Page 9 of Cruel Charming Psychos (Necessary Evils 2)

She pauses, as if she’s coming up with her next big lie. I can see it written all over her face. Stick around this girl long enough and it’s easy to learn to predict when she’s about to tell the truth and when she’s about to concoct some elaborate story. “Honestly, he was one of those weird religious people that go door-to-door to try and convert you to their religion.”

“He looks like he crawled off the runway for a modern punk rock album.”

“I thought the same thing.”

“I also don’t thinkthosepeople go to businesses to try and convert people. They usually knock on your door at home and then ride away on their bicycles when you won’t give them the time of day.”

“Fine,” she scoffs. “I’m lying.”

“That much is obvious, Addison. I’m just trying to figure out why you’re trying to hide who he is.”

She reaches for both hands and pulls me closer to her. It’s a manipulation tactic and she is wrong if she doesn’t think I’m taking notice. “If we are going to make this work, you need to learn to trust me just like I need to learn to trust you.”

“We are off to a horrible start then because you’re lying,” I say and rip my hands away from her. “It’s always the same shit with you.”

She lets out a heavy sigh as she combs her hands through the length of her hair. “He’s somebody that I used to know. That’s it.”

“What did you guys talk about?”

“We were just catching up over coffee. We went to high school together for a year and then he moved away and now he’s apparently back in town visiting family. He’ll be gone just as fast as he came.” And then her eyes are on me, almost accusingly. “Why are you even here anyways? Are you following me?”

“Addison, I have much better things to do with my time,” I lie through my teeth.

“This place is so far out of your way that the only way you would be here is if you have time to lose.”

I grin and continue the charade, no matter how unbelievable it may be. “I was stressed, so I was just going for a casual drive down the coast.”

Just as predicted, she’s trying to turn this around on me. She absolutely has reason to, butreasoncan go get fucked.

My phone vibrates, and what better way to ignore the accusations of pointed fingers than to glance down at my phone. It’s a message from my mother, imploring that I come see her immediately and that it’s an emergency.

“Sorry, I have to go,” I say with a shrug. “Mother is having a meltdown about something.”

“I’ll see you later then,” she says, and the words roll off her tongue with a coldness typically reserved for a morgue.

And then she walks past me, heading back up to the parking lot. It takes every bit of power in my being to not reignite the argument, but it’s one that I’m going to lose. No matter what valid points I may have about her lying straight to my face, she will turn it around on me. Eventually, if I press hard enough, she will put the pieces together and realize that somehow I’m tracking her. So, I figure it’s best if I just let her walk away, let her think she’s won.

* * *

It’s been a while since I’ve been home. Ever since I realized how much of an actual bastard my father was, I’ve kept my distance. I literally hate these people, but even still, the bonds of family are too hard to break from completely. As much of a nutcase my mother is, she’s nowhere near as bad as my father. I suppose I might secretly be more of a momma’s boy than I’d ever care to admit.

I pull the car to the front of the oval driveway, parking it right in front of the front door in case I need to make a fast escape. I kill the ignition and rush inside, running up the massive steps that lead to the front door.

Mother is waiting inside, standing in the center of the tiled floor of the grand foyer with her hands crossed in front of her in a proper pose. She’s dressed for a funeral, hopefully not literally but she did seem pressed in her text messages. She’s wearing an all-black dress with a black sunhat and a thin diamond necklace.

“Who died?” I question softly, knowing that we are not exactly on the best of terms right now. “You have that look on your face that just screams someone is dead. Although if you’re dressed up for the funeral already, then it must not be too important because I feel like I would have at least known a few days ago.”

“Nobody is dead, Nick.” She moves towards me, walking with purpose as her heels clack against the hard marble floor. “Is that an appropriate way to greet your mother, anyways?”

I let out a frustrated sigh. “You said there was an emergency.”

“There is,” she says, patting one hand against my chest. “I’m worried about your father.”

“Please tell me you didn’t drag me all the way across town to try and force me into reconciling with him.”

She presses firmer against my chest. “You know that he’s not young anymore. I worry that losing his only other son is going to send him to an early grave.”

“Since when would you care?”

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