Echoes in Death (In Death #44)(109)

She sighed, shook her head, could actually see him preen at the attention. “Brains, looks, money, style, and power, too. Add in a whole bunch of sex and it’s pretty heady. I hear people around here saying how Neville’s looking like a pussy, a limp-dicked pussy. I can’t argue it.”

“Because he is.”

“You sure as hell proved that. Screwing his wife right in front of his face. That shows who has the balls in the family.”

“I see what you’re doing.” Still smirking, Kyle circled a finger in the air. “You’re trying to butter me up.”

“Just saying what is. Why do you think she brushed you back the night you met, the night at that party when the three of you met?”

“She didn’t.”

“Really?” Eve frowned, consulted a file. “But she said—”

“She’s a liar. She said she was with that asshole when I gave her a tap, but she wanted me. Clear as day.”

“But … didn’t she leave with the asshole?”

“Only because I decided not to waste my time. And what does she do, she comes back.”

“To you? Do you mean later or that same night?”

“The same damn night. She used Neville, gave him the eye to get me stirred up, then she leaves with the asshole.”

“But she married Neville, even after you gave her a few more taps along the way. Did she do that to get you stirred up?”

“What do you think? You said it yourself, he’s a pussy.”

“Peabody reentering Interview.” Peabody slapped a tube of ginger ale (she’d deliberately ordered diet) on the table. “Take it or leave it.”

Kyle picked it up, cracked the tube, sipped while sending her a look of cold loathing.

“Okay, so Rosa married Neville to get you stirred up—because you’re the one she really wanted, at least sexually. And maybe—just a guess—she married him because he’s a pussy.”

Kyle shot out a finger. “Bing-fucking-o. You’re smarter than you look.”

“Smart enough to know a lot of women say one thing and mean another. Some women, probably most women, they marry a pussy because they figure they can control him, get everything they want. But a real man, a man with real balls, he controls them, and they do what he wants. Like you. People do what you want. Actors, directors, lawyers. Women.”

“I built my own studio.”

“Well, you and Neville.”

“Hell, I could’ve done it without him. I took him along for the ride.”

“It sounds like you did him a favor.”

“He’s my cousin,” Kyle pointed out. “We go back, and he’s got good ideas. He needs me to jump-start them, implement. He puts in his share, the time, the money. But I’m the one with vision.”

“So you brought him along for the ride, Rosa married him because he’s a pussy. He sure sounds like a weak sister. Does he take after his mother or his father?”

“His father’s worse than Nev, trust me. No balls, no spine. Second-rate director.”

“Interesting. Did your aunt stay married to him to stir you up, Kyle?”

Eve slid a photo of Astra Patrick out of the file.





22

Eve saw his reaction, the desire and delight flicking fast into rage.

“You know her problem?” he demanded.

“I don’t.”

“Playing it safe, locking herself into society’s rules. Look at her. I mean, just look at her. She’s got it all. The face, the body. Beauty and style and sexuality that doesn’t quit. She’s got it all,” he repeated, trailing his finger over the face in the picture. “Except for one thing.”

“Let me guess. I bet I know. Vision.”

Obviously pleased, he lifted the finger, shot it at Eve. “Right in one. No vision. She’s stuck in this rut with a loser, just coasting along.”

“And you could offer her so much more.”

“I did offer her more.”

“And she chose the rut.” Eve shook her head, studied the photo. “I bet she gave you the kiss-off, but in a way that left that door open, just enough to keep you dangling.”

“Neville makes her some bullshit necklace out of beads for her birthday, and she makes like it’s the crown jewels. I gave her a ring, something real, told her what I felt, how it should be. She wouldn’t even take it. She tells me I’m confused. How I’m sweet, and she’s flattered, and more bullshit about how I’m going to find the perfect girl one day.”

“How old were you?”

“I was fifteen, and already more of a man than that Brit pussy she married. She humiliated me.”

“You don’t strike me as the kind of man who takes no for an answer so easy. You don’t take the pussy way.”

“I waited. Figured I needed some experience under my belt.” He smiled, patted himself. “Get me?”

“Oh, yeah. Some of that experience was with…” Eve pulled another photo out of the file.

Kyle studied it, shrugged. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“You were eighteen when she accused you of sexual assault, recanted after your father gave her a cool million. Does that ring the bell?”