Tracking Time

Fifty-seven

Brandy and David met in front of Bloomingdale's. On Thursdays the store was open until nine. Brandy wanted to have a makeover for the TV shows she was going to be on, but David was already waiting for her when she got off the bus on Lexington. She'd taken a bus because all she had was four dollars and an ATM card for an account that had no money in it. Her father was always at least two weeks late with the alimony checks just to make her mother angry, and her mother was a big spender. She always needed it bad. Right now Cheryl and she were penniless. It was no problem to live off the credit cards, but Cheryl had taken away Brandy's cards to punish her for lying, and Brandy hadn't had a chance to steal them back yet.

David crossed the street to meet her. She gave him a peck on the cheek the way Cheryl did with her boyfriend, Aston, and was disappointed that he didn't look happier to see her.

"What's the matter?" she asked, hoping he didn't think she was a dork for using public transportation.

"This sketchy-looking detective with cowboy boots asked my mom all kinds of questions about me. She's freaking out. She hates cops." He looked angry about it.

Brandy laughed. "He talked to my mom, too. She thought he was cool and asked him if he was single. Totally inappropriate as usual." Still laughing, Brandy grabbed his arm and steered him across the street. "Isn't this cool?"

"Tcheesh. Where are we going?"

"Bloomingdale's."

"Oh, no," he cried. "I can't stand that place."

"We can get something to eat in the restaurant there."

Brandy was excited. She went through Bloomingdale's revolving door, and glanced at the stairs leading down to the Lexington Avenue subway. Suddenly she got the idea that they could go downtown to the Village, hang out there. They could go to Queens or Brooklyn or the Bronx, or New Jersey. They could get on an Amtrak and take a train to Florida. She'd always wanted to do that. They could go on a killing spree across America like the ones in the movies. That would be better than being on TV. Mostly she wanted him to buy her a present to prove he loved her.

David hung back. "Look, I can't stay. My mom will kill me if she finds out I didn't go to my shrink."

"What does he do, call your mommy when you don't show up?" she teased. Inside the store, she stopped by the purses to study a Prada bag. She glanced at David to see if he'd buy it for her.

"Nah, he doesn't call. He doesn't give a shit." David wasn't thinking about the Prada bag. He was twitching all over, worried about his mother's mood. He didn't want to get yelled at.

A saleslady asked, "Can I help you?"

"I hate this place. Let's get out of here," he said.

"Okay, whatever." Disgusted, Brandy got on the escalator and they traveled up to the main floor. She got off and dawdled as much as she could in the vast cosmetic section, then the men's store. Finally, he dragged her out on Third Avenue. Sam Goody was across the street. Brandy thought he might buy her a few discs, but David couldn't handle the music store for more than thirty seconds, either. He wasn't in a buying mood.

"Come on, let's go," he said angrily. "I hate shopping."

"Buy me something," she urged.

"Why?"

"Because I want some new discs. You're my boyfriend. You're supposed to get me stuff."

"Fine, I'll get you a pizza. Then I have to go home."

"I don't see why." Sulky, Brandy followed him out.

David raised his hand and punched her lightly in the arm. "Better watch out. Like the talented Mr. Ripley, I can make anybody disappear."

"Yeah, right." She punched him back, not happy without the present.

"Two for dinner?" Inside California Pizza Kitchen, a girl who looked like she ate all the leftovers came over with two menus. She led the way up the stairs to the second floor, where David pointed at a corner table in the back.

They ordered.

"What did you do with the finger?" David asked.

"Oh, I forgot it."

"What do you mean you forgot it? I thought you were taking it with you for a souvenir."

"I was, but I dropped it."

"Now you tell me. I wanted that, you nut."

"You're the nut. You go to a psychiatrist."

"Yeah, but I don't need it. Half the time I don't even go. I'm really bummed about the finger."

Brandy leaned over the table and lowered her voice. "Okay, tell me."

He looked at his watch. "Tell you what?"

"How you killed him? Tell me everything."

"I punched him, then I kicked him. Then I strangled him," David said simply.

Brandy bounced in her chair. "It sounds cool. You're cool."

David turned around. Four tables were occupied but nowhere near them. "You know we could get fingers from the other two."

"This is true. We could, and we should. You fucked me over on the cave-dwellers."

"You're crazy. I didn't fuck you over."

"Yes, you did. You got spooked before the others were done. How am I supposed to trust you if you get scared so easily?"

He smacked the table. "Jesus, you know what happened. We had to go."

"All right, fine. We finish up tonight. You can get their fingers. Whatever." Brandy sulked. She'd done it with him, and he hadn't bought her a bag or a disc or anything. He was fucking her over. Killing one guy was not good enough. How was she going to go on TV as the girlfriend of a serial killer now? "I'll never trust you again," she muttered. He snorted in reply.

The waiter came with the pizza.

"Hurry up. I have to go home now, or I'll get in trouble," he said.

Boys! She shook her head. "You can't do this to me. You made a promise."

"So what?"

She put a slice of pizza on his plate and took one for herself. "If they find him, and he isn't dead, he'll tell. You don't want your mom to find out, do you?"

David shook his head. "You're a real pain in the ass. I said I'd finish it up tonight."

She looked at him with those big eyes. "I'll come with you," she said. She ate the first piece quickly and took two more.

"Yeah, thanks." He glanced at his watch again.

She stared at the pizza on his plate. "Aren't you going to finish this?"

He shook his head again. "I have to get home," he said softly.

"Why go home? Why not go from here." She took the last two slices of the pizza with a little smile. "If the cops come back, you won't get a chance to get out later."

"Okay, you're right. Let's do it now." He raised his hand for the bill.