As the plane taxied to the gate, Ronnie said he might need to take a shit. Olivia examined her face in a compact mirror, dabbing her lips with a beverage napkin. Snapping the clamshell closed she said, \u201cYou might?\u201d<\/p>\n
They were in step exiting the jetway. He wanted more with her than a colleagues-booked-on-the-same-flight-staying-in-the-same-hotel kind of relationship. Standing together in line for Starbucks, Ronnie tried to explain how sometimes stress had this effect on his digestion, gave him all kinds of maybes in his gut, like now he thought perhaps vomit\u2014<\/p>\n
\u201cOkay. I get it,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n
This was three hours before Ronnie threw Olivia onto the pillowtop mattress in her hotel room and spent the best condom of his life, fulfilling a fantasy he\u2019d had since he joined Unimark five years prior.<\/p>\n
Ron-a-thon the stallion, Mr. G Spot, was up at six for their big meeting the next morning. The axe buried in his left eye felt like the worst hangover he\u2019d ever had. This was the meeting: Valesco. He texted Adam, In lobby. Valesco, baby!<\/p>\n
Adam, along with the remainder of the sales team had flown that morning on the early bird, but when Ronnie heard Olivia had booked a flight the prior night, he knew what he had to do. Hank thought it was a great idea. He asked Ronnie to book the hotel breakfast room. The whole team could converge in the morning, eat, prep.<\/p>\n
Everything, since day one at Unimark, had been about getting Olivia. The sales team gathered at Hank\u2019s mountain house to welcome Ronnie to the team. The prick had a pool and a shed with a dozen ATVs and a lighted sand volleyball pit. He prayed a blessing over the meal, \u201cLord, we thank thee for this bounty which thou hath blessed us with, and we ask thee to look over us and make us profitable.\u201d<\/p>\n
Everyone gorged on fish tacos, which Hank\u2019s wife, Trish, prepared. Before the tilapia and pico settled, Hank arranged four-on-four sand volleyball under the lights. Adam and the rest of the Unimark lapdogs begged to be on Hank\u2019s team. Olivia quietly took her place opposite Hank, and Ronnie followed. The game was so much more competitive than Ronnie had expected, but gave him time to admire the only unrelated-to-Hank woman at Unimark. She arched her long back, leaping in the air to crush precisely aimed spikes. Her whip of blonde hair, pulled into a high ponytail, snapped back and forth as she loped in pursuit of return volleys. Ronnie felt it was the two of them against the world. Let the rest of the butt-slapping Hank-lovers grovel. After the game, tacos punishing his gut, Ronnie went in search of the facilities. He had passed a framed portrait of Slavic-looking Jesus staring into a distantly glowing soft light. What was with salespeople and God?<\/p>\n
Adam\u2019s voice filled the lobby, \u201cMcRonald! You dog.\u201d He always spoke like the world was at a cavernous remove from him. \u201cYou dirty dog,\u201d Adam said. You got some. I never mistake the gleam. Your eye is most definitely gleaming. Leave it to you, you dog. You would find an Oasis in this Mormon desert.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat gleam? There\u2019s no gleam,\u201d Ronnie stood. \u201cWe\u2019re here on business.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd yet you found time to get your rocks off, you old hound, you.\u201d<\/p>\n
Bravado was best combatted with bravado, Ronnie decided. \u201cIf we close this deal,\u201d he said, \u201cwe\u2019re both going to have to buy wheelbarrows.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFuckin-a, man.\u201d Adam said. \u201cWheelbarrows?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFor our balls.\u201d<\/p>\n
The dick measuring contest continued in earnest until Hank arrived, surprising Ronnie with a slap on the back. \u201cRon, how were your accommodations? I trust you slept well?\u201d He didn\u2019t wait for a reply before squeezing Adam\u2019s sport-coated bicep. \u201cAnd you,\u201d Hank winked. \u201cHow\u2019d you manage to buzz out the airport so fast?\u201d<\/p>\n
Adam snatched the small bag at his feet. \u201cI travel light, sir.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSmart man,\u201d Hank said. \u201cI\u2019ll tell you what, baggage claim\u2019s a nightmare. Too bad those goons aren\u2019t paid on commissions, huh?\u201d<\/p>\n
When Hank wasn\u2019t talking profitability, he enumerated the benefits of the commission system. Hank believed hourly and salaried employees sat around waiting for paychecks to drop into their bank accounts. Commissioned employees worked for their income.<\/p>\n
