There it was. That was all Amanda was to Zach. Another employee.
“They’re coming next week to fix the door and the alarm,” she said numbly.
And there she was: doing her job, the one that Zach could fire her from at any time. He could probably even take Case if he decided to leave her—or if she had the guts to leave him. After all, she was an unemployed high-school dropout. How stupid she had been. She couldn’t possibly tell Zach about her dad. What if he later tried to use it against her? Like in some kind of custody battle. Such a thing would already be a nightmare—Amanda had signed a draconian (the lawyer had quietly told her) prenuptial agreement. And Zach believed, maybe above all else, in vengeance. No, there was no way she could tell him about her dad.
“Whose house is this we’re going to again?” Zach asked as they approached the intersection of First Street and passed a group of cackling teens.
Zach liked to be prepared. That way he could pretend to be charming. He was good at it, provided there was something in it for him and it was for a limited period of time. Because Zach was onlyactinglike a normal person, and that took effort. In the end, maybe it wasonly this that he and Amanda had in common: the pretending.
“It’s Maude’s party. She owns a gallery. Her husband, Sebe, is a doctor,” Amanda said, trying to ignore the singed feeling in her chest. “Their daughter goes to Country Day, but she’s older than Case. She’s been having a hard time lately.”
Amanda wasn’t even sure why she’d added that, but to her surprise Zach slowed and looked at her, intrigued.
“What hard time?” he asked. Amanda didn’t like the idea of violating Maude’s confidence by telling Zach about Sophia. But on the rare occasion Zach did get interested in something, he’d sink his teeth in until he’d drawn blood. She’d be better off telling him something. At least the gossip would stop with him. He had no friends to share it with.
“Her daughter did something she regrets.”
“What’s that?” Zach asked, with a weird, laserlike focus.
“Some compromising photos, I guess,” Amanda said. “A teenage thing.”
“Oh.” Zach pulled his chin back and let out an exasperated huff as he finally walked on toward First Street. “There’s no accounting for stupidity.”
From the corner of Prospect Park West and First Street, Amanda could already hear giddy laughter and music floating up from Maude and Sebe’s backyard and filling the warm summer night. She closed her eyes for a moment and breathed in the distant sounds of joy.
“People are always worried about the wrong things—their bank accounts or their credit cards,” Zach went on, as if Amanda had asked. “No one thinks about the things that really make them vulnerable. That’s why I’m so careful about our information. That’s also why I’ve succeeded in business. I’ve always known what people need before they do.”
What an asshole her husband was. There really wasn’t anything more to it than that.
Just then a couple stumbled out Maude’s front door, laughinghysterically. They were a bit older than Zach and a lot older than Amanda, early fifties maybe. But they were attractive and fit and also very visibly tipsy. The woman had a hand over her mouth, and the man was flushed, and they were both laughing so hard they were gasping for breath. They each wore several leis, and the man had a huge beach ball squeezed under his arm.
“Stop, stop, stop,” the woman giggled to her husband.
“Come on,” her husband hissed. “Pull it together. Or we’ll never get out of here with this ball.”
They glanced in Amanda and Zach’s direction before feigning sobriety and making their way unevenly down the steps and onward toward Seventh Avenue. It wasn’t until seeing the couple that Amanda even remembered the “upstairs.” What if some unwitting party guest ended up explaining that to Zach? Talk about “risky connections.” Zach might tell everyone how dumb he thought they were right to their faces. Because Zach believed his opinions were facts, he never hesitated to deliver them directly. The truth, he believed, could never be insulting.
“There’s something you need to know before we go in,” Amanda said when Zach started toward the stairs with that noticeable gleam in his eye. “They, um, have an upstairs.”
Zach looked up at the four-floor brownstone. “I can see that.”
“No, I mean, they … swap partners. Upstairs,” she blurted out. “Not everybody. Not even most people, I don’t think. Only if you want. I mean, ifsomebodywants. Not you. I didn’t mean that.” She was blushing now. “I’m only telling you so you’re aware. It’s not a big deal.”
“Not a big deal?” Zach laughed. Hard and for about a minute. His face was flushed and he was pitched forward. “That’s truly hilarious,” he said, sighing to a stop. He looked up at the house for a moment more. “These people are full of … stupidity. Speaking of which, make sure you don’t tell anyone anything about the new company. I don’t want word of it getting out early and ruining the announcement.” He pointed a finger in Amanda’s face. “You wanted me to trust you,and I have. Don’t fuck it up.”
With that, Zach continued on up the steps. And Amanda was left standing there alone on the sidewalk, thinking about all the things a husband might have said at that moment to a wife when faced with the prospect of entering a sex party together. Things like:We should talk about this.What are our rules? We’re not doing that, right? Huh, what do we think?
They could have giggled together. They could have wondered. They could have been two people who shared in everything, even the unknown. But not Amanda and Zach.
Because there was nothey. There never had been. And there never would be.
Grand Jury Testimony
STEVE ABRUZZI,
called as a witness the 8th of July and was examined and testified as follows:
EXAMINATION
