Murder Mayhem and Mama

by Christie Craig

  Swiping at her tears, hating her watery weakness, she watched her dad’s red convertible get smaller as it buzzed down the street. Wanting to be alone in her room, she started to run inside. Then she remembered and looked back across the street to see if Soldier Dude had pulled his usual disappearing act.

  Nope. He was still there, staring, stalking. Scaring the bejebbies out of her and making her angry at the same time. He was the reason she had to see a shrink.

  Then Mrs. Baker, her elderly neighbor toddled out to get her mail. She smiled at Kylie but not once did the old librarian glance at Soldier Dude taking up residence on her front lawn, even when he stood less than two feet from her.

  Weird.

  So weird it sent an unnatural chill tiptoeing down Kylie’s spine, the same kind of chill Kylie had gotten at Nana’s funeral.

  What the hell was going on?

  Chapter Two

  An hour later, Kylie walked down the stairs with her backpack and purse over her shoulder.

  Her mom met her in the entryway. “Are you okay?”

  How could I be okay? “I’ll live,” Kylie answered. More than she could say about Grandma. Right then, Kylie had a vision of the bright blue eye shadow the funeral home had put on her grandmother. Why didn’t you take that off of me? Kylie could almost hear Nana asking.

  Weirded out by the thought, Kylie looked back at her mother.

  Her mom stared at Kylie’s backpack and her worry wrinkle appeared between her eyes. “Where are you going?” she asked.

  “You said I could spend the night with Sara. Or were you too busy grilling Dad’s shorts to remember?”

  Her mom ignored the grilled-shorts comment. “What are you two going to do tonight?”

  “Mark Jameson is having an end of school party.” Not that Kylie felt like celebrating the event. Thanks to Trey dumping her and her parents divorcing, Kylie’s whole summer was headed for the toilet. And the way things were going, someone was going to walk by and flush it.

  “Are his parents going to be there?” Mom raised one dark eyebrow.

  Kylie flinched emotionally, but physically didn’t blink. “Aren’t they always?”

  Okay, so she lied. Normally she didn’t go to Mark Jameson’s parties for that very reason, but blast it, look where being good had gotten her. She deserved to have some fun, didn’t she?

  Besides, hadn’t her mom lied when her dad asked about his underwear?

  “What if you have another dream?” Her mom touched Kylie’s arm.

  A quick touch. That’s all Kylie ever got from her mom these days. No long hugs like her dad gave. No mother/daughter trips. Just aloofness and quick touches. Even when Nana, her mom’s mom, died, Kylie’s mom hadn’t hugged her and Kylie had really needed a hug then. But it had been her dad who’d pulled her into his arms and let her smear mascara on his suit coat. And now Dad and all his suit coats were gone.

  Drawing in a gulp of oxygen, Kylie clutched her purse. “I warned Sara I might wake up screaming bloody murder. She said she’d stake me in the heart with a wooden cross and make me go back to bed.”

  “Maybe you should hide the stakes before you go to sleep.” Her mother attempted to smile.

  “I will.” For one brief second, Kylie worried about leaving her mom alone on the day her dad had left. But who was she kidding? Her mom would be fine. Nothing ever bothered the Ice Queen.

  Before walking out, Kylie peered out the window to make sure she wouldn’t be assaulted by a guy wearing army duds.

  Deeming the yard to be free of stalkers, Kylie ran out the door, hoping that tonight’s party would help her forget just how badly her life sucked.

  ~

  “Here. You don’t have to drink it, just hold it.” Sara Jetton pushed a beer into Kylie’s hands, and ran off.

  Sharing elbow room with at least thirty kids, all packed into Mark Jameson’s living room and talking at once, Kylie clutched the ice cold bottle. Glancing around at the crowd, she recognized most of them from school. The doorbell rang again. Obviously, this was the place to be tonight. And according to every other kid at her high school, it was. Jameson, a senior whose parents never seemed to care what he did, held some of the wildest parties in town.

  Ten minutes later, Sara still MIA, the party shifted into full swing. Too bad Kylie didn’t feel like swinging along with them. She frowned at the bottle in her hand.

