All the Way

by Kristen Proby

  “No. Sell or keep the condo, I don’t give a shit. But you will live here. And I want to buy the house because you will have a film career, and we’ll be spending a lot of time in L.A. So we might as well have a house there.”

  “Of course.”

  “Which one do you like the best?”

  She just stares at me for a full ten seconds.

  “London, what’s the issue?”

  “It’s always the same issue,” she replies. “You’re not considering me. You’re not listening to me.”

  “I’m doing nothing but considering you. I’m looking at property in California for you.” Jesus, I can’t do anything right today.

  “I didn’t ask you to!” Her voice is louder now, and her eyes are pissed, and I have the distinct feeling that I’ve done something wrong.

  “Is this because the house is furnished? Would you rather decorate it yourself?”

  “I don’t give two fucks about whether the house is furnished or not,” she counters, and pushes her hands through her hair with frustration.

  “I really don’t see what the big deal is.”

  “Exactly. You don’t see. You’ve made all of these plans, made some pretty huge decisions, without even consulting with me to find out if that’s what I want.”

  “If you don’t want to move in with me—”

  “For fucksake, Finn, that’s not what I said.”

  I’m so damn lost here.

  “Look, if you want to buy property in California, buy it all. I don’t care. We aren’t married, and it’s not my money. Buy Disneyland while you’re at it.”

  We aren’t married yet.

  Not that right now is the time to propose. She might throw something at me.

  “But I don’t know that I’m ready to sell my condo.”

  “Okay, so don’t sell it. It’s not like one is dependent on the other.”

  She stops to just stare at me.

  “You just don’t get it.”

  “No,” I immediately admit. “I don’t get it. I thought I was doing a good thing, and now you’re pissed, and I don’t know what I did wrong.”

  She sighs and then shrugs. “We should get ready to go.”

  “No, you need to explain to me what’s going on in your head because I’m not leaving this house with you angry like this.”

  “You make decisions for me,” she says. “I don’t need you to do that. If I wanted a house in L.A., I’d buy one.”

  “So I’m a bad guy for wanting to buy you a house?” I stare at her, stunned. “Sweetheart, I don’t know any woman who would have been upset at the idea of me buying them a multimillion-dollar house.”

  “I’m not any woman,” she reminds me. “We’ve been through this before. More than once. And if that’s what you want, if that’s the kind of woman that turns you on, we should end this right here and now. Because that’s not me, Finn. I have a voice, and I’ll be goddamned if you’re not going to listen to it.”

  “I’m listening to it right now, but it’s not making any sense.”

  “This is impossible.”

  “No, it’s not.” I catch her arm when she tries to stomp away.

  “You’re not listening. You’re so damn stubborn that you’re not listening to me.” She pulls her arm away. “And if we’re going to get to this party on time, we need to get ready.”

  “Fuck the party.”

  “No.” She scowls at me. “We won’t blow it off. We’re going. You think you can take charge? Well, so can I, and I say we go, make nice all evening, and we will get back to this later. Your mom and brother are good people who love you, and we won’t hurt them by not showing up.”

  “So now you’re saying that I’m not a good person.”

  “I want to stab my own eyes out,” she mutters, and presses the heels of her hands against them, rubbing hard. “Just stab them. Maybe I’ll stab you first.”

  “You’re not the only stabby one in the room.”

  “What do you want from me?” London asks.

  “I want you to be happy,” I reply honestly. “I want you to be as stress-free and happy as possible. I thought I did that for you.”

  “Most of the time you do. But we are clearly still having a communication breakdown here, Finn. Because you want me to just smile and nod and give you what you want without asking questions, and I can’t.”

  “Well, should I apologize for wanting to make your life easier, London?”

  “No.” She blinks rapidly and turns away, walking into the bedroom, and I follow her. “I don’t want you to apologize for that. There is a long list of other things to apologize for.”

  “Well, why don’t you make me a list, and I’ll get to work on that.”

