Chapter 20
CHAPTER 20
Lillian
M y arms are weighed down by twin rows of bags by the time I stagger up to the mansion’s door. It’s not that they’re heavy, just unwieldy. I shoot a glance over my shoulder at the driver in the car, who’s sitting without a care in the world. He didn’t even offer to help me. He still pretends as much as he can that I’m not there.
Whatever.
I let myself in and dump the bags on the floor with a big, satisfied sigh. Home, sweet home! I look around and take in a big breath. It smells like something’s cooking, and my tummy rumbles once I register the scent. This is just the icing on the cake. I can’t stop myself from beaming—I’ve had a beautiful day.
I leave the bags where they sit, making a mental note to lug them somewhere else to sort through my purchases. I’ll need to get Charlie to approve what I bought anyway, but I think Amber and I did a good job. We had a little sister date while I had the time and spent the day catching up and shopping with Charlie’s card. I guess I’ve been good lately!
Warmth spreads in my chest as I count my blessings and climb the stairs. I can’t believe how good things have been, for me and Amber. I haven’t mentioned how I plan to pay for her college. I’ll need to talk to Charlie about that soon, actually.
But it should be fine. I assumed tuition would be nothing to him, and he didn’t balk when I mentioned it to his mother. And now that I think about it, we haven’t had any time to visit her lately. We haven’t been back since I caught them mid-altercation.
I wonder if we’ll even go back. Maybe I should ask?—
“Hey, Lillian,” Charlie calls out.
I almost leap out of my skin. I barely had my door open when he greeted me.
“Shit, you scared me,” I reply, my hand on my heart. He’s reclined on the couch by the window, looking at me with a smile.
But there’s no one around.
He’s not usually so happy when it’s just the two of us.
“Come in, come in!” he encourages, gesturing me over. “And close the door behind you.” I hadn’t noticed I was just stuck there with my hand on the doorknob. Although I feel a little uneasy, I do as I’m bid and step toward him in my heels. My feet are aching, and I want to kick them off, but I can wait until he leaves.
“You look… comfortable,” I start, and he stands to meet me halfway, one hand behind his back.
“I’ve just been relaxing here, waiting for you.”
“Waiting for me?”
“Can’t I wait for you?” He laughs, and I try to ease up a bit.
“Well, what’s up?”
“I wanted to thank you for working so hard this past month?—”
I roll my eyes and tune him out with a sigh. So he’s just here to make fun of me, cool. I haven’t been working hard, I’ve just been standing next to him and smiling. He’s the one giving speeches and riling the crowds up or mingling with donors at fundraisers.
“Come on, I’m being serious.”
He doesn’t look serious. I face him wearily.
“I have something for you,” he continues, “for your hard work.”
“Really?” Whatever it is, I doubt it’s a real gift. I smile thinly as he places a box into my hand. I scrunch up my face as I feel the plastic wrapping encasing it before I look down.
I’m confused. I turn the pack around in my hand, wondering if he’s mistakenly given me the wrong thing. But Charlie doesn’t smoke. And the last time I held a pack of cigarettes?—
The floor drops out from beneath me, taking my stomach along with it. My knees want to buckle next. I swallow hard and push the memory away.
“What— what is this, Charlie? I don’t smoke,” I say, emotion leaking out of my voice.
“Not anymore, no, but you used to, right? How about sparking up for old times’ sake?” He grins at me.
“No, that’s okay.” I try to push the pack into his hands, but he just shoves it back to me.
“You sure? Wouldn’t it be fun to reminisce about the days you used to smoke? Just a teen, right?”
Anxiety rushes through me like a river. I feel sick. The hunger from earlier dissipates in a blink, and I fight off the urge to run to the bathroom.
I don’t look at him.
“No, really?—”
“Is it the wrong brand? Sorry, I didn’t know what you used to smoke. Hey, why’d you quit, anyway? Don’t get me wrong, it’s great for my image, but that must have been a hard thing to do for a teenager.”
