Page 39 of Crazy Rich Monsters (Necessary Evils 1)

Fragile, cracked, and one strike away from shattering.

ChapterTwenty-One

NICK

In the early days of this mess, back when I first searched the internet far and wide for traces of Addison’s life, I came across her former best friend, Paige.

It’s amazing what can be found online with a simple search. Just type in the person’s name and the high school where they went to school. There’s bound to be a few pieces of information that come up, like little breadcrumbs leading the way through a twisted forest of secrets.

As it turns out, Paige and Addison have been friends for a long time. When they were just eight years old, they banded together to sell more girl scout cookies than any other girl from any other troop in the area. For their hard work, they earned the right to have lunch with the mayor.

In high school, the two of them were wannabe Broadway stars, chewing up the scenery on stage in amateur plays. The advertisements enticing the locals to come pretend to be mesmerized by the talentless hacks of high school students exist as a time capsule of sorts on the internet.

There are traces, photographs of the both of them standing side by side all the way up until graduation where they were photographed in their graduation gowns. Two weeks later, if the rumors are to be believed, Addison took Carter’s life.

For the second time this summer, I’m stalking a woman in a bar. Third time, I suppose, if I’m counting the time I followed Emily around to make sure she wasn’t getting into any trouble. I digress.

As far as I’m aware, Paige is unaware of my presence. Blissfully downing a glass of a triple whiskey on the rocks. Either she typically likes her drinks strong, or this isn’t a typical night. She’s nursing the damn thing like it’s a child that needs to be taken care of, but if I know anything about women, it’s that she’s clearly the one that needs taken care of.

She works at the hospital. That job must be tough on the soul. Perhaps it’s been a hard day. Perhaps every day is equally hard, and not because of the demands of being a nurse. I suppose there could be trouble at home. I’m not convinced anyone is truly happily married. There’s always cracks in the formation, ceilings and roofs that are always threatening to collapse. That’s why I don’t believe in love. I believe in lust. There are no strings attached. No commitments to hold myself back when all I want to do is just fucking jump.

I guess there’s different types of commitment though, because here I am committed to the cause. There’s nothing noble about it. I’m here out of a selfish interest in getting to the bottom of the truth. I’m stubborn like that.

Paige holds the keys to the truth in her pretty little overworked hands.

She’s at the end of the bar, her seat carefully selected to be the furthest from the door in the back corner where the bar curves against the wall. There’s the smallest pocket of darkness back there, enough for two stools and a front-row seat to the bartender’s attention. There’s no reason for anyone to pass on by, no other chairs to the right of her and the only walkway behind her dead-ends against the brick wall.

As I studied her, I never would have taken her for much of a drinker. A miscalculation on my part. I make my move as I head to the back of the bar, taking a seat right beside her. She doesn’t even flinch when she should be running out the front door.

The bartender approaches, pressing his palms onto the counter as if he’s holding on for dear life. As if his feet are on the verge of giving out from underneath him. Has to be a good sixty years old if not older. Skinny and frail with a wiry, gray beard that’s pointed at the base.

He eyes me first and then shifts his gaze to Paige. “Is this man bothering you?”

I let out a soft chuckle, eagerly awaiting her response.

“Not yet,” she says quietly, her fingers dancing along the sides of the cold glass.

Not yet.An interesting choice of words that would indicate that she’s at least nervous. Good. “I’ll take what she’s having,” I say to Mr. Protector.

He passes me a sideways look of mistrust before retreating and doing his damn job. That’s when I get to work, clearing my throat with such showboat energy that Paige has no choice but to acknowledge my presence. She looks at me with the same kind of mistrust, as if she knows exactly who I am. Maybe she does. I’m not sure if that’ll make this easier or harder, but I’m pliable.

She turns her head, staring straight ahead as she raises the glass to her lips and swallows it whole. Her face contorts into a wince as she slams the glass onto the bar. She immediately recuses herself from her seat, making a beeline for the bathroom. I cock my head over my shoulder and watch as she disappears behind the door.

Without thinking, I get up and follow her. I’m as quiet as can be, as quiet as a ninja–heh–as I step into the bathroom, gently closing the door behind me. Paige is nowhere to be seen, but I can see her sneakers underneath one of the stalls. I stand with my back against the door, crossing my arms as I wait patiently for her to come out of the stall.

The toilet flushes. She rises to her feet, and then seconds later, the sound of the lock unlatching echoes against the walls of the bathroom. She comes out of the stall with her head held down, unaware of my presence until she steps to the sink. She jumps backwards, letting out an audible gasp of either surprise or fear. It’s probably both. She takes a measured step backwards until she collides with the exterior of the stall she just came out of.

I throw one hand over her shoulder, holding my palm against the wall so that she’s stuck between me and it. “I’m Nick Calloway and I think we should have a serious discussion.”

“I know who you are.” She tries to duck out from under my arm, but she’s unsuccessful as I simply lower my arm, trapping her. “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I just want to have a talk. It’s interesting that you don’t seem to want anything to do with me, but I know more about you than you probably think I do.”

This is not a good look for me. I’m well aware of the fact that I look like a complete fucking psychopath. She could easily think I’m planning on doing the worst to her, but I’m not that type of guy. I only ruin the lives of those that deserve it.

“You don’t know shit about me,” she scoffs.

“I know that you’re married to my brother’s friend. I know that you work at the hospital and most importantly, I know that you are best friends with Addison Davis.”

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