In the hotel diningroom, Olivia was already seated. She had secured a table for ten in the corner with the windows looking over the Lunt Capital building. Ronnie knew better than to blow a kiss at her, an acknowledgement of what they\u2019d shared. Instead he bit his knuckle and sat in the chair farthest from her.<\/p>\n
After getting situated, they filed into the buffet line. Ronnie served himself a heap of scrambled eggs, two sausage patties, and a pile of country potatoes. He glanced at his belly, the bulge starting to obscure the line-of-sight to his feet. What the hell? He advanced on the gravy, ladling two scoops over his eggs and sausage. He resisted biscuits.<\/p>\n
Adam skipped the buffet line. He\u2019d taken a chair next to Livia. Ronnie could call her that, Livia, now that they\u2019d hooked up.<\/p>\n
Adam and Olivia were deep in conversation. She\u2019d apparently skipped breakfast too. Her hands were going in that circular motion. What in hell could Adam have said? Now she was pinching the mole behind her left ear, rolling the thing between thumb and forefinger. It made Ronnie want to punch the tomorrow out of Adam. The little shit would deserve to wake up Wednesday with no recollection of signing the biggest client in Unimark\u2019s history.<\/p>\n
The contract was a climate shifter, a game changer. It was wheelbarrow-buying big.<\/p>\n
Before Livia started in on that mole, Ronnie had been thinking he\u2019d snub them, Adam and her. Instead he relocated to the chair next to Livia, setting his plate opposite Adam. He leaned in and whispered to Livia, perhaps loud enough for Adam to hear, \u201cYou were great last night.\u201d<\/p>\n
He didn\u2019t like the look on her face, raised eyebrows, pursed lips, followed by the turn of her head. He wanted her to look at him. He looked at Adam.<\/p>\n
Adam was picking pilled cotton off the lapels of his sport coat with an aloof confidence that transported Ronnie back to his Ugly Duckling childhood to a memory of sixth grade: Denis Mankuso, point guard to Ron\u2019s power forward, refused to acknowledge his teammate in the hallway during passing period.<\/p>\n
\u201cNot hungry?\u201d Ronnie said to Adam.<\/p>\n
\u201cNever can eat before sales presentations.\u201d<\/p>\n
What a self-righteous prick. What a load of shamanistic bullshit. Everyone knows breakfast is the most important tool in a salesman\u2019s belt. What Adam needed Ronnie would give him with two quick jabs to the kidneys. The Denis Mankusos and the Adam Hargrieveses of the world weren\u2019t going to ignore the Ronnie Richardsons anymore.<\/p>\n
Ronnie had cleaned his plate, hadn\u2019t tasted a bite. Perhaps he should have a second helping. What good was breakfast if you forgot to taste it?<\/p>\n
Hank stood to excuse himself. Trish followed. Ronnie liked Trish. He occasionally pictured what it would be like to get in her pants. She was big-boned and all woman, tall with dark brown hair, wrinkles radiating from her lips. If Ronnie envied Hank anything, it was Trish\u2019s oral services. There were rumors.<\/p>\n
Maybe Livia was fighting an attack of conscience. That would explain the dichotomy between this cold shoulder and the previous night\u2019s rendezvous. Ronnie knew about fighting moralities. His folks raised him Baptist. Lookey here, Ronald, his father used to say, Look here, Hoss: The Lord don\u2019t charge rent, but he sure expects his dues.\u201d<\/p>\n
Ronnie would say, Yes, sir. He would say, Sir, or get his ass whooped.<\/p>\n
But Ronnie got things figured, eventually made it straight. He\u2019d say no sir and yes sir, and then behind his old man\u2019s back he\u2014Ronnie\u2014could do whatever he wanted. His father might say, You aren\u2019t going to give it away till you get married, are you, Ronald?<\/p>\n
No, sir.<\/p>\n
You show a woman respect.<\/p>\n
Yes, sir.<\/p>\n
You don\u2019t stretch an oil change past three-thou just cause you\u2019re lazy.<\/p>\n
No, sir.<\/p>\n
You earn your keep in life. Demand respect or accept the consequences.<\/p>\n
Yes, sir. And yes, sir.<\/p>\n
Ronnie drove the nicest car at Unimark. When people asked how he got so good at acquisitions he patted his desk, ran a finger along the top and brought it up clean. Could you resist signing the dotted line if a guy pulled up to your office in an AMG GT S? Maybe it wasn\u2019t the car, but the car sure hell gave him bounce in his step, and anyone who knew anything about sales knew people didn\u2019t sell on merit. People sell themselves, and sometimes they are their cars, and sometimes they are their suits, and sometimes they are their families. Whatever a guy tugs off to at night that\u2019s what he sells himself on.<\/p>\n
If he had his car now, he\u2019d take Livia for a ride, top down, 120 on I-15. He wanted to bend her over the trunk and give it to her like medicine. Honey, I might not be a doctor, but I still know where to stick a thermometer.<\/p>\n
