Hot Pants

by Kade, Teagan

  He leaves me, stewing in an intoxicating mixture of anger and frustration. My breathing becomes rapid, each inhalation burning my lungs. I feel faint, sick, and overwhelmingly weak.

  The realization I’m powerless to stop him hits me like a fucking freight train. There’s nothing I can do to stop Brady from going forward with this case. Even if I tried to warn Beth, I might be caught in the crossfire.

  “Beth couldn’t have done this… There’s no way,” I mumble under my breath.

  I look at my phone and again, nothing.

  I call her, not giving a fuck anymore. Like every other time, I’m greeted by the same damn message.

  “Beth… Fuck,” I hang up and slam my phone on the desk. It’d be really fucking great right now if she called me back, or hell, said anything to me.

  Panic overwhelms me. I’m defeated, unable to stop the world from crumbling around me.

  I lean against the desk, my head falling into my hands, and sigh in exasperation. I hear the door to the office creak open, but I refrain from looking up, afraid my emotions will get the better of me.

  “You all right?” McAllister’s gruff voice appears in my apocalyptic fantasy—no, reality.

  “No, everything’s a fucking mess, and I’ve not a single hope in hell how to fix it.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  ELISABETH

  I’m pacing around what’s left of my living room, panicking and frantically dialing my mom’s phone number after reading her letter.

  It was nice to hear she finally realized maybe I wasn’t the one to blame for our issues, but it came just a little too late. The fact Travis may be on his way here sort of makes her apology null and void, though the heads-up was certainly appreciated.

  Heat and frustration well up in my chest. I pinch the bridge of my nose, a quiet sigh escaping my lips as I take a breath to steady myself. Overreacting isn’t going to help me, so I need to focus and try to come up with a plan.

  Try as I may, my mind still keeps circling back to the fact that now, because of her lies, her scumbag boyfriend could very well be on his way to me.

  I’ve never met the guy, but he’s obviously not an upstanding citizen. Good people don’t force their partners to trick their kids into breaking the law for money.

  How could she do this to me? And, after all that’s happened, how could she not have the gall to stand up to that deadbeat Travis?

  That’s beside the point. Even after three calls, my mom still isn’t picking up her phone. On the one hand that could be a good thing. It could mean that she doesn’t want to answer because Travis is there, meaning he isn’t on his way here.

  On the other hand, however, something could have happened, or she’s not answering because Travis left and told her not to answer the phone until he gets back. She could think he’s testing her.

  I sigh and shake my head, looking at my phone. That sounds crazy. I need to calm down. Coming up with what-ifs and worst-case scenarios in my head isn’t going to help me calm down or plan anything.

  I should get out of there.

  You know he’ll still find you, right?

  I reach up to pull at my hair.

  Get a grip, Beth.

  I remember I grabbed one of the wine bottles from the mini fridge in my hotel room and stuck it in my handbag

  That’s it. I’ll grab a drink, calm my nerves, and come up with a plan. Simple.

  I hunt through my bag and pull out the tiniest bottle of wine I’ve ever seen in my life, opening it. The thing’s so small it’s probably only got a glass in it, maybe two, but it’ll do the trick.

  Deciding to forgo a glass since the bottle is so tiny anyway, I take a sip, closing my eyes and allowing myself a moment of peace to enjoy the rich merlot as it dances across my tongue. It’s times like this when you can really learn to appreciate the finer things in life. I make a mental note to buy myself a nice bottle of wine after this all blows over.

  If I don’t end up in prison, that is.

  I start to pace again after a moment, my mind somewhat calmed. I still need to come up with a plan, though.

  So far, I know Travis is aware I’m not going through with this and that he’s angry. He may or may not be on his way up here, and as I make my way over to the window, I glance outside, my heart starting to thud heavy in my chest.

