Page 93 of Holy Sinner

“It’s perfect. Kit loves it. Thank you, Rita.”

“Of course, that’s what I’m here for. You’ll let me know if I can do anything for you, right?”

“First number I’ll call,” I lie. Rita thrives off praise, off the fact that she feels close to me when I let so few people close to me.

When she speaks again I can hear the smile in her voice. “I’m here if you need anything. Day or night.”

“I know, Rita. Thank you.”

“Anytime. See ya ‘round, Rafe.”

“Bye, Rita.”

I end the call and the line goes dead. I let out a deep breath and then shove my phone back in my pocket. Dottie’s dead. I don’t need to read about it and see the bullshit they’ll publish alongside her obit. They’ll call her talented and timeless, a pioneer for actresses and a strong voice for all actors and entertainers.

Bullshit.

She was a soulless bitch who sucked the life out of every fresh face that came to Hollywood and had the misfortune of crossing her path. She was a classier version of the bottom feeders I take my knife to. The ones that hung out at parties looking for easy prey, for bright-eyed new arrivals who had no idea what or who they were. Those naive fucks hand over their control without a second thought when they think they’ve met someone who can help them land a part.

It’s not what you know, it’s who you know.

Everyone knows that. That’s how the game is played and that’s what keeps young, fresh, meat walking right into the jaws of people like Dottie Bee. My hand twitches and I wish I had been the one to end her. It would have been satisfying but it wouldn’t have been quick. Bleeding out from a major artery can happen in a few minutes, that’s much too fast for what she deserved.

If it had been me, I would have made it last. She would have joined the ranks of my greatest kills. The ones where I got creative and took my time. I wasn’t always a killer. I used to be different. Before Lighthouse Dreams.

Funny how life goes. Maybe it was Dottie that made me into the monster I am now.

“Huh.” I rub my hand across my jaw and stare pensively at the road while Grant’s music blares. Is it life that turns you into a monster or is it something you’re born with? It’s something I’ve thought a lot about. Nature versus nurture and shit like that.

I thought it was who I was but the ones I kill resemble Dottie in the prey they pick. Is that why I enjoy being the predator they never see coming? I’m not quite like Grant. He’s psychotic through and through, it’s in his DNA. But me? One day the impulse had just been there, the need to carve up and end the ones that thought they were untouchable.

I had to make them understand they weren’t the scariest thing out there. I was. Did she create that hunger in me? Probably. Most definitely.

“She’s gone, man!” Grant shouts and the truck speeds up because he’s an idiot. He looks over at me and claps my shoulder. “Fuck that bitch.”

I grab his hand and hold it tight. “Yeah,” I agree, “fuck that bitch.”

Chapter Forty-Two

KIT

Alana and I ate an entire large pizza between us, which isn’t that impressive. When paired with the pasta we put away and the amount of breadsticks however, now that was impressive.

“Pour me more of that.” Alana holds her glass out at me for more of the red I just uncorked.

“It’s a Shiraz. I think it’s from Australia,” I tell her, giving the cork a sniff. I got roped into taking wine tasting when I was in my senior year of University as a fun elective with the course load I had by my easy going advisor. I think they wanted to help me relax but all it did was make me learn all about terroir and the particulars of temperatures and grape sugar content.

I got an A, of course.

Alana shrugs. “I don’t care where it’s from, so long as it gets me drunk, sugartits. Just pour the wine.” She waggles her empty cup at me.

I roll my eyes and snag her cup to pour it myself. If I leave it in Alana’s hand all that’s going to happen is half of it is going to end up on the counter. “Sugartits, really?”

“Well, it’s not like I can call Jax sugartits. That’s called harassment and I’m tipsy so someone is getting called sugartits, sugartits.”

Tonight has been calm. Unexpected with what happened earlier. What happened to Dottie Bee is all over the news. I’ve seen a few newsfeed banners pop up on my phone about the ‘Beloved TV Actress’ or the ‘Face of a Generation is No More’ and that kind of bullshit.

It’s enough to make me sick. I don’t know how Grant and Rafe put up with this shit. If it was me, I would have lost it by now.

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