he hadn’t needed to face up to the fact that there was no limit to what a man would do to protect the things that were important to him.

I was also touched that he thought I’d be some magical addition to the family circle.

“I’ll think about it, man.”

He looked like I’d just handed him a winning lottery ticket. “I haven’t told Claire, but I’ve been a bit…lonely since her mother—”

Joined a cult and started banging the swami.

“Moved out. I wouldn’t mind having some company.”

I had a sudden mental image of long, unstimulating conversations with Chuck. And yet…I couldn’t deny that I enjoyed his company. He was a reminder that good people didexist—and even if I wasn’t one of them, I was at least wise enough to value them.

“I’ll think about it,” I promised, sort of meaning it.

He beamed at me and insisted we order dessert, saying it would be “our little secret.” When it came, he asked the server to take a photo of us that we could send to Claire and Declan, thus revealing said secret to the only person who might care about his diet, and I’ll be damned if I didn’t agree. Denying him would have been like kicking a dog, and I like animals more than I do most people.

It felt like a sign when Emma texted me a photo of my flask that evening. Like she’d known about Chuck’s offer and was telling me to go for it. To come back to North Carolina and claim what was mine.

The flask, obviously.

Of course, it took me all of twenty-four hours to piss her off enough that she blocked me.

I’d been thinking about her. I’d been thinking about her smart mouth and all the things she could do with it, sure—it’s impossible to taste a woman like that without wondering what it would be like to make a feast of her. But I’d also been thinking about that absolute waste of life Jeffrey and the woman he’d been carrying on with.

And, sure, I’d done some digging.

Jeffrey Nichols had scrubbed all signs of Emma from the website of his law firm, but he knew social media the way most Boomers do, which is to say he didn’t know it at all. I’d found photos of them at events. They’d been careful not to touch each other, mostly, but I’d seen one of him with his hand resting officiously on her lower back—and instantly wanted to snap his fingers. Especially since he was looking at her like she was his. I wasn’t even ashamed of myself.

I’d looked into the other woman too. Ellie Reed. She was pretty in an obvious way. Blond with big, fake-looking tits, brown eyes with false lashes, and a laugh that sounded half manic. She posted a few videos a day, about banal shit that had millions of likes—buying a latte. Feeding her dead-eyed rabbit. Drinking hot chocolate with Jeffrey. Feeding him a croissant from Budgie’s Bakery, with a caption that made it obvious she was on the take from them.Reading a magazine.Some of them were more happening—there was a trip to Hawaii in the mix—but I figured it was proof people would watch a pretty woman do any damn thing, although I didn’t find much to hold my attention. There was no edge to Ellie. No bite.

I wanted Emma to get her karma.

I wanted to have boots on the ground so I could see it happen.

Hell, I wanted to play an active role in it. I wanted to see the look in Jeffrey Nichols’s eyes when he realized that life as he knew it was over, and she was the one who was responsible for vanquishing him.

It was becoming a need.

Nicole showed up at my apartment two days later.

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