The Devil Makes Three (7 page)

I grimaced and finished stuffing my bag. If this was his attempt at fishing, he could take a flying leap because I wasn’t biting. “Cognition can come later for me, when I’m in a quiet, enclosed space.”

“I see. Did you actually read the documents?”

“Yes, I read the documents.”

“I can’t help but wonder, after our conversation the other day, why you’re still here.”

I shrugged. “The class fills a credit. If I dropped it would put me off schedule for graduation.”

“So you’ll suffer through it.”

“If I must.”

“I hope you won’t find it too torturous. Will your contribution to discussion always be so…noncommittal?”

“Probably. I’m not big on voicing my opinion to the masses. My opinions are just that: mine. I don’t feel the need for validation from my peers.”

“I see.”

“What about you? You never once told someone they were wrong. So what makes you better than me? You’re just some untouchable figurehead pointing thoughts in certain directions, hoping people get the point but not correcting them if they don’t.”

“I find telling people they’re wrong tends to deter them from talking in the future.”

“But wouldn’t it benefit the rest of us if they didn’t?”

“When you go back and read your notes, you’ll find my opinions voiced, albeit quietly. The right answers are there for those who listened.”

I stood up and tossed my bag over my shoulder. “I’ll keep it in mind. Was there anything else?”

“Do you spend a lot of time in the Crim section in the library? You don’t seem the type.”

“It’s a long story that you don’t want to hear. Trust me.” My blood pressure rose at mere mention of the meeting. No one was supposed to see me. Was this his way of reproaching me? Then again, if he was a third of the crazy, he may not be the right third. He might really not know why I was there.

“May I suggest that if you’re getting a jump start on your research paper, I’m always happy to read drafts to help point struggling students in the right direction.”

“I’ll keep it in mind. Anything else?” For some strange reason, my heart-beat tripled at the thought of specialized help from him.

“Nope. See you Friday.”

“Yeah. Friday.”

#

From school, I took a bus to the Central City Mall and started at the department store on the north end. I had a clear goal of jammies in mind and felt determined not to get waylaid. But walking inside I came across purses and accessories first. I had to stop and browse. What woman wouldn’t with five thousand dollars to burn?

I got away from women's accessories with a steal on a new purse and a new perfume. Deciding it best to keep some sort of focus to my spending, I then headed over to sleepwear. Robes and night gowns in frightfully dry patterns and cuts met my eyes. It felt like shopping for my old auntie. Even my mother wouldn’t be caught dead in clothes this frumpy.

I left the department store and wandered down the mall. A Victoria’s Secret sat somewhere in the middle and I felt fairly certain I would find something more to my liking in their plethora of sleepwear.

On my way I passed a salon that I found I couldn’t resist. Walking up to the counter, I asked the receptionist if she had room for an unscheduled manicure, and she pointed me to a chair.

The place smelled heavily of some sort of tropic fruit, giving me a headache. Next to me, the gossip of two women grated across my nerves as the manicurist started in on my cuticles. The younger of the two women wore way too much makeup, way too little clothing for the month of January, and I suspected extensive hair bleaching had affected her brain capacity. She looked like Paris Hilton on a really bad day. Used up. Luckily, the manicure didn’t take long. Within an hour I had acrylic fingernails in a violent shade of red and toenails to match.

I left the salon after tipping the manicurist generously and walked further down the concourse. On my right PJ’s PCs come into view and I stopped to see if they had a laptop battery that would suit my needs.

“Can I help you?” A short girl of about 18, with a name tag reading Katie walked up to me and cocked her head to one side.

I told her what I wanted and she nodded knowingly after sizing me up in a very obvious way. “We don’t keep a supply of batteries on hand that would work with your model. Your laptop is kind of old. Have you thought of upgrading?”

Actually, I hadn’t but now that she mentioned it, it didn’t sound like a bad idea. After all, it wasn’t like I had anything really pressing to do with my money now that I had a new source of income.