Everyone was getting up. He vaguely remembered Hank saying something to him, and wondered if he\u2019d replied. He recalled making eyes at Trish. Should he take a pass at her after the meeting with Valesco? He could buy her a drink at whatever bar, a finishing touch after she\u2019d had her third scotch and milk, after Hank stumbled to the patio to celebrate Unimark\u2019s acquisition with a cigar. People whispered about Trish\u2019s favors, that maybe she wasn\u2019t as pious as her church attendance suggested.<\/p>\n
Ronnie liked the challenge of a married woman, and he figured he\u2019d be helping Hank in the long run. If you love someone you let her go and if she fucks someone else she was never yours in the first place.<\/p>\n
Warmth radiated on Ronnie\u2019s back. He craned his head around. Olivia stood behind him. She laid her hand on his shoulders and leaned until her lips were close enough to nibble his earlobe. \u201cDon\u2019t get up,\u201d she said. She said, \u201cWe were both drunk, tired. I was confused. You were horny. We were in a bad state of mind. I get that.\u201d She said, \u201cWe\u2019ve worked together for a long time. This has never happened before. It\u2019ll never happen again.\u201d<\/p>\n
Ronnie dug the balls of his feet into the heels of his shoes to stop himself from springing up. \u201cFor your information\u2014\u201d he started, and he was going to say he felt the same way, and he never wanted to see her naked again, but before he could slip on that tightly fitting costume of denial, he imagined her lips, swollen with lust, kissing his lips, dry with expectation.<\/p>\n
He wanted Livia more than any man had wanted any woman in the history of the universe. He imagined her hips in his hands, pulling her curves into his body. He was a strong man. If he could ever make the time, he\u2019d still pump iron. His arms looked strong. She\u2019d seemed satisfied last night.<\/p>\n
If only he had his car, he thought. He\u2019d run after her, she who hadn\u2019t waited for him to finish his statement\u2014\u201cFor your information\u2014\u201d If only he had his car, he\u2019d run after her and say, Wait one minute. Why don\u2019t we talk this over? We shared something. I don\u2019t usually feel so connected after the first f\u2014 after the first time I make love to a woman. He\u2019d say, How about I drive us out to the salt flats: top down, wind in our hair, a bill-twenty into the desert.<\/p>\n
Ronnie lay in bed with a lit cigarette between his lips because he could expense the cleaning fee he\u2019d be charged for disregarding the no smoking rule. He nursed a Bloody Mary, too heavy on the pickle juice. He needed to relax for the Valesco meeting. If he could pair the right words\u2014this took a good deal of foresight into how much alcohol was too much\u2014if he could pair those exact words he might earn the respect he deserved. Respect meant partnerships. Somewhere down the line all the benefits meant fewer lonely nights.<\/p>\n
If Ronnie Richardson wanted anything most it was someone to own a bed with. He wanted the greeting card life, the thing where a man and woman shared a bed for forty years before the guy had a heart attack and left the woman bereaved and aimless. He wanted a woman to cry at his funeral. This woman would still have the face of a twenty-eight-year-old and tits ten years younger. She\u2019d fall to her knees at his headstone, sobbing. She\u2019d say, Oh, Ronnie, Ronnie, you son-of-a-bitch, you hard-headed son-of-a-bitch. I\u2019m going to miss you. You were the best thing ever happened to me. This woman would lay flowers at his grave and return once a week for the next five years before sorrow and solitary nights took her in her sleep. She would\u2019ve arranged in her will to be cremated so their son\u2014they\u2019d have one child, a boy\u2014so their son could bring her ashes to the plot where Ronnie was buried and scatter her on top of her husband so she could ride him for eternity.<\/p>\n
His cellphone rang. Unmistakably Olivia, her voice stuttered, sought purchase on some irretrievable syllable, cracked and broke with tears. \u201cIt\u2019s Adam.\u201d<\/p>\n
Ronnie tensed. His mind filled with questions. He plucked one from the stampede: \u201cWhere are you?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMy room.\u201d<\/p>\n
Ronnie\u2019s throat tightened as pieces fit into place: scenarios, outcomes, actions, reactions, causes, ifs, ands, and buts. \u201cI\u2019ll beat his ass.\u201d On the other side of the phone, only the sound of breathing fed back. \u201cLivia?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAdam\u2019s dead, Ronnie. We were\u2014you know\u2026and he was\u2014\u2026and he\u2026it was\u2026oh my God, Ronnie.\u201d<\/p>\n
