Chapter Twenty-One
If You Love Her
Royal
I couldn’t believe I said the quiet part out loud.
I’d been in love with that girl since High School. She was Forty’s daughter, though. So, I’d never spoken up or betrayed how I felt. Not until I came home from college and had a few too many.
At least she hadn’t caught my little slip of tongue. I convinced her that we’d go see her friend, Bootsie, and even had her arrange things in advance. Poor Bootsie was under the impression that we were about to pull a nasty prank on my brother and was completely on board.
For now, Kennedy was faintly snoring on my mother’s sofa. The blanket she had wasn’t long enough for her tall build, but she didn’t seem to mind sleeping in a fetal position.
I stalked the clock and obsessively checked my phone. The minutes choked by right along with my thoughts and fears. By the time dawn approached, I was more than ready to find out if our plan would work.
She’d made me promise I’d wake her, but how the hell could I?
If it went wrong, and I wasn’t convincing enough, she’d be the one to suffer. And, what if they saw her? It was too great a risk. She had to stay here and let me handle this alone. I stood up as slowly as I could, preventing the aged chair from making any noise to betray my movement.
When the sound of her snoring never wavered, I quietly made my way to my mother’s medicine cabinet.
My father had done a number on her. She was a life coach now, and spent her days helping women navigate high-conflict divorces with men like him. But that didn’t mean she did it alone. She had an arsenal of medications that helped her function as well as she did these days.
I’d learned in my teenage years which ones were worth a damn when you wanted a buzz.
I wasn’t interested in checking out tonight, but I trusted Kennedy wasn’t a regular consumer of Seroquel.
Which meant that she’d likely feel like she was drunker than she’d ever been in her life, if I could get one in her.
She’d be lucky if she could get off the sofa without spinning, let alone place herself in any more danger than she was already in.
I fingered a tiny tablet out of the container and carefully looked through her cabinets. She didn’t smoke, so cellophane was out of the question. A box of hair dye caught my attention near the back. I triumphantly pulled it out and carefully peeled the plastic wrap away.
It was large enough to do the trick. I folded it around the pill, took my license out and went to work crushing it.
“Roy?” Kennedy faintly called, from the other side of the bathroom door.
“Yeah, I’m here.” I stuffed the prized plastic and my license into my pocket, and opened the door.
“Oh.” She weakly smiled, “I thought maybe you snuck off or something.”
I shook my head, offering a sympathetic smile, “No. I’m here. I’m about to get some coffee and try to wake up. You want some?”
She moved her lips around her face like she was contemplating and hesitantly nodded, “With sugar?”
“You bet,” I exhaled, relief flooding through me as I realized that any floating residue would be chalked up to her sugar request.
I hurried to the kitchen, while she took her turn in the bathroom. When she returned, we settled in the living room and sipped together. It couldn’t have been for more than thirty minutes, but it felt like an eternity before that pill kicked in and she laid her head on my shoulder.
Her even breaths soon turned into faint snoring. I tucked the cover around her shoulders and smoothed the hair off her face.
“Get your beauty rest, love. I got you,” I whispered over her, before grabbing my coat.
The parking lot of the butcher shop was mostly empty save for a vehicle in the back. I rounded the bull chutes and knocked on the side door like Bootsie had instructed.
“Girl, you are cra…” She trailed off when she realized it was me and not Kennedy.
Her broad shoulders kept the door open, but it was clear the heavy bucket of blood required all her strength.
“I need to talk to you,” I spoke quietly, and took the bucket before she could withdraw, causing a bit of it to slop on her shoe in the process.
She darted back and stared down at her shoe and then up at me.
“Kennedy said you were her best friend. If that’s true, you should walk out back with me. If it isn’t, disregard everything I’ve said.” I hoped I hadn’t scared her off, but I didn’t have time to waste smoothing things over.
For a minute, I thought she wasn’t going to come out, but halfway to the car, I heard the door clip shut behind me. I didn’t try to be discreet; I opened her passenger door, leaned in and flung the shit everywhere.
“What the fuck?” Bootsie snapped, darting toward me.
“I need to convince someone I killed her, and I need you to forget you saw me in order to make it happen.”
She stopped in her tracks, her lips floundering while a thousand questions flashed in her eyes.
“Bootsie, if you love her, too…”
“Of course, I love her,” she spat, almost sounding insulted.
I handed her the bucket back and rounded the car, planting my ass in the messy, crimson seat without a second thought, “Then remember what I said. You haven’t seen anyone, you don’t know anything.
Matter of fact, call her phone a time or two after lunch, when she doesn’t answer, call her dad and ask if he has seen her. ”
“Roy,” she blurted out, as I shifted the car into gear.
I met her gaze, and could predict the question even before she uttered it, “She–she is okay, ri–?”
“She’s fine. I’m gonna keep her safe, but I need your help to do it.”
She slowly nodded, backing away from the car with tears in her eyes. I knew she meant to sound threatening, but her voice cracked a little when she charged, “You better.”