by Teagan Kade
“Derek, please,” she begs, and she looks even more pathetic than before. “It wasn’t even her. It was her sleazy boyfriend.”
I roll my eyes. The whole story sounds like something from a soap opera, the subject of a bad Lifetime movie.
Finally, I turn to her, sigh, and say, “Go on.” I’m almost certain I want nothing to do with Beth ever again, especially given this new information. Nothing boils my blood as much as someone who would deliberately start a fire. I just want to hear her ridiculous story for my own peace of mind.
She takes a deep breath and, wiping away her fresh tears, continues again.
“It was Travis,” she explains. “He was the one who came up with the idea of setting the fire. He said it would be easy money—just light that bitch up, file a claim, collect the check.”
I glare at her but don’t say anything. I can’t believe what I’m hearing.
Oh, I believe it on a visceral level—how the fuck else could this whole shit be explained? —but I can’t believe that Beth, of all people, would even entertain this shit, let alone actually try to go through with it.
“So, I did exactly what he told me to do,” she continues, her voice growing increasingly more high-pitched with each word. “I didn’t think it would get this bad.”
I glare at her again, but this time I answer her. “How the fuck did you not think it was ‘that bad’ Beth? When he came up with this harebrained scheme, you should have gone to the fucking police. What he proposed is called insurance fraud, not to mention arson. Both of those crimes are fuckin’ felonies. If you had a paper trail to prove all this—emails, text messages, something—you could have sent his shady ass to jail for a long time. And then he could have threatened you with whatever the fuck he wanted, and it wouldn’t have mattered because his happy ass would have been in jail where it belongs.”
She sighs and lowers her eyes. “I didn’t think of that at the time. I was scared,” she says in a whiny voice. “Please, believe me.”
But I’ve had enough. “Oh, bullshit,” I shout. “You would light up your own fucking house for anyone, least of all him? Come on, Beth. I was born at night, but not last night.”
She wails openly. I’m shocked by how little I care about her fragile state. Just a few minutes ago I would have moved heaven and earth to make her happy, to keep her safe, and to make her feel loved.
Now? I couldn’t care in the least.
Is this what it feels like to fall out of love? I think to myself. Damn. This sucks.
“It’s true!” she says, loud enough to match my own screams of anger. “My mother didn’t want to put me in this situation. At all. At all. But she was afraid if I didn’t go along she’d lose Travis over it.”
“Mother of the year,” I say sarcastically. “Now you’re saying she’s more concerned about her shitty boyfriend leaving her than her daughter’s well-being? According to you, she’d rather see you go to jail than to lose a piece-of-shit boyfriend. Right?”
“That’s right,” she says, looking forlorn. For a quick second, I actually feel sorry for her. Given everything she’s told me about her upbringing and what she’s telling me now, I know in my heart of hearts that she was manipulated. And not just manipulated, but badly, to the point she was capable of burning down her own beloved house.
I have no doubt this Travis scumbag was the one who came up with this garbage idea. No question about it. Beth doesn’t even seem to be the type.
The fact he manipulated her, according to her own testimony, and her mother seemed to be okay with all of this, makes me blind with rage. I mean, who are these people?
In the same breath, Beth was and is a grown woman, fully capable of making her own decisions. No matter how bad her upbringing was, or how shitty an adult’s situation is, she has the means and the ways to get out of it. Lighting a fire to burn down your house is not what one would call a ‘healthy option.’
Beth must be reading my mind, because she continues with the story and answers the questions I had for myself.
“My mother initially said I deserved to be treated this way,” she says. “Because of how I left home when I was younger. Just boom—up and gone. But even she had to admit she’d been an awful mother to me. Then she told me that Travis had overheard our entire conversation, and if I didn’t go along…”
Her voice trails off. We’re both silent.
Finally, I look at her intently, the anger and disappointment no doubt clear in my eyes.
“And the letter?” I ask.
She sighs and rolls her eyes, which only makes me madder, because I feel she doesn’t care enough about my feelings, or about lying to me, or about actually owning up to all the bullshit she’s done.
“The letter… That was the only way Mom could warn me without letting Travis know she’d done so,” she explains.
“How noble of her,” I say, matching her eye roll with one of my own. I turn my back on her and begin walking towards the door.
“Derek, wait,” she says, pulling on my arm, begging me to stay.
I actually consider relenting. After all, I know better than anyone she probably went through a lot in her youth. I know she has a crappy mother, a non-existent father, and an upbringing you wouldn’t wish on anyone. I know that despite her flaws, she loves me, and I, in turn, love her.
Big words, but they’re true. What I feel for Beth is unlike anything I’ve felt before?
But I can’t get past what she’s done. What if she’d hurt someone? What if she’d killed someone?
What if, God forbid, she’d killed a puppy or a kitten—a child? All this for some crazy loser not even her mother is sure about?
No. No fucking way.
“I love you, Derek,” she says, apropos of nothing.
I look at her with a questioning look on my face.
“Excuse me?” I ask, making sure I understood what she said the first time.
