Part 12 (1/2)
”Do not talk to me like I'm crazy.”
”I would never do such a thing.”
”Why do you want me in Paris?”
”To shop, of course.” He gave a fake yawn and backed away. ”Maybe you can focus on finding interesting furniture and art out in Paris. Feel free to have fun. Grab several things. Be bold with your purchases.” He grinned. ”Put a nasty dent into our credit cards.”
She frowned. ”You're hiding something.”
”There's nothing to hide, Mother.”
She spat the next words out with sheer annoyance. ”Don't mother me.”
”Calm down.”
”There better not be anything going on under my nose.”
And with that, his patience withered away into aggravation. He grinned and targeted her with a scary gaze. ”Or what? I better not have anything going on under your nose, or what?”
She glared at him, and he kept a neutral mask on his face. The times of her bossing him around had ceased after he killed the third husband. In those years, she'd taught him one important thing.
Death solved problems.
When he was a boy, she could shrill out a demand and he'd fall in line. But, he'd grown, and learned how to take a life and get over it with ease.
With her fourth husband, she'd seen the cruelty that Asher could execute. By then he was a teenager, he'd captured the old man's neck with his bare hands, looked into his eyes, and watched the oxygen leave his body. His mother had asked him to kill her husband. She's claimed he raped her. But in the end, there was never any proof.
But by then, Asher no longer cared, when it came to murdering her husbands.
”Asher!” his mother yelled. ”Are you paying attention to what I'm saying?”
He stared at his mother. ”I am.”
”No, you're not.” She uncrossed her legs as if readying herself to jump up and attack him as she always loved to do.
I wonder if that old man ever raped Mother or if she just used it as an excuse for me to kill him. I wouldn't put it past her.
His mother flung her wine gla.s.s at him. He didn't flinch or move. Instantly, the gla.s.s shattered against the wall, right next to him. Pieces fell down to the library's floor.
Still, he didn't move, couldn't give her the satisfaction of knowing that she'd startled him. ”Was that necessary, Mother?”
”You're ignoring me.”
”I have a lot on my mind.”
”Like what?”
”Business stuff.”
”Elaborate.”
For some reason, Asher couldn't get that fourth husband's image out of his face. ”Remember, Mr. Anderson?”
She parted her lips and for a while remained silent, until finally saying, ”My ex-husband?”
”Yes.”
”Why are you bringing him up?”
”Did he ever really rape you?”
”Why the h.e.l.l would you bring that up right now?” With shaking hands, she reached for her martini gla.s.s, realized she'd flung it, and then simply hit the table with her fists. ”And why would I lie about something like that?”
”You wanted me to kill him.”
”W-why would I make up a lie for you to kill someone? Asher, you have to stop blaming me for your own guilt. Enough is enough. You have all this guilt inside of you for no reason-”
He gritted his teeth. ”We murdered men. That's why I have all this guilt inside of me.”
”We murdered monsters.”
”Did we?”
”Yes!”
”The only monster I remember was Dad. The rest,” he shook his head, ”I'm not so sure they were bad men after all.”
”Hus.h.!.+” She looked around the room as if someone might have bugged it. ”We defended ourselves. That is it. Nothing more. These men hurt me and you saved your mommy. That is it. This conversation is over.”
”They all hurt you?”
”Yes,” she said through clenched teeth. ”We've discussed this before.”
”Did they all hurt you!? All five men?”
She jumped up. ”Don't yell at me!”
He inched back and did his best to calm himself down. ”I'm sorry, Mother.”
She pointed to him. ”You're not to kill anyone while I'm gone.”
”I didn't have any plans to.”
”No one dies, Asher. Do you understand me?”
”Goodnight, Mother. Enjoy Paris.” He turned around and headed up the spiral stairs.
”And let the past stay in the past!” she called after him.
Each time his mother had asked him to kill her husband, she had a complex story that involved the man doing something horrible to her-rape, abuse, threats to hurt her son. Stories and blurry evidence filled Asher's childhood. She'd whisper their transgressions into his ears right before bedtime, tell him how horrible life was and how it would be so much better if that current husband was dead. Due to this, Asher never got too close to his step dads and did his best to stay away from them.