JONATHAN KELLERMAN. THERAPY

“What?” I said.

“Get real,” she said. “A dancer means a stripper. They all call themselves dancers. She was skank-spread on a croissant.”

“You know any strippers?”

“Me? No way. But she had that . . . the way she stood, the way she . . . she was like look at my body, it’s the greatest body, I love my body, I’ll take off my clothes for a mixed green salad.”

“Easy morals,” I said.

“Which is stupid,” she said. “The way it is with guys, you want ’em to respect you, you got to hold something back.”

“What can you tell me about Gavin’s home life?”

“Like his parents?”

“Yes.”

“His mom’s nuts, and his father’s a horn-dog. Probably where Gav gets it.”

“The old man make a move on you?”

“Yuk,” she said. “No way. You just hear things.”

“About what?”

“About who’s sleeping around.”

“Jerome Quick was sleeping around?”

“That’s what Gavin said.”

“He told you?”

“He was like bragging,” she said. “Like, my dad’s a stud, and so am I.”

“This was after the accident?”

“No,” she said. “Before. When Gavin was still talking like a normal person.”

“You say his mother’s nuts.”

“Everyone knows that. She was never at school stuff, you’d never even see her out in her backyard, she’d be all up in her bedroom, drinking, sleeping. At least Gavin’s dad came to school stuff.”

“Gavin was closer to him.”

She stared at me, as if I’d posed the question in a foreign language.

I said, “Did Gavin ever tell you about his career plans?”

“Like what job he wanted?”

“Yes.”

“Before the accident he wanted to be a rich businessman. Afterward, he talked about writing.”

“Writing what?”

“He didn’t say on what.” She laughed. “As if.”

“Did he ever talk to you about being suspicious of anyone?”

“Huh?” she said. “Like some spy thing?”

“Like that,” I said.

“No. Can I get going. Pu-leeze? I’m supposed to meet Ellie over at Il Fornaio, and I don’t want to go over the parking limit. Paying for parking sucks.”

“So does paying for cosmetics,” I said.

“Hey,” she said, “I thought that was over with.”

“What else can you tell me about Gavin?”

“Nothing. He was out of my life, running with skanks—you think that’s why he was killed? Running with bad people?”

“Maybe,” I said.

“There you go,” she said. “It pays to be good.”

CHAPTER

31

I had her go into the pharmacy and get a shopping bag. Dumping the stolen goods in the bag, I said, “Leave it inside the door.”

Sudden, bone-white pallor flashed through her makeup. “Don’t make me go in there. Please.”

She placed a hand on my sleeve. No seductiveness; her knuckles were white.

“Okay,” I said. “But you have to promise to be good.”

“I do. Can I go? Ellie’s waiting.”

*

Gavin had bragged to Kayla about all the sex he was getting from the blonde. Maybe that was trying to one-up the old girlfriend. But it also fit the call girl theory.

Christa or Crystal. I tried Milo again. His cell remained switched off.

Listening to Kayla Bartell, learning about the sad stumble that had been Gavin Quick’s life, had sapped my energy. Allison and I were due to meet for dinner at seven, and I resolved to push all of it out of my head.

I pretty much stuck to that, but by evening’s end, I found myself talking to Allison about the Quick family’s meltdown, wrong turns and bad luck, the death of intimacy.

An unnamed girl in a stainless-steel drawer, body stitched back together and relegated to cold storage.

Like the therapist she was, Allison mostly listened, and that kept me going. I knew I was being morose but didn’t want to stop talking. As I pulled up to her house, my own voice hurt my ears.

“Sorry,” I said. “What a fun guy.”

She said, “Why don’t you sleep over?”

“You want more of this?”

“I’d like you to stay the night.”

“I’ve never known you to be a masochist.”

She shrugged and played with my index finger. “I like seeing you first thing in the morning. You always look really happy to see me, and there’s no one else I can say that about.”

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