Stone Cold Fox (88)
I listened. I tried to see her side of things, but how silly. I didn’t have that luxury. Never did. I could only look out for number one. I wanted to believe that I could trust her, but all I felt was her treachery. I thought I could let a lot of things go for Syl, but a secret partnership with Gale Wallace-Leicester was not something I could abide, despite her remorse.
“How can I trust you when you’ve been lying to me since the moment we met?” I hurried away from her, heading for the door. She reached for my hand, but I yanked it away. I no longer craved her touch.
“Bea, I’m so sorry, but I’m not going to lie to you anymore.” Syl was frantic, her voice taking on a high pitch of panic, practically a screech. “I promise. That’s everything. All of the secrets. I kept the part about Gale from you because I knew you’d take it the wrong way.”
“There’s only one way to take it!” I screeched back at her, turning around to look at Syl one last time before I left. Her sweet face. It was over. “You lied to me and now I know and you will not get anything from me ever again. I will never take that test. I don’t care about you. I don’t care about your father. We were never friends!” I roared at her, welling up again, but I couldn’t let the tears fall this time. I needed to focus. Warm up. Get amped. Ride this wave into my next destination.
Syl kept trying to hold me and hug me, but I finally pushed her off me with all of my strength. Perhaps a little harder than necessary, but she got the message as she fell onto the sofa with a thud, striking her elbow on the end table. She was trying to love me, but I would not let her. She was trying to be my friend, but I couldn’t trust her. Syl was the truest example of the dire circumstances of my life. I couldn’t afford to love. I couldn’t afford to trust.
What was I thinking? I suppose I wasn’t.
“Bea, please! Don’t leave like this. You’re pregnant. Let me help you. Don’t run away. Don’t be like her!” Syl sobbed at me, begging to connect but keeping a safe distance. She could sense I wanted to get violent and that perhaps I would if she gave me an excuse.
“I am more like her than you will ever know,” I seethed.
Syl didn’t say anything in return, remaining motionless on the sofa as she watched me go.
Outside, I hailed the first taxi I saw.
“Upper West Side,” I barked at the driver, menace in my eyes, revenge in my blood and fire in my heart.
It was finally time to take care of Gale Wallace-Leicester for good.
CHAPTER
20
She WAS SURFACING. Under my skin. Bursting out of every pore. The cruelty emanating all around me and inside me. Every dark thought or instinct or desire that I had ever pushed down since I left Mother was returning with a vengeance, I was burning from within, and I ached to take it all out on Gale Wallace-Leicester.
This bitter battle between us would never end unless I put a real hard stop to it. She had tried to undo me at every turn, and I had unknowingly allowed it. Through Collin, through his family and now through Syl. It was a sin that required an everlasting penance. The gloves were off, the claws were out and I craved her annihilation beyond all recognition.
I wanted to wreck Gale Wallace-Leicester.
I imagined storming into her apartment, with its hideous decor, tackling her on the wretched gingham sofa with every extra pregnancy pound I possessed. Wielding my big body like a lethal weapon. She’d be taken completely by surprise. No physical instincts to fall back on whatsoever. It’s not like she’d ever have been in a fight before, much less one for her actual life.
She’d be unable to wriggle out of my clutches, rendered completely useless, my nails digging into her skin, her flesh, her face. I would scream in her ears as loud as I could, a piercing sound, a maleficent banshee, and then finally I would wrap my fingers, now thick as sausages, around her neck, my thumbs pressing further and further into her jugular veins, happily squeezing the literal life out of her, watching her choke and perish, gasping for breath in vain, until she moved slower and slower. Struggling less and less. Until there was no more struggle at all. And I would howl with laughter when she finally died, laughter conjured from deep in my belly, deep in my bones, and I would never, ever get caught.
I’d killed once before.
I thought I could do it again.
It had been necessary then and it was necessary now.
Wasn’t it?
* * *
? ? ?
I HAD THE taxi drop me off a few blocks away from Gale’s. While a pregnancy wasn’t the best way to slink about with any subtlety, it also meant I was unlikely to be outright hassled by anyone, so it was helpful for my admittance to the building. I managed to wait patiently for Doorman Frank to address a task for one of the bevy of senior citizens in the lobby, allowing me to skulk in largely undetected. I shielded my face gently with one of my hands, making sure my protruding belly was the focus. He didn’t even look up when I got in the elevator. As the doors shut, I carried on picturing all the different ways I could murder Gale Wallace-Leicester, but none of them excited me more than doing so with my bare hands.
I wanted to feel her pain through my fingertips.
Her door was ajar and I went inside.
Gale was in the kitchen, in an unsightly old terry cloth robe, the kettle about to reach its climax. She took it off the heat and poured water into two mugs.