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all,” he said. “Must be terrifying to find your boyfriend dead.”
    I hadn’t said one word about Todd. I opened my mouth to scream.
    “Do it, and I’ll kill you right now.”
    The bastard had played me for a fool with all that concerned talk. I’d been too frazzled to tell, but I was wising up, now. An ice-cold dose of reality will do that for a girl. I tightened my fingers around the pepper spray and waited for my chance. I also made a big show of closing my mouth tight.
    “Good girl. The boy was a warning.” He held me close, like he might hold a lover, then he bent down to whisper in my ear. Around us, New Yorkers plowed on down the street, heads bent, lost in their own little worlds. They weren’t going to help me. I was all on my own and being held by a killer.
    “You got the message, right?” he continued, his voice icy and yet eerily calm. “If I were you, I’d pay attention to it. I’d play nice. And I wouldn’t get the cops involved. That’s what I’d do if I were you.”
    Message? And then I realized—“Play or Die.” I drew in a shuddering breath. I’d said I wasn’t going to play. Somehow he’d heard. Somehow, he knew.
    And now Todd was dead.
    Oh, Holy Mother of God, what had I done?
    “Who are you?” I spat out the words.
    “Someone who’s watching you. Don’t disappoint me. And don’t break the rules.”
    “Rules?” My voice was rising, taking on an hysterical pitch.
    “You know the rules, Melanie. For instance, you know what will happen if you bring the police into our little game.”
    I had no idea what he was talking about, but I wasn’t going to stick around to find out. Instead, I raised my hand, the pepper spray at the ready, and got him good in the face. I was poised to run, but I didn’t get far, because the damn spray didn’t even phase him. Hell, he didn’t even sneeze. He just laughed. Laughed and shook his head like I was a puppy doing some cute trick.
    This was bad. This was very, very bad.
    “You’re going to have to do better than that,” he said, still holding on to my forearm.
    And that, frankly, pissed me off. I mean, I’d taken a Learning Annex class. I should be able to do better than that. And so, without really thinking about whether it was a smart thing to do, I brought my knee up with all the force I could muster and caught him square in the balls.
    His knees gave way, and as he collapsed with a whimper to the sidewalk, he finally let go of my arm.
    I didn’t waste any time. I ran.

Chapter
9
    Memorandum
    FROM: Archibald Grimaldi
    TO: Thomas Reardon, Esquire
    Well, Thomas, here we are. Or here you are. If you’re reading this, I’ve kicked the bucket, bit the big one, gone to that great Pentium processor in the sky.
    Such a tragedy, they’ll say. He was so young. So brilliant. And they’ll be right.
    I’ve always known I’d die young. Just like I knew I’d clear a billion before my thirtieth birthday. I’m the man, Thomas. Remember that. I. Am. The. Man. And even death can’t take that away from me. You watch. You’ll see. I’m about to prove to the world that I can do something no other man can: I’m going to create reality out of fantasy. In short, I’m going to play God. I’m going to wave my wand and send my sheep to scurrying. So many little lambs running around my playing field…how many of them will avoid the slaughter?
    I’m sure you’ve already figured out that this isn’t part of my will. I had your secretary slip this memo into your file during our last meeting. (Great gal. Too bad about that overbite.) Who knows how long it will sit there, unopened, until you are called to probate my will. (Although, I suppose if you’re reading this note, then you do know how long. I, of course, am oblivious.)
    I’ve set some things in motion. Got the ball rolling. Plugged the quarter in the jukebox.
    You will perhaps think me insane, but I assure you I am not. There’s a fine line between genius and insanity, they say. Trust