She laughed, bitterly, and pressed her hand to her leaky nose, longing for a tissue. “Simple, my ass. You’re anything but simple.”

He sighed. “Jesus, Viv. This is hell. What do you want from me?”

“I want you to believe me when I say I love you,” she said.

He was silent for a moment. “Fine,” he said. “Marry me, then.”

She stared at him, dumbfounded. “Ah…what?”

“You heard me.”

She stared at his inscrutable silhouette, then got up and turned on the lamp on the table by the couch. His face was hard, as if he were bracing himself for a blow. She exhaled, slowly. “Jack,” she said.

“We’re already working on making a baby, right? So let’s go all the way. Tomorrow, we go to town. We’ll get our documents in order.”

“You bastard,” she whispered.

“Yes or no, Vivi,” he said. “It’s a simple question.”

Vivi chose her words carefully. “It’s not a simple question. It’s not a real marriage proposal. It’s a rocket grenade attack. You’re setting me up. And jerking me around.”

He grunted. “That sounds suspiciously like a no.”

“That sounds like an it depends,” she said. “If I said yes now, you wouldn’t believe me anyway. Not in the state you’re in.”

She put her hand against his chest. He stepped back. Her hand dropped. “But since you haven’t said yes, we’ll never know, will we?”

Dread twisted in Vivi’s stomach. “I need for you to believe me,” she said. “I can’t keep trying to convince you. You’re exhausting me.”

“So get it over with. Dump me, Viv. I can’t stand the suspense.”

Vivi pressed her hand against her trembling mouth. “Dump you? How can I? That would imply that we were involved in a relationship. But we never were, according to you. You never let me get that close. You just wanted to fuck me, remember? And stay in the moment. So that’s where I’ve been living, Jack. For weeks, now. The moment.”

He was silent for a moment. “The moment’s over.”

“Yeah. I see.” She mopped angrily at her eyes with the backs of her hands. “Party’s over, huh? Everybody out of the pool.”

“Time for you to move on to the next big adventure. No regrets.”

Vivi put both hands over her face to block out the sight of him.

“You can stay up in the apartment for as long as you need to, of course,” he added, stiffly. “I’m not throwing you out to the wolves.”

A derisive laugh jerked out of her. “As if I would. Don’t worry. I’m convinced. I’ll be gone as soon as I can pack.”

She wiped her hands on her skirt and started to walk past him toward the door. As if she were walking the plank.

One sign from him, the slightest softening, and she’d fall over backward. Marry him. Have his children. Weld herself to him. She stopped moving when she passed in front of him. Waited. Hoping.

“Better sooner than later,” was all he had to say.

Well, then. She walked on outside, as stiff as an automaton.

She went up to the apartment, began to pack. She hadn’t bought much stuff since she’d been there, just a set of Miraben’s plates. She’d been sprawled all over Jack’s life. Eating off his dishes, using his soap, sleeping in his bed. Too busy madly boinking to think of how she was going to feel when it all came crashing down on her head.

As she’d known it would. Goddamn it, she’d known. She was so pissed at herself.

She filled her arms with shopping bags, and staggered to the van. Soldier on, she told herself. You’ve been through worse.

But she didn’t feel strong. Why bother soldiering on? To where? She was going nowhere. Her life sucked. The Fiend was welcome to it.

Well, then again. Maybe she wouldn’t go quite that far.

Several of her new Miraben dishes broke as she tossed the box down onto the floor of the van. She didn’t bother to check how many.

Chapter

10

John waited until the last few people came out of the Wilder Gallery. An hour or so ago there had been an exodus of well-dressed buttheads flooding out of the big opening for some hotshot new artist. The ones trickling out now were the employees of the gallery itself.

He shrank back into the shadows behind a Dumpster as the skinny foreign slut came out. Her tits were shoved up into a glittering silver tube dress, her lips shiny with hot-red lipstick, and her black hair was freshly bobbed with cruelly short bangs, like a dominatrix. Wilder’s assistant, Damiana.

She was usually the last one to go, apart from Wilder himself. Probably stayed behind to suck the boss’s dick.

And there was Wilder, a few minutes later, stepping out the door. Last one to go. Bastard didn’t trust anyone else to close for him. First he armed the alarm with his remote, punching in a code. Then he got to work on all the locks and bolts. After came the rolldown metal door.

John sauntered over while he was still working on the locks. “Evening, Mr. Wilder.”

The guy jerked back, hit the door, and dropped his keys. “What?”

John smiled, toothily. “Good evening,” he repeated.

“What are you doing here?” Wilder’s forehead was already shiny.

“I’m here to discuss the phone call we had a couple of hours ago.”

“What’s there to discuss? I already told you everything I managed to learn. Rafael Siebling was here tonight at the opening. He ran into D’Onofrio yesterday, in Oregon. Some place called Pebble River. She’s opening a shop there. That’s what I was told, and that’s absolutely all I know. I did not speak with her, or get her number. I cannot help you any more than that, so…so, uh, good night.”

Wilder gave him a smile that said, Alrighty, then, you big inconvenient asshole, you’re dismissed. John waited until that smile started to quiver, and unravel itself. Into the raw components of fear.

“How about Rafael Siebling’s address?” John asked softly.

“I’m sorry, I don’t have it. It really shouldn’t be all that hard to find. His gallery is very ‘in’ these days, though I can’t imagine why. He has no taste. All flash, no content. I don’t have his number in my cell phone because he’s the last person I would ever call. I don’t even know why he came in here tonight. To gloat, I suppose.”

“Gloat?” John cut off the guy’s babbling. “Why would he gloat?”

Wilder made an impatient sound. “Oh, he and Viv are old friends,” he said. “I think he wanted to rub it in about her new boyfriend. As if I gave a shit who she fucks. She could do dogs and pigs for all I care.”

New boyfriend? A hot, red glow began to obscure John’s vision. His hands clenched. Boyfriend. So, it was true. Vivien, too. A slut, just like her slut sisters. He pictured her writhing and begging, taking it in every hole. And, all the while, laughing at him. Mocking at him.

Brian had shrunk back against the door, hands up, and his voice was a constant breathless babble that John cut off.

“What’s the name of the new boyfriend?”

“Like I care,” Wilder said. “Some big redneck farmer clod.”

John immediately pictured the raw-boned, thick-necked guy, naked but for a John Deere cap, fucking Vivien from behind. She was bent over a bale of hay, squealing with delight at each poke, and looking up at John, that pink mouth open and panting, eyes bright with lust and malicious glee. Calling John a tub of lard. A big, dumb fuck.

Punish. He had to punish someone. Had to calm the screaming inside him. The wild hurricane wind. It wanted something. Tidal waves, atom bombs rigged to blow, hammers crushing. Had to be appeased.

Punish. Now.

“You must have Siebling’s number in your office files,” he said.