When David Died: A True Story

  “Did I? Where’s your proof?”

  I grit my teeth. “You’re cocky now, but she’ll come to her senses. She’ll rat you out soon enough. You’re going to do hard time for this.”

  “We’ll see.”

  If I had any sense, I’d remain calm. But when it comes to my daughter, I’ll fight to the death. I may be too late to save her virginity, but I can certainly prevent this from happening again. All I have to do is…

  “You’re thinking about telling her who I am.”

  “Count on it,” I sneer.

  “It won’t matter,” she says. “Jess will take my side and you’ll only make things worse for yourself. If you try to break us up she’ll never forgive you.”

  “I’ll take my chances.”

  “Of course you will. It’s how you’ve lived your entire life.”

  “Fuck you, Nicki.”

  “Let’s not be rude, Alison. You came here for answers, so I’ll give you a few. Again, I’ll reiterate I never touched David. I wouldn’t do that, and you of all people should know that. And while I hate to keep repeating myself, I’ll say it once again: I never blackmailed him. I wasn’t trying to win David over, but he developed a massive crush on me, and you only have yourself to blame for that. If you’d been a better wife, he never would have looked my way. It makes me cringe to think he went through Michael’s phone searching for photos. I’m sure he wasn’t expecting to find nudity, but that’s probably what gave him the courage to pursue me.”

  “David has proven himself to be a despicable pig,” I say, “but you can’t pin his behavior on me. You know nothing about our relationship. He didn’t deserve it, but I was a wonderful wife. I was always there for him.”

  “Were you? Even while fucking his insurance agent?”

  “What?”

  “What do you think the insurance company would do if they knew you and Mr. Blass have been having a long-term affair? You think they might re-think your accidental death claim? I certainly do! And let’s not forget you and Michael are already on the record lying about David’s previous history of autoerotic activities.”

  “You can’t prove that.”

  “Maybe not, but I can cast some serious doubt. I’m no expert, Alison, but I think your affair could cause you some problems. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re the one doing prison time.”

  “Let’s get back on point: two million makes this go away? Makes you go away? Forever?”

  “Two million plus Jessie.”

  12.

  “I WON’T SELL my daughter.”

  “I’m not asking you to. I’m only asking that you allow her to see me.”

  “That’s child abuse. I’ll go to prison first.”

  “I hope that’s true, because if you’re in prison, there’ll be no one to keep us apart.”

  She’s right. That would be a double loss. So I ask, “How much would I have to pay you to walk away from Jessie?”

  “Wow. Now you sound like David.”

  I feel my face flush. “Hardly. According to you, David wanted you for himself.”

  “According to me? Look Alison, I’ll admit you’re extremely attractive for your age, and maybe you’re right. Maybe David’s interest in me had nothing to do with your shortcomings as a wife. But he absolutely offered me the money to have an affair, and I absolutely turned him down. And when I said I was going back to Michael, he told me to keep the money for our future. There was no affair and no blackmail.”

  “If you weren’t denying it so strongly, I might believe you.”

  Nicki nods. “I can see why you’d say that. And I’m not sure why it’s so important to me that you believe me. But if you don’t, I suppose there’s nothing more I can say to change your mind.”

  “Give me a number, Nicki. What will it take for you to break things off with Jessie, move away, and never contact us again?”

  “Five million dollars.”

  13.

  “FIVE MILLION? THAT’S impossible.”

  “I’m willing to entertain a counter offer.”

  “Two million five.”

  “Sorry.”

  As I look at her I remember something she said earlier that made me curious. “What were the exceptions?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You said you were completely honest with Broadus, with two exceptions. What were they?”

  “I told him I didn’t have a throwaway phone. I do. It’s in my suitcase. But unlike your throwaway phone, I’ve never used it.”

  “What’s the other lie?”

  “I kept the money.”

  “You didn’t transfer it to Michael?”

