Gone Bitch (11 page)

“Isn’t this risky?” I asked.

“You just did a video where you confessed to plotting to kill your wife!”

Just then Rebecca walked in. Without her pants on. “Who was at the door?” she asked.

Tanner and I stared at each other awkwardly.

“I need a Clamato,” he said, and left.

AMY ELLIOTT DUNNE: Ten Days Gone

The equipment is wiped down, my membership is cancelled, and I’m about to walk out the door of 24 Hour FitClub for the first time since I walked in a week and a half ago. For the last time I make my way through the cardio room, then turn left at the reception desk and head for the exit.

But Jeff and Greta are standing there, blocking my way.

“Hey darling. Where you going in such a hurry?” says Greta.

“I’ve achieved all of my fitness goals,” I say. “Time to go home.”

“Really?” says Jeff. “That’s strange. ‘Cause when I look at you, I see someone who appears to be carrying a little extra weight around.”

Greta nods in agreement. “You’ve definitely put on a few pounds,” she says. “But don’t worry about it, because we have a little weight loss program we’re gonna introduce you to.” They start walking menacingly toward me, and I try to do an end run around them, but Greta grabs one of those giant blue rubber balls from the stretching area and throws it at me. It hits me on the head, knocking me to the ground. As I’m lying there, dazed, I think to myself that now I finally know what those balls are actually for.

Jeff and Greta carry me into an equipment closet and rip off all my money belts.

“You won’t get away with this!” I say. “As soon as I leave, I’m calling the police.”

“Go ahead,” says Jeff. “You do that, and we’ll tell management you were living here.” I realize I’m screwed. The fee for an early membership termination here is like a thousand bucks. I can only imagine what the fee would be for living in the club for a week and a half.

Jeff and Greta turn to leave, their arms full of my cash. Well, now
their
cash. “See? Our weight loss program really works!” says Greta.

“Hold on a sec,” says Jeff. “She’s our friend. I don’t think we should leave her with absolutely nothing. Do you?”

“You’re right,” says Greta, and she tosses me something. I pick it up.

It’s a three-day guest pass to 24 Hour FitClub.

NICK DUNNE: Nine Days Gone

It was time to prep for my interview with Dr. Rupta. To help, Tanner had brought in his wife Betsy Bolt, a former news anchor turned media consultant. The three of us met at the St. Louis office of Betsy’s consulting firm.

“Okay Nick, here’s how this’ll work,” said Betsy. “We’re gonna do a mock interview. I’ll be Dr. Rupta, and I’ll ask you questions like the ones he’ll ask, and you answer them like it’s the real interview. And then we can help coach you on how to improve your answers. Ok?”

“Why can’t
I
be Dr. Rupta? That’s way more fun.”

Betsy rolled her eyes. “If we have time after, you can be Dr. Rupta.”

“What-
ever
,” I said.

“Let’s begin,” said Betsy, and then switched to her Dr. Rupta voice. “Nick, first question: can you walk our audience through the day Amy went missing?”

 “Sure,” I said. “Well first off, I got woken up at 6 a.m. by the fucking stupid cat...shit, I’m sorry, we’re on TV, I can’t say that. Let’s start again.”

Splat!
My face suddenly felt wet. Because Betsy had spit on me.

“What the hell?” I said.

“Every time you mess up, I’m going to spit in your face,” Betsy said. “Now the mistake you just made is: don’t censor yourself in the interview. If you think ‘fucking stupid cat,’ then say ‘fucking stupid cat.’ We want the audience to see what an asshole you really are.”

“But do you really need to spit?” I asked.

“It works,” Tanner said. “It’s how she taught me to leave the toilet seat down.”

“Next question,” Betsy said, again assuming her Dr. Gupta voice. “Nick, what do you
really
think about your wife?”

I considered this for a moment. How should I answer this on TV? I finally answered by saying, “I love her.”

Splat!

“Okay okay. She can be mean sometimes, but she’s not so bad.”

