man turned to look at me.
“Who are you?” the man said.
“Let her go,” I said.
He looked at me and didn’t let her go. Constance looked bored. She let out a big sigh, like it was all too stupid for words. Which of course it was. It always is.
“Get your fucking hands off her,” I said.
He looked at me and did not take his fucking hands off her.
“You think I’m kidding?” I cocked the gun.
“You’ll be three,” I said. “Three dead.”
He didn’t let go.
“It gets easier every time,” I said. It wasn’t true. “I think I’m starting to like it.”
Another man came from the direction of the house. Maybe he was young or maybe he was just one of those men whose face never grows up. He was thin and had blond hair to his shoulders. He looked like a gigolo.
I kept my gun on the man in the black shirt.
“I’ll never think of you again,” I said. “Either of you.” I thought about the two men I’d killed all the time. I dreamed about them. I felt like since I’d killed them they’d crawled under my skin and moved in with me. At night I got high to try to escape them, but it never entirely worked. Some days were like a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from. I didn’t understand at the time that by killing them I’d bound myself to them for life. This life and more to come.
I met eyes with the blond man. “I’ll kill you and forget about you and so will everyone else. No one will remember you. It’ll be like you were never here at all.”
I figured if I killed him I’d have to kill myself, too, because I couldn’t live with another one. Behind the blond man a llama raised his head to eat from a high hedge. Maybe it was an alpaca.
“Go away, Allie,” the blond man said softly to the animal. “Go away now, come on.”
I figured I’d try not to hit the llama but I wouldn’t make myself any promises. I kept my gun on the man in the black shirt. Constance rolled her eyes like she was watching a bad movie. For the first time I noticed that peeking out from the hedges behind the blond man was a white Rolls Royce, empty.
I shot one bullet through the windshield of the Rolls and fixed my gun back on the man in the black shirt. Everyone except me jumped a little when the gun popped and the windshield shattered. The animal galloped away. The shards of the window sparkled in the sun, hard to look at.
“There won’t even be a funeral,” I said. “Because no one will find your bodies. And in a few years no one will remember you. Except us. You’ll be our big joke. The thing we laugh about when we drink too much. The time we shot the two assholes in Vegas.”
The blond man looked at the man in the black shirt.
“Let her go,” he said.
The blond man stepped toward the fence and pushed something I couldn’t see, and the gate opened. The man in the black shirt let Constance go, shoving her toward me. She stepped briskly through the gate and toward the car. When she got to the car I saw that her hands were shaking and her face was damp, and for the first time I realized she’d been scared for her life.
I already knew I’d kill for Constance. I’d burn down the world for her if she asked.
I raised an eyebrow at her and she gave me a quick nod. I aimed my gun and shot the man in the black shirt in his arm. He let out a scream and fell to his knees. Blood poured from his bicep.
He screamed again. He’d be okay.
I pointed my gun at the blond man.
“Don’t,” Constance said quickly and softly. “We need him.”
Constance got into the Jaguar and shut the door behind her. Gun still on the blond man, I got into the car and handed the gun to her. She pointed it at him through the windshield and kept it on him as we backed away.
I backed up until we were on the street and then drove away hitting but not exceeding the speed limit and got on to the closest freeway. Once we were on I-15 out in the desert I pulled over and parked the car on the shoulder and threw up in the hot sun. I
“Who are you?” the man said.
“Let her go,” I said.
He looked at me and didn’t let her go. Constance looked bored. She let out a big sigh, like it was all too stupid for words. Which of course it was. It always is.
“Get your fucking hands off her,” I said.
He looked at me and did not take his fucking hands off her.
“You think I’m kidding?” I cocked the gun.
“You’ll be three,” I said. “Three dead.”
He didn’t let go.
“It gets easier every time,” I said. It wasn’t true. “I think I’m starting to like it.”
Another man came from the direction of the house. Maybe he was young or maybe he was just one of those men whose face never grows up. He was thin and had blond hair to his shoulders. He looked like a gigolo.
I kept my gun on the man in the black shirt.
“I’ll never think of you again,” I said. “Either of you.” I thought about the two men I’d killed all the time. I dreamed about them. I felt like since I’d killed them they’d crawled under my skin and moved in with me. At night I got high to try to escape them, but it never entirely worked. Some days were like a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from. I didn’t understand at the time that by killing them I’d bound myself to them for life. This life and more to come.
I met eyes with the blond man. “I’ll kill you and forget about you and so will everyone else. No one will remember you. It’ll be like you were never here at all.”
I figured if I killed him I’d have to kill myself, too, because I couldn’t live with another one. Behind the blond man a llama raised his head to eat from a high hedge. Maybe it was an alpaca.
“Go away, Allie,” the blond man said softly to the animal. “Go away now, come on.”
I figured I’d try not to hit the llama but I wouldn’t make myself any promises. I kept my gun on the man in the black shirt. Constance rolled her eyes like she was watching a bad movie. For the first time I noticed that peeking out from the hedges behind the blond man was a white Rolls Royce, empty.
I shot one bullet through the windshield of the Rolls and fixed my gun back on the man in the black shirt. Everyone except me jumped a little when the gun popped and the windshield shattered. The animal galloped away. The shards of the window sparkled in the sun, hard to look at.
“There won’t even be a funeral,” I said. “Because no one will find your bodies. And in a few years no one will remember you. Except us. You’ll be our big joke. The thing we laugh about when we drink too much. The time we shot the two assholes in Vegas.”
The blond man looked at the man in the black shirt.
“Let her go,” he said.
The blond man stepped toward the fence and pushed something I couldn’t see, and the gate opened. The man in the black shirt let Constance go, shoving her toward me. She stepped briskly through the gate and toward the car. When she got to the car I saw that her hands were shaking and her face was damp, and for the first time I realized she’d been scared for her life.
I already knew I’d kill for Constance. I’d burn down the world for her if she asked.
I raised an eyebrow at her and she gave me a quick nod. I aimed my gun and shot the man in the black shirt in his arm. He let out a scream and fell to his knees. Blood poured from his bicep.
He screamed again. He’d be okay.
I pointed my gun at the blond man.
“Don’t,” Constance said quickly and softly. “We need him.”
Constance got into the Jaguar and shut the door behind her. Gun still on the blond man, I got into the car and handed the gun to her. She pointed it at him through the windshield and kept it on him as we backed away.
I backed up until we were on the street and then drove away hitting but not exceeding the speed limit and got on to the closest freeway. Once we were on I-15 out in the desert I pulled over and parked the car on the shoulder and threw up in the hot sun. I
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