“I said ‘I love you,’” she repeats. “I didn’t mean to fall in love with you. But I have. From the day you rescued me, I just knew it. And then when you showed me you loved me, too…”
She steps closer to me and puts her hand on my forearm, looking at me with a pleading, desperate look, her eyes glassy and wet.
“Don’t leave, Derek. Please.”
Her eyes pool, and this time, I have no question in my mind these tears are real.
But I can’t look at her the same way again.
Despite my best efforts, I‘m disgusted—with her, for pulling all this shit, and with myself, for falling for her.
Wait a minute, I say to myself, but shrug off my self-doubt before railing into her.
“Oh, now you say you love me?” I say, whipping my arm back violently. The way she flinches tells me she thought I was going to hit her, but I don’t care—I’m too fucking angry to care.
“You know, the guys in the house warned me about you. They said you were a crazy bitch. But did I listen? No. I actually fell for you too, Beth. I loved you, probably the first time I’ve ever loved another woman outside of my dear sainted mother, and you… You turn out to be some crazy fucking firestarter. For what? To get some firefighter cock? To please your mother’s loser boyfriend? You’ve got issues, you know that, Beth?”
I stomp down the hall towards the door, Beth not far behind me.
“I thought you were different,” I say, a tinge of sadness in my voice. “Now I see you’re like all the rest. No, worse.”
“You just said you loved me too!” she wails. “Derek, please! We can work this out! Derek! I need you to help me!”
I look over my shoulder and take one last look at her. God, she’s beautiful, even in this fucked-up state.
“What you need,” I say with finality, “is a fuckin’ psychiatrist and commitment to a mental ward.”
I walk out the door, slamming it behind me, determined to never see her again.
CHAPTER TWENTY
ELISABETH
I deserve this.
I wipe my tears and pad across the living room.
Actually, no, I do not deserve this. I do not deserve any of this complete and utter bull crap. I do not deserve to have a mother who may or may not be using me to pay for an illness she may or may not have.
I do not deserve to be stalked by her skeevy boyfriend, and I sure as hell don’t deserve to have my future completely ruined because of someone else’s bad choices.
Derek cared. He really cared. He was the first guy to care in a long time, and I completely ruined it by dragging him into this mess.
The sad part is I really like him. Derek is someone I could easily love—do love—not the fucked-up toxic shit my mother tried to pass off as love but real love… But I guess it’s too late for that now.
No doubt he’s going to his boss right now to relay my confession. Or worse, he’s dropping in on Officer Brady. Either way, there’s a shitstorm blowing in and it’s headed right towards me.
“It’s not fucking fair,” I sob like a child, impulsively launching a paperweight off the coffee table.
It lands with a hard thunk but doesn’t break.
God. I can’t even throw a tantrum right.
I should just pack my things and head back to the old trailer park. I don’t think I was ever meant to escape my upbringing for good. This is all some sick cosmic curse.
Lucinda can get me a job at the diner if Billy didn’t actually fire her. Maybe we can start over if I ever forgive her for this nightmare,
Who am I kidding? I’m never forgiving her for this.
The doorbell rings, startling me. My heart finds its way into my throat, choking me.
Could Derek have called Officer Brady that quickly?
I’m not in the mood. All I want right now is a gigantic glass of wine and an old Harrison Ford movie. I ignore the doorbell.
Until it rings again.
And again.
I almost feel sorry for whoever is on the other side of my door. After all, there isn’t anything more dangerous than a pissed-off woman with nothing to lose.
I open the door violently ready to unleash hell.
“What the hell do you want?” I snap at the unfamiliar man standing on my doorstep.
The pieces in my mind slowly click together as I take him in.
He’s lanky and bald, clearly in his fifties. He’s wearing a baggy pair of dirty jeans and a hoodie that’s at least three sizes too big. There are deep circles under his gleaming eyes.
He’s grinning at me. The teeth that aren’t silver are yellowed and chipped. I have never seen a more repulsive being in my life.
I know it’s Travis. Who else could it be? But I can’t imagine my mother going to bed with this… this person.
“Hello, darlin’,” he says.
I can tell he’s trying to be charming. Even if he wasn’t completely disgusting, no one can charm me now I’ve been with Derek. Just thinking about him makes my heart ache.
“Aren’t you goin’ to invite me in?” he says, voice raspy, like his vocal chords have been sanded down with 100-grit.
“Why would I? I don’t know you,” I say.
I’m positive this is Travis, but if I play dumb long enough, he might think he’s got the wrong house.
“Sure, you do! Your mama’s told me all about you. You’ve inherited her stunnin’ looks, I see.”
His eyes unabashedly rove over my body.
I shudder in disgust.
“You’re mistaken,” I say firmly. “I don’t know who you are. Leave, please.”
I go to shut the door, but he blocks it with his hand, the façade dropping.
“Stop playin’ fuckin’ games, Beth!” he snaps. The false charm is gone, replaced by a mad gleam in his eyes. “I came all this way to help you and you’re being a piss poor host.”
“I don’t need your help,” I say, trying to stay calm. He’s strong. I can’t close the door. “I need you to leave.”
“See, there you go again being rude. I know your mama taught you manners. Show me some of that SoCal hospitality,” he says with a grin.