The little slut! Less than eight hours earlier he had shared a bed with her. Just what the fuck? \u201cIn your room?\u201d It was a dumb question.<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah.\u201d<\/p>\n
At she could\u2019ve used a janitor\u2019s closet, any old place, just not in the same room where she had taken Ronnie. He said, \u201cI\u2019ll be right up.\u201d<\/p>\n
He\u2019d never needed to support his weight on a banister before, but at the end of the first flight his legs resigned to fatigue. Sweat broke over his palms and cheeks. He wondered, when a room-service employee passed him, how pale he must look. Dueling icemaker engines thrummed on the eighth and ninth floors.<\/p>\n
He came out on the fourteenth floor and found Livia\u2019s room, expecting a pool of blood-creep beneath the doorjamb onto the hallway carpet. When he knocked, the mundaneness of waiting for her answer nauseated him.<\/p>\n
The sound of the chain sliding back off its lock preceded a small crack of light emitting from the partly opened door. \u201cJesus, Ronnie. Maybe you shouldn\u2019t come in.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIs he in there?\u201d Ronnie asked.<\/p>\n
She stepped back from the door and he pushed past her. On the bed, naked, penis painfully erect, laid Adam\u2019s body. Ronnie looked away. Had she been fucking him when he died? Did she know what happened or had she ridden him to the deep six, oblivious in the trance of blissful climax?<\/p>\n
Olivia said, \u201cWhat do we do?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWe?\u201d For the first time in his life, it seemed, he looked at a woman as a human being, a living, thinking, feeling person. \u201cCall the police.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBut\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
She wanted Ronnie to know, seemed really to expect him to know, they couldn\u2019t tell the police. He was staring at her, knowing she was waiting for him to say something. She really expected something from him. The answer was obvious. He said, \u201cWhat happened?\u201d Had he meant to hurt her? Did he ask the question because he wanted to hear her say, We were having sex\u2014terrible sex\u2014and I guess Adam\u2019s heart was too weak.<\/p>\n
Because that was how Ronnie felt\u2014like his heart could almost not contain her immensity\u2014sex with Livia. Her body had been so powerful it boiled his blood, restocked his veins with jet fuel. She had been, to his drunkenness the night before, like those medical paddles\u2014what were they called?\u2014jolting him out of his stupor for one aroused, one ejaculatory instant. The force of her beauty, the encompassing wholeness of her sex must have been too much for a weak man like Adam.<\/p>\n
Livia\u2019s cheeks hued a shade so red as to be purple. Ronnie asked again how it had happened. She opened her mouth, worked her tongue around her teeth, closed her mouth. He wanted to slap her. Say it: say you were too much woman for such a small man. She said\u2014it was a whisper, but even a whisper of a whisper, \u201cI strangled him.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou what?\u201d<\/p>\n
Her breath was coming shallow, now. In Morse Code. In her pallor she looked more beautiful than ever. He suggested she take a seat on the couch. Her head nodded. She stood fast. Her eyes searched the ceiling.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou need water.\u201d<\/p>\n
She sipped from the glass highball, and when it was empty she walked to the bathroom. He followed her, resting his hand on her shoulder when she stopped in front of the mirror. She inhaled, held the breath, exhaled slowly.<\/p>\n
They needed a plan to deal with Adam\u2019s body. It was harder than they thought\u2014not that they had thought about such things before\u2014dealing with a stiff in a hotel.<\/p>\n
When Ronnie tried to lift Adam, Livia said, \u201cJesus, Jesus, don\u2019t\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat, hurt him? He\u2019s dead.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know he\u2019s\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m sorry. I didn\u2019t mean to snap like that.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI just\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cListen. Can we please\u2026\u201d Please, what? Ronnie wanted to know. Please be quiet. Please pretend we\u2019re not covering up a murder.<\/p>\n
Livia said, \u201cI didn\u2019t mean to\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI need you to shut up, and let me do this.\u201d It was his turn to say, \u201cJesus, Jesus.\u201d<\/p>\n