I can barely make sense of what he’s saying. I almost feel like I’m in a dream, except a terrible sense of dread is pushing down on me.
I suck in a gulp of air, suddenly feeling trapped.
“Hey, hey, what’s going on? I’m just wondering what must have happened to make you quit like that. You had nerves of steel as a kid!” He puts his hands on my upper arms, keeping me rooted to the spot.
I look around the room for some kind of escape.
“Charlie—”
“Glad you stopped. You never know what accidents could happen.”
Accidents.
The rushing anxiety in me freezes over.
Then I feel nothing.
I shrug his hands off me, still avoiding his eyes.
“I’ll have to be careful around you, won’t I? Can’t piss you off too much, who knows what will happen?”
His laughter grates on my ears.
“What are you getting at?” I snap. I want to choke the laughter out of his throat, make him shut up so I can wrap my head around what’s going on.
He knows.
But how?
And what does it mean?
“You killed your father, Lillian,” he says quietly and slowly. He’s looking down into my eyes, eyebrows raised.
“I tried to talk to you about my past after we met your mother.”
“Oh, you were going to confess in the car in front of the driver? Is that it?” He scoffs.
“Who fucking cares about the driver?”
“I get the feeling you care a lot.”
“Look, whatever, that’s beside the point.”
“Right, right, so you were going to tell me on your own that you killed your father?”
I glare silently at him.
“Were you or not?”
“Charlie, why would I go around casually admitting that I’m a murderer?”
“Oh I don’t think anyone would. But you said you were going to talk to me about your past. Don’t pretend like you tried to tell me.”
“Fine! Fine, I wasn’t going to go over every gory detail of my childhood!”
“Then what was so important?—”
“He fucking deserved it!” I yell into his face, emotion swirling tumultuously in my body, indignation and rage joining to form a storm.
And I can’t control it.
“He was a violent drunk that drove my mother to her death! She did nothing to deserve that and paid for his demons! You think that woke him up? No! It fucking didn’t, he just beat me more, there was no one stopping him anymore. Then he…” I blink away angry tears, my body shaking. “He hurt Amber. She was so little.” I sniff hard, willing the tears away, shoving the hurt away, back where it belongs. I rub at my cheeks, erasing the evidence. “So I killed him. And it was easy, too!”
I choke on a sob and morph it into something else, a hysterical burst of laughter. I can’t stop talking.
“I usually hid the liquor bottles, tried to make things easier on myself, but he’d find them. That day, I left them around, and the idiot drank his fill. When he fell asleep on the couch, half-eaten food and used tissues surrounding him, I dropped the lit cigarette next to him, supplied a nest of bits and pieces to catch fire, knocked over a bottle, and left.”
I run my fingers through my hair, still shaking, and let out another burble of laughter.
“I’ve never once regretted it,” I say through giggles. “The life insurance money made it all worthwhile. Getting that waste out of our lives made it worthwhile.” Tears are streaming from my eyes, but I don’t care. “I’d gladly go to prison for it.”
“I can’t let you go to prison,” Charlie finally says. I don’t know why he’s looking at me like that. I don’t know what it is, some kind of hard look, but who cares. I feel lighter than I’ve ever felt and weak and unsteady. I sway on my feet, taking a step back. “I’m not the only person who knows about your past, Lillian. You’ve got a secret admirer who wants you in prison and my future plans dashed.”
It’s my turn to scoff. “Even if I had known a billionaire was going to proposition me, I wouldn’t have let him live.”
“You’re not even sorry for dragging me and my campaign into your mess,” he remarks with wonder. “Don’t you realize the potential consequences now?”
“Are you kidding?” I feel like a wild woman as I get in his face, my eyes wide. “Fuck your campaign, Charlie!”
He doesn’t move. He looks down at me, some new emotion making his face twitch.
“Try that again.” He’s deadly quiet.
“Fuck your campaign!!” I yell, louder, throwing my arms out at my sides. “Want me to say it again? Fuck your campaign!!”
Wham!