Splat!

“She’s a pretty lousy person.”

Splat!

“All right, fine! She’s a complete and utter bitch and I try to cheat on her every chance I get!”

Betsy and Tanner smiled.

“Told you it works,” Tanner said.

AMY ELLIOTT DUNNE: Ten Days Gone

It’s early evening somewhere on the I-44. I’m parked behind a rest stop gas station, and I’m trying to catch some sleep on my Segway. Have you ever tried to sleep while standing on a Segway? Long story short: you can’t. Maybe this is why nobody’s ever used a getaway Segway.

My Segway and my workout outfit are now the only things I own. Forget figuring out how to return home without getting in a crapload of trouble for faking my own murder. I’ve just gotta figure out how to survive.

I pull out my cellphone, which is low on battery but has enough power to make one more call. I know what I must do.

NICK DUNNE: Ten Days Gone

It was the night of my live interview with Dr. Gupta, and Tanner, Betsy and I were at St. Louis’ fanciest hotel (which wasn’t in any way fancy) where the interview would take place. I’d been in hair, makeup, and wardrobe for nearly two hours, and when I finally emerged, Tanner and Betsy came running up to me.

“Come on, let’s go!” said Tanner, dragging me off to a private suite. I figured they were rushing to give me some last-minute coaching before the interview. But when we got inside the suite, they started undoing all the work that hair, makeup, and wardrobe had done: spilling mustard on my shirt, giving me shaving cuts with a razor, and using hair gel and a pillow to give my hair the slept-on look.

“Wait, what are you guys doing?” I asked.

“We’re making you look like an asshole,” Tanner said.

For the past 24 hours I’d been pressing Tanner and Betsy to give me scripted answers and tell me exactly what I needed to say to look like the biggest asshole ever. But their response was always the same:

“Just be you.”

There was a knock at the door. A woman with a headset, the producer of
Dr. Rupta’s Office
, stuck her head in.

“Sorry folks, but the interview’s on hold,” she said.

“For how long?” said Betsy.

“Maybe forever,” said the woman.

“What? Why?” said Tanner.

“Turn on your TV.”

AMY ELLIOTT DUNNE: Ten Days Gone

It was 9:30 p.m., and I was sitting in the bar of a casino a couple miles away from the rest stop gas station where I’d tried to sleep on my Segway. And at the table across from me was Desi.

“Sorry to bother you like this,” I said.

“Are you kidding?” he said. “I’ve always said, you can call me anytime, from anywhere, and I’ll be there for you.”

What a loser. “Thanks Desi, you’re an amazing person.”

Desi hadn’t asked me anything about my disappearance, or why I was letting this giant search for me go on, or anything else that might make me upset. He was just happy to be hanging out with me. Furthermore, he’d offered to let me stay at his lake house for as long as I wanted. This solved my short-term problem of how to survive. But it left unsolved my longer-term problem of how to go home without everybody hating me. If anything, it added to that problem, because once I was living at Desi’s lake house, he wasn’t going to want to let me leave.

“Check it out,” Desi said, pointing up at the TV on the wall. “Breaking news on the missing you case. Who’s that woman speaking?”

I looked up at the TV. There was a press conference going on, and a good-looking young woman was at the podium in tears. A caption flashed on the screen:
Andie Bates, Nick Dunne’s mistress
.

“Excuse me, can we get some volume?” I asked the bartender. I needed to hear this.

Andie spoke haltingly in between sobs. “Nick told me his relationship with his wife was over and that he wanted a relationship with me,” she said. “But it was all a big lie.”

Well, well, well. She’d finally cracked.

Suddenly the TV coverage went to a split screen, and on the other side of the screen was another press conference with another cute girl in tears at the podium. A caption popped up:
Katie DeNunzo, Nick Dunne’s other mistress
.

Katie started speaking. “Nick told me his relationship with the girl he was cheating on his wife with was over, and that he wanted a relationship with me,” said Katie. “But it was all a big lie.”

