Gone-Girl-by-Gillian-Flynn

etter.
‘No, I won’t take care of it. I do hope Nick dies for what he did to you,’ he
said. ‘In a sane society, he would.’
‘Well, we’re in an insane society, so I need to stay hidden,’ I said. ‘Do you
think that’s horrible of me?’ I already know the answer.
‘Sweetheart, of course not. You are doing what you’ve been forced to do.
It would be madness to do anything else.’
He doesn’t ask anything about the pregnancy. I knew he wouldn’t.
‘You’re the only one who knows,’ I say.
‘I’ll take care of you. What can I do?’
I pretend to balk, chew the edge of my lip, look away and then back to
Desi. ‘I need money to live on for a bit. I thought about getting a job, but—’
‘Oh, no, don’t do that. You are everywhere, Amy – on all the newscasts,
all the magazines. Someone would recognize you. Even with this’ – he
touches my hair – ‘new sporty cut of yours. You’re a beautiful woman, and
it’s difficult for beautiful women to disappear.’
‘Unfortunately, I think you’re right,’ I say. ‘I just don’t want you to think
I’m taking advantage. I just didn’t know where else to—’
The waitress, a plain brunette disguised as a pretty brunette, drops by, sets
our drinks on the table. I turn my face from her and see that the mustached
curious guy is standing a little closer, watching me with a half smile. I am off
my game. Old Amy never would have come here. My mind is addled by Diet
Coke and my own body odor.
‘I ordered you a gin and tonic,’ I say.
Desi gives a delicate grimace.
‘What?’ I ask, but I already know.
‘That’s my spring drink. I’m Jack and gingers now.’
‘Then we’ll get you one of those, and I’ll have your gin.’
‘No, it’s fine, don’t worry.’
The lookiloo appears again in my peripheral. ‘Is that guy, that guy with
the mustache – don’t look now – is he staring at me?’
Desi gives a flick of a glance, shakes his head. ‘He’s watching the …