Chapter 67
Kitty and Antoinette’s Airbnb, West Hollywood, Los Angeles
Some time later, I’m not sure exactly how long because time sort of loses itself when you’re torturing a man in a wine cellar, the door creaks open and I hear feet on the steps. I look up and it’s Charlie, holding a tray of what looks like lemonade.
‘Lauren made drinks,’ he says. ‘I figured you’d be getting thirsty by now?’
‘Oh God, yes!’ Antoinette says, dropping the hammer she’s been working with and skipping over to the steps and Charlie.
I want to stop him from coming any closer. Charlie is so pure and, even though he says he’s accepted who I am and what I do, I worry that seeing me in action might give him the ick. Aidan isn’t looking great at the moment. His face alone would be enough to make even the strongest stomach quiver.
‘Thanks,’ I say. ‘You can leave it up there.’
But Charlie is already making his way into the cellar.
He puts the tray on the floor before standing up and tilting his head and looking at Aidan.
Aidan is, remarkably, still conscious even though we’ve gone to town on his cheekbone and ribs. I’m half-impressed that he didn’t pass out when we fed his right hand, the one he used to hit Tor, into the meat tenderiser.
That was Antoinette’s idea.
The girl is beautifully sadistic.
He sees Charlie and his eyes, which had begun to deaden with each menu item we served up to him, suddenly brighten.
‘Help me,’ he croaks. I haven’t gotten to his Adam’s apple yet. It will be one of the last things I do. I want to hear every single utterance until he takes his last breath. ‘Please. They’re killing me. Slowly.’
I look at Charlie, expecting a haunted look in his eyes, but he just stares at Aidan with an expression I can’t make out.
‘It’s Aidan, right?’ he says after a moment. ‘I don’t believe we’ve met.’
‘Help me, man, they’re crazy.’
Charlie lifts a hand to his face and rubs his stubble. ‘Are they?’ he says. ‘Or are they justifiably fucking furious about what you did?’
Aidan’s left eye is a pulpy mess but his right eye widens. ‘You’ve gotta help me, bro?’
Charlie lifts a shoulder. ‘I’m not sure that I do.
’ He crouches down so he’s eye level – pulp level – with Aidan.
‘You see, I know Tor as well. And like Kitty and Antoinette, I think she’s pretty great.
’ He peers at the other man’s face then stands up again.
‘I’ve seen what you did to her. How you turned a woman so full of life into a shell.
So no, I am not your bro and I’m not going to help you.
You deserve everything you get. In fact, I’d help but I don’t want to deny Kitty the joy of killing the man who hurt her friend, our friend, so badly.
’ And then he comes over to me and kisses me on my forehead.
‘Let me know if you need anything else, okay?’
God, I fucking love this man.
‘I will,’ I say as Aidan begins to sob.
Charlie makes his way back up the stairs with all of us staring after him.
‘Wow,’ says Antoinette. ‘You know how I feel about men, but you have got yourself a king there, Kits.’
‘I really do, don’t I?’
I want to bask in Charlie’s words and how much they mean to me but Antoinette and I need to get back to work. It’s getting late and I don’t want to spend the whole night down here.
From somewhere in the darkness behind me I hear the unmistakable and exquisite clink of steel hitting steel. Antoinette is sharpening her knives.
This has been a long time coming.
‘Have you got any last words?’
Aidan just stares at me.
‘Oh, come on,’ Antoinette says, ‘you’ve been super chatty up until now. This is your legacy. There must be something you want to share?’ She’s looking at him with narrowed eyes.
‘Just do it,’ he croaks. ‘Just kill me.’
Antoinette hands me one of the knives.
‘I told you you’d be begging for death,’ I say as I hold the tip to his Adam’s apple.
I watch it bob one final time.
Afterwards, when Aidan is packaged up in suitcases like Ron Wilde, Antoinette and I go back upstairs. I’m impressed to see that Lauren, Charlie and Agnes have been busy making dinner. No one mentions what we’ve been doing in the cellar.
‘It’s roast chicken!’ Agnes says brightly as she wraps her arms around Antoinette. She doesn’t even flinch that my sister’s sundress is covered in blood spatter.
‘There’s cauliflower for you, Kitty,’ Lauren says as she gets a tray of roasting vegetables out of the oven.
‘Oh, can someone go and get Lana Del Gay from the guesthouse?’ Agnes says. ‘She’d never forgive me if I ate chicken without her.’
I look around the room. Lauren is dishing the food up. Charlie is pouring drinks. Agnes and Antoinette are curled around each other on a chair.
‘I guess that’ll be me then,’ I say.
‘Lana,’ I call as I let myself into the guesthouse. ‘Where are you, you little menace?’ But the dog doesn’t come running out of wherever she’s been snoozing like she usually does. ‘Lana? There’s chicken waiting for you.’
Still nothing.
That’s weird.
She’s usually like a little furry tornado at the mention of chicken.
Where is she?
I stop and listen for a moment.
And then I hear it.
A quiet whining, coming from Lauren’s room.
I find her in there, her little paws scrabbling furiously at Lauren’s closet door.
‘What’s in there, you little gremlin?’ I say, pulling the closet open.
Lana gives a yelp of delight and launches herself at a half-chewed slipper. I pull it out for her and she snatches it from my hand, carrying it out, her tail wagging frantically with joy.
I almost miss the notebook that dislodged when I reached for the slipper.
Almost.