Chapter Three
Alexandra
Finally, I’ve got him.
It took time, patience, and so much work to get to this point; to find his name, his new motorcycle club, where he lives, where he drinks — not to mention getting a job where he drinks — just to get here. Night after night, when my body ached and my heart felt like nothing more than an aching dead weight in my chest because I’d worked another shift and he’d been there, drinking, laughing, carousing, and all I could do is watch as he lived it up, remorseless, I’d fall asleep envisioning this very moment: him, drugged, slumping face down against my bar, drool dribbling from his mouth, his eyes fluttering, fighting to stay open, full of confusion, full of anticipatory fear, all while the lights are out and no one is around to hear him scream.
I’m so happy I could cry.
Because tonight, I’m going to make him suffer.
Tonight was the first night he noticed me, though I’d been worried for so long he might recognize me. Not that we’ve seen each other face to face before I started working in the bar, but he’s seen others in my family and I’ve been told times before that we share some resemblance. I’m happy he didn’t recognize me, because that would’ve ruined everything. If he knew who I was, he’d probably have killed me.
As it is, he has no idea who I am or what I plan to do to him — well, actually, I suppose he has some idea what I plan to do to him since I did just tell him I’m going to kill him, but he doesn’t know why, he doesn’t know how, and all of that is going to be so sweet.
I’m going to draw it out. I’m going to enjoy this.
“What… the fuck…” His voice is garbled, slow and thick, like congealed blood trying to force its way through a sieve.
I laugh. Oh, he sounds so awful. What a great start.
“I’m surprised you’re able to talk. The dosage I gave you, you should be out like a light.”
It’s an inconvenience that he’s awake right now, but not an unwelcome one.
“Fuck…”
He slumps forward on his stool.
“Yes, you are fucked,” I say. My voice is warm, as close to happy as it’s been in so long. It’s so warm that I pause for a second, surprised at the upwelling of emotions, wondering if this act that I’ve wanted with such dark despair will be the thing that finally makes me happy again. Finally lets me move on. Healing through murder, what a concept. “In a bit, you’re going to slip unconscious. That’s because I’ve drugged you. When you pass out, I’m going to put you in my car, and I’m going to take you back to my apartment, and then, when I’m done with you, I’m going to kill you. I’ll cut off your hands, your feet, and your head. I’ll remove your teeth, burn off your fingerprints, and dispose of your body parts all up and down the coast. For all intents and purposes, you will disappear.”
I continue nattering at him as I finish my closing duties, wiping down everything that might bear his fingerprints. Can’t leave evidence behind.
“Wow… you know…. A lot…”
“Yeah, I listened to a lot of true crime podcasts to get ready for this. Those things are super educational. The good ones are like a masterclass in murder. My favorite was The Serial Killer Serial. The hosts had fantastic chemistry. Oh, and they’d have excellent guests — sometimes they’d even get in detectives or FBI agents who had worked on these cases. They had a great sense of humor, too; they did a whole series on the ‘Cornflakes Killer,’ who was this guy who got caught because he’d make himself breakfast in the homes of his victims. They found his fingerprint on a box of cornflakes. So the hosts changed the hours of their show to come out in the morning and they called it ‘The Serial Killer Serial over Cereal,’” I say. I’m probably way too into the show. “You don’t care, do you?”
“Interest…”
I smile while I finish wiping down the counter, which is one of the last things I have to do before I leave. He might be trying to say ‘interesting.’ Maybe he likes it. Maybe he’s not as awful as he seems. But it doesn’t matter because I’m still going to kill him. Which is a shame because he’s a lot more attractive than I thought he’d be. Nobody I spoke with to get his description told me he was handsome, but then, the main person I talked to was my brother’s best friend, Mateo, and he’d never describe another man as attractive because he’s the type to see doing so as a threat to his masculinity. And I’m pretty sure he has a crush on me.
“It really was,” I say. “Anyway, I learned a lot from them. Especially how not to get caught. But that’s neither here nor there, cause, either way, you’re going to die. So, you just sit tight while I get the dolly.”
Turning away, I head into the back room where we keep the dolly for transporting the kegs. Dixon’s big, and while I could probably drag him, the dolly is just easier. As I slip my hands around the handles of the dolly, there’s a sound that makes me freeze. The door.
Followed by another sound, which nearly makes me scream.
“Alex, you OK? Why the hell is there some guy still here?”
It’s the bouncer. Scott. Back when he should be gone. A surge of fear races through me, turning my blood cold.
This could ruin everything.