  Someone bumped into her shoulder, causing the beer to splash on her chest and run down in the V of her white blouse. “Crap.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” the responsible bumper said.

  Kylie looked up into John’s soft brown eyes and tried to smile. Hey, being nice to a cute guy, who’d been asking about her at school made trying to smile easy. But the fact that John had been friends with Trey kept the thrill down to a minimum.

  “It’s okay,” she said.

  “I’ll get you another.” As if nervous, he shot off.

  “It’s really okay,” Kylie called after him, but between the music and the hum of voices, he didn’t hear her.

  The doorbell rang again. A few kids shifted around and gave Kylie a view of the door. More specifically, the shift gave her a view of Trey walking inside. Beside him—or she should say plastered against him—sashayed his new slutty girlfriend.

  “Great.” She swung around, wishing she could teleport herself to Tahiti or back home would be even better—especially if her dad would be there.

  Through a back window, she spotted Sara on the patio and Kylie darted outside to join her.

  Sara looked up. She must have read the panic on Kylie’s face, because she came running over to her. “What happened?”

  “Trey and his screw toy are here.”

  Sara frowned. “So, you look hot. Go flirt with some guys and make him sorry.”

  Kylie rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to stay here and watch Trey and what’s her name making out.”

  “Were they already making out?” Sara asked.

  “Not yet, but get one beer in Trey and all he’ll think about is getting into a girl’s panties. I know because I used to be the girl in the panties.”

  “Chill.” Sara pointed back at the table. “Gary brought margaritas. Have one and you’ll feel fine.”

  Kylie bit her lip to keep from screaming that she wouldn’t feel fine. Her life had toilet-bound stamped all over it.

  “Hey,” Sara nudged her. “We both know all you’d have to do to get Trey back is to grab him and take him upstairs. He’s still crazy about you. He found me before I left school today and asked about you.”

  “Did you know he was going to be here?” Betrayal started unraveling the little sanity she had left.

  “Not for sure. But chill.”

  Chill? Kylie stared at her best friend and realized how different they’d become these last six months. It wasn’t just Sara’s need to party or the fact that she’d given up virginhood. Okay, so maybe it was those two things, but it seemed like more.

  More as in Kylie had a sneaking suspicion that Sara longed to rush Kylie to join the partying-non-virgin ranks. Could Kylie help it if beer tasted like dog piss to her? Or if the idea of having sex didn’t appeal?

  Okay, that was a lie, sex appealed to her. When she and Trey had made out, Kylie had been tempted, really tempted, but then Kylie remembered her and Sara talking about how the first time should be special.

  Then she recalled how Sara had given in to Brad’s ‘needs’—Brad who was the love of Sara’s life—yet, within two weeks of giving in, the love of Sara’s life had dumped her. What was so special about that?

  Since then, Sara had dated four other guys, and she’d slept with two of them. Now, Sara had stopped talking about sex being special.

  “Look, I know you’re worried about your parents,” Sara said. “But that’s why you need to just let loose and have some fun.” Sara tucked her long, brown hair behind her ear. “I’m getting you a margarita and you’re going to love it.”

  Sara darted of
f to the table by the group of people. Kylie started to follow but her gaze slapped against Soldier Dude, looking as scary and weird as ever, standing by the group of margarita drinkers.

  Kylie shot around, prepared to bolt, but she smacked right into a guy’s chest, and darn it if more beer didn’t jump out of the bottle and fall right between her boobs. “Great. My boobs are going to smell like a brewery.”

  “Every guy’s dream,” the husky male voice said. “But I’m sorry.”

  She recognized Trey’s voice before she did his broad shoulders or his unique masculine scent. Preparing herself for the pain that seeing him would cause, she raised her gaze. “It’s okay, John’s already done it once.”

  She tried not to stare at the way Trey’s sandy brown hair fell against his brow, or the way his green eyes seemed to lure her closer, or the way his mouth tempted her to lean in and press her lips to his.

  “So it’s true.” He frowned.

  “What’s true?” she asked.

  “That you and John have hooked up.”

