I'm a Fool to Kill You

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Authors: Robert Randisi
said, ‘or it could be the shower scene in Mogambo .’
    She finished chewing, swallowed and smiled.
    â€˜Is any of that fucking true?’
    â€˜Well,’ I said, ‘maybe the Mogambo part.’
    â€˜Everybody fell in love with Grace Kelly in that movie,’ she said.
    â€˜Oh, not everybody,’ I said. ‘Definitely not me.’
    She popped a French fry in her mouth and said, ‘You’re sweet.’
    â€˜And you’re being evasive.’
    â€˜I’m not,’ she said. ‘I’m trying to eat.’ She took one more bite of the hamburger and then put it down with an air of finality.
    â€˜Jesus, I must look a fucking sight,’ she said, suddenly.
    She stood up.
    â€˜I have to get dressed and put my face on,’ she said. She headed for the bedroom.
    â€˜What about your burger?’
    â€˜You finish it.’
    The steak wasn’t getting any better so I grabbed her burger and took a bite. Well done. I put it down. I had a couple of fries, wondering if she had any reason to go out a window. Or maybe there were French doors from the bedroom.
    Why would Ava run from me?

    I went out the front door and around to the side. It was almost dark, and the light was on in the bedroom. I peered in her window, saw her seated in front of a vanity applying her make-up, wearing only a pair of panties. I stared at her beautiful back for a few moments too long and started to feel like a peeping ton, so I quickly backed away. It seemed to suddenly get dark and I became nervous about getting jumped, like Larry, so I hurried back to the front door and went inside.
    I was sitting at the table, nibbling on fries, when she came back out wearing a pair of tight blue capris and a white blouse with cropped sleeves. Her hair was still damp, but it looked like she meant it to be that way. She had done her eyes up with lashes and eye shadow, and her lips were red. She looked great.
    â€˜Did you enjoy the view?’ she asked.
    â€˜The view?’
    â€˜From outside my window.’
    â€˜I, uh, was just making sure you didn’t, uh . . .’ I stammered.
    â€˜You thought I was going to go out the fucking window?’ she asked, laughing. ‘Why the hell would I do that?’
    â€˜I don’t know, Ava,’ I said. ‘I don’t know what you’re runnin’ from.’
    â€˜What makes you think I’m running from anything?’ she demanded.
    â€˜Because you’ve either been runnin’ or hidin’ since this morning,’ I said.
    â€˜Jesus,’ she said, ‘has it only been one day?’
    She sat down in an armchair.
    â€˜I need a cigarette.’
    I looked around. There was a box on a nearby table, and a lighter. I handed her one and lit it for her.
    â€˜Thanks,’ she said, as she let out a plume of smoke.
    â€˜How long has it been, Ava?’ I asked. ‘How long have you been running?’
    She put one hand to her head.
    â€˜Eddie, that’s just it,’ she said. ‘I really don’t know.’
    â€˜When were you last at home? In Spain?’
    â€˜Days ago, I guess,’ she said. ‘There’s been a lot of drinking, a lot of . . . men, since I finished the shoot on Fifty-Five Days with Chuck Heston. That . . . didn’t go that well. The rushes . . . my skin looks like . . . parchment in that movie.’
    â€˜I doubt your skin could ever look like that, Ava,’ I said.
    She glanced up at me and I wanted to fall into her eyes – as much of a cliché as that sounds. She grabbed my hand, held the back of it to her cheek.
    â€˜You don’t think so, Eddie?’ she asked. ‘You don’t think it feels . . . rough?’
    I rubbed my hand along her face and said, ‘I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything smoother, or softer.’
    Then I got self-conscious and pulled my

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