How did my mother end up with such a dirt-bag? She’s always been terrible at picking guys, but they always seem great at first. I can’t imagine this guy coming off as anything other than a creep.
“That’s not a thing,” I say.
I stop trying to close the door and decide to play along. I just need to keep him on the porch. There’s nothing he can do to me out here. If someone walks by, I’ll scream for help.
“Don’t get smart,” Travis says. “I heard you on the phone with Lucinda. You’re completely fucking up the plan. I’m here to help you get it right. After that, I’ll be on my way.”
He lifts his hands in surrender.
I decide to push him a bit. “She told me all about you and the scam you coerced her into. She’s not even sick! You’re just a greedy jackass trying to take advantage of us,” I snap. “As a matter of fact, I’ve already called the police. They’re coming here to take my statement, any minute now.”
Now I’m actually hoping Derek has called Officer Brady. If not, hopefully my bluff is enough to fool this sleazebag. He grins at me. My skin crawls under his gaze.
“I bet you feel real smart right now, don’t you?” he coos. “But I know Lucinda didn’t tell you shit. I monitor all her phone calls.”
“She sent me a letter, dumbass,” I say. “Now I know why. A letter is the best way to hide something from an illiterate asshole like you.”
I grip the door, ready to slam it in his stupid face now he’s let go.
“Someone really needs to teach you some manners,” he growls.
“I’ll hire a tutor. The point is, jackass, your little plan is finished,” I say, smirking. “I know you’re full of shit, Mom knows you’re full of shit, and my friends at the fire department know you’re full of shit. If I were you, I’d hop back into that dingy shitbox you call a car and fuck right off into the sunset.”
I throw the door forward, but he stops its momentum with his hand again.
“Lucky for me I always have a plan B,” he smirks.
He lashes out before I can move away, grabbing my arm and twisting it hard behind my back. My elbow and shoulder scream in protest as they’re jammed into an unnatural, painful position.
“What the fuck?” I shriek.
I thrash against him, but he’s stronger than he looks. He shoves me farther into the living room and slams the door, locking it. I lose my footing and fall onto the carpet.
I keep down, waiting for him to get near before springing up and trying to knee him in the balls, but he’s ready, easily throwing me back to the ground.
My arm refuses to support my weight when I try to right myself. I’m trying to scramble away when I feel a shoe come down hard on my back.
“Fuck!” I scream as loudly as I can.
A neighbor will hear me. Someone will hear me.
“You should have been more hospitable,” Travis snarls.
He yanks both my arms behind my back and binds them with some kind of rope.
Where the hell did he get rope? I wonder.
“You’re insane!” I screech.
I thrash against him, but without my hands it’s not very effective. I have to get on my back.
“You pushed me to this, bitch!” Travis yells, spit flying from his rotting mouth. “All you and your worthless mother had to do was play along. All three of us could have been sittin’ pretty on a big ol’ pile of cash. But no, you had to pull this morality bullshit, and now I’m the one getting’ screwed over.”
“Right. Because you’re the victim here,” I retort, laughing through gritted teeth.
“Oh, no, sweetheart. I’m the villain.”
With that, he grins, his gnarled hand grabbing a chunk of my hair and yanking it hard. His mouth is right up against my ear.
“Your mama’s the villain, too. And guess what? So are you. You’re the one who started all this, so don’t think for one damn second you�
�re any different from me. We’re the same, you and me.”
I realize he’s right. My whole life I’ve been acting like I’m better than everyone around me. I looked down on everyone in the trailer park, even my own mother.
But I was one of them. My mother and her boyfriend are scammers and liars. But so am I.
“What are you going to do?” I ask, all fight draining from my voice.
“It’s real simple, actually,” Travis says, dragging me by my wrists and propping me up against the loveseat. “I’m goin’ to do what you were supposed to do the first time.”
“You’re going to set my house on fire?” I ask.
Instead of answering me, Travis disappears back through the front door. I try to maneuver myself to get my bound arms in front of me.
My plan is to chew the ropes off like they do in the action movies, but Travis comes back before I can manage it.
He has a gasoline canister.
I tense up, knowing immediately where this is headed.
“I’m going to set your house on fire, with you in it.” He smiles as he says it.
Bile rises in my throat as he begins to douse the carpet and furniture with the foul-smelling fluid.
“Why?” is all I can scream through my panic.
He’s crazy. Completely crazy.
I’m going to be murdered by a crazy man, I think.
I start to sob as I choke on the fumes from the gasoline. It’s nothing if not ironic.
“And you call me the dumbass,” Travis says with a smirk.
He’s actually enjoying this.
I think I’m going to be sick, to literally vomit.
“Double payout, baby girl!” he whoops, as if he was out mudding rather than committing a murder. “Your mama’s going to enjoy cashing in your life insurance.”
“She’s not my beneficiary,” I murmur.
The gasoline stings my eyes, but the thought of not being able to see what Travis is doing, too, is terrifying.
“Don’t matter, princess,” he taunts. “She’s your next of kin. I’m getting your money and there’s not a God damn thing you can do about it.”
He’s wrong. There’s always something I can do about it. I’ve proven that time and time again. I’m nothing if not resourceful.