Suddenly the TV coverage went to a triple screen, and in the third section there was yet another press conference going on. This time I recognized the woman at the podium. It was Go.

“Nick told me his relationship with the two girls he was cheating on his wife with was over, and that he wanted a relationship with me,” said Go. “But it was all a big lie.”

My God. I thought Nick had been famous after the Flip phone interview in the bar. But after
this
? I had to figure out a way to get home.

And as I glanced across the table at Desi, who’d been staring at me longingly for 30 minutes straight, I knew I had to figure it out fast.

NICK DUNNE: Ten Days Gone

The show was over. We’d been watching the three press conferences on TV, and when the last one finished, Dr. Rupta’s producer kicked the TV off with her heel.

“Well?” she said. “What the fuck was that? You promised us an interview full of ‘bombshell revelations.’ Now all we’re gonna get is ‘bombshell revelations’ everybody already fucking knows about. We’re outta here.” And she turned to leave.

“That’s too bad,” said Tanner. “Because I thought Dr. Rupta might’ve enjoyed hearing about Nick’s new transvestite girlfriend.”

“The correct term is ‘ladyboy,’” I said.

The producer stopped in her tracks, and picked up her walkie-talkie.

“Mike up the Doc,” she said. “We’re on in five.”

AMY ELLIOTT DUNNE: Ten Days Gone

Desi’s lake house was pretty amazing. As he gave me the tour, I kept seeing one cool thing after another: 20-seat movie theater, infinity pool, game room, and on and on. It would be an amazing place to stay...if it didn’t belong to Desi.

“I’ve saved the best for last,” Desi said, as we came to a door at the end of a long hallway. “This is where you’ll be staying. I remodeled it just for you.”

He opened the door to reveal the room I would’ve fantasized about if I were still in fifth grade. There was pink heart-print wallpaper, a soft serve ice cream machine, a candy counter like at the movies, and ‘N Sync posters everywhere. Fifth grade was the one time we’d gone on an actual date, so that’s the only reference point he had for what I thought was romantic.

I knew Nick’s interview with Dr. Rupta was about to air, and I wanted to watch it alone, but no matter how many hints I gave to Desi about how tired I was and how I wanted to go to sleep, he wouldn’t stop hovering. So I ended up watching it with him there. But I spilled some soft serve ice cream on the couch so he couldn’t sit next to me.

The big bombshell in the interview was that Nick had started dating a transvestite or ladyboy or whatever. It wasn’t a bombshell to me, though. When you’ve watched as much porn as Nick, nothing “normal” is capable of getting you off. I’m surprised he was just dating the transvestite and not having her pee on him. That would probably be next week.

“You look a little worn out,” said Desi when the interview ended. “Maybe you could use a massage.” Ugh. Massage was the classic guy-in-the-friend-zone suggestion. They always thought it would lead to something more, but it never did. Except them getting blue balls.

This one time, however, I was glad he’d suggested it. Because as soon as I heard him say it, I figured out how I was gonna get out of there.

Part Three: BOY GETS BITCH BACK (OR VICE VERSA)

NICK DUNNE: Eleven Days Gone

I could tell that the interview with Dr. Rupta went well, because during the entire interview Betsy only spat in my face twice. But no matter how well the interview went, I was going to be arrested. Soon. As Tanner said, even though they hadn’t found a body, whatever evidence there was pointed to me. And the cops had to look like they were doing something.

On the bright side, I now had Go’s house all to myself, because the police had arrested her in an attempt to pressure me into confessing. They’d gotten her on some obscure Missouri law against incest. She’d tried to argue that she and I never actually had sex, but the law was written in 1827 when hugging a sibling was considered incest.

I’d thought about bailing Go out of jail by taking out a second mortgage on my house, but I was still pissed that she’d given that press conference, so I figured I’d let her stew for a few days. Besides, her bed was much comfier than the couch. And I was gonna enjoy it, because I’d be sleeping on a flimsy prison mattress soon enough.