Page 33 of Kill Your Darlings

He got her suitcase from the back of his Taurus, and Wendy followed him into the dim interior hallway of his building, then up two flights to his apartment.

He was making jokes about the peeling wallpaper and the loose banister on the stairs, and Wendy was laughing, but they’d been a little awkward together ever since the airport.

It was so different from their most recent phone call, just two nights ago, when they’d told each other how much they were looking forward to this trip.

And now, as they stepped into Thom’s one-bedroom apartment, they felt like strangers.

He gave her a tour of his place. It was cleaner than she’d expected, but that was probably because he knew she was coming.

The living room was dominated by an enormous sofa in threadbare velvet.

There was a coffee table that had been made by putting legs onto an old door.

The table was cluttered with books and ashtrays and candle stubs.

There was a large television set on top of an old bureau.

A collection of videotapes was stacked all along the baseboard.

The walls were filled with movie posters, some framed and some just nailed into the plaster.

Wendy didn’t say it out loud, but it felt like a dorm room.

Thom had left a window open, and there was the smell of car exhaust and baking bread.

“I love it,” Wendy said.

“It’s a dump, you can say it.”

“No, it has character. I mean, my house in Texas, it’s definitely not a dump, but it’s also incredibly boring.” As she said

the words, she remembered that he’d been to that house, or that he’d seen the outside of it, at least.“Where’d you get all

these posters?”

“Most of them I get for free from the store, but there’s a few that are collectibles.” He brought her to two small framed

lobby cards from Dial M for Murder , one of them Grace Kelly’s hand outstretched as she’s being strangled. Then he showed her a full-sized poster from a film

called The Killing . The background was yellow with images that looked like they were from a gangster film. A tough-looking man with a gun. A

woman screaming from her bed.

“I don’t know this film,” she said.

“Oh, it’s a masterpiece. I have it. On tape.”

“Hey,” Wendy said, touching Thom’s arm, “I know we’re not supposed to talk about it, but how’d it go in Texas? I need to know

that you’re okay.”

“Should we get a drink first?”

“Oh, sure.”

Thom brought her into the kitchen. He had a small array of bottles set up on an enamel-topped side table with rusted metal

legs. “What can I get you?”

“What were you going to have?”

“Either a beer,” Thom said, “or else I’ll have some bourbon with ginger ale.”

“That sounds good.”

“Which one?”

“Bourbon.”

He made the drinks and they brought them to the living room. “Do you mind if I smoke?” he said, when he already had the cigarette between his fingers. She told him it was fine, told him that she was always okay with him smoking. They sat on either end of the big couch. Her drink was very strong.

“How was it on your end?” Thom said. “Who found the body?”

“The maid did, just like I thought would happen. Estella comes every other day so she was there the next morning. Poor woman.

I didn’t hear about it until late that night when Bryce’s parents reached me in my hotel room.”

“How were they?”

“His parents? His mom was hysterical but she’s hysterical if her club sandwich is cut into squares instead of triangles. His

father just seemed angry, somehow. Angry at Bryce. I guess he was embarrassed to have a son who would fall into a pool and

not be able to get out.”

“Was there suspicion that he might have been pushed?”

“There was a perfunctory investigation. I was interviewed twice by the police, but I never got the feeling that they suspected

much. They asked a lot of questions about Bryce’s drinking habits, and if he could swim, and things like that. They asked

some questions about his social life that I wasn’t able to answer. They had the names of some women he might have been associated

with.”

“Like who?”

“I didn’t know them. Other girlfriends. Strippers. God knows. But there was no physical evidence that anyone was at the house

that night.”

“You know that?”

“No one said that to me, exactly, but the death was ruled an accident.”

Thom was nodding. Wendy noticed his drink was nearly empty.

“Do you want to tell me what it was like for you?” she said.

He frowned as though he were thinking about it, trying to remember. “Your directions were perfect. I parked at the church and walked to the back of the house. And Bryce was right on time, smoking his cigar out by the pool.”

“You pushed him?”

“I did. And it was just like you said. I didn’t have to do anything else. It was easy.”

“And you’re...?”

“I’m okay. It was what it was. We did it.”

“Yes, please always remember that. We did it together. You’re not alone.” She pressed her hand against his cheek and he leaned

into it. Her pinkie finger was on his neck and she could feel his pulse, a thrilling reminder that he was alive, that she

was alive as well, and that they were finally together.

“Tell me about the inheritance,” Thom said.

“That makes it sound so formal,” she said. “He died intestate, so the money he had in his account will go to me. I’ll be rich,

Thom. We’ll be rich.” She tried out a smile. “We should celebrate somehow. I mean, not make a big deal out of it, but go have

a nice meal, drink some wine, start our life together.”

“Haven’t we already started our life together?”

Wendy put down her drink and slid along the couch so that she could put a hand on Thom’s knee. “Yes, we did a bad thing, and

now we get a better life. We just need to acknowledge that and then move on.”

“I want us to get married.”

“I do too. Although as far as I’m concerned, we’re already married. We can do the real thing in another year or so. Make it

official.”

“How long are you going to stay in Texas?”

“I’m going to see my mom next month and stay with her for a while, then I’m going to relocate. How does New Haven sound?”

She had moved closer, and Thom’s hand was now on her waist. “I thought maybe we could both move somewhere new. That way it would be a fresh start, you and me.”

“Where were you thinking?”

“Not far. Boston, maybe, or Cambridge.”

Wendy had a sudden and complete vision of a brick house on a narrow, tree-lined street. The weather was cold but they were

dressed for it, in sweaters and scarves. “That sounds really good,” she said.