  “Of course not. That would make me liable for the gift taxes.”

  I smile. “Your first big mistake.”

  “You think?”

  “Broadus will find out. He assured you he was going to check out your story.”

  “He was bluffing. Like he told us in the lobby they gave him twenty-four hours to wrap the case. I suppose if you tell him I kept the money he might try to prove I was blackmailing David, but my version’s much stronger than his. And mine also happens to be true. Don’t forget: Broadus saw my photos on David’s phone. If I’d been fucking and blackmailing David, it’d be the other way around: I’d have photos of David and me on my phone.”

  “Look: you’ve already got $1.2 million. I’ll pay you $2.8 million more. That’s a cool $4 million. That’s half the insurance proceeds.”

  “It’s a pittance,” she says. “You’ll get $8 million from the insurance, tax free. The house and land are easily worth another $8 million, and I’m sure David’s business is worth at least $20 million, possibly twice that. Not to mention your cars, checking accounts, savings accounts, jewelry, personal effects, and his IRA and investment accounts. I’ll bet he owned more than one life insurance policy, too. I’d value his estate at forty to fifty million.”

  “You have no idea what he owns. He could be swimming in debt, for all you know.”

  “That’s possible,” she says, “but not likely. Because if David was swimming in debt he wouldn’t have offered me $1.2 million to have an affair.”

  She’s right of course. I stopped loving David years ago, but remained in the marriage for the sake of the kids and the lifestyle. Nicki’s valuation of $50 million is surprisingly close, but doesn’t include his inheritance. Then Nicki says, “And those numbers don’t even reflect his inheritance. I’m guessing that’s what, another hundred million?”

  “How do you know about that?”

  “Michael told me.”

  I frown. What a stupid thing to tell her…but of course he did. I’m sure he considered Nicki the catch of a lifetime and probably used that as bait early in the game.

  “I’m not sure why Michael told you that, but he’s way off base.”

  “You mean it’s more than a hundred million?”

  “Much less.”

  “Well, even if it’s only $50 million, the five I’m asking is still a tiny portion.”

  “Let’s be perfectly clear,” I say. “If I offer you $3.8 million, plus the $1.2 you’ve already got, you’ll walk away and expect nothing further? And you’ll break things off with Jess and never contact her again?”

  “No,” she says. “The $1.2 million I already have doesn’t enter into it.”

  “You’re saying you expect to get $6.2 million out of this?”

  “It’s a small price to pay to keep me out of your life, Alison. And Jessie’s.”

  I sigh. “Okay.”

  Her face registers surprise. “You’ll pay me the five million?”

  “No. I’ll agree to your first deal: I’ll pay you the two million and you can date Jessie when she turns sixteen.”

  14.

  NICKI’S EYES GROW wide. “So you are willing to sell your daughter!”

  “Don’t be absurd. I’m just being practical. Like you said, if I refuse to let her see you, she’ll sneak out behind my back anyway, and when I find out,
we’ll fight, I’ll punish her, and she’ll resent me. The harder I try to keep you apart the more she’ll want to see you. But you know what? Jessie’s smart. If I let her see you, no strings attached, she’ll come to the conclusion she’s more in love with the idea of you than being with you.” She pauses. “But I do have one condition: my blessing will be contingent on Jessie agreeing to finish high school.”

  “That’s it?”

  “What else is there? It’s not like I’ll have any control when she turns eighteen. She’ll have her inheritance and will probably wind up a bum.”

  “I have to say I’m surprised you’d offer Jessie up like this.”

  “I gave you my reasons, but here’s another: I despise what you’re doing, but if you’re willing to give up $3 million just to date her, your feelings must be genuine. And given the choice between dating you or getting knocked up by some pimply asshole who doesn’t give a shit about her, I’ll choose you in a heartbeat.”

  Nicki studies me for several seconds. Then says, “I see what you’re up to.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You’re gonna give me and Jess enough rope to hang ourselves.”