What he couldn\u2019t seem to ignore was the erection. The thing was a loaded weapon, on the verge of discharge.<\/p>\n
Ronnie said, \u201cStop looking at me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNot you.\u201d It taunted him: Who\u2019s the small man? Who\u2019s the weak-hearted loser? the dick seemed to say. \u201cStay here. I\u2019ll be back as soon as I can.\u201d<\/p>\n
He passed two couples in the hallway between Livia\u2019s room and the elevator. Both couples stared at him. They knew. Somewhere in the back of his mind the word Valesco pinged. That word accompanied a sourness in his stomach and a slight blurring of his vision.<\/p>\n
His first thought, as he walked through the basement parking garage toward his rental was that he could cram Adam\u2019s body into a suitcase or something. The thought of cracking bones and tearing ligaments though, just the sound Ronnie conjured, put him off that idea. Then, what would he do once he got it out of the hotel?<\/p>\n
He stopped at a 7-Eleven on Third and University and bought a case of Coors. The clerk at the register avoided eye contact. Across from the convenience store, young people drinking coffee at the Salt Lake Roasting Company chattered confidentially, heads leaned close, voices low.<\/p>\n
Ronnie needed to drive. He popped the tab on his first beer while merging onto I-15 North. Less than twelve hours ago Livia and he were exclusive and in love, and when they banged on her pillow-top mattress it was good. He pulled a great gasp of air, hoping to center his thoughts. The Great Salt Lake stink made his temples throb. Rising summer heat stirred that sulfurous stench.<\/p>\n
He doubled back at exit 343, lake stench and alcohol shaping his thoughts. Sulfur wriggled into his pores, around his hair, soaking on his tongue, clinging to the walls of his nose. Some smells were meant to be embraced.<\/p>\n
There was the image of Ronnie as a teenager, he and his father standing over Munson\u2019s bloating body. Ronnie\u2019s father leaned on a spade. Ronnie stared down at the dog, softly whispering its name like a chant: Munson.<\/p>\n
Ronnie\u2019s father said, We got to bury him before the stink sets in. Once you smell it, you can\u2019t unsmell it.<\/p>\n
Ronnie had wanted to stroke Munson between the ears just once more, but his father told him to stop acting like a pussy.<\/p>\n
In the hotel room, Livia was sitting with her back to the bed where Adam\u2019s body lay. She was looking out over the city. Ronnie felt compassion for her. Or pity? He tapped a cigarette from his pack and stuck it between his lips. Livia still hadn\u2019t turned around. Ronnie said, \u201cI\u2019ve done a lot of things in my life.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI didn\u2019t murder him.\u201d Livia said, \u201cIt was an accident.\u201d<\/p>\n
Ronnie sat next to her. It felt morbid sitting so near a dead body. He stood. Tails of smoke floated to the ceiling and spread like water on a table. He had a momentary feeling of defying gravity, like it was he who hung on the ceiling and the smoke that slid across the floor. He wanted her to say, Yes, to affirm his hopes when he asked, \u201cLike firing-an-air-rifle-at-a-sparrow-in-a-tree-but-not-thinking-you\u2019d-actually-hit-it kind of accident?\u201d<\/p>\n
She said, \u201cI\u2019d like a cigarette.\u201d<\/p>\n
He lit one for her. She said, \u201cLike an its-a-thing-I-like-to-do-and-didn\u2019t-realize-he-wasn\u2019t-playing-along accident.\u201d<\/p>\n
Ronnie didn\u2019t laugh, exactly.<\/p>\n
She said. \u201cI\u2019m not going to spell it out for you.\u201d<\/p>\n
He explained how he had made plenty of mistakes in his life, but never accidentally killed anyone. \u201cWell,\u201d she said, \u201cgood for you, Ron.\u201d She seemed remarkably defensive for having just committed murder.<\/p>\n
He said he didn\u2019t get how you accidentally killed a person. People joked about that kind of thing: so-and-so fell on a knife forty-one times. People didn\u2019t accidentally suffocate people. It was the kind of thing you had to work at.<\/p>\n
Livia suggested maybe Ronnie had never really made love. Perhaps he\u2019d screwed a few women\u2014she knew how that went\u2014but he must never have loved someone, otherwise he\u2019d understand how two people, naked together, holding each other in the most confidential, trusting way, could kill.<\/p>\n