  There, just across the street, is a car parked I don’t recognize, someone sitting in the driver’s seat. With the engine off. Now, normally this wouldn’t be such a big deal, but considering the ordeal I’ve been through the last few days? I think it’s cause for concern.

  I take a moment to actually look at the driver, gasping when our eyes meet.

  He’s very clearly watching my house. I have no way of knowing for sure, but I’m sure it’s Travis. I can feel it.

  I can’t get a good look at the guy, obviously It’s no longer bright out, plus he’s across the street, and he’s got a hoodie on covering his face.

  Maybe I’m overreacting, maybe I’m not, but I’m not going to take any chances on this one.

  Quickly, I back away from the window and dig my phone out of my pocket and start to dial the number Officer Brady gave me. Then I stop, realizing how bad of an idea this is.

  What good is calling the police going to do for me right now? I can see exactly how this conversation would go down:

  Hello, officer? I need help. Someone is watching my house and following me.

  Why would they do that?

  Well, I set my own house on fire in an attempt to get insurance money for my mother’s medical costs, but then found out she’s not really sick. Now I’m afraid he’s going to try and blackmail me into continuing with the fraud I planned. I promise I’m not going to, though, pinkie swear.

  Yeah, I’m sure that would go over really well with the police. They’d be more than happy to help me.

  Not.

  Obviously, I need to find another solution to this, and fast. I don’t really want to be alone right now, and I don’t feel comfortable calling the police.

  I take another glance out of my window. The car is still there, the creep still sitting in the driver’s seat looking this way.

  Shit.

  Derek.

  I’ll call Derek.

  As soon as the thought enters my mind, a sense of calm begins to sweep over me. Just the thought of Derek being here with me makes the situation almost seem bearable. Almost. At least if he were here, he could distract me and keep my mind off of things, even if it’s only for a little while.

  Plus, I doubt Travis would even think about coming to my door if he knew I wasn’t alone. Not to mention the fact Derek simply being here would make me feel ten times better than sitting here by myself.

  I don’t know why Derek is the only person I trust enough to call, or why he makes me feel so safe. All I do know is that I really hope he gets here soon… before Travis decides he’s had enough waiting in the car.

  He’s obviously desperate for the money. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have guilted my mom into doing this in the first place. I don’t want to see how far he’s willing to go to get it.

  So, once again I pull my phone out of my pocket, but this time, I dial Derek’s number, my heart racing in my chest as it rings. Finally, after a few rings, he picks up. I breathe a sigh of relief when I hear his voice.

  “Hey, Derek? Can you come over? I’m back at my house and… I just really want you to come over. I don’t feel safe right now.”

  “They let you back there?”

  “Yes.”

  He’s straight into Action Man mode. “You don’t feel safe? What’s going on?”

  I can hear him shuffling and moving around on the other line, the jangling of keys and thudding of boots sending a wave of comfort over me. He’s coming. I just need to wait a few minutes.

  “I’ll explain everything when you get here. Just, please, come over as soon as you can.”

  “Alright, Beth, I’m on my way. Sit tight.”

  “T
hank you.”

  We hang up, and I sigh, my head in my hands as I try to come up with a plan. I’m going to have to tell Derek what happened. None of this is going to make sense otherwise. How else do I explain my paranoia of some strange guy outside in his car watching me and why I can’t just call the police?

  No, I’m going to have to tell him everything, including the fact I set the fire myself.

  After that… I have no idea. It could go any which way.

  How did I let myself get into this mess? Why did I think this was a good idea in the first place?

  I sit, trying to wrap my head around how the situation has gotten almost as out of control as the fire did—and nearly just as quickly.

  But sitting here worrying and wishing I’d done something different isn’t going to help me. It’s too late for that. For now, I’m going to have to settle for the fact Derek is on his way and hope he understands. If not, then… well, I don’t know, but I don’t see any other option right now. At least none that have a happy ending.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  DEREK

  I fly through the door and into a mess.

