Chapter 9

September 10th

I got Emmy’s schedule from her co-worker. The same kid who’d sold me her address. This time, I slipped him an eighth of weed for the info. He seemed more excited by this than he had about the money. And he should’ve been. It was solid shit. My own personal stash. But I figured it’d impress him enough to keep his mouth shut.

People like us needed the distraction of drugs or booze. It was like air for us. Not that the kid was exactly like me. I was educated, intelligent, good looking, upper class…to put it bluntly, I was just better than he was.

But the station kid had a restlessness about him I recognized. I could see it in the way his eyes darted around, pupils dilated and flighty, like he was ready to take off at any second. And he never stopped moving. Like, he was afraid that if he stopped, the reality of his life’s situation would settle into his mind and he’d drop dead from the hopelessness of it all…

People like me and the station kid will take anything if it gets us out of our reality. I don’t even remember the last time I was truly sober.

Thank God.

It made what I did in my spare time, easier. Like a moral lubricant.

Which brings me back to Emmy. Sweet, pretty, dancing Emmy. According to her schedule, Thursday was her only day off.  This created a bit of a problem for me, since I teach Media Affairs in the morning and then again in the afternoon. I’d been by her place often enough lately to know that she usually went to bed early. “The ultimate good girl,” the station kid had said when he’d described her.

“Even good girls have a little bad in them,” I’d told him. “You’ve just gotta look deep enough.”

So, given Emmy’s propensity for early nights and my full class schedule, I had no choice but to try and fit my visit in sometime between it all.

It was difficult, but not impossible.

I drove up to her apartment, this time parking about ten feet away from the entrance to the complex. It was the first time I’d actually stopped and gotten out. All my other visits had been for recon purposes; seeing where she lived, checking out her habits, catching a glimpse of her in the window.

This would be my first time inside.

I was giddy with excitement.

The chase is always the best part. There are so many possibilities still, so many ways it can all play out. Nobody’s disappointed me yet. Once it’s over, I’m always left with a hollowness inside, because reality rarely lives up to the fantasy. And then there’s nothing left to look forward to. Until the next one.

So, I love the before.

Looking at myself in the rearview mirror, I adjusted my black-rimmed glasses and smoothed down my hair. I’d gone to the gym that morning, so my muscles were still taut under my white tee. I left my jacket in the car, because I thought I looked younger without it. Less old professor, more cool, older man.

I wanted her impressed, not afraid. Not yet.

Showing up unannounced and uninvited was risky. Today’s women are less trusting of strangers and assume everybody is a threat. Ted Bundy ruined this for us. Before him, no one would’ve ever expected someone like me to be anything other than what I looked like on the outside. What I chose to show people.

But Ted changed all that. He was good looking, smart, seemed normal enough. When people realized that a killer could look like a good guy, it made it harder for people like me to stay hidden. Now I have to work twice as hard to get my marks to trust me.

It was annoying, but a necessary evil of the job I suppose.

The fact that I’d done this dozens of times before without being caught just proved that I was better at it than most people.

Fuck you, Ted. I’m twice the man you thought you were.

My heart was racing as I stepped into the space right in front of Emmy’s door. As quietly as I could, I placed my hand on the doorknob and gave it a turn. I was surprised when I got no push back from the lock.

I smiled. She’d left it open for me.

Letting the latch slide back into place, I took a breath and knocked on the door. Not so hard that Emmy would be alarmed by it, but friendly and light. Experience had taught me there was a difference.

I glanced around the courtyard as I waited. There was nobody outside, no noise coming from any of the other apartments. I had to strain just to hear Emmy coming to the door.

The whole place seemed insulated.

When she opened the door, I smiled and said “hi, ” like I’d been there a thousand times before. Emmy didn’t hide her surprise at seeing me there, but she didn’t seem scared either. I waited for it to come, the panic that would encourage her to run, but it never did.

“Kyle,” she’d said, wrinkling up her forehead in confusion. “What are you doing here?”

Her tone wasn’t accusatory. More curious.

