Dead Politician Society

Chapter 82: Matthew

Rain pummeled down from the dark afternoon sky. The roof of Matthew’s car was leaking in two places. Drips of rusty water trickled onto the seat cushions.

His phone rang. He touched the handsfree button clipped to his visor.

“Matthew? It’s Clare.”

“Hello.” He hoped this wasn’t goodbye. “It’s great to hear your voice.”

“I…um…I’m dropping out of school. I wanted to tell you in person. Well, not in person, but in real life voice, not email. You know what I mean.”

He turned the radio off. “But you’re more than halfway through your degree.”

“My dad’s sick. I think I told you that. It’s eating me up not being with him and my mom through it all. When I heard Jessica’s devotion to her father, it made me realize what an unforgiving bitch I’ve been.”

“Where do your parents live?”

“Up north. I thought of commuting to class. It’s not even a two hour drive. But I’d be spread too thin. Better I take this year off and go back to school once…” Her voice trailed off. She was either a great actress or there was some truth in her story.

“Can I visit you up north?” Matthew heard himself ask. This was nuts. He’d only known her for two weeks—one of which he’d loathed her, and both of which she’d been lying about her entire identity.

“No,” Clare said. “I think this is goodbye.”

Of course it was. And she was right.

Still, he said, “I’m here if you change your mind. Or if you want to talk.”

“Thanks, Matthew. And thanks again for, well, those nights we spent together. Those will make some awesome memories for me.”

He smiled. “For me, too.”

“Bye.”

He turned the radio back up. Jessica Dunne, Utopia Killer was the top story of the day.

He moved to change to a music station, but his sleeve caught the edge of his coffee lid and the full, steaming cup was thrown all over the passenger seat. He grabbed some napkins from the center console and mopped it up as best as he could with one hand on the wheel.

He dreaded what waited at the courthouse.

His phone rang again. Annabel. He turned the radio back down.

“Hey there.” He injected his voice with as much warmth as he could. “Are you calling for a nooner?”

“No. I’m probably going to break up with you.”

What the hell? This car ride was doomed. Matthew was tempted to drive the piece of junk straight to the scrap yard.

“On the phone?” he said.

“It’s nothing personal. And no—that’s not why I called. But I’ve been reading this book and I think I understand you now.”

“What book? Give me a chance to defend myself at least.”

“No,” she said. “You’re just not that into me.”

“Annabel!” Why today, of all days?

“I’m not angry. I’ll find someone who is.”

“Someone who’s angry?”

“Someone who’s into me.”

“I’m completely into you. I’m not seeing anyone else. We can be exclusive if you want.”

“If I want.” She gave a small, sad laugh. “I want to be with someone whose world is wrapped up in mine. That isn’t you. So I think we should break things off.”

Matthew sighed. “So why did you call?”

“I was hoping you were free sometime this afternoon. I’m kind of fired.”

“I’m so sorry. What happened?”

“It’s kind of amazing.” Annabel was gushing. “I mean, I’ll have to figure out my finances. Hard and fast. I’ll have to get another job soon. But I have a book deal offer, kind of all of a sudden, and it involves an in-depth interview with you.”

“You signed a book deal?”

“Not signed yet. I have to find an agent to deal with the contract. But yeah, it looks good. Like, really good. Jessica’s agreed to take part, to have her real story told. I don’t need to interview you right this minute. But I’m rushing with all this nervous energy. I thought maybe we could grab some lunch? You could come to my apartment and we could go from there.”

Her apartment. That could work. If she was still willing to be friends, he could even take the slow and courtly approach back into her bed.

He’d been en route to visit Jessica, but Annabel came first. He changed lanes somewhat precariously to make a left onto Bay Street.

“Hey, whenever works for you is fine,” she said when he hadn’t responded out loud for several moments. “I have tons I can do in the meantime to keep myself busy.”

“Are you kidding? I’ll be right there. I’m going to stop and grab a coffee first. What should I get for you? That half-caf, half-soy, half-skim thing you’re always torturing those poor baristas with?”

“I’m flattered you remember,” she said. “But today I’ll take whole milk. I’m burning calories way too fast to bother counting them.”