  She laughs now. Fucking laughs, and I’m so damn frustrated I want to punch a hole in the wall.

  There are moments I just can’t figure her out. Or women as a species.

  They completely baffle me.

  “Is this funny?”

  “It’s laugh or cry right now, Finn, and crying will fuck my face up, so I’m laughing. Because I’m going to wear my sexy dress and look pretty for tonight. I’ve been looking forward to it. I want to make your tongue hang out and your dick hard.”

  “You do that without the dress.”

  “Well, then, just wait until you see me. But if you think you’re getting your hands on me before we resolve this, you’re very mistaken.”

  “Now you’re withholding sex?”

  “I’m going to punch you,” she mutters, and slams the closet door.

  Chapter Seventeen

  ~London~

  I look fantastic. I bought this red dress a week ago, specifically for this occasion. It’s cut low in the front and the back, and shows off my legs nicely.

  It’s essentially a napkin.

  Add the fuck-me shoes and my hair piled high on my head, and I’m red-carpet worthy, if I do say so myself.

  I walk past a waiter and lift a glass of champagne off his tray and take a sip. It goes down smooth. A few more sips and my ruffled feathers might start to calm down.

  Finn is across the room chatting with some friends from law school that came into town for this occasion, as a surprise for him. He’s laughing, but his eyes search the rooftop until they find me, and they burn as he takes me in from head to toe.

  How can we be completely irritated with each other and still want to fuck each other into next week?

  I don’t get it.

  “You don’t look happy,” Quinn says as he joins me, sipping his own glass of bubbly.

  “I’m great.” I offer him a wide smile, but he just cocks an eyebrow and I shrug one shoulder. “Your brother is infuriating.”

  “Oh yeah. It’s one of his main talents.”

  I chuckle and then sigh deeply. I glance to my left, happy to see that Gabby’s here, in a pretty pink dress, talking to Finn and Carter. I’m excited to talk with her.

  Then I catch a glimpse of a man as he disappears around a corner, and I scowl.

  Could Kyle be here?

  No. Impossible.

  “Are you okay?” Quinn asks. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “I’m fine.” I take a sip of my drink, and then shake my head. “I figured out what you meant the other day when you said Finn is looking at new real estate.”

  “Uh-oh,” he says, and cringes. “So he followed through with it.”

  “Oh yeah. He did.”

  “And how did you take it?”

  “Not well,” I admit. “Has he always been pushy?”

  “When it comes to something he wants, yes.”

  Maggie joins us, holding her own glass of champagne and smiling happily. She’s dressed in a beautiful yellow dress and her dark hair is swept up in a dignified chignon.

  “Hello, darlings,” she says.

  “You look beautiful, Maggie.” I lean in to press my lips to her cheek.

  “Thank you, London. I think this party turned out just right.”<
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  I nod and turn to let my eyes scan the room, catching sight of Finn again. He’s moved to another group of friends, still talking, but also still facing me. He catches me watching him and offers me a small smile, which I return.

  We need to talk, but I can’t stay mad forever.

  “Your dress is lovely, dear,” Maggie says. “If I was your age, I’d kill to pull something like that off.”

  “It’s a birthday gift for Finn,” I admit, and watch her brown eyes light up with humor.

  “That’s a helluva gift,” Quinn says.

  “See, you need to find a woman like London,” Maggie says, and Quinn rolls his eyes. “Don’t you roll your eyes at me.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Hey London.” Gabby’s face is excited as she joins us. “Your dress is so pretty.”

  “Thank you. So is yours.” I hug her tightly. “You’ve been quite the hostess, talking with everyone.”

  “It’s a fun party,” she says with a shrug. “And Grandma says that to be a good hostess, you have to make everyone feel welcome.”

  “That’s my girl,” Maggie says, wrapping her arm around Gabby’s shoulders.

