Marry Screw Kill by Liv Morris
DEDICATION
Dedicated to my lifelong friend Laurie G. who learned a smile can hide evil.
Chapter One
Thick clouds from earlier in the day and broken street lamps from years of neglect leave my apartment complex pitch black. My headlights shine against the familiar brick building as I ease into my parking spot. I turn off the engine and my phone vibrates from its resting place in the cup holder.
The lit screen cuts through the eerie darkness as I reach over to answer it. Expecting to see my mother’s number, since she always calls when I’m late getting home, I smile when the caller ID displays Emma BFF. I haven’t spoken to her all week, and I miss my crazy friend.
“Hey, Emma.” I grab my purse and open the car door. After a quick glance around the parking lot, I walk toward the building.
“Hi, Spook. Didn’t you see my texts?” Emma’s impatient as usual. I’m surprised she greeted me at all before getting straight to the point.
“I rushed out of work and headed home. You know I’d never purposely ignore you.” I skip over familiar cracks on the crumbling sidewalk. My mother and I have lived here for years and the place has gone to rot.
“It’s after midnight. You know what that means,” Emma says in a teasing, singsong voice.
“I have no clue,” I say, too tired to play guessing games.
“I’m calling to wish you a happy birthday, Harlow.”
“My birthday ...” Is it? I freeze before walking up the outside stairs. My mother always asks me, days before my birthday, what I want for a gift. This year she’s hasn’t mentioned a thing. “I forgot. It’s been a busy week.” But when aren’t they?
“I didn’t, silly!” Emma proceeds to sing the entire “Happy Birthday” song and I feel her love with every off-key note.
“Thanks.” I smile from ear to ear for the first time in what feels like forever as I climb the stairs to my apartment. I needed cheering up after working a twelve-hour day. “Thanks, weirdo. You’re the best, even if you can’t sing.”
“Hey, I want to take you out tomorrow night. I mean tonight, since it’s already tomorrow. Whatever,” she giggles. “It’s Friday, so we can start with happy hour. Tell me you’re not working at the restaurant.”
“I can’t take off on a weekend night. My tips are triple what I make during the week. I’m close to paying off my car so I can finally move out.”
I would love to go out and celebrate with Emma, but I’m determined to escape the apartment I share with my mother and her creepy boyfriend, Tony. He’s lived with us for six months and has never looked above my shoulders. He probably doesn’t even know my eye color—or if I have eyes. Pervert.
“Then I’ll bring the party to you.”
Imagining her showing up with a crew of her crazy friends at work makes me cringe. They don’t believe in inside voices.
“Please don’t. I can’t afford to upset my manager. You know his idea of fun is arranging place settings. I’ll try to get off after the dinner rush.”
“Okay, but I’m really bummed you’re working. By the way, Jonathan has been asking about you. Again.” Emma snickers into the phone.
Crap. Jonathan has tried to get in my pants since eighth grade and I’ve run out of kind ways to tell him no.
“I’ll text you around nine, if you promise he’s not going to be around. Maybe just the two of us?”
“Promise,” Emma says, resolve clear in her tone. “Your twenty-first was a dud. I won’t let that happen again. If I don’t hear anything by nine, I’m kidnapping you.”
“You can be quite bossy at times.” Emma giving me orders isn’t new. She’s owned being the in-charge friend since we met in kindergarten.
“You’d never get out and have fun if I weren’t,” she laughs, and she’s right. I prefer a good book to the bars in town any night.
“I’m at my door and need to go. It’s been a long day.” I place my keys in the old lock, fiddling with them until I hear the click of the deadbolt releasing.
“Get some sleep. We’ll be out late tomorrow.”
“Night.” I pocket my phone and push the metal door open. Before I step into the entryway, I hear my mother and Tony.
Not again. They’ve argued every night this week, but I’m too wiped to deal with their fighting. I wonder how fast I can dash to my room. The lights are low, but I don’t think I can pass by them undetected.
I inch forward and see Tony swaying over my cowering mother in the dining room. A half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels sits nearby on the kitchen table along with a stack of textbooks.
“Marie, who paid for your classes and these books? Was it one of those bluebloods at the country club?” My mother wraps her arms tighter around herself while Tony staggers even closer to her, bumping the kitchen table.
A glint of silver catches my eye; Tony has something in his hand. A gun.
What the hell have I walked into?
My breathing stops, and possibly my heart, as I watch him wave the small pistol in the air like it’s a toy.
Oh my god.
I blink in disbelief at the hell in front me, willing it to be a dream. But the horror remains in living color. Tony has a gun and my mother’s life is in danger.