Page 97 of Bad Intentions

I don’t know what had gotten into him that night, but I liked it. We had a drink, then another, and they went to my head quickly. I asked him questions about what he liked, about the cities he’d been to, what he did for a living. His answers were evasive, mysterious. That was the thing about Derek—he was Pandora’s box, and I loved it.

The conversation made the full circle.

“What happens after you leave Burnville? San Francisco?” I asked, hoping not to sound too needy.

He narrowed his eyes at me. “Good memory. How much stuff do you keep in that head of yours?”

“Enough of what’s important.”

“Is that right? And how is San Francisco important?”

I shrugged. “You are going there. I’ve never been. Maybe I’ll go too.”

At first, it was a chuckle. Soon, it turned into laughter. “You sure are full of ideas,” he said, licking his lips and studying my face.

“I am. Wanna show me San Francisco?”

He didn’t answer, but round three for the next half an hour showed me what else he had to offer.

That night, he said, “Stay,” and I did, reeling at the thought of being in his bed all night.

The next day, I got up early. He was still asleep as I picked up my clothes off the living room floor and got dressed except for my panties. I tucked those between the couch cushions, for other guests to find them.

I giggled like a fool the whole way home. I was going to San Francisco with Derek, I decided, whether he wanted me to or not. He just had to see that I was willing to go the extra mile for him.

The sight of the junkyard in front of my parents’ home made me cringe. I hated this place, my family, this town, and everyone who ever underestimated me.

The moment I got home, I went straight to the kitchen and picked up a glass, then walked to my room and locked the door. I wrapped the glass in an old rag and folded the edges together into a sack, with the glass inside. Then I smashed the glass against the floor multiple times. Next, I took a plastic baggie and dumped the crushed glass in it.

I was getting tired of everyone’s shit. Including Karen’s. About time she learned a lesson.

I shook the baggie, studying the sharp edges of the bigger shards.

A little gift for you, Ma Boots.

53

JOSIE

The visual assaults me so hard that I almost puke. I feel the blood draining out of my face.

No. No. This is insane.

Teeth clenched, I try not to say anything, but I have to know what happened next.

“Did you do it?” I ask so quietly I can barely hear myself. I’m afraid of the answer, but I need to know how far this woman can go in her twisted games. “The glass…” I say. “Did…”

Mallory Blain picks between her teeth with her pinkie. She stares around, running her tongue along the inside of her lips. “See, Derek brought out the best in me.”

She’s deranged, clearly.

“The version of myself I’d always been afraid to confront,” she continues. “Not that I could. You never can with people like Al and Vic. Those two brought the worst out in me. And so did Ma Boots. Gah!” She strokes the gun on her lap, her face contorted in anger, and I hold my breath. But she continues. “I couldn’t stand her entitlement. Her pride in Alysha, like she was a golden child. I worked at her bar, yet she didn’t trust me with the extra key. Al? She’d found out a long time ago where Karen kept it hidden in the house. She knew the camera hookup. All she had to do when she needed booze was to disable the electrical box outside the bar so the cameras went off, then sneak in, take a bottle or two, and sneak out! Yes, precious Al was a thief. Your mother was rotten all the way through.”

She gives me a once-over filled with disgust. Or hatred. Her entire speech is laced with so much anger, envy, and pure spite.

“Unfortunately, my little trick with the glass didn’t work out,” Mallory Blain goes on. “I timed it perfectly, too, when Karen’s tumbler was out of the camera’s view. By the time she picked it up and moved it to the cash register counter, Derek walked in. I almost wanted to laugh. It was just too easy. Karen fumed. Oh, how she fumed! She didn’t even realize that she’d been biting the inside of her cheek. No one in my time working at Ma Shirley’s, no one, you hear me, made her froth at the mouth. Except Derek. Too funny, really. Once she saw him, she was all fangs and claws. When Karen picked up her tumbler, I held my breath, waiting for her scream of pain to split the air. But stupid Cherry ruined it all.”

She looks disappointed, but then her face lights up. “You know what? Now that I think about it, probably for the best. If Karen had gone to the hospital with her trap all cut up, Al would’ve probably been with her, and the story wouldn’t have been the same.”