David Liss - The Ethical Assassin

“What’s wrong with the Waffle House?”

“I can’t believe that’s a serious question,” I said with a forced grin. I didn’t want to tell her about Scott and Ronny Neil. I didn’t want to look weak in front of her. And I didn’t want to have to explain what it was all about. I didn’t know what it was all about.

Chitra didn’t actually say that she wanted to go down the road, but somehow we were walking there, keeping to the ragged side of the street, trying not to stray too much into the weeds unless a car or a mammoth truck came barreling past. Every ten paces or so, I would sneak a look at her profile, angular and dark and breathtakingly beautiful. A couple of times she caught me, gave me a half grin, and then looked away. I didn’t know how to take it, but I had a feeling that maybe those little half grins would be enough to get me through this mess.

Inside the restaurant, which smelled deeply of maple syrup, we sat down and watched our waitress place before us coffee in thick white cups with droplets spilled over the side. It felt like permission to start talking in earnest. I didn’t know what I had to say.

“This is the first time we’ve been alone since last week,” Chitra said.

That sounded promising. “I guess it is.” Think of something clever. Something witty and seductive and disarming. “It presents all kinds of opportunities.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Such as?”

Had I gone too far? Had I been cheeky? Too suggestive? I needed to make a quick recovery. “For conversation. I mean, not to be critical of anyone, but you’re not like the other book people.”

“Neither are you.”

“How do you mean?” I asked.

“How do you mean?” She smiled slyly at her coffee cup.

My cheeks burned. “You just seem, you know, more together than a lot of the others. You’re going to a women’s college and all.”

She gave me a look of pleasant surprise. I’d scored a point, thanks to Melford’s sensitivity training.

“I expect it will be a friendlier place for me than the world of book sales,” she said.

“I’ll bet. You know, I never asked you. How does someone like you end up here?”

She shrugged, maybe not very comfortable with the question. “Summer came around and I needed extra money, and more than I could make working at a store in the mall.”

“I know how that goes.” I had already told her about my quest to raise money for Columbia.

“I wish I could have taken a year off like you. My father owns a dry-cleaning business, and he had a problem with his crooked landlord, and that ended up with my father having some debts. But he refuses to let me offer him any money from my college account. So I’m trying to earn extra cash and take the burden off them.”

I laughed. “I have the opposite problem. My parents have the money, but they won’t give it to me.”

“Well, believe me. I have problems of my own with my parents. They think I’m far too American, they hate the way I dress, the music I listen to, my friends, my boyfriend.”

I took a casual sip of my coffee and forced a smile that must have looked grotesque. I felt like I was trying to get the corners of my mouth to touch each other somewhere behind my head. “Yeah?” I somehow managed.

Her eyebrows knit together. “Ex-boyfriend, really. Mostly. Anyhow, people in my family are pretty good about getting, you know, feelings about people. My father had a feeling about Todd. My boyfriend.”

“Ex-boyfriend,” I said. “Mostly.”

She gave me one of those sly, sideways looks. “Right. Ex-boyfriend. Try telling him that. Things in that department haven’t been so smooth. Anyhow, my father was sure that Todd was bad news, and he wouldn’t let up about it.”

“You said those feelings run in your family. Didn’t you have a feeling about Todd?”

“Yes,” she said. “I did.”

“But you had a different feeling.”

“No, I also had a feeling he was bad news. But sometimes a girl likes a little of that. Maybe,” she said, “in your own way, you’re sort of bad news, too, Lem.”

The waitress arrived just in time to keep me from trying to figure out what the hell she was talking about. I could instead occupy myself with figuring out what to eat for breakfast. It occurred to me that I didn’t really know how to order breakfast, not if I was going to be a vegetarian. And when had I decided to become one? I didn’t even know, but it seemed to me odd now to think of eating meat, and I figured it might be best to hold off until I had a chance to think things through a little more. So I ordered oatmeal to play it safe, and I asked the waitress to keep milk and butter out of it.

Chitra ordered a cheese omelet.

“Are you a vegetarian?” she asked once the waitress had gone.

I don’t know why, but I blushed. Given her discussion of her attraction to guys who were bad news, a category to which I now inexplicably belonged, I didn’t know why my possible vegetarianism was so touchy. But it seemed to be. “Sort of, maybe. I’m pretty new to it, but my friend Melford, who you met- he’s been trying to talk me into it. And I guess once you hear certain things about how animals are treated, it’s hard to go back to pretending you don’t know.”

“Then don’t tell me,” she said. “I enjoy chicken too much.” Maybe I looked disappointed, because she smiled at me and shrugged. “How long have you been a vegetarian?”

“Not long,” I said.

“How long is not long?”

“Since last night.”

She laughed. “Anything special happen last night? You didn’t meet a nice vegetarian girl, did you?”

And there I was thinking I couldn’t get more nervous. “Not really. I mean, no. No girls. I was just talking to Melford, and he has all these arguments. They’re very convincing.”

“So is Melford,” Chitra observed. “I didn’t talk to him long, but I could tell he’s very charismatic. You get to talking to him, and you feel like you’ve known him a long time, and it’s easy to open up. I said some things to him, and maybe I should have kept quiet.”

Like finding me cute, I thought. In fact, I almost said it, but I caught myself in time. I wanted her to like me, not to see how clever I could be at her expense. “Yeah, he’s charismatic.”

“How long have you known him?”

“Not that long,” I said.

“Longer than you’ve been a vegetarian, I hope.”

“A bit longer,” I said, trying to sound playfully casual but hating the half lie.

“He’s very likable,” she said. “But, to be honest, I sort of didn’t like him anyway. I mean I did, but I didn’t trust him. I don’t know, I don’t want to be down on your friends or anything, but if you don’t know him that well, I thought maybe you might want to be careful, because the truth is, as far as feelings about people go, I had one about Melford.”

“Oh?” My casual oh.

“I had a feeling that he’s bad news himself. But in a real way. Not like with Todd, who could end up in jail as easily as community college. Or with you, in your interesting kind of messed-up way. I mean real bad news.”

There was so much to say, really, that I hardly knew where to begin. Her sort-of-ex-boyfriend who might end up in jail. Did I ask why? How, precisely, was I interesting and messed up? Beyond all that, she had pegged Melford. Did she have these vibes like, oh, maybe he might have just killed some people?

“What does that mean, exactly? Real bad news?”

She held up her hands. “I’m sorry I said anything. It’s not my business. I worry, is all.”

I couldn’t help but smile. She was worried about me.

I picked up a packet of sugar and began to tug lightly on the opposing corners. “Since we’re talking about trust,” I said, “there’s something I’ve been meaning to bring up.”