  “Oh, London, you brought the man from the playhouse.” Gabby smiles and I feel everything in me go still. “I thought you said you didn’t know him? He’s nice. Oh, there’s my cousin Josie!” And just like that, she skips away.

  My phone rings in my clutch.

  “Excuse me.” I walk around the corner to the foyer and see Kyle’s name on the display. “Hello?”

  “London?” he asks, and sniffs. “Is this a bad time?”

  Yes. What the fuck is this game you’re playing? “No, it’s okay. What’s wrong?”

  “I’m sorry.” He sniffs again. “I know you’re counting on me this time, but I’m just so scared. I wish you could have come down with me to check in. I just couldn’t do it.”

  “Kyle.” I rub my fingertips against my forehead. He has to be here. He has to be the man from the playhouse. That’s the only explanation, but I play along. “Take a deep breath. It’s okay. I understand feeling scared.”

  “I knew you would,” he says. “I know you’ve been through hell, and I’m just adding to your stress. I hate that. But I just don’t have anyone else.”

  “I know. Talk to me. What are you afraid of?”

  “Failing and disappointing you again.”

  “I’ll only be disappointed if you don’t try,” I reply. “Just do your best.”

  “I can’t.” He starts to cry in earnest now. “I can’t go down there.”

  “Wait.” I frown at the first mistake he’s made. “If you’re not down there, where are you?”

  “I’m at your place.”

  A chill runs through me.

  “My place? Like, inside?”

  “Yeah, your doorman let me in.”

  “I’m on my way.” I hang up and hurry back to the party to find Finn, but he’s nowhere to be found, so I rush over to Quinn. “I have to go to my condo for a minute.”

  “Okay.” He frowns. “Are you okay?”

  “I don’t know. Where’s Finn?”

  “I think he just ran to the bathroom. Do you want to wait for him?”

  “No.” I shake my head and offer him a smile. “I won’t be long. Just let him know that I ran home.”

  He nods and I hurry out, walking to my building, which is only three blocks away. It’ll take longer to hail a cab.

  Roger the doorman is working today, and smiles when I approach. “Hello, Miss Watson. Your brother is waiting for you inside.”

  “Yes, I know.” He can see that I’m not smiling.

  “Do you need me to call for help?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  I hurry past without smiling, and wait impatiently for the elevator. What the fuck is Kyle doing in New York?

  Why isn’t he in North Carolina?

  He was within inches of Gabby, and there’s no scenario in the world where that’s okay.

  I open the door to my apartment, and don’t see him at first. But my eyes immediately go to the kitchen island and the floppy-eared bunny from my playhouse that’s sitting there.

  “Hi,” Kyle says as he walks out of my bedroom. He’s dressed in a nice white button-down shirt, black slacks, and a red tie.

  “I did see you at the party.”

  “Oh yeah,” he says with a smile. “Great little shindig. But I wanted to have a little talk with you while everyone else is busy.”

  “Okay.” I frown. “You’re not crying.”

  He smirks, and then his face crumples and he starts to act. “I’m so sorry, London. I’m sooooo scared.” He stops and rolls his eyes. “That whole act was getting old. You’re not the only performer in the family, you know.”

  “I guess not.” I clear my throat, and try to think of the nearest weapon. My heels would leave a mark if need be. “Why are you here?”

  “Well, if I tell you that, I’ll skip all of the good parts, and I don’t want to do that.” He smiles widely, showing me his teeth. Teeth that used to be rotten.

  “So, I guess this means that you won’t be going to rehab? That you’re not clean?”

  “Oh, London. I’ve been clean for years. This is just who I am.” He holds his hands out at his sides and then shrugs.

  “What, an asshole?”

  “Yeah, that’s a good word.” He nods happily. “At least, I’m an asshole where you’re concerned. Because you always got everything you ever wanted, and Dad always treated me like I was an imposition.”

  You were an imposition.

  But I don’t say it. I want to know where this is going.

  “Okay, start from the beginning, then. What’s up, Kyle?”