  “That’s a particularly ugly and thoughtless comment.”

  “Personally, I thought it was clever, and apt as hell. Because I think you intend to hire a private detective to catch us in the act. Then you’ll give the evidence to the police, and with any luck, I’ll go to prison.”

  “Not true, Nicki. I’m being completely sincere.”

  “There’s a way to prove it.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Go to court and have Jess emancipated. Furnish a written statement saying she has your permission to live with me after she turns sixteen.”

  “Live with you?”

  “Just when school’s out: summers, fall break, winter break…”

  “If I do that, you’ll keep your mouth shut?”

  “I will if you will.”

  “Michael can’t know about this. I mean, about you.”

  “Of course not. But he’s also not going to approve of me banging his sister, so you’ll have to find a way to keep him from harassing us.”

  “Any suggestions?”

  “No. And I’d say you’ve got an uphill battle.”

  “I agree. But just to be clear: if Jessie changes her mind at any point and wants to end the relationship you’ll abide by the terms of our agreement?”

  “Absolutely. I must say, you’re putting a lot of trust in Jessie to change her mind about loving me.”

  “It’s simple math, Nicki. She’s fifteen, and you’re what, twenty-two?”

  “Twenty-three.”

  “She’ll change her mind. And if I’m wrong, at least I’ll know she’s happy.”

  “What about holidays?” Nicki says.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Jess won’t know who I am and she won’t know about our agreement. She loves me, remember? She’ll expect me to visit from time to time during the school year. Not to mention Christmas, birthdays, cookouts, other family events.”

  “Surely you don’t expect Michael and me to—”

  “I don’t see how you’ll be able to keep her from inviting me. Or how I’ll be able to refuse her invitations. Remember, your agreement with her—other than attending high school—is no-strings.”

  I think about that, then take a deep breath. “Okay, you win. I’ll pay the five million.”

  “It’s insignificant compared to the estate,” she says.

  I can see it on Nicki’s face: she thinks she kicked my ass just now. Yes, we went around and around, and in the end I paid her full price. But she didn’t beat me, I was willing to pay her five million from the start. But David taught me long ago that people like to haggle, and like to walk away from a negotiation thinking they got the better end of the deal. Nicki’s right: $5 million is a pittance relative to David’s estate, but I still wanted to make her work for it. Now that she’s happy with the deal she struck, she’ll get the hell out of our lives once and for all, and I saved a ton of money. Because this will not only keep Nicki’s hands off Jessie’s body, but also her inheritance. So good riddance, Nicki Hill. I hope you die a horrible death.

  Part Three:

  David Thorne

  1.

  Yesterday Morning

  COULD THERE BE anything more humiliating than having Alison come home two hours from now to find me naked, swinging from a rope, covered in ejaculate, after masturbating to babysitter porn?

  If there is, I can’t think of it.

  But apart from mortifying the shit out of her, which she deserves, I’m practically guaranteeing my family will get an extra $7 million from my various accidental death policies and double indemnity life riders if I happen to die.

  My only concern is the embarrassment this type of death would cause Jessie. Thankfully, she won’t have to see me like that, since Alison will shield her from the view. But it’s bound to have an effect on her, especially at school, where whispers and rumors will run rampant. But apart from the monetary benefit, I’d justify it this way: one, it will make Jessie stronger. Two, high school kids get bored quickly, and within months my death will be old news. Three, this is a rock-star way to die, and since you never know how her age group will react to scandal, she’s just as apt to become famous from it. Maybe she’ll be the next Kardashian.

  Of course, that’s if I die, which is worst-case scenario.

  While tying the slip knot, I can’t help but think about Nicki, and how things got to this point:

  2.

  In Retrospect

  IN RETROSPECT, I realize Nicki was setting me up from the very first visit. You know how some teenage girls—like Jessie’s friend Holly—are natural flirts? Give these young ones three years to perfect their craft, and by 18 they’re accomplished prick-teasers. From there, a scant few will continue practicing what works, discarding what doesn’t, until they’ve elevated flirting to an art form.

