The Fun Part

### Sensitive content: strong language, stalking, sexual references, murder. ###

I know.

I know what you’re thinking.

This man here, sitting in front of you with his wrists cuffed to the table. You’re thinking: this motherfucker looks pretty dangerous.

And you’re not wrong. I am.

Dangerous, I mean. Let’s leave my mother out of this, if you know what’s best for you.

But hey, relax. Look at that guard over there.

He’s here for you.

Hell, I’m cuffed to this table. See?

Listen.

Hear that chain clink?

Safe, huh?

And the table is bolted to the floor. Look. It didn’t move an inch.

Damn, even this fucking chair is bolted down.

I bet yours is too, so hit that button and start the recording. You only get one shot at this.

Ready?

I wasn’t really sure about this when that door slammed shut behind me. The guard was too busy forcing me into this chair. Anyway, here we are.

It’s taping, isn’t it?

Good.

I like to see those little wheels turning. Do they still make those?

Yeah, yeah, I know. You probably don’t have an endless supply of those tapes with you.

See, Mrs. Shelly Wright, I’ve had plenty of time to read that bullshit you wrote — the one that got me in here — and I thought: maybe Mrs. Wright just got her facts wrong. Maybe Mrs. Hollywood Reporter just misunderstood.

Oh. Leaving already? Why?

I know you’ve got the guts. Is it the setup?

There. There it is. I’ve got your attention now. Let’s get to it.

That girl—

Holly. Fine. Holly was no angel. I wonder if her parents knew. If I had to judge by their faces in court, I’d say they didn’t.

You knew it, didn’t you?

Got it.

It’s fine. I understand the intricacies of your job. The poor victims. People have to feel sorry for them. If only I wasn’t the one paying for it…

Oh, no, I’m not saying I didn’t do it.

I’m not saying I did, either. Not yet, at least.

Calm down. Don’t rush. I asked you to come. I said you’d have a confession. But it’s going to be on my terms.

She’d been on my radar for a while. She was my type. I’ll give you that.

That bitch—

Holly.

Listen, if you’re going to interrupt every time you don’t like a word, we can stop here. I’ve got my cellmate for that. That prick.

Deal?

She was a gorgeous girl. She sat in hotel bars and had a drink or two. She never had to wait long. She didn’t say no. Men, women, and everyone in between.

What? Did that make you uncomfortable?

Anyway, I don’t think I’m a genius, but I’m not stupid either, so I studied her routine. When you need what I need, you don’t want to be the one who gets surprised.

She woke up around noon. She took a shower. She brushed her teeth.

How do I know?

That’s my job. I mean, not my job job. But that’s what I do.

You know what I mean.

By the way, can you ask the guard for some water? I’d do it myself, but he’s pretending not to hear me. Except for that ugly grin he’s trying to hold back.

You’re gonna have to bring it to my lips…

Like I said, that bi—

Holly brushed her teeth and went to the diner on 11th for a full breakfast. They don’t serve breakfast after noon, but nobody said no to her, either. Can you believe she ate like a pig? Cheeks stuffed, crumbs and spit all over… what a mess. I’d teach her better than that.

Then she paraded her ass around the place, all jokes and smiles. She didn’t pay. Not that I saw.

Gym. Beauty salon. Massage. A girl has to know what’s best for her, right? I’d bet a Hollywood reporter couldn’t keep up with that kind of spending.

No. No need to explain. Those nails you’re trying to hide under the table speak for themselves.

Whatever.

Holly went back home to get dressed. Dressed for success, like the song says. Then called a cab and went to one of those high-end hotels in the Valley. She had a route, you know? She kept clear of Vice. I can only guess how.

Keeping up with that bitch cost me a kidney. I had to survive on frozen dinners for a while.

She got home late at night. Sometimes in the morning, depending on the size of the client’s wallet and appetite. Always by cab.

That was only on weekdays. On weekends, she pretended to be something else.

Did I tell you anything you didn’t know?

I don’t think so. My lousy public defender laid most of it out in court. The rest would be a piece of cake for Mrs. Shelly Wright, wouldn’t it?

What time is it? I’m hungry.

I forgot. They didn’t let you bring your phone in. Anyway, Carl here—I mean, the guard—will make sure we stay on schedule. But my gut tells me it’s getting late.

No. No. Don’t worry, I plan to be done with this today, unless circumstances prevent it.

