Shafer smiled and nodded blithely. He loved this—the flowing tears, his perfect little family in pain. He savored each exquisite moment of their suffering. He’d managed to turn the dinner into a tantalizing game, after all.
At quarter to nine he kissed Lucy and started off on his “constitutional,” as he called his nightly disappearing act. He went out to the Jag and drove a few blocks to Phelps Place, a quiet street without many lights.
He took liberal doses of Thorazine and Librium, then injected himself with Toradol. He took another Xanax.
Then he went to his doctor’s.
Chapter 59
SHAFER DIDN’T LIKE the arrogant, asshole doormen at Boo Cassady’s building, and they didn’t like him, he decided.
Who needed their approval, anyway? They were shiftless, lazy incompetents, incapable of doing much more than holding open doors and offering up ingratiating smiles to fat-cat tenants.
“I’m here to see Dr. Cassady,” Shafer announced to the familiar black wanker with Mal jauntily pinned on his lapel. It was probably there so that he wouldn’t forget his own name.
“Right,” said Mal.
“Isn’t that ‘Right, sir’?”
“Right, sir. I’ll ring up Dr. Cassady. Wait right here, sir.”
He could hear Boo through the doorman’s staticky phone receiver. She had no doubt left explicit instructions that he be let up immediately. She certainly knew he was coming—they’d talked during the car ride from his house.
“You can go up now, sir,” the doorman finally said.
“I’m fucking her brains out, Mal,” Shafer said. He waltzed to the elevators with a grin. “You watch that door now. Don’t let anyone take it.”
Boo was in the hallway to meet him when the elevator cruised to a stop on ten. She was wearing at least five thousand dollars’ worth of clothes from Escada. She had a great body, but she looked like a bullfighter or a marching-band leader in the gaudy outfit. No wonder her first two husbands had divorced her. The second husband had been a therapist and treating M.D. Still, she was a good, steady mistress who gave much better than she got. More important, she was able to get him Thorazine, Librium, Ativan, Xanax. Most of the drugs were samples from drug-company representatives; her husband had left them behind when they’d split. The number of “samples” left by the drug reps amazed Shafer, but she assured him it was common practice. She had other “friends” who were doctors, and she hinted to Shafer that they helped her out in return for an occasional fuck. She could get all the drugs he needed.
Shafer wanted to take her right there in the hall, and he knew Boo would like the spontaneity and the passion that were so clearly missing from her life. Not tonight, though. He had more basic needs: the drugs.
“You don’t look too happy to see me, Geoff,” she complained. She took his face in her manicured hands. Christ, her long, varnished red nails scared him. “What happened, darling? Something’s happened. Tell Boo what it is.”
Shafer took her in his arms and held her tightly against his chest. She had large soft breasts, great legs, too. He stroked her frosted blond hair and nuzzled her with his chin. He loved the power he had over her—his goddamned shrink.
“I don’t want to talk about it just yet. I’m here with you. I feel much better already.”
“What happened, darling? What’s wrong? You have to share these things with me.”
So he made up a story on the spot, acted it out. Nothing to it. “Lucy claims she knows about us. God, she was paranoid before I started to see you. Lucy always threatens to destroy my life. She says she’ll leave me. Sue for what fucking little I have. Her father will have me fired, then blackball me in the government and in the private sector, which he’s perfectly capable of doing. The worst thing is, she’s poisoning the children, turning them against me. They use the same belittling phrases that she does: ‘colossal failure,’ ‘underachiever,’ ‘get a real job, Daddy.’ Some days I wonder whether it isn’t true.”
Boo kissed him lightly on the forehead. “No, no, darling. You’re well thought of at the embassy. I know you’re a loving dad. You just have a bitchy, mean-spirited, spoiled-rotten wife who gets you down on yourself. Don’t let her do it.”
He knew what she wanted to hear next, so he told her. “Well, I won’t have a bitchy wife for much longer. I swear to God I won’t, Boo. I love you dearly, and I’m going to leave Lucy soon.”
He looked at her heavily made-up face and watched as tears formed and ruined her look. “I love you, Geoff,” she whispered, and Shafer smiled as if he were pleased to hear it.
God, he was so good at this.
Lies.
Fantasies.
Role-playing games.
He unbuttoned the front of her mauve silk blouse, fondled her, then carried her inside to the sofa.
“This is my idea of therapy,” he whispered hotly in Boo’s ear. “This is all the therapy I need.”