  I can tell Beth has been crying when I find her in the bedroom at the back corner of the house. Her face is bright red, shiny. She looks a lot like a Gala apple, her cheeks a ruddy, almost bruised pink.

  Her hair, already mussed, is gathering around her neck in a matted pile. Her nose is running. I can barely make out the words she’s trying to say to me as she alternately coughs and hiccups.

  “Can I know what’s going on, baby?” I ask gently. “What could possibly have you this upset?”

  She continues to cough and splutters before she finally squeaks out, “I can’t tell you. You’ll hate me.”

  I hug her tightly, taking care to inhale her soft, floral scent as I do so.

  “Baby, nothing you could say or do could make me hate you,” I say, even more gently than before. “Come on, what is it? You can tell me.”

  She sighs and steadies her breathing. She rubs the tears, violently, from her cheeks before she looks up at me with a lost-little-girl look on her face and in her eyes.

  “The fire,” she says, slowly but steadily. “I did it.”

  I take a minute to absorb everything she’s said. I’m not sure if I heard her correctly.

  After all, how many fires have I extinguished over the years where the victim blamed themselves? It isn’t an uncommon sentiment. Survivor’s guilt, they call it.

  Or maybe it’s just that people are crazy.

  When I finally process everything, I look at her gently and say, “Don’t be ridiculous. It was an accident.”

  She shakes her head violently. “No,” she says. “No, Derek, no.” She repeats “no” a few more times before looking into my eyes and repeating it a final time.

  My heart starts racing in my chest, pumping harder.

  What the fuck is she trying to tell me? I think to myself.

  But I don’t want to upset her—God forbid I read the situation wrong, I could have a total disaster on my hands, so I search, internally, for a few minutes before I formulate the most carefully worded sentence I’ve ever formulated in my life.

  “Beth,” I begin. “I’m not sure I understand you correctly. Can you elaborate?”

  There we go, I think. Short, sweet, and to the point, with no room for misinterpretation…

  And with that sentence, the proverbial floodgates open, and Beth is back to her hysterical crying. In between gasps, she explains everything.

  “I did it,” she says. “I set the fire myself.”

  That gets my attention. I immediately recoil from her, nearly propelling myself across the room as I do so.

  “What?” I ask, my voice getting louder. “Why the fuck would you do that?”

  Beth takes a deep, raggedy breath and begins the story.

  “You need to understand,” she says, her voice calming. “If my mother wasn’t involved, I wouldn’t have even entertained this stupid idea. It was for the money, Derek. That’s all!”

  “Well, that makes it so much better,” I spit, my protective instincts fast turning to anger.

  “Please, Derek,” she pleads. “Just listen. She’s not really sick.”

  “Not physically, at least,” I retort sarcastically. “But definitely in the fuckin’ head, if you’re saying this was all her idea.”

  She starts crying again. This time I am unmoved.

  “Derek, please,” she begs, and she looks even more pathetic than before. “It wasn’t even her. It was her sleazy boyfriend.”

  I roll my eyes. The whole story sounds like something from a soap opera, the subject of a bad Lifetime movie.

  Finally, I turn to her, sigh, and say, “Go on.” I’m almost certain I want nothing to do with Beth ever again, especially given this new information. Nothing boils my blood as much as someone who would deliberately start a fire. I just want to hear her ridiculous story for my own peace of mind.

  She takes a deep breath and, wiping away her fresh tears, continues again.

  “It was Travis,” she explains. “He was the one who came up with the idea of setting the fire. He said it would be easy money—just light that bitch up, file a claim, collect the check.”

  I glare at her but don’t say anything. I can’t believe what I’m hearing.

  Oh, I believe it on a visceral level—how the fuck else could this whole shit be explained? —but I can’t believe that Beth, of all people, would even entertain this shit, let alone actually try to go through with it.

  “So, I did exactly what he told me to do,” she continues, her voice growing increasingly more high-pitched with each word. “I didn’t think it would get this bad.”