  Kylie considered lying. The thought that it would hurt him appealed to her. It appealed to her so much that it reminded her of the stupid games her parents played lately. Oh, no, she would not stoop to their ‘grown-up’ level.

  “I haven’t hooked up with anyone.” She turned to leave.

  He caught her. His touch, the feel of his warm hand on her elbow, sent waves of pain right to her heart. And standing this close, his clean, masculine scent filled her airways. Oh God, she loved his smell.

  “I heard about your grandma,” he said. “And Sara told me about your parents getting a divorce. I’m so sorry, Kylie.”

  Tears threatened to crawl up her throat. Kylie was seconds away from falling against his warm chest and begging him to hold her. Nothing ever felt better than Trey’s arms around her, but then she saw the girl, Trey’s screw toy, walk outside, carrying two beers. In less than five minutes, Trey would be trying to get in her panties. And from the too low-cut blouse and too short skirt the girl wore, it appeared he wouldn’t have to try too hard.

  “Thanks,” Kylie muttered and went to join Sara. Luckily, Soldier Dude had decided Margaritas weren’t his thing after all and left.

  “Here.” Sara took the beer from Kylie’s hand and replaced it with a margarita.

  The frosty felt unnaturally cold. Kylie leaned in and whispered, “Did you see a strange guy here a minute ago? Dressed in some funky army outfit?”

  Sara’s eyebrows did their wild, wiggly thing. “How much of that beer did you drink?” Her laughter filled the night air.

  Kylie wrapped her hands tighter around the cold glass, but worried she seriously might be losing her mind. Adding alcohol to the situation didn’t seem like a good idea.

  An hour later, when three Houston cops walked into the backyard and had everyone line up at the back gate, Kylie still had the same untouched margarita clutched in her hands.

  “Come on, kids,” one of the cops said. “The sooner we move you to the precinct, the sooner we can get your parents to come get you.” That was when Kylie knew for certain that her life really had been toilet bound—and someone had just flushed.

  ~

  “Where’s Dad?” Kylie asked her mom when she stepped into the room at the police station. “I called Dad.”

  I’m a phone call away, Pumpkin. Hadn’t he told her that? So why wasn’t he here to get Pumpkin?

  Her mom’s green eyes tightened. “He called me.”

  “I wanted Dad,” Kylie insisted. No, she needed her dad, she thought and her vision clouded with tears. She needed a hug, needed someone who would understand.

  “You don’t get what you want, especially when . . . My God, Kylie, how could you do this?”

  Kylie swiped the tears from her face. “I didn’t do anything. Didn’t they tell you? I walked a straight line. Touched my nose and even said my ABCs backwards. I didn’t do anything.”

  “They found drugs there,” her mother snapped.

  “I wasn’t doing drugs.”

  “But do you know what they didn’t find there, young lady?” Her mother pointed a finger at her. “Any parents. You lied to me.”

  “Maybe I’m just too much like you,” Kylie said, still reeling at the thought that her dad hadn’t shown up. He’d known how upset she’d been. Why hadn’t he come?

  “What does that mean, Kylie?”

  “You told dad you didn’t know what happened to his underwear. But you’d just flame-broiled his shorts on the grill.”

  Guilt filled her mother’s eyes and she shook her head. “Dr. Day is right.”

  “What does my shrink have to do with tonight?” Kylie asked. “Don’t tell me you called her. God, Mom, if you dare bring her down here where all my friends—”

  “No, she’s not here. But it’s not just about tonight.” She inhaled. “I can’t do this alone.”

  “Do what alone?” Kylie asked and she got this bad feeling in her stomach.

  “I’m signing you up for a summer camp.”

  “What summer camp?” Kylie clutched her purse to her chest. “No, I don’t want to go to any camp.”

  “It’s not about what you want.” Her mom motioned for Kylie to walk out the door. “It’s about what you need. It’s a camp for kids with problems.”

  “Problems? Are you freaking nuts? I don’t have any problems,” Kylie insisted. Well, not any a camp could fix. Somehow she suspected going to camp wouldn’t bring Dad home, it wouldn’t make Soldier Dude disappear, and it wouldn’t win Trey back.