  Start there, add fashion sense, personality, and stunning beauty, and you’ll approximate the Nicki Hill I met fifteen months ago. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was a sitting duck, waiting to have my feathers plucked.

  For me, it was all about Michael that first day, and I was so excited for him I somehow overlooked or dismissed what I now realize was her concerted effort to win me over. Looking back on our interactions now, it seems so obvious: she hugged me enthusiastically the day we met and hugged me hello and goodbye every time thereafter. These weren’t friendly, innocent side-ways hugs, but full-frontal ones that included pressing her body into mine just enough for me to experience the swell of her breasts, engage with the scent of her cologne, and appreciate her signature move of holding the hug a full second longer than necessary.

  Whenever I caught her staring at me she’d widen her eyes as if asking if there’s something I wanted to say. Whenever I spoke she paid rapt attention, making me feel special, important, and interesting.

  They say married men fantasize about having affairs with gorgeous women, but the meaningful, lasting affairs require women who shower them with the attention and affection they can no longer get from their wives. Beauty apart, Nicki exuded empathy and the desire to care for others. I saw it in the way she was attentive to Michael, and in the way she gave me total respect and hung on my every word. I saw it in the way she asked Alison about cooking and social graces, and especially in the way she insisted on having in-the-room, behind-the-door alone time with Jessie whenever she came to visit.

  From all appearances, Nicki was the perfect woman.

  And when she pounced, I never saw it coming.

  3.

  First Visit

  MICHAEL AND NICKI are here for the weekend, their third visit, and I feel like an idiot admitting this, but before they arrived I looked out the window several times hoping to catch sight of her. It’s been a month since I’ve seen her and I wanted to watch her exit the car, see what she’s wearing, wa
nted to note her expression as she approached the door. At the risk of sounding like a voyeur, I love staring at her when she’s unaware, and enjoy seeing her move through the world even as I try to picture what it would be like to wake up beside her.

  Nicki arrived at our doorstep on Michael’s arm late last August, and we sat on the kitchen barstools for a solid hour getting to know her before Alison said, “We thought we’d barbecue tonight, if that’s okay with you.”

  “I’d love that!” Nicki said.

  “Plenty of time for a swim, if you’re interested. Did you bring a suit?”

  “I did,” she said, and boy, did she!

  Alison saw her first, and abruptly located me in the kitchen and said, “Try not to step on your tongue when you see her.”

  “Who?”

  She frowned and walked outside, and I couldn’t get out to the patio fast enough. Knowing Alison was eyeing me like a hawk, I didn’t get to leer, but I saw what I needed to see. Jessie saw it too and abruptly announced, “I’m never eating ice cream again!”

  That weekend Nicki was the perfect guest. She was up for anything, never lost her smile, insisted on pitching in, and took a genuine interest in our family, learning our hobbies and what each of us considered important in our lives. And she accomplished all this without giving the impression she was sucking up or trying too hard to make a good impression. Though she found a way to give us all quality time, including Michael, she spent more time with Jessie than anyone else, and—crazy as it sounds—we could see Jessie transforming into a better kid hour by hour.

  By Saturday night Jessie’s patented eye-rolling, sullen attitude, and snarky comments had vanished. She was sitting up straight, dressing well, carrying herself with poise, talking to us as if she genuinely cared what we were saying.

  On Sunday morning Alison was annoyed she had to call the girls to breakfast three times, but when they finally came bounding into the kitchen giggling like eight-year-olds, Nicki announced: “Come see what we’ve done!” They led us up the stairs to Jessie’s room, opened the door, and left us standing with gaping mouths: they’d gotten up at the crack of dawn and spent hours rearranging Jessie’s furniture and cleaning her room from top to bottom.