Fool Me Twice

14

Ryan followed Marisol’s black Range Rover as it pulled through the gates into the driveway of her Beverly Hills mansion. He’d been parked down the street, waiting for her, sailing on a crystal meth high.

She had stopped taking his calls, and it had occurred to him that this might be his only opportunity to speak with her.

By the time Marisol saw him approaching, it was too late for her to reach the house or get back into her car.

He grabbed her arm.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “You gave me no choice.”

“Let go of me,” she said, trying to wrest herself free.

“I want you to forgive me,” he said, tightening his grip.

“You’re frightening me, Ryan.”

“That’s not my intention.”

“Let go of me.”

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

He let her go.

She stepped backward, massaging her arm.

“I know things haven’t gone well with us,” he said. “I did things I’m ashamed of. I beg your forgiveness.”

“My forgiveness?”

“Yes.”

“Come off it, Ryan.”

“No, I mean it.”

“What do you really want?”

“I want us to be friends.”

“Friends? How could you even think such a thing?”

She glared at him. He reached over and caressed her face. She cringed.

“I need a favor,” he said.

She didn’t say anything.

“I want to leave California. I want to start fresh. In New York.”

“What’s stopping you?”

“I’m broke.”

“That’s not my problem.”

“I know,” he said, growing agitated. “But I’m asking you to help me.”

“Help you how?”

“I need twenty-five thousand dollars. To get me to New York. To get me settled there. To allow me to live while I start over.”

“You want me to give you twenty-five thousand dollars?”

“Yes.”

She didn’t say anything.

“We had some good times, Marisol. We even loved each other. What’s done is done. Just this one favor. Please. I’ll never bother you again.”

She thought about it.

“All right,” she said.

“You’ll give me the money?”

“Yes.”

“Now?”

“I don’t keep that kind of cash around.”

“You could write me a check.”

“All right,” she said, after a moment.

She reached into her purse, took out her checkbook, and wrote one for twenty-five thousand dollars. She handed it to him.

He looked at it. He put it in his pocket.

“Please leave now,” she said.

He nodded.

He turned and walked to his car. “Thank you,” he said, looking back to her. But by then she had made it safely into the house.