  “No problems? Really, then why am I at the police station at almost midnight picking up my sixteen-year-old daughter? You’re going to the camp. I’m signing you up tomorrow. This isn’t up for debate.”

  I’m not going. She kept telling herself that as they walked out of the police station.

  Her mother might be bat-shit crazy, but not her dad. He simply wouldn’t let her mom send her off to a camp filled with a bunch of juvenile delinquents. He wouldn’t.

  Would he?

  Chapter Three

  Three days later, Kylie, suitcase in hand, stood in the YMCA parking lot where several of the camp buses picked up the juvenile delinquents. She freaking couldn’t believe she was here.

  Her mom was really doing it.

  And her dad was really letting her mom do it.

  Kylie, who’d never drunk more than two sips of beer, who’d never smoked one cigarette, let alone any pot, was about to be shipped off to some camp for troubled kids.

  Her mom reached out and touched Kylie’s arm. “I think they’re calling you.”

  Could her mom get rid of her any faster? Kylie pulled away from her touch, so angry, so hurt she didn’t know how to act anymore. She’d begged, she’d pleaded, and she’d cried, but nothing worked. She was about to head off to camp. She hated it but there was nothing she could do.

  Not offering her mom one word, and swearing not to cry in front of the dozens of other kids, Kylie stiffened her back, and took off to the bus behind the woman holding the sign that read: Shadow Falls Camp.

  Jeez. What kind of hell hole was she being sent to?

  When Kylie stepped on the bus, the eight or nine kids already there raised their heads and stared at her. She felt an odd kind of stirring in her chest and she got those weird chills again. Never, not in all sixteen years of her life, had she wanted to turn and run away as much as she did now.

  She forced herself not to bolt, then she met the gazes of . . . Oh, Lordie, can you say freaks?

  One girl had her hair dyed three different colors—pink, lime green and jet black. Another girl wore nothing but black — black lipstick, black eye shadow, black pants and a black long-sleeve shirt. Hadn’t the Goth look gone out of style? Where was this girl getting her fashion tips? Hadn’t she read that colors were in? That blue was the new black?

  And then there was the boy sitting almost at the front of the bus. He had both his eyebrows pierced. Kylie leaned down to peer out the
window to see if she could still see her mother. Surely, if her mom took a look at these guys, she’d know Kylie didn’t belong here.

  “Take your seat,” someone said and stepped behind her.

  Kylie turned around and saw the bus driver. While Kylie hadn’t noticed it earlier, she realized even the bus driver looked a little freakish. Her purple tinted gray hair sat high on her head like a football helmet. Not that Kylie could blame her for teasing her hair up a few inches, the woman was short. Elf short. Kylie glanced down at her feet, half expecting to see a pair of pointed green boots. No green shoes.

  Then her gaze shot to the front to the bus. How was the woman going to drive the bus?

  “Come on,” the woman said. “I have to have you kids there by lunch, so move it along.”

  Since everyone but Kylie had taken their seats, she supposed the woman meant her. She took a step farther into the bus, feeling as if her life would never, ever be the same.

  “You can sit by me,” someone said. The boy had curly blond hair, even blonder than Kylie’s, but his eyes peering at her were so dark they looked black. He patted the empty seat beside him. Kylie tried not to stare, but something about the dark/light combination felt off. Then he wiggled his eyebrows, as if . . . as if her sitting beside him meant they might make out or something.

  “That’s okay.” Kylie took a few steps, pulling her suitcase behind her. Her luggage caught on the row of seats where the blond boy sat and Kylie looked back to free it.

  Her gaze met his and her breath caught. Blond boy now had . . . green eyes. Bright, very bright green eyes. How was that even possible?

  She swallowed and looked at his hands, thinking that maybe he had a contact case out and had changed his lenses. No case.

  He wiggled his brows again, and when she realized she was staring at him, she yanked her suitcase free.

  Shaking off the chill, she moved on to the row of seats she’d chosen as her own. Before she turned to sit down, she noticed another boy in the back. Sitting by himself, he had light brown hair, parted to the side and hanging just above his dark brows and green eyes. Normal green eyes, but the dusty blue t-shirt he wore made them more noticeable.