She was under no illusions about the nature of their relationship. Carl had taken an interest in her because she looked good at the lingerie fashion show where they’d met three months ago. It didn’t take long after that first meeting for him to find out what was under that lingerie or for her to get the spare key or the other perks that came along with it. But she was well aware that if she wanted to keep her human slot machine dropping coins, she needed to keep him happy.
It wasn’t that much of a burden anyway. While Carl was nearly thirty years older than Kelly, who had just turned twenty-three, spending intimate time with him wasn’t objectionable. He was good looking, in a distinguished, Scent of a Woman–era Al Pacino kind of way. Kelly loved that movie.
And he was in solid shape for a man his age, a result of what she knew was a pretty intense workout regimen. In fact, he’d lost a few pounds since they started spending time together, which she attributed to his desire to impress her.
Sometimes she imagined that he’d leave his wife and she could finally stop sneaking around. But Carl had warned her that if Mrs. Landinghag ever found out about them, the party would be over. Apparently, despite his job as a television executive, she was far richer than him. It was her house. She owned three of their four cars and their boat. She leased the private jet that currently had her spending an extra week in Manhattan.
But all those were worries for another time. Once Carl arrived and they got reacquainted, she could move her car into the garage until his wife returned. She could lounge around the house naked if she wanted. She could lie out on the beach or borrow Carl’s boogie board. It was like she would be on vacation, even though her tiny Culver City apartment was only a dozen miles away.
She giggled excitedly at the thought of it as she made her way down the long hallway to the master bedroom. She was just about to walk in when she heard what sounded like a soft groan. Or was it a snore? Unsettled but curious, she peeked around the corner and saw someone sleeping in the bed, turned away from her.
She was slightly startled by the sight. Had Carl already arrived? Why hadn’t he called to tell her? And couldn’t he stay awake long enough to see her? That hag of a wife must have really worn him out for him to crash in the afternoon.
She decided to sneak over and give him a wake-up surprise. Tiptoeing over as carefully as possible while wearing stilettos, she made her way around the bed. Carl had the covers over his head. Kelly carefully grabbed hold of them, ordering herself not to laugh and ruin the prank, and then ripped them off the bed completely.
The man startled into consciousness, looking up at her with initially sleepy eyes that suddenly opened wide with shock. It wasn’t Carl. Kelly screamed, first in fear, then in embarrassment as she stumbled back, nearly losing her balance.
For half a second, as her heart dropped into her stomach, Kelly wondered if she was in the wrong house. But she dismissed the thought immediately. This was the right home. It was hard to confuse with any others. And her key had worked.
She toggled between fear and confusion, afraid of this random dude in Carl’s bed but not wanting to overreact. She tried to be logical. Had Carl invited a friend to stay while he was gone and forgotten to tell her? It wouldn’t be unlike him. He was absent-minded and she knew he had lots of buddies from out of town that he let crash at his place. And this guy was clean-cut, decent looking, and wearing silk pajamas. He certainly seemed to have made himself at home.
She gulped hard, trying to regroup and hide her embarrassment.
“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I thought you were Carl. I had no idea he had a houseguest.”
The guy eyed her from head to toe, taking in her skimpy outfit, heels and all. He didn’t look drowsy anymore. She suddenly realized how exposed she was and her embarrassment doubled.
“I’m just going to go back to the other room and wait there,” she said as he started to sit up. “No need to get out of bed. Again, I’m really sorry for the mix-up.”
She turned and hurried toward the door.
“Wait,” he called out.
She turned around, hugging herself as if that might offer some kind of modest cover.
“Yes?”
“I love your stockings.”
“Thanks,” she said, unsure if she should continue this awkward conversation or just leave. Finally she asked, “How do you know Carl?”
He stood up and stretched. As he did, she realized that the pajamas he wore were Carl’s. Strange to wear someone else’s bed clothes.
“I have no idea who that is,” he lied, the sleep now completely gone from his eyes.
For a moment, Kelly’s brain short-circuited. This man said he did not know Carl. But he was in his house, praising her pantyhose. Kelly felt a cold shiver run up her spine. And then, when the man began walking quickly toward her, she screamed.
She turned around and ran as quickly as she could down the hall to the top of the stairs. But as she reached them, her left heel broke. She lost her balance and began to tumble. She threw up her arms to try to protect herself but it didn’t help.
The momentum sent her slamming into the side wall like a pinball and then across the stairs into the balusters on the other side. Somewhere along the way she hit her head hard. By the time she got to the bottom stair, she was disoriented and sure she’d broken some part of her left leg.
Ignoring the confusion, pain, and the sound of the footsteps coming down the stairs behind her, she grabbed the handrail and tried to pull herself upright. She was almost standing when the man caught up to her and pushed her to the floor. She landed heavily on the marble and found that she was unable to get up. She felt woozy and weak. The man walking toward her looked blurry.
She tried to crawl away but found that her right arm wasn’t working properly. Then he was on her, pinning her down as he pulled the stocking off her right leg, the one that wasn’t bent in an unnatural direction. Then he moved up so that he was sitting on her ribcage. He took the stocking, wrapped it around her neck twice, and began to squeeze.
She tried to yell for help but only a hoarse rasp came out. Until now, she’d been so desperate to escape that the fear hadn’t fully taken hold. But now it did. Despite the agony of her multiple injuries and the feeling of drowning that being choked caused, she was overcome with sweaty clamminess as terror overcame her.
She shook her body wildly in the hope that it might dislodge her attacker but he didn’t seem even slightly fazed. She tried to scratch at his eyes with her working hand but he appeared oblivious, merely closing them.
She sensed the strength leaving her body and looked around for anything to defend herself. One stiletto rested just feet away from her. But it was on the same side as her broken right arm. Besides, she didn’t think she had the wherewithal to swing it, even if she could have grabbed it.
As her vision got blurrier, she thought she was hearing things. A loud metallic sound rang in her ears. It was strangely familiar. And then, in a flash, she knew it was real. The sound was the garage door opening. Carl was home. But then, in what would be her last fully formed thought, she realized something else: he wouldn’t get to her in time.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
An hour and a half after leaving Carlos Fogata, Jessie and Ryan were back at the beach.