In less than ten minutes I had picked out a new model and loaded up on a new bag, extra battery, and a subscription to wireless internet for my apartment.

“Wow. I’ve reached my quota for the week thanks to you,” Katie said. “Looks like I can take the weekend off.”

“Have a good time. One of us should.” I pulled the envelope of cash out of my bag and began counting out hundreds to her. She stared at the cash with interest.

“You know, most people pay with a card.”

“I don’t believe in plastic.”

She examined each bill with careful consideration and I found myself wondering for the first time if they were real. It figured Corbin would do something like that to me. He was obviously a criminal after all. I wouldn’t put something like counterfeiting past him. The bastard.

“With all this cash you have nothing exciting planned for the weekend?” Katie eyed the remaining cash in the envelope and began gathering the examined bills.

“Money doesn’t translate into a life.”

“That’s a shame. I know a good poker game that’s looking for an extra player.”

I paused in the act of stuffing the envelope back in my bag and examined her once more. She didn’t look more than 19 at the very most. “I do believe gambling is illegal for those under the age of 21.”

“You’re over 21.”

“I meant you.”

“Oh, I’m 24.”

I laughed and finished closing my bag. “24. Right. Don’t worry. I won’t nark on you.”

“No, really. I’m 24. I just look really young. Everyone says so. And you wouldn’t believe how handy that’s been for me.”

Why is she telling me this? “I see. Well good luck at your poker game.”

“Thanks.” She handed me my receipt and I gathered my bags together. “And if you’re interested in sitting in, we could always use another player.”

I walked away quickly. She had already gotten enough money out of me. The last thing I wanted to do with the rest of it was throw it away at a poker game. Not to mention that I was critically creeped out from the conversation. I had serious suspicions that she was actually hitting on me. While that life-style worked for some, it certainly wasn’t my preference.

Victoria’s Secret came into view a few shops down from PJ’s PCs and I hurried past the other stores in an attempt to preserve the rest of my funds. Stepping into the store I felt like I had walked into a spilt bottle of stomach medicine. Pink plastered every surface.

Pink had never been my color. I’m more of a black or gray type of person with the occasional blue thrown in. And yet, the soft fabrics and laces sucked me in, clouding my judgment. Before I knew what happened I found myself in the dressing room with a slew of lingerie. I tried each piece on with skepticism, wondering who on earth actually purchased the things. When I stepped out of the dressing room I had fresh perspective and a new determination for nothing but pajamas. Eyeing a pair of red button down jammies on a sale rack I felt someone walk up behind me.

I stepped to the side and glanced over my shoulder. The women from the salon stood at the rack adjacent to mine, considering a skimpy black nightgown with matching panties. Their freshly manicured hands trailed over the fabric as if it were real silk rather than some spandex nylon blend.

“I think he’ll love it. Black is his color. You should get it,” the older woman said.

Are they going to make the guy model it? I wondered, unable to repress a laugh. Both women heard me and turned.

Bleached Blond eyed me up and down then gave a grunt of distaste. “Look Honey, just because you’ve got your nails done for the first time doesn’t mean you’re ready for the big leagues. Wouldn’t you be more comfortable exploring the sleepwear in Kmart?”

The older woman gave a bark of laughter then turned and walked away. Bleached Blond followed but not before licking her lips and blowing me a kiss.

 I stood for a moment, rooted to the spot, wishing I’d had something, anything to come back at her with. But I wasn’t used to public confrontations and the entire encounter left me reeling. I wanted to leave. But I also didn’t want to look like I ran away. Finally I just turned and moved on to another rack.

Thick plush red and pink robes caught my eye and for a lack of anything better to do I reached out and fingered one of the sleeves.

“Oh, Temptress. You can’t do that to me. Not after what I’ve seen,” Corbin whispered in my ear.

After screeching in surprise I turned and swiped at him. “You’re a pig! What the hell gives you the right to come into my apartment anyway?” I glared at him openly, eying his stance and demeanor. He had changed his clothes and now wore the leather duster again. Glancing over his shoulder I noticed Bleached Blond and her mother were no longer within sight.

