Dead Sexy
Page 4
Chapter 4
I had learned my lesson. Marilyn had explained it all. She’d been taking acting lessons instead of going to sweaty yoga, and she didn’t want to tell me because they were expensive. That’s why she had gone to that neighborhood—a famous person’s acting seminar. She’d just parked at the wrong house is all.
She flipped her long ponytail over her shoulder, and I experienced a momentary qualm. But bad things happen when you don’t trust your wife, and I was ready to forget about the whole thing (as much as Spense was going to let me). But then Marilyn started acting weird.
I tried ignoring it for a few days, but things kept getting weirder. So I texted Spense. When I didn’t get an answer, I called but just got his voicemail. Then I remembered that it was Spense’s spa day.
“Hey Spense, this is Rick—again. I know you’re getting a pedicure or something, but I’m really worried about Marilyn. She’s doing really weird stuff...yeah. Give me a call back.”
About an hour later, I got a call.
“Dude, I’m at the spa, and it is not relaxing to have my phone keep going off.”
“Spense, I’m telling you, there is something wrong with Marilyn. She’s eating chicken wings.”
“So? Those were some kick-ass chicken wings.” Spense had been over watching the game a couple of nights ago, and we’d made a batch of our special hot wings.
“You know Marilyn is vegan.”
“Dude, why are you being paranoid about everything Marilyn does? Nothing is going on except you are a freak. She should be more worried about you falling into pools and getting arrested.”
“It’s not that, Spense, or not right now anyway. She was eating raw chicken wings. Raw.”
There was silence on the line as Spense considered this or got his eyebrows waxed.
“I bet it is just some crazy new actor diet.”
“The RAW chicken wing diet?”
“Yeah, dude. It’s low carb. I bet it was in Sunset magazine.”
“Okay. Well then how do you explain the dirt? She started putting dirt in our bed.”
There was a pause. “Clearly a European body treatment. It’s probably dirt from the Dead Sea. That stuff is great for your pores—”
“—That’s not the weirdest thing, though,” I interrupted, heading Spense off before he could get lost in one of his favorite topics—spa treatments.
“Yeah, because you’re the weirdest thing.”
“No, listen. She keeps repeating words over and over again.”
“Like what words?” Spense asked.
"Like last night she was watching a Law and Order marathon, and then in the middle of the night I found her shambling around the house saying, “Order...order” over and over.
“Dude. Shambling?”
“Yeah, it’s like sleep-walking—”
“—But really, shambling?”
“Is that really what you are going to focus on right now?”
“Yes, because who says ‘shambling?’”
“Why can’t you just take this seriously? I’m really worried.”
“Because it isn’t serious, Rick. Stop being such a girl.”
“—says the man getting his legs waxed.”
“It’s called AERODYNAMICS.” I heard a lot of rustling for a minute, and then the tone of Spense’s voice changed. I overheard him say in a muffled voice, like he was covering the speaker of the phone with his hand. “Thanks, Greta. Give me a minute before we start the salt scrub.”
“Rick, look,” Spense continued. He sounded like he was actually talking into his phone now. “I know you think Marilyn is too good for you, but she doesn’t think that. She’s known you almost as long as I have, so it isn’t like she didn’t know what she was getting into. Marilyn is not having an affair. Marilyn is fine. You are overreacting.”
I wanted to tell him that he wasn’t understanding me. I was getting a little annoyed with everyone not listening to me. But that was when Marilyn walked into the living room dressed for a run—with a knife sticking out of her stomach.