Conspiracy Theory Read Free Page B

there wasn’t any point. The privacy shield that cut them off from the driver was closed. The windows of the car were tinted darkly enough so that nobody on the outside would be able to see in unless they pressed their faces directly to the glass. Tony looked down at the copy of
Civitas Dei
he had in his hands and wished he’d brought a book light. It was rude to read in front of other people, but he never cared if he was rude to Charlotte.
    â€œI’m not going to shut up and go away,” Charlotte said, the words coming out in that nasal Society whine that made his teeth grate. You’d think, after years of listening to Bill Buckley and Katharine Hepburn, that women like Charlotte would know better. “I’m not going to drop the subject,” she said. “This has gotten completely out of hand, Tony, and you know it.”
    â€œI know no such thing. The only thing that seems to be out of hand is you.”
    â€œYou can’t expect me to just sit still while you … well. While you make it plain to everybody we know—”
    â€œIt’s been plain to everybody we know since the day we were married. More than plain. Nobody on earth was fooled, not even you.”
    â€œYou think it was plain to everybody we knew that from the day we were married you couldn’t stand to fuck me?”
    â€œWhere do you get the language, Charlotte? Sometimes I listen to you and I think I’m hearing the boys at the YMCA.”
    â€œYou don’t go to the YMCA.”
    â€œI don’t, no. What’s your point?”
    Charlotte shifted in her seat. Her fingers were long and thin, but not as long and thin as his own. Her nails were covered in clear polish. “It’s one thing to have the sort of mistress they all do,” she said carefully. “Actresses. That sort of thing. I do understand that sort of thing. But that’s not what you’re up to, and you know it.”
    â€œI’m not actually up to anything. There is no other woman. I am not having an affair. I’m too damned busy to do a mistress any good.”
    â€œMaybe you just hate sex. All kinds of sex. That would be amusing.”
    It was already dark outside. The car lit up every time they went under one of the tall arched lamps that lined this part of the Pennsylvania Turnpike. Tony toyed with the idea of telling the driver to keep driving, to miss their exit, to head for the mountains and Lehigh and that long stretch of road with no exits at all.
    â€œI don’t think you heard me,” Charlotte said.
    â€œI heard you. I don’t consider this discussion worth having.”
    â€œYou didn’t always hate sex, though. I should know.”
    â€œShould you?”
    â€œYou’ve managed to father four children.”
    â€œAt least. I should think that would be enough. I should think that would be enough of me for you, to be precise. What is it you really want here, Charlotte?”
    â€œI want you to give it up.”
    â€œGive what up? You haven’t discovered anything I’m doing that I could give up. There isn’t anything to discover. And you can’t want me to go back to sleeping with you. You barely stood it the first time.”
    â€œI want you to give
him
up.”
    â€œDavid?”
    â€œYes, David. I want you to give him up.”
    â€œWhy? Or do you now imagine that I’m sleeping with David? God only knows when he’d have the time, considering the fact that he’s sleeping with half the debutantes in Philadelphia and three-quarters of the debutantes in New York. At last count. And he’s completely in control of the Price Heaven mess, which is a mess, and which is likely to get messier very soon.”
    â€œI don’t see why you stick up for him,” Charlotte said. “He’s not just in charge of Price Heaven now, he set that whole thing up to begin with. He’s managed it from day one. And what did you get?