“Oh, when did his mother die?” I ask, playing dumb.
“Well, it’s a whole story,” says Vicky. “Simon’s mother—Glory was her name—Glory was a law professor like Simon ended up. Anyway, she had a stroke that put her in a wheelchair and took away a lot of her mental capabilities and basically ended her career. Simon’s dad, Teddy—Teddy was making good money then and he started living this sort of swinger-bachelor lifestyle. He cheated on his wife. Simon caught him.”
“He caught him?”
“Yeah. Walked in on him. Teddy was having sex with this woman in his office, and Simon walked right in and saw it.”
“Harsh.”
“Yeah, harsh. And doubly harsh because Simon idolized his mother. He couldn’t bear to tell her what Teddy was doing. So he kept it quiet. And pretty soon, Teddy ended up blowing all his money and didn’t have the finances to take care of Glory, to pay for in-home care. Long story short, he wanted to put Glory in a nursing home, Simon freaked out, and right around then, Glory swallowed a bottleful of pain meds.” She looks at me. “Glad you asked?”
“So after blowing all his money on women, Teddy didn’t want Simon doing the same thing? And that’s why he put that language in the trust?”
“I guess so.”
“So what happened to Teddy?”
She looks at me for a long time.
I didn’t phrase that question well. What happened to Teddy? I should have been more generic, like What happened after Glory died? Did Simon ever make peace with his father? Something that doesn’t hint that I know that someone stuck a knife in Teddy.
Do better, Nicky. Stay on your game.
But then I realize that Vicky isn’t wondering why I would ask that question, or if I already knew something. She’s deciding how much to tell me. She’s deciding how much to let me into her life.
“Teddy, believe it or not, was murdered,” Vicky says. “He was living in St. Louis by then, and someone stabbed him and pushed him into his pool.”
“Whoa,” I say. “Who stabbed him?”
Her eyes trail off. “They never found out. They looked at Simon as a suspect, but Simon was up in Chicago taking final exams at U of C. It would have been very hard for him to have pulled that off.”
Very hard but not impossible. In fact, that would kinda be the beauty of it.
“What are you thinking?” she asks me.
I snap out of my trance. “Nothing.”
“You’re wondering whether Simon killed Teddy.”
“No, I mean—”
“You’re wondering whether I did.”
“God, no,” I say. “Of course not.”
But of course, I am.
“I’m just worried about you,” I say. “If you and Simon get into a fight over this trust money, and he’s capable of something like violence—”
“So you do think he did it.”
“Hey.” I pull her up to me, so we’re face-to-face. “I’ve never met the guy. I have no idea what he’s capable of. You tell me he didn’t do it, then he didn’t do it. I just want you to be careful. You are what matters to me. You’re my long-term investment.”
“Ahh . . .” Vicky reaches down between my legs. “All this talk of violence and murder got you worked up.”
God, this woman knows me well, which is pretty impressive, considering my entire identity is a lie.
She straddles me, and I slide into her, thrusting upward, Vicky moans in response. It’s been an hour since our last time, so I have some staying power. I’ll take her for a good long ride.
She goes off into that faraway place of hers, then leans forward, her arms taut on each side of me. Her face close to mine. Her jaw clenched.
She opens her eyes and slows things down to a gentle rhythm. She leans forward, nose to nose, and whispers to me.
“Simon did it. He killed his father. I didn’t try to stop him. And I married him anyway. I married him for his money. So now you know. Now’s your chance to run as far away as you can.”
I thrust upward, Vicky bobbing, closing her eyes in response.
“I’m not . . . running away,” I say.
“You don’t know me,” she says, eyes still closed, her head turned away. “You can’t trust me.”
“I know you. I trust you.” Running my hands over her body, picking up speed, the heat rising within me.
“Nobody’s . . . ever . . . trusted me,” she says, breathing hard, head leaned back.