Page 24 of Van Cort
Peace is what I want.
Quiet.
Still waters and nothing interrupting a view.
Andie arrives in my mind as I close my eyes, and long blonde hair seems to linger with me as I get myself back to Seattle. It’s there with me for the drive, and it’s there with me as I get on the plane, and it’s still there with me when I land and disembark. I can even feel her lips on my chest as I walk for my own car, waiting for me, and that seems to bring on notions of needy obsession and jealousy in me.
Old times.
“Sir,” Andre says, as I close the door.
I can damn near smell her perfume in this car still.
“This car needs cleaning.”
“Sir.”
“Why hasn’t it been done?”
“It was, Sir. This morning.”
“Do it again.”
“Yes, Sir. Where to?” Her place. So I can fuck her mouth.
“Home.”
The drive is silent after that. I need it that way. Andre will know by my tone that this isn’t the time for inane chit-chat. Not that there ever is any chit-chat between us or anyone I talk with. Primarily because there’s no point in it. Dinner dates are about as close as I get to it, and that’s only because of the need to accommodate their inquisition about who they’re letting under their skirts. I should just show them my bank balance and let that be enough. Perhaps, now I’m thinking about it more dispassionately than a wedding would allow, paying someone for marriage would be a much better solution all round. No more need for dates either.
“Sir?” I look at Andre, ripping my irritated stare away from the world outside. “I’m about to put someone on speaker phone for you.” He is? “Don’t speak unless you want her knowing you’re here.”
“And honestly, Andre, if he can’t be bothered to give me his number, I don’t want to hear from him again.” Andie’s voice springs into the air. “A full week and nothing?”
“Yes, Ms Anderson,” Andre says.
“I mean, I’m sorry, it’s nothing personal, to you at least, but you are the only avenue to him, and I’m not going to sit back and not say this to him somehow. And as I can’t actually say it to him, you’re having it.”
“Yes, Ms Anderson.”
“We enjoyed our coffee date on Saturday. Or at least I thought we did.” We did not have any kind of date last Saturday. I chose not to see her again despite my conflicting thoughts. And this weekend I’ve been in…“And the flowers were lovely. Lilacs and roses were unusual and beautiful, and I assumed they were to apologise. And…well, you don’t need to hear that bit, but nothing? Not even a sorry, but no thanks?” Lilacs and Roses. I don’t know whether to sigh or smile. “It’s not on, Andre.”
“Yes, Ms Anderson.”
I get my phone out.
“In fact, it’s appalling, Andre. I don’t care who he thinks he is, but I’m done. With him. I should have known better, but he turned up and charmed me. And, just to be clear, I never wanted his money. Never. Will you tell him that? Please? I clearly mistook him for, well, some semblance of a decent man. That we enjoyed each other’s company. But no, not like this. If he still even wants to speak to me again, or see me, although why bother now, as he clearly got all he wanted, then he can contact me himself. With his own fucking number. Sorry. That’s it. Thank you, Andre, for listening. And, playing messenger. Goodbye.”
I input and send the text as she cuts the phone off.
The fuck are you doing?
The reply comes instantly, along with an image of a music box.
Happy anniversary.
CHAPTER EIGHT
RIVER
