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“And what’s with the no ice in drinks, no air conditioning? It’s so hot.”
Ryan and Nora walk far enough ahead so that they can no longer hear what Eddie’s saying. They climb the steep hill that leads into the medieval town.
Like the bar, most of the restaurants and shops are closed at this hour, but there are kids playing in the piazza. A young boy kicks a soccer ball to Ryan, who stops it with his foot, then kicks it back. Nora laughs when the kid points at Ryan and says, “Gigante! Gigante!”
Ryan holds up his hands and growls, walking at them like Frankenstein. All the kids run away shrieking with delight.
“The giant,” Nora says. “It fits.”
Ryan offers a fleeting smile. He’s used to nicknames. In high school they called him Dodge. Later, in his first game at Kansas State, the opposing team shouted a less friendly name from the bleachers:
Kil-ler… Kil-ler… Kil-ler…
The harassment was unrelenting. And not just from rival teams. From podcasts. From true crime shows. From internet trolls. So Ryan stopped playing basketball, changed his name from Ryan Richardson to Ryan Smith, and transferred to a new college. He thought the public flogging would end last year when authorities announced that they’d found DNA evidence linking Alison’s abduction to the Missouri River Killer. MRK admitted to slaughtering eight women he’d abducted in towns along the river but denied taking Ali. Then his fellow inmates shanked him thirty-seven times, closing the case, and leaving that fucking cloud of suspicion over Ryan.
Ryan’s phone glows with an incoming call. He scans the notification. It’s from his father, seven hours behind back in Kansas and probably just checking in. Ryan lets the call go to voicemail. He’ll call him back.
At the B and B, a converted Tuscan farmhouse on a working vineyard, Ryan says good night to Nora. She holds his gaze a long moment, evaluating him.
“You’re not fooling anyone,” she says at last.
Ryan feels an instinctive wave of panic. His breath is caught in the back of his throat, waiting, praying her next words aren’t about his real name, about his missing high-school girlfriend.
“I know why you want to be a lawyer,” Nora says, eyeing Eddie, who pushes through the door into the common area. There’s another long pause. “So you can help people.” She walks down the hallway to her room, calling, “Good night,” over her shoulder.
Right behind Eddie a small group bounces inside led by Aiden and Jake, two other classmates on the trip. On brand, they’re too loud, too drunk. And they have four college-age women with them.
“Ryan! Bro!” Aiden says. He grabs Ryan’s hand, does the aggressive pull-into-a-shoulder-hug thing.
Aiden gestures to the young women, who likewise have had a few too many. “I want you to meet…” He pauses, like he’s realizing he doesn’t remember their names. “Meet our new friends. They’re from California.”
“We’re hitting the pool,” Jake adds. “You should join us.”
The girls agree.
“Eddie, you too, bro!”
Ryan nods. “We’ll meet you over there,” he says with no intention of going swimming. Nothing’s worse than being with a group of drunk people when you’re sober. But it’s easier to agree than to deal with Aiden and Jake. The duo are Kappa Something-or-Other alums who became fast friends the first day of law school. It’s shocking they’re both so damn smart.
The group stumbles off. One of the young women drags her hand along Ryan’s arm as she walks past. “You should come…”
Eddie shakes his head. “To be you for just one day.”
Ryan frowns.
“Where’s Nora?” Eddie asks.
“She went to bed.”
“And why aren’t you there with her?”
Ryan frowns again.
“I don’t get you, man,” Eddie says, watching out the window at the silhouettes stripping off their clothes as they run through the grass to the infinity pool. “The girls fall all over you, hell, the boys do too. I’d kill for just one day in the life.”
“Maybe you’d have better luck if you let people get to know you. Just be yourself,” Ryan replies.
“Dude, I am being myself.”