Page 2 of Pretty Poisoned

"That's not what I'm doing—"

"Thatiswhat you're doing. And you're further alienating yourself from the people who care about you and from reality, Teagan. I'm worried about you."

"I was right about that murder in Black Rock, though, wasn't I?"

"Maybe, but your entire hypothesis was based on the fact that the kid had 'kind eyes.' You had no evidence, and you have noresources, Teagan. You're twenty years old. You need to get a job; you never should have quit Yard House. You need a plan."

"I hated waitressing," I tell her. And the truth is that if I had to deal with one more entitled old asshole screaming in my face, I would have smashed a plate against the table and slit their fucking throat with the shards. I couldn't take it any longer. "And I have a job."

"What you're doing on social media does not count as a job."

"It's paid my fair share of the bills for the last three months, so I'd say it counts."

She shakes her head. "Listen, I was talking to Austin, and he told me they're hiring a receptionist. I asked him if he could get you an interview, and he said they could get you in tomorrow at 4:00 PM."

"Blakely, no. I don't want to be your fiancé's receptionist."

"You should at least go, Teagan. The pay is good, it has medical and dental. It's not like waiting tables; it's pretty low stress, so you could even start taking classes again."

"I don't want to take classes, either, Blakely. God, you never fucking listen to me, do you? I am fine. I don't need your help. And I won't be here tomorrow anyway."

"So, you're just going to stand them up? After Austin went out of his way to arrange this for you?"

"It's not my fucking problem; I didn't ask for it."

"No, it'll bemyproblem, as usual. You're embarrassing me, Teagan! Do you even care? You'realwaysembarrassing me. I'm sure you're embarrassing Hunter, too, right? That's why he left?Thisis why you don't have friends. Do you even care about any of this?"

I don't. Not in the way I'm supposed to anyway.

"I'm sorry that I'm embarrassing you by existing and not having any friends," I say. "What a terrible inconvenience that must be."

"Please, take this seriously, Teagan."

"Why are you always so concerned with what I'm doing? I'm not hurting anyone. Just…fuck off, Blakely."

I take my coffee and leave the room, slamming my door behind me.

I set the mug on my desk and sink into my chair. Dropping my head into my hands, I take a deep breath to steady myself.

Don't cry, Teagan.Never let them see you cry.

It's sort of become my mantra over the past four years. And I don't. I won't.

I pick up the backstage pass on my desk, examining it in my hands. Maybe I've been wrong before, but I know I'm right about this. I know there's something here—something big, something dangerous. And this is precisely what I need to put my podcast on the map. I could finally be taken seriously. At the very least, it'd make the holidays less awkward.

Oh, Blakely? Yeah, she's doing great. She and her fiancé are both software engineers; they're getting married on the beach in Mexico this summer. Oh…Teagan? No, she dropped out. She's still trying to figure out what she wants to do. We're praying for her.

I wonder what I should pack. If things go my way, I could be gone for a while. I start making a mental list when there's a knock on my bedroom door.

"Teagan? Can I come in?" Blakely asks.

"I guess…"

She pushes the door open, walks across the room, and sits at the edge of my bed. "I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings," she says.

"You didn't."

She cocks her head to the side, her pale blue eyes—the same as my own—search mine for the lie. "Austin and I are meeting with the realtor this weekend. We're going to start looking at condos,maybe even put a couple of offers in. We want to be settled somewhere before the wedding. What are you going to do then?"

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