Page 35 of Crazy Rich Monsters (Necessary Evils 1)

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It was a conscious choice choosing the Sunset Motel. It was the furthest hotel from the house while still remaining within county lines. More importantly, the nearest place to purchase alcohol is a good two miles away. For all intents and purposes, it feels as if we’re closer to the Berkshires than we are to the Hamptons. Since she refused to go to rehab after being released, I took it into my hands to force her into a makeshift rehab of my own making. There’s a good chance she’s going to kill me, the odds of homicide rising each day that we choose to stay here.

The car ride over was excruciatingly quiet. Alone with my thoughts once more as my mother stared distantly out the passenger window.

She follows me silently, walking without the assistance of a walker. When I push open the door, a galaxy of dust can be seen floating through the air under the soft glare of the sunlight filtering through the window.

I hold the door open for her as she enters the room with a barely audible groan. “Welcome home.”

“This place isn’t my home,” she groans, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. She gasps as if the distance traveled between the car parked just in front of the door has winded her to the point that she needs a long nap.

“Your home burned to the ground,” I feel the need to remind her just in case she suffered brain damage from the smoke and somehow forgot. “It wasn’t an accident, either. Someone started the fire in an attempt to kill either you, me, or the both of us.” I take a seat on the bed beside her, the weight of my body pushing the mattress almost to the floor. “Why would you want to stay here?”

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand.” She bats her eyes towards me. “Do you have any idea what people call you?”

I’ve heard whispers, but nobody has ever said it explicitly to my face.

“They say you’re the Goodbye Girl,” she says lowly, gravel in the back of her throat. “Always running.”

“The world is better away from here. It’s kinder.” I’ve tried getting her to leave this place, but the conversation always ends up back where it started. We are sinking in the sand and she’s content to let it swallow her whole. “What is so terrifying about a fresh start?”

“You’ve always been naive, Addison. There are no second chances in this life. We have to live with the decisions we’ve made. There’s noget out of jail freecard.” She glances around the small room. Two beds, a dresser, a television from the eighties, a refrigerator, a sink, a shower, and an air conditioner that sounds like it could blow at any minute. “How did you pay for this place anyways?”

There’s no way I can tell her the truth, that this place was paid with Calloway blood money in the form of a mockery of a charity. “I have some money saved up. It’s not going to last forever though, so we need to come up with a plan.”

“I’ve always found a way to survive on my own.” She laughs under her breath as she pats me on the knee. “As much as I appreciate the help, I don’t need it.”

“You didn’t have a mortgage payment before. Dad took care of all of that. You survived because of welfare but the welfare checks aren’t going to pay for the rent here and it’s certainly not going to pay for the rent in an apartment.”

“The insurance money will take care of the rest.”

“There isn’t going to be any insurance money because the official cause of fire is neglect. They think that you fell asleep drunk with a lit cigarette.”

“You said it was arson.” She stares me down, a look of realization passing over her pale, dry face. “Did you try to kill your mother?”

“That’s insane,” I scoff, but honestly, I’ve thought about it.

“Answer the question, Addison,” she scolds me in what she might consider a raised voice. I said she was getting stronger by the day. She’s still notthatstrong. A proper screaming match would take every bit of life and energy in her frail body.

I jump to my feet and spin to face her. “You’re out of your damn mind if you think I would do that.”

“You killed that kid,” she states as a matter of fact, as if that means that I’m actually capable of an attempt on her own life.

“Why does everything circle back to Carter Calloway?”

“You can’t run from your sins forever.”

It only took me two weeks to conveniently forget that she can be such an asshole, capable of spinning any conversation around until there’s a finger pointing squarely back at me.

Two can play that game.

“Carole Calloway cornered me in her home and we had what I’d call a civilized conversation considering our mutual past.”

“You need to stay far away from that woman.”

“She said that Daddy once left this place and that the reason he died was because he came back. What is she talking about?”

“That woman is a snake,” she grinds out, her words riddled with anger and contempt. Finally, she’s being honest.

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