Page 26 of Crazy Rich Monsters (Necessary Evils 1)

He grabs me by the shoulder and squeezes. “Perhaps someday you can come into the office and see what the day-to-day job entails. You’re in no shape to take over the family business right now, but I’d love to offer you that chance before I eventually choose a successor.”

I pull away from his touch and nod my head, but inside I'm screaming that that’s the last damn thing I want to do. For starters, when I start working again, I’m going to do something I love. The hefty trust fund I’ll inherit when these sorry fuckers die will ensure I never have to spend a day working a job I hate. Secondly, I can only imagine my father has a closet full of shady shit he’s done in the name of success. I don’t want to be in a position of power when the feds come knocking. “We can arrange something, but no promises that I won’t just end up banging your secretary.” I lean in close and chuckle. “Please tell me you have a sexy secretary.”

He whispers back with grit in his voice, “In case you’ve forgotten, I am happily married to your mother.”

“Did I hear my name?” Mother questions from behind as she approaches. Somehow I missed the telltale sign of her approach, the clicking of her heels against the checkered marble floors. She might be old, but her senses are absolutely feral. She narrows her eyes on her husband and huffs, “Good to see you’ve finally decided to come downstairs.” And then her eyes are on me, dark and terrifying. “Nick, can I have a word with you?”

“Pencil me in,” I say to my father as I allow my mother to drag me into the nearby formal living room. I’m being led to slaughter, and I don’t have the good sense to call for help. She grabs both doors and pulls them to a close, but just before they shut, I spot Addison walk past, heading towards the back doors. Whatever it takes, I need to get my punishment over with fast.

When she turns to me, there’s venom in her eyes. It’s like the scene in a horror film where the evil queen turns into a snake, but not literally. She’s fully capable of swallowing me whole. I’ve seen her destroy the lives of others for far less than the sins I’ve committed here tonight. I take a look around the room. It’s been years since I’ve been here. The space is immaculate, but that’s probably a byproduct of nobody being allowed to set foot in this room. There’s a vintage antique couch parked against the wall behind me. The fabric is printed with a collage of bright red lotus flowers. There is no television as you’d typically see in a traditional living room. Instead, large mirrors with golden frames adorn the walls on either side of me.

She’s steady in place, her heels planted firmly into the floor. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“I forced your hand into making things right.”

“That woman is a drunk,” she scowls. “She’s a lost cause.”

“Just like me, right?”

“I cannot lie, Nick. You are barreling down the same path.” She begins to approach. Each step is slow and meticulous, calculated. She’s had years of practice at closing in on her targets. “How do you think this looks to everyone? We are writing checks for the mother of the girl that killed your brother. Have you forgotten about him?” She stops in place with just enough distance between us that she could retrieve a knife from out of sight and slit my throat. “Tonight is the night we are officially announcing the charity in the name of your brother and you’ve pulled this shit.”

I swallow nervously, and look, I’m not the type of guy to get nervous. It’s one of the emotions I most rarely feel. It’s terrifying, but that’s nothing to match the guilt that’s tearing at my gut. “How was I supposed to know that?”

“Your impulses have always been your undoing, Nick.” She sighs, finally closing the distance between us completely. She smells of wine and too-expensive perfume relegated to use by the elderly. She caresses the side of my cheek softly while her eyes search for a connection between the two of us. We have the same exact eyes, the tether that binds us through our shared genes. “What do you see in that girl?”

I grab at the side of her hand.

“You’re completely off the mark.”

“I see the way you look at her,” she says quietly, but presses harder against my cheek. She’s one hell of a thespian but her body language will always give her away. There’s a fiery rage running rampant underneath her soft touch.”

“You’ve always been blind, unable to see the truth for what it is.” I pull away from her, taking a measured step backwards so that the back of my heels press against the hard bottom of the couch.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“How many times have you been cheated on? How many women have slipped under your nose?”

“Not a one of them. Certainly not the young maiden that slipped down the stairs just moments ago. I take your father’s affairs in stride. He’s always been the same kind of man and I’ve known that from the day I met him, but I am the glue that keeps this family together because that’s what good mothers do.”

The delusion is laughable. In her world, spoiling her kids with a trust fund is the definition of being a good mother. She raised two terrible children. That’s not lost on me because I don’t share the same level of delusion. I know I’m fucking awful. I never had a choice in the matter with these two shitbags as my parents.

But still, I know better than to persist, to argue, to pretend she’s anything other than right. If she wants to pin the medal of great parenting to her own chest, then I’ll let her. There’s not a real bone in any of our bodies.

She recoils slightly, lost in her own thoughts.

A part of me considers the idea that she wants to argue, that she wants to get into a no-holds barred fight. I’m not ignorant to the unsubtle whispers she’s been parading around for years, that I’ll never understand what it’s like to lose a child. She’s absolutely fucking right. Just the same, she’ll never know what it’s like to lose a brother. And she’ll absolutely never fucking know what it’s like to spend every waking minute obsessing over fucking the woman that killed him.

And then she whispers, so quietly and yet the bomb is so fucking loud that it’s almost deafening. “Maybe this is all Karma for what I’ve done for you.”

“Excuse me?”

“You can pretend you’re someone else to the world, but we’ll both forever know what you did.” She punches forward with a solitary finger aimed squarely at me. “Losing Carter was a punishment for what you did to that girl.”

That girlis the only thing she can use to describe her anymore. Taking her name out of the equation blesses her with enough ignorance to pretend our pasts aren’t buried in closets filled with skeletons.

“You really want to talk about this, Mother?” I question dryly, praying the answer is that she doesn’t and hoping it was just a slip of the tongue. Some things are best laid undisturbed. “None of us are innocent in the matter.”

She turns away from me, cupping one hand over her mouth. From behind, I can vaguely make out the sound as she chokes on her own gasps. I know too well that it’s all an act. Even away from the cameras and the gaze of others, she’s still hellbent on putting on a show.

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