She was dressed in a long, flowy skirt that was completely see-through, only she wore black leggings underneath to make it appropriate. Her tight stomach lay bare, peeking out from underneath a cropped top and she was barefoot. Her hair was high up on her head, twisted and pinned into a messy bun.

She looked perfect.

I cleared my throat to hide my delight. “I really need help with something and you’re the only person I could think of to ask,” I’d said, flashing her a smile and my killer dimples.

Girls couldn’t resist the dimples.

Emmy giggled in response and stepped aside, welcoming me into her home.

“What do you need help with?” she’d asked.

I took in every detail of her living room before I’d even made it all the way inside. Everything screamed her. From the gently used couch to the crocheted blanket covering one of the chairs. Even the ballet barre that was in the corner and the mirror displayed behind it.

I sat down on one end of the couch, hoping she’d sit down next to me. But she continued on into the kitchen.

“You want something to drink?” she’d offered.

“Do you have a beer?” I’d asked, taking a chance.

“Sorry. Don’t drink,” she’d answered.

She was so good.

“Water’s fine then,” I’d answered. Didn’t matter. I’d lit up in the car ride over, so I already had a good buzz going anyway. The beer had been more to loosen Emmy up than it would’ve been for me.

She came back in with two waters and sat down in the chair across from me. It was the farthest she could’ve gotten from me while still being in the same room. This might’ve been offensive if she hadn’t then fixed her eyes on me with complete attention.

“You said you needed my help?” she’d asked, taking a sip of her water. A drop of condensation fell onto her midriff, but she barely noticed. I did, however, and crossed my legs uncomfortably, hiding my growing excitement.

“Yeah,” I’d said, thankful for the distraction. “Well, see, I’ve got a daughter named Sophia. She’s 8 years old…”

“I didn’t know you had a daughter,” Emmy had cut in, almost sounding disappointed.

“She lives with her mother most of the time,” I’d answered. “We’ve been divorced for five years now.”

“Oh,” she’d said, suddenly cheery again.

“Anyways, Sophia’s birthday is coming up and I have no idea what to get her,” I’d said, looking down at the ground sheepishly. “Her mom won’t tell me anything about her, what she likes, and you know how girls are…they don’t want to talk to their dad about this kind of stuff.”

Emmy nodded like she understood.

“Well, I was hoping you might go shopping with me? Help me pick something out? I’m just so clueless about this stuff and I don’t want her to have a bad birthday because of my lack of female intuition.”

I said this hoping she’d start to view me as one of the girls, someone she could trust. I wanted her to think I was helpless without her, that my little girl would have an awful birthday unless she helped me. I was manipulating her. I really just wanted her to get into a car with me.

She seemed to think this over, and for a second, I thought she would say yes. Then, we’d go off shopping for the afternoon, and eventually she’d want me to buy her something. Oh, she probably wouldn’t ask me outright to pay for it, but she’d find a bag or shoes or something shiny, and hem and haw over how beautiful/expensive/stylish it was and how broke she was. And then I’d feel obligated to buy it for her, because, after all, hadn’t she done me a favor by going shopping with me in the first place?

Yes. Yes she had.

But after a few seconds Emmy pressed her lips together and shifted her head to the side apologetically.

“Sorry Kyle, but I can’t. I’ve got chores to do around here and then I have to practice.” She’d pointed over at the mirrors on the wall. “Maybe get your daughter a Barbie or something? Don’t most girls like Barbies?”

Plot twist.

“That’s too bad,” I’d said, not letting her see how upset I really was about the rejection. “I really could’ve used the help. But it sounds like you’re busy. Anything I can help you with while I’m here?”

Here’s your chance, I thought. Ask me to fix your drain, cook you dinner, paint the bedroom…then the whole trip won’t have been for nothing.

But she shook her head. “No thanks. I think I can handle it myself,” she’d said. “But it was sure nice of you to ask!”

Then, with nothing left to say, Emmy stood up and walked me back to the door. I went along reluctantly, thanking her for the water and telling her we should hang out again sometime soon.

She agreed and then I was back at my car. Alone.

Interesting. A girl who likes me but doesn’t want something from me?

This just meant one thing.

I was going to have to try again.