Get ready. Here’s the truth. Whether you like it or not. And I’ll tell you something: it’s not the story your piece-of-shit article sold in that great newspaper of yours.

But first I need to pee. Carl?

I mean, guard.

Dear Mrs. Reporter, I’m so happy you’ve decided to stay. I see you’re interested in what I have to say. Sorry you had to step out for a while, but they don’t trust us here, you know?

Anyway. Are those little wheels turning? Do you need to change the tape?

Too bad you can’t take notes. Sharp objects are so precious in here. I’d love to know what you’d write down.

Am I talking too much?

See, after all that running around, I realized she was much more… accessible on weekends. I could’ve saved myself a few bucks after all. But you know what they say: it’s not the destination, it’s the journey. Who was that? Odyssey? Odysseus?

Homer. I see. Nice.

Well, Holly didn’t have a routine on weekends, but her life was quieter, less public. Safer. More unpredictable, too.

I… happened to find a car with the engine running somewhere between Hamden and Wallingford, so I parked it near her place and took care of the plates. I wasn’t planning to keep it. I just needed it not to be mine.

I know you know all that. I was in court, remember?

Do you still want the real story or what?

You know, it’s funny, actually. There’s something only my lawyer knows about. That fat, sweaty whale—no offense, Carl—said it would make things worse with the jury. I don’t think so. They thought I was guilty the moment I walked into that courtroom.

The thing is, I set up a GoPro behind the rearview mirror…

Are you okay?

You’ve lost your color.

Guard, would you mind bringing Mrs. Reporter some water? Maybe something to eat?

Carl here always has some jerky on him, you know?

No? Okay. I’ll go on, then.

As far as I know, the camera is still there. My lawyer checked. The car is in impound now, though.

No, I wouldn’t mind if you used it. Would you, though?

That would be… brave. Let’s call it that.

Look, like I said, I’m not stupid. I could watch Holly getting in and out of her apartment without ever risking being seen. I wasn’t far away either, but nobody looks twice at a bum among all the other outcasts around.

People passed by and dropped some coins as I listened to her. When my phone buzzed, I looked at the camera. One day, I realized someone else was hanging around her place.

Feeling hot? I’m starting to worry about you, Mrs. Hollywood. You’re pale. Cold sweat. Maybe you should see a doctor.

Fine, fine. Let’s do it. I’m enjoying this. I might start telling this story more often. Out of deference to your condition, I’ll cut to the chase. What do you think?

Holly was a homebody on weekends. She watched TV. She called her mom. And—this is going to blow your mind—she browsed dating sites looking for true love. Can you believe it?

I listened for hours on end to her lonely mumbling, those little one-person conversations, and her online dates. Mostly women. No wonder she was my type. I told you.

She planned a date the next weekend. That was when I decided to do it.

Would you mind lifting the cup to my lips once more? All this talking makes me thirsty. Or maybe it’s the hunt.

Oh, Jesus. Relax. You’re soaking me.

Better?

Okay.

That same night, I snuck into the building behind a careless teen. He didn’t even notice me. He wouldn’t have looked up from his phone unless a chick passed by with one tit out. And maybe not even then.

I climbed the stairs one by one. All the way up to the 23rd floor. Quiet. In the dark. At one point, the lights came on. I slipped out onto the 9th floor as someone came rushing down, taking the steps two or three at a time. A kid, probably.

When I reached Holly’s floor, I listened hard. My pulse was pounding in my ears, but I could still hear the shower through the earbuds. I stepped out into the hallway. Then I heard a ding and the elevator doors opened.

I rushed back to the stairs. A woman passed by a second later. I knew that perfume. I had smelled it before. I can smell it now.

No. Please don’t turn that recorder off. This is the fun part.

Carl? Remember what we agreed? Please be so kind as to turn it back on. Let me see those little wheels spinning again.

Oh. Don’t cry. It’s a sad story, but you already knew it, didn’t you? I mean, you recognized me, too. From the street. That bum who never spoke to anyone. That’s when you decided to pin it on me, wasn’t it?

You knocked on Holly’s door.

Come on. Come on. Easy now. Drink some water. Take a sip, at least.

Would you mind telling us the rest?

No?

I’ll guide you. I’ll take you by the hand.

You knocked on her—

What do you mean you didn’t mean to?

Oh, so you think this is about Holly, don’t you?

Guard, did you hear that?

Can you believe it?

This is not about Holly, Mrs. Hollywood. This is about me. What you did to me.