Coverup

 “Jesus, I hate these things,” he said.

I gripped the side of the jon boat, trying not to think too hard about the IKEA bag between us. The moon was full in the sky, casting light off the water. My roommate was facing me, one hand on the motor. I kept my eyes locked on him. He tilted his head.

“How–” I started, then stopped, then started again. “How long is this gonna take?”

He checked his wrist– no watch– and sighed. “Thirteen minutes or so? Big lake.”

“I’m an idiot,” I mumbled.

“Sure.”

“Massive idiot.”

“So am I.”

An hour ago, he’d knocked on my door with that stupid smile on his face. Slid his hands into his pockets right as I opened up. Acted so casual, asked the most insane question I’d ever heard. Hey, could you help me–?

I cut through my own thoughts. “I– I want payment.”

“Fifty.”

“Higher.”

“Uhm… a hundred, then.”

“What–” A birdcall interrupted me. I tried not to jump. “What’s the highest you’ll go?”

He sucked in a breath. “I got paid yesterday, so… Let’s say one-sixty-eight.”

“A hundred-seventy-five.”

He laughed, like it was funny. “Hard sell, huh?”

“And– And I want it cash. Non-sequential twenties.”

“Damn, is this a ransom or a–?”

“Don’t.”  My voice was sharper than I meant it to be. “Don’t talk about it. I’ll throw up.”

He huffed, almost a scoff, and shook his head. My stomach churned anyway. He’d already told me off twice for trying to put my knees to my chest, so I just gritted my teeth and squeezed the side of the boat tighter.

He scoffed. “Come on, you’re way too tense.”

“And how are you so–?” I stammered, waved my free hand.

“It’s like I’ve done this before.”

“Go to Hell.”

“Joking, joking. It’s actually a really intense series of hyper-compartmentalizations. I’ve already forgotten what we’re doing.”

“Like, actually, go to Hell.”

He laughed, softer this time, like he was watching an animal perform a trick in a cage. My eyes wandered down to the bag between us, to what was inside it. I reached out.

He took me by the wrist. “Hey. Nuh-uh. You promised.”

I stammered again, tried to get out I’m in shock, but I just pulled my hand back and took to gripping the underside of my seat. He grinned at me. I flinched when the motor kicked up.

“How did it happen?”

“And here I thought you didn’t want me to talk about it.”

“You think I wanna sit in silence?”

“Why bother taking me up on this if you can’t follow through, huh?” he almost spat.

“Don’t answer my question with a question.”

“Don’t dodge mine.”

I chewed at my lip. Things went quiet, except for the motor purring, and the crickets, and the night-birds, and him humming that Tame Impala song he’d shown me last week.

“You don’t just say that to a guy,” I said. “and expect him not to help out.”

“For a guy with such a strong conscience, you sure have some fucked-up morals,” he responded.

“Uh-huh.”

“That degree of yours is going down the drain, I bet.”

“Shut up.”

“I mean, really, what kind of forensics major agrees to something like this?”

“Seriously–”

“You have a life in front of you, y’know that? And here you are, out at midnight with me, sending it all down the river–” He cut himself off to laugh.

I winced. “That– That sucked. You suck.”

“Only for you, baby.”

I hoped the moonlight caught the disgust on my face. “I could throw you in right here and now.”

“How would you get home?”

I tried to say I’ll figure it out, but the words died on my tongue. I couldn’t drive. We didn’t have cell service out this far. I could walk part of it, scrape myself up a little, call the police– I was in a crash, no idea where the car disappeared to–

“Ooh, you’re actually thinking about it,” he said, trying to hide his giddiness with concern.

I snapped back into reality to find myself staring out into the water. “Not at all.”

“This is the part where I start getting worried, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, because I’d totally stoop to your level.”

“Is it really stooping if he came at me first?” He sighed, somehow wistful. “A man has to protect his honor, doesn’t he?”

I swallowed back a thousand questions. “You’re screwing with me.”

“Maybe, maybe not. Not like you’d care at the end of the day.”

“Did you seek me out?”

His smile faltered for a fraction of a second.

“Or,” I said. “did you get me because I’m an easy doormat?”

I blinked, and he had that stupid smile on his face again, the dimple on his cheek catching moonlight. He chuckled. “We both know you wouldn’t have said no to me, anyway.”

“I could’ve.”

“You didn’t.” His smile turned smug. “You could’ve brushed me off, just like every other time.”

“Don’t make it sound like you’ve actually done this before–”

“Last Wednesday when you had that bio test, the week before on Tuesday when you had track practice, over break last semester when you were out with your folks… Should I go on?”

“I’m gonna be sick.”

“Kidding, kidding!”

I bit back profanity.

“Those were all the times I brought girls back to ours.”

“Fuck you.”

He leaned back against the motor, looked out to the waterline, and shut it off. It spluttered, hummed, finally went quiet. He mumbled Doing great, girl, while patting it, and then turned back to me. His gaze was sharper now– almost cold– still keeping that easy, practiced smile.

“This is the fun part. Ready?”

“No.”

“Too bad.”

He leaned over and unzipped the bag with a practiced motion. I bit back a scream. I took one side, he took the other. We tipped it over the side of the boat, moonlight catching on the not-quite-dry blood of the carved up body inside.