"To make you see reason. Who else would go to all this trouble, except somebody who loved you?"
"But ... the congressman? I don't understand."
He laughed. "Oh, yeah, that was interesting. I learned a lesson there. I've stopped posting things online. That's how Simesky found out about you and me. You didn't believe me when I said the whole world was trying to exploit you."
You and me ...
"But something good came out of that. I did see somebody outside my house on Saturday night. It was Simesky or that Babbage woman but at the time I thought it was just kids. But that got me thinking. I'd set it up so that it looked like Alicia had been spying on me. I planted some evidence that'd make the police think she was the stalker. Sometimes it's lucky how things work."
Then Edwin grew impatient. He looked at her hair, her breasts, her legs. "Well, come on. You know what it's time for." He glanced toward the rumpled bed, beside which was a Bose iPod player. "You see that? I've got fifty of your concerts I recorded. I have a nice recorder. I saved up to buy it. We'll play your concerts while we, you know...." His face blossomed with concern. "Oh, don't worry. Yeah, I recorded them but I never sold the songs or shared them with anybody. It was just for me ... and now for us."
"Please, no, Edwin. Please."
He stared at her hair, then leaned against the kitchen sink. "You shouldn't be so ... you know, standoffish. I did you a favor. Fred Blanton was a shit who stole your music. And Alicia, well, she probably did want your career. And Sheri? Oh, please. You deserve a better stepmother than her. She's a store clerk who got lucky with Bishop. She's not worthy of you, Kayleigh. They deserved to die. And Bobby? All he wanted to do was fuck you." And once more he stared at her, awaiting confirmation of her infidelity.
Then he seemed to control himself.
She said, "At least, let me clean up? Just a shower please. I don't feel comfortable like this."
"I don't think so."
She snapped, "And you say you're Mr. Today? Bullshit. I just want to take a fucking shower and you won't let me?"
He frowned. "All right. Only don't say words like that. Don't ever say words like that again."
"All right, I won't."
"You can take a shower. But you know I have the only keys and there're no weapons here. And all the windows are barred."
"I figured that. I really just want to clean up."
He undid the cuffs and she rubbed her wrists.
Shoulders slumped, she walked through the narrow space into the bathroom.
"Oh, Kayleigh. Wait."
She stopped and turned. He was awkward. Was his face reddening? "About that woman I was telling you about. The one in Seattle. You don't have to be jealous. It wasn't serious between us. I never slept with her. Really. Honest."
Kayleigh could see he was lying but what shocked her was that he seemed honestly to believe that his fidelity was important to her.
He smiled. "Hurry back, love." And he walked into the bedroom to wait.
Chapter 75
EDWIN COULDN'T DECIDE which of her songs was his favorite.
But then he realized that that debate was a clunker, another of his mother's terms. It was like you didn't have a favorite kind of food, you liked everything (well, he did, at any rate--he would have weighed three hundred pounds if Kayleigh hadn't been in his life to keep him trim).
He clicked the air conditioner on a little higher--with the camouflage tarp covering the trailer it was beastly hot inside. But he still kept the temperature warm. Kayleigh, he'd noticed before she headed to the shower, had been sweating. The beads on her skin had turned him on even more. He imagined licking her temples and scalp and grew even more aroused. It had been okay fucking Sally, with Kayleigh Towne's voice singing through the speakers, but this would be a thousand times better.
The real thing.
Hey, that was a pretty good title for a song. "The Real Thing." He'd mention it to her. He had this idea that they could write songs together. He'd come up with the words and she'd write the melodies.
Edwin was good with words.
He thought again: Wedding afternoon. Not wedding night. Afternoon.