Who had Ronnie loved? He loved Livia. He thought he loved Livia. In first grade he remembered a girl named Gwyn. Her face, now, he\u2019d lost in the fading realm of archived memories. He had fallen, in college, for a girl named Katie Ona. She had deeply tanned skin even in the winter months. Round, bright, auburn eyes accented a petite nose and highlighted a heart-shaped face. She played lacrosse. One night at a party she had gotten mercilessly drunk and wet her pants sitting on a couch. Ronnie, sitting next to her when it happened, offered her his sweatshirt, suggested she might want to tie it around her waist. A week later as he was heading for Statistics, Katie stopped him in the halls to return his sweatshirt. She gave it back saying, I washed it. That was all that ever came of the incident, and neither he nor she ever exchanged another word. If you loved someone, you gave her your sweatshirt, if she gave it back she never loved you in return.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re making it sound like you loved Adam,\u201d Ronnie said.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe were on-again, off-again for years.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI never\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause you only ever have one thing on your mind. I\u2019ve seen the way you look at me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy did you\u2014\u201d he said, \u201cI mean, with me?\u201d She didn\u2019t owe him an explanation.<\/p>\n
He told her to go away. Everything would be taken care of. \u201cGo review your notes for the meeting. I\u2019ll take care of this and meet you there.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
He handed her his room key. \u201cIf you need to shower, use my room.\u201d<\/p>\n
Livia nodded. Wasn\u2019t it something that she trusted Ronnie for this? Didn\u2019t it mean more that she had called him in her moment of need?<\/p>\n
The hardest part was pulling Adam\u2019s body onto the floor: physically difficult. After that, propping the pedestal bed took some ingenuity. Hiding Adam\u2019s body under the bed was such an obvious solution.<\/p>\n
Somehow, as Ronnie searched the room for evidence that might have escaped notice, he felt he didn\u2019t care much if they closed the Valesco deal or not. His mind spun half-dreamed outcomes: partners in crime, partners for life, something like that. He had balked on calling the police before Livia even offered one excuse for Adam\u2019s murder.<\/p>\n
One detail addled Ronnie as he washed in preparation for the meeting with Valesco. He dialed Livia\u2019s cell. How would they explain Adam\u2019s absence? Ronnie suggested an elaborate feint, say Adam called and begged off. Nerves. Flight to Vegas, but Livia said they weren\u2019t Adam\u2019s keepers and that simpler was always better. \u201cWe act as surprised as everyone.\u201d<\/p>\n
Ronnie agreed to take the blame if they got caught. And that was fine with him. If you love someone you take the fall; if they watch you go down, they were never yours.<\/p>\n
Livia funneled into the boardroom behind Hank and Trish. Her herringbone blazer drew a man\u2019s gaze to all the right places, and her four-inch, heels assured any onlooker that the legs beneath her skirt could absolve the unrepentant. Ronnie, who had arrived early, sat nearest the projector screen, clicker in his left hand, a cup of black coffee in his right. Other than a prodigious gloss of sweat that he dabbed continuously with his handkerchief, Ronnie projected an air of ease. His heart fluttered momentarily as Livia walked behind him. She sat at the foot of the table.<\/p>\n
Timothy Dorcer, CEO of Valesco, stood in the corner. He wore no jewelry. He exuded ease in his dress, a royal blue oxford rolled at the sleeves and hanging untucked. As the head of the most successful land development firm in the Mountain West, Dorcer had already recast the image of power-business.<\/p>\n
Everywhere, ambitious young professionals nosedived imitating Dorcer\u2019s nonchalance, and everywhere these young professionals envied Dorcer\u2019s success. He didn\u2019t win because of his clothes: he won because of his vision. In an industry where standard practice was to hire MBAs with professional experience, Dorcer plucked highschool kids from graduation ceremonies. Screw college he said. In ten years all anyone will care about is experience. He promised experience. And intern wages. Kept the profit margin high.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Ronnie cleared his throat. \u201cI\u2019m looking at those gathered here, and I can confidently say we look good together.\u201d He glanced at Hank, who was tugging at the knot on his tie. The telltale sign of discomfort stopped Ronnie.<\/p>\n
\u201cOur ad manager seems to be missing,\u201d Hank said.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m glad to hear it,\u201d Dorcer said. \u201cIf this meeting goes as well as I expect it to, that was going to be one of my stipulations.\u201d He smiled a throat-cutting smile. \u201cMy daughter just graduated with her BA in advertising.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou killed it in there,\u201d Hank said, pulling Ronnie aside.<\/p>\n