  I glare at her again, but this time I answer her. “How the fuck did you not think it was ‘that bad’ Beth? When he came up with this harebrained scheme, you should have gone to the fucking police. What he proposed is called insurance fraud, not to mention arson. Both of those crimes are fuckin’ felonies. If you had a paper trail to prove all this—emails, text messages, something—you could have sent his shady ass to jail for a long time. And then he could have threatened you with whatever the fuck he wanted, and it wouldn’t have mattered because his happy ass would have been in jail where it belongs.”

  She sighs and lowers her eyes. “I didn’t think of that at the time. I was scared,” she says in a whiny voice. “Please, believe me.”

  But I’ve had enough. “Oh, bullshit,” I shout. “You would light up your own fucking house for anyone, least of all him? Come on, Beth. I was born at night, but not last night.”

  She wails openly. I’m shocked by how little I care about her fragile state. Just a few minutes ago I would have moved heaven and earth to make her happy, to keep her safe, and to make her feel loved.

  Now? I couldn’t care in the least.

  Is this what it feels like to fall out of love? I think to myself. Damn. This sucks.

  “It’s true!” she says, loud enough to match my own screams of anger. “My mother didn’t want to put me in this situation. At all. At all. But she was afraid if I didn’t go along she’d lose Travis over it.”

  “Mother of the year,” I say sarcastically. “Now you’re saying she’s more concerned about her shitty boyfriend leaving her than her daughter’s well-being? According to you, she’d rather see you go to jail than to lose a piece-of-shit boyfriend. Right?”

  “That’s right,” she says, looking forlorn. For a quick second, I actually feel sorry for her. Given everything she’s told me about her upbringing and what she’s telling me now, I know in my heart of hearts that she was manipulated. And not just manipulated, but badly, to the point she was capable of burning down her own beloved house.

  I have no doubt this Travis scumbag was the one who came up with this garbage idea. No question about it. Beth doesn’t even seem to be the type.

  The fact he manipulated her, according to her own testimony, and her mother seemed to be okay with al
l of this, makes me blind with rage. I mean, who are these people?

  In the same breath, Beth was and is a grown woman, fully capable of making her own decisions. No matter how bad her upbringing was, or how shitty an adult’s situation is, she has the means and the ways to get out of it. Lighting a fire to burn down your house is not what one would call a ‘healthy option.’

  Beth must be reading my mind, because she continues with the story and answers the questions I had for myself.

  “My mother initially said I deserved to be treated this way,” she says. “Because of how I left home when I was younger. Just boom—up and gone. But even she had to admit she’d been an awful mother to me. Then she told me that Travis had overheard our entire conversation, and if I didn’t go along…”

  Her voice trails off. We’re both silent.

  Finally, I look at her intently, the anger and disappointment no doubt clear in my eyes.

  “And the letter?” I ask.

  She sighs and rolls her eyes, which only makes me madder, because I feel she doesn’t care enough about my feelings, or about lying to me, or about actually owning up to all the bullshit she’s done.

  “The letter… That was the only way Mom could warn me without letting Travis know she’d done so,” she explains.

  “How noble of her,” I say, matching her eye roll with one of my own. I turn my back on her and begin walking towards the door.

  “Derek, wait,” she says, pulling on my arm, begging me to stay.

  I actually consider relenting. After all, I know better than anyone she probably went through a lot in her youth. I know she has a crappy mother, a non-existent father, and an upbringing you wouldn’t wish on anyone. I know that despite her flaws, she loves me, and I, in turn, love her.

  Big words, but they’re true. What I feel for Beth is unlike anything I’ve felt before?

  But I can’t get past what she’s done. What if she’d hurt someone? What if she’d killed someone?

  What if, God forbid, she’d killed a puppy or a kitten—a child? All this for some crazy loser not even her mother is sure about?

  No. No fucking way.

  “I love you, Derek,” she says, apropos of nothing.