Free Vicious by Kevin O'Brien Page A

and smiled at her. “And that’s our eight-year-old, Michael. He looks a lot like his dad, doesn’t he?”
    “He sure does,” Melissa agreed. “And just look at those eyelashes. He’s going to be a real heartbreaker.”
    “Speaking of breaking hearts,” she said, pulling Melissa to the corner of the living room. “Now that you’ve seen my children and talked a little bit with me, I hope you understand what I’m about to say, Melissa. If you come near my husband or try to call him again, I’m going to come after you. And you’ll have a very difficult time teaching your yoga class with two broken arms.”
    Melissa let out a bewildered laugh. But then she must have seen the seriousness in Susan’s eyes, because the smile vanished from her face.
    “Do you understand?” Susan whispered. “I know what’s been going on. Walt told me everything. I’m only going to say this to you once. Lay off.”
    Melissa stared at her and nodded. “All right,” she murmured. Her hand was shaking a bit as she gulped down the rest of her wine. Her eyes avoided Susan’s. “I—I’m really sorry….”
    “I’m sorry, too,” Susan said quietly. “And I’m sorry you’re going through a difficult time right now. I hope you figure out some other way to cope with it.”
    Susan patted her arm and headed toward the deck to join Walt, Michael, and several others who were waving around sparklers. Walt eyed her nervously. To take the edge off, he’d consumed at least three India Pale Ales. She wasn’t sure of the exact count, but he was feeling no pain. “Is everything all right, my love?” he asked. He’d just started to slip into his fake British accent, which he took on whenever he got tipsy. That was how Susan knew he was too drunk to drive. He didn’t stagger, or slur his words, or get loud; he just got British . And it was the worst imitation of Brit she’d ever heard. His old college friends were used to it, and like Susan they knew, when Walt started referring to other guys as blokes , it was time to cut him off. He hadn’t gotten that far along just yet.
    “Everything’s peachy,” she said, sliding an arm around him. “Don’t look now, but I believe Melissa is making her excuses.”
    The redhead was indeed talking to their hostess and moving toward the door with an empty Tupperware cake container under her arm. She glanced over her shoulder at the two of them. Susan just smiled and nodded.
    “So all is forgiven?” he whispered.
    Susan just nodded.
    “Any chance for a bit of makeup sex tonight?” he asked in his awful British accent.
    “Don’t push your luck, Nigel ,” she whispered. “And by the way, I’m driving us home tonight. I don’t want any arguments.”
    “Anything you say, old girl.” He kissed her on the cheek.
    Susan glanced over at Michael, with a sparkler in his hand and the darkening cityscape behind him. From across the balcony, he smiled at her and Walt. Her sweet son looked so beautiful.
    That was when she heard the loud crack. Susan thought it was a firework’s pop, but it was too close. The noise seemed to come directly underneath them. Everyone was looking around for something in the sky.
    Then it happened again. Susan realized the sound was wood splintering. The deck floor shook and creaked.
    “Oh, my God,” she murmured, a panic sweeping through her.
    People started screaming, and they tried to scramble off the faltering deck, but it was too late. Another thunderous crack rang out.
    Susan saw Michael on the other side of the deck. “Mom! Dad!” he cried, reaching for them.
    She broke away from Walt and tried to get to her son. He was just outside her grasp. Then all at once, the deck’s wood floor opened up beneath her feet.
    Suddenly, she was falling. As she plunged toward the ground, Susan heard all these horrible screams around her. Her arms and legs flailing, she felt so helpless—and doomed.
    Someone from a neighboring condominium later said that the bodies, wood