Ronnie blushed at the choice of words. \u201cThanks.\u201d<\/p>\n
Trish approached, her eyes narrowed, her jaw set.<\/p>\n
How about some drinks,\u201d Hank said to her.<\/p>\n
She glared, but retreated.<\/p>\n
Hank slapped Ronnie\u2019s back. \u201cIt\u2019s like you knew Adam\u2019s being there would\u2019ve thrown water on the fire.\u201d He tugged on his tie. \u201cI\u2019ve got to tell you, when you started before he came I half expected you\u2019d gone nuts. Like, my word, here\u2019s my key account manager and he\u2019s so nervous he\u2019s forgotten his best friend in the company, forgot he even existed.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou cold-hearted son of a gun! How\u2019d you know?\u201d<\/p>\n
Ronnie looked around the club for Livia. \u201cI guess I listened to my intuition.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m just glad you work for me and not the other way around.\u201d Hank sighed. \u201cYou\u2019re gonna have to fire Hargrieves. You know that? Trish\u2019ll have me in the doghouse for this. Between you and me, though, you did the right thing.\u201d<\/p>\n
She returned with two drinks. Ronnie took the hint and meandered off. He searched for Livia. Stepping outside for a smoke, he spotted Timothy Dorcer chatting with a few of the interns who\u2019d been at the meeting. Dorcer\u2019s daughter hung on his left elbow. Ronnie retreated.<\/p>\n
When he had gone far enough that he could no longer hear the music projecting from the club\u2019s speakers, he dialed Livia. She answered on the second ring. He said, \u201cWhere were you?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou were good.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cTry terrified.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou weren\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n
Why could he project such boundless confidence in a business meeting but not find a single word to share his feelings with a woman he cared about? \u201cWhere are you?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIn my room.\u201d A clicking sound. \u201cI don\u2019t know how you did it. It\u2019s like nothing ever happened in here.\u201d She fell quiet. Ronnie walked two blocks with only the sound of Livia\u2019s breathing in his ear. When she spoke again, it startled him. \u201cWhat did you do with it?\u201d<\/p>\n
In that moment, Ronnie had everything he imagined ever wanting. He said, \u201cBetter you don\u2019t know.\u201d He said, \u201cI love you Liv,\u201d He could call her that now, Liv. He said, \u201cWe\u2019re in the clear.\u201d He held the phone far from his ear. \u201cAdam no-showed for the biggest meeting in our company\u2019s history.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s not that easy.\u201d<\/p>\n
Ronnie laughed. \u201cThe thing is, it is that easy. Who knew?\u201d Love made the impossible, possible.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou don\u2019t love me,\u201d she said. \u201cBut I did love Adam. I loved him so much it\u2019s like he\u2019s still here with me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWe made love, Liv.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t call me that.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re the one who asked me back to your room. That has to mean something.\u201d He thought again of his GT S, pictured them together, not in the salt flats, as he had first seen it, but racing through mountain canyons. This new future, it was better. She might not be sold, but in time, she would love him. Because if you loved someone and covered up a murder for her, how could she ever go away?<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Love is killing the competition.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":15759,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[6],"tags":[2112,2113,2114,2115,2111],"class_list":["post-15621","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-fiction","tag-lieswetellourselves","tag-ronnie","tag-slc","tag-abliterary","tag-lukeemiapi","writer-jody-j-sperling"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/15621","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=15621"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/15621\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":15761,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/15621\/revisions\/15761"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/15759"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=15621"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=15621"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=15621"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}