Seven Women: An Erotic Private Investigation

Chapter 25…

I lie in my bed, thinking I shouldn’t be here. My body is clean; I just had a shower. I close my eyes and can’t sleep. I hear Sheila’s voice in my head, then Veronica’s; I want them both to go away.

The phone rings. I reach for it.

“Hello.”

“I had to call.”

“I know.”

“You knew I was going to call.”

“Sooner or later,” I tell my ex-wife, “I knew you would. It was in the air tonight.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t be calling.”

“I was just thinking of you.”

She says, “Why are you lying to me?”

“The truth. I was thinking of you, and I was thinking of a lot of other things. You know what I was really thinking about?”

“What?”

“Your little group,” I say. “You six women. I was thinking how great it is that you get together like that once a week and talk about things. Even with me there, you were all so open and honest. It was refreshing. I was thinking that there should have been someone with you, there should have been a seventh woman in your group. Veronica should’ve been there. If she’d had such a group—”

“Yes, I know,” she says.

I say, “I was thinking that Veronica would have gotten a kick out of Amelia’s wild stories. Amelia doesn’t really believe all that crap, does she?”

“Amelia needs some help before it gets worse,” Tasha says. “Wasn’t it obvious to you what she was really saying?”

“No.”

“And you call yourself a private eye! She told us about that guy, David, right? Well, he’s the one who got her pregnant. I don’t know if she really lived with David and his wife, maybe she did, but she’s never been able to face the truth about it. She was pregnant by a married man and the child was a still-birth.”

“Jesus.”

“So instead of dealing with the matter realistically, she makes up some crazy story about an alien and a spaceship and that her baby is really on some other planet. So she doesn’t have to feel the pain,” Tasha says. “Besides, it’s easier to talk about. Bullshit makes us cowards.”

“I see what you mean,” I say.

“She does need to see someone who can help her. The girls and I were going to bring this up to her soon. We were going to bring it up tonight, but you were there so maybe it’ll be next week—”

“I’d like to go next week—”

“No,” she says.

“—but I shouldn’t. I don’t belong.”

“You were a fluke. You had to be in the same bar, didn’t you?”

“Just a fluke.”

“I might suggest we not go to the same bar next week.”

“I get the hint,” I say.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to be harsh.”

“It’s not like I’m going to follow you or anything.”

“I didn’t call to fight,” she says.

“Why did you call?”

“I’m not sure.”

“You don’t want to say.”

“I don’t know how to say.”

“Just say it.”

“I don’t have any words.”

“You work in publishing. You have all the words in the world, all the words anyone would ever want or need.”

“Maybe,” she says. “Listen—”