“Who’s going to see me? Your landlady? Big deal,” he said with a shrug.

“Anyone in my building could see you!”

“And what conclusion do you think they will reach? Crime? I don’t think so.”

I grimaced and turned back to the robes. “You’re a pervert and a freak show. And why do you insist on following me?”

“I’m not following you. I happened to be attending to some business and saw you. And don’t pretend you don’t like seeing me. I see you’re not picking out some cotton Mumu in Sears. You’re putting thought into this. You care. You’re probably wondering about that delicate balance between sleazy and sexy, and wondering what drives me crazy.”

Too late, I thought. “I’m wondering how many more locks I can fit on my door.”

“Personally, I like the red.” He brushed his hand across the robe I held just moments before. “But not the coverage. You need something like this.” He walked back over to the rack I stood at before and selected a spaghetti strap floor length night gown. “It’s…tempting.”

I walked over to him without knowing why, other than his charisma sucking me in like a black hole. He smiled and raised a hand, tracing the chain of the emerald necklace along my neck. “Of course, green looks good on you too.”

My breath caught in my throat and I had no comeback for him, either. What am I supposed to say? I wondered. Thank you? You’re a pig? You’re crazier then Jack Nicholson in an empty hotel? I don’t want to think about what you’re thinking? But that last one wasn’t true. The thought of him liking whatever I bought weighed on my mind more than I cared to admit, even to myself.

What does that say about me?

He seemed to read my mind and grinned, taking a green nightgown from the rack. Looping his arm through mine he pulled me towards the checkout counter and bought both nightgowns, brokering no arguments from me. In an effort to keep from making a scene, I repressed myself during the actual transaction but went back to resisting him once the salesgirl finished making wistful eyes at him and went back to arranging a table of smutty underwear.

“What do you think this is going to get you?” I asked, brandishing the bag at him.

He smiled and shrugged, backing away from me. “I don’t think it’s going to get me anything. Not anything I wouldn’t eventually get anyway.”

With that, he turned and walked away.

Overconfident slime-ball. Or should it be slime-balls?

I waited until he had passed out of the store and bolted after him, tossing my bags on my arms and knocking things about as I ran. Getting to the edge of the store, I peered around the glass display window and saw him walking back up the way I had come.

Lacking the skills necessary to call myself covert, I instead settled for distance. I didn't want to lose him, but I didn't want him to know I followed him either. Walking behind others when I could and darting to the other side of the concourse occasionally, I managed to keep an eye on him, all the way back down to PJ's PCs.

He went inside and I creeped up to the door, peering around the corner. He walked up to the counter, talked to the Katie girl for a few minutes while she looked something up in the computer, then he turned around and headed back to the door. Darting back, I bolted through an employee only door, heedless of my blatant non-employee status. No one was around, so I figured it wouldn't matter much. Carefully, I watched through the small, dirty plastic windows, but he never passed. Finally, I deemed it safe and poked my head out the door, peering further down the concourse.

He was completely gone.

I spent as long as I could searching stores but never found him. Finally, I had to give up and return to my once-so-pleasant life of solitude.

Chapter 7

In which Gretchen flirts with her professor.

That night pickings were slim among the recently interred so I let the dead lay quietly while I considered the day’s events. My finances were considerably less carefree than they had been only twelve hours earlier but I felt good about my purchases. I spent a few hours transferring files from my old laptop to the new one, then tucked the now useless dinosaur away in a cabinet in the store room, just in case something went wrong. Then I examined my pajamas. They felt tainted with Corbin somehow, but I couldn’t help but like them.

Putting the purchases aside I turned to my homework. Settling on the couch I opened the files of my class notes and began to read, paraphrasing in an adjacent window. When I got to Professor Cade’s notes I fell asleep.

I woke to find my father peering at me.

“I know the job bores you, but if you’re going to just fall asleep then there’s no point.”

“What happened? Why are you here?”

He pointed to the window. The sun shone brightly through the blind.