  “This is the best story,” he says, and does a little dance of excitement. “Okay, first of all, you’re supposed to be dead. And the fact that you aren’t really pisses me off.”

  I blink at him, not responding.

  “I set the fire,” he says with pride. “I set the perfect fire, one that looked like a tragic accident, to kill all of you. If you’d have died, I would have inherited everything and be walking on easy street right now.

  “But no, you didn’t die, did you? Fucking little bitch, you always did screw everything up for me.”

  “Wait.” I shake my head. “You killed our parents? For money?”

  “Look who’s catching up. You’re not exactly the smartest girl in the room, are you, honey? Yes. I. Killed. Our. Parents. And I was supposed to kill you too. Who knew you’d be brave and jump out of that fucking window?”

  I want to kill him. I want to run at him and tear him apart with my bare hands. But I don’t. I stay where I am and listen, because he’s going down for all of this if it’s the last thing I do.

  “You looked completely stoned in Finn’s office that day.”

  “I’d been awake for days, pissed off that you lived. And then when he told me that those two assholes left everything to you, I flipped the fuck out.”

  “Why didn’t you just say that you’re sober? All it would take is one blood test to confirm, and the money is yours, Kyle.”

  “Because I shouldn’t have to prove dick!” he yells back at me. “It’s mine. All of it. You have your own goddamn money, you don’t need it. And what do you do after the will reading? You go to Martha’s Vineyard to live the life of luxury in your fancy house.”

  “That was our house,” I remind him, but he just glares at me.

  “It’s your house now because you stole what was rightfully mine. Do you think I haven’t been following you? Watching? How do you think I got the stupid bunny? You thought it was the storm that fucked up your stupid playhouse, but it wasn’t. It was me. I screwed with the battery in the car. I’ve been following you.”

  “I knew I saw you.”

  “Yeah, I got a little sloppy the last few weeks because I wanted you to see me and get scared.”

  “You don’t scare me.”


  He smirks and pulls a gun out of the back of his pants and points it at me. “I should scare you.”

  “You wouldn’t hurt me.” This can’t be real.

  “Are you fucking deaf? Haven’t you been listening to me? I tried to kill you, you idiot.”

  “I don’t believe it.” I shake my head, just as my phone rings.

  “Throw it to me.”

  I pull it out of my clutch and see Finn’s name on the display.

  “I said throw it to me,” Kyle says, and I do. “Hello, London can’t come to the phone right now. Who am I? Not that it’s any of your fucking business, but this is her brother. She’s with me. No, I’m not going to let you talk to her.”

  “Just let me talk to him.”

  “Nope, not telling you where we are either.” He turns away from me, enjoying the way he’s taunting Finn over the phone. He’s more mentally disturbed than I ever thought. I ease my way to the end table by the couch, which has a pair of scissors sitting on it, and grab them, then inch my way toward Kyle, who’s still talking smack to Finn. “I don’t know what you want with my bitch of a sister. She’s a know-it-all, and she’s not that talented. Maybe she’s fun in bed? I don’t know. It doesn’t matter, because I’m about to fucking kill her.”

  He turns, surprised to see me standing so close to him, and drops the phone.

  I punch him in the nose, satisfied with the loud crunch of it breaking, and stick the scissors next to his neck. “Don’t fucking move. Finn! Call the cops!”

  I can barely hear his voice from the floor. “Quinn did. On our way.”

  “You’re not going to fucking stab me.”

  “Oh yeah, I am. Just try me.”

  “You broke my nose.”

  “Good.”

  He bends over, pushing his hands against his nose, and when I move to let him, he reaches out to take me down.

  But I move quickly, not inhibited by blurry eyes and a bloody nose, and land my elbow against his face again, sending him to the floor, unconscious.

  Seconds later, there’s pounding on my door, and cops come flooding inside.

  “London Watson?”

  “Yes. This is Kyle Watson, and I’m pressing charges for breaking and entering, assault, and the murder of my parents.”