The Better Liar(76)

Leslie took her hand away. “You got lipstick on me,” she said, studying her palm.

“Are we breaking in right now?”

She wiped her hand against her arm and carried the bottle of wine over to the table. “Not exactly.”

“Not exactly?” I raised my eyebrows, trailing after her.

“Dave knows the homeowner,” Leslie said, pulling out a chair as soundlessly as possible. The wind had pulled strands of hair from her bun, which lifted in unison around her face as she sat and pulled the cork out of the lip of the bottle. “She rents this place out for Airbnb, which is against the neighborhood bylaws, but Dave agreed to let people in and out occasionally in exchange for her letting him use the pool when the place is unoccupied in the summer.” Leslie shrugged and took a sip directly from the bottle. “I don’t think anyone’s here right now, but let’s not draw attention.”

    I sat down beside her. “Do you come here by yourself?”

“No.” Leslie passed me the bottle, and eyed me as I tipped it back. “You know, I hadn’t had a drink in more than a year before I met you in Vegas.”

“Why not?” I said, feeling my accent start to come back with the wine.

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I could have. I couldn’t—I didn’t breastfeed, so. I didn’t produce enough—enough milk? So we gave him formula.” She took the bottle back and picked at the label. “I could have gotten drunk anytime after he was born, but I didn’t.”

“Well, Vegas is the best place to break your sobriety,” I said.

She smiled. “Maybe.” She looked out across the pool. “Thanks for coming out here with me.”

“To the pool? Or to New Mexico?”

“Both,” she said, lifting the bottle again. “It’s funny,” she went on, once she’d finished swigging. “I feel like I’m going to miss you.”

“Aw, Leslie—” I said.

She laughed, stifling herself, and pushed the wine bottle across the table at me. “Isn’t that crazy? I don’t even know you. Not really.” She put her hands in her lap. “Tell me something about you. Since you’re leaving tomorrow.”

I thought about it. “I’ll trade you. One for one. Since I’m leaving tomorrow.”

Leslie snorted. “You’re so mercenary.”

I picked up the wine bottle and winked at her. “AMA.”

She pulled her knees up to her chest. There was a long silence; someone’s dog barked over and over somewhere down the street. Finally she lifted her head. “Where do you go during the day?”

My fingers twitched toward my hip, but I hadn’t brought my purse. No cigarettes. I took a deep chlorine-scented breath instead. “I met somebody. A police officer. We’ve been sleeping together. That’s what I’ve been doing when I leave the house.”

    Leslie’s mouth fell open. “A police officer? While we’re—while this—” She twisted in her chair. “Why would you do that?”

I handed her the bottle. “I don’t know. It was fun. I didn’t have anything to do during the day. You left me while you went to work.”

“I had to go to work,” Leslie hissed.

I nodded. “I know.”

I waited while she took another swig. Finally, her cheeks darker in the green light, she said, “He’s not suspicious, is he? I mean, does he think he’s sleeping with Mary or with Robin?”

“She doesn’t know anything,” I said. “She’s more worried I’m going to tell her wife.”

“Her wife?” Leslie set the bottle down hard enough that it made a sloshing noise. “I just— Mary, I just— It’s too dangerous. You have to stop.”

“I am stopping,” I said. “I’m leaving tomorrow. I’ll ditch my phone. She’ll never hear from me again.”

“Oh.” Leslie paused and sat back. She frowned. “Did you really like her, this, um, woman?”

A breeze stirred my hair. I pushed it over one shoulder. “I don’t know.” I thought about making Paul tell me he loved me again and again. As if repetition would make it true. Nancy only had to look at me for me to know what she felt. It had satisfied something bone-deep in me to be looked at that way.

Leslie sighed and watched a ripple drift over the surface of the pool. “It’s too cold to swim. I wish we could get in.”

I took another long slug from the wine. “This is pretty good,” I told her. “Dave has good taste.” I slipped one foot out of its shoe and nudged her in the thigh with my toes. “Okay. Your turn.”

She shut her eyes. “I’m not telling you about why I need the money. I can’t.”

I touched her again with my foot. “I know. I’ll ask something else.”

She hunched forward. “Okay. What do you want to know?”

“What were you thinking about, on the bed earlier?”

I saw her shoulders tighten. “My mom. Christine.” She twitched, like a shrug. “I never thought much about her until I had the baby. I keep thinking what it must have been like for her. Getting pregnant right away. Getting married. I guess that’s why he married her. She wasn’t like the other one. Yvonne.”