Free Kill Me by Alex Owens Page B

say stupid things and this time was no exception.
    “Bette’s great with her fingers too!” I said, realizing how that must have sounded a bit too late. My face flushed with embarrassment. “I mean, uh, you should hear her play the violin. It’s magical.”
    Bette looked to me with amusement, clearly enjoying seeing me squirm.
    Vera, always with a few brain cells in the gutter, said, “I’d love to watch you two play together sometime.”
    I’d thought my face couldn’t get any redder, but I had been wrong. Bette had mercy on me finally and leaned in to caress my cheek.
    “We’ve only an hour left before the car comes, so finish up your business here soon, mi dolce.” Bette quickly kissed me, the kind of kiss that skirted the line between culturally customary and sexually charged, before turning her attention to Vera.
    “Don’t tire my Claire out; I have plans for her later.”
    With her claim laid down, Bette glided away, leaving me with Vera smiling like the Cheshire cat. She slapped me on the ass, saying, “I just knew you were a Sister. Where’s Cass, she owes me five bucks!”
    Great. One naked groping session and I was already giving out the “L-Vibe”. If I ever actually had sex (that I could remember) with Bette, would it become transparent to everyone? I didn’t even have it in me to protest. I wasn’t sure that I could do it with a straight face, so I just shrugged.
    Vera left me to seek out Cassidy and I stood alone in a sea of thousands. It seemed I was the only person for miles who was still unclear which side of the sexual fence I was on. At that point, I wasn’t interested in love, or even romance.
    The bitter taste in my mouth from Pete was still going strong and I wasn’t sure I’d ever be ready to commit to someone again. It just didn’t seem worth the inevitable trouble later. Sex, on the other hand, wasn’t forever and didn’t have to be complicated unless you let it. In theory, that is.

Chapter 9
    Two hours later, I was back in my hotel room with some time to kill. Bette said she was taking care of some business, and that she’d swing by to pick me up at nine. That left me with more than enough time to shower, dress, and flip through all thirty channels available on television, oh, about a million times.
    I called home, praying that Quinn would answer. I didn’t want to speak to Pete any more than I had to. Naturally, he answered the phone. I tried to keep my voice even to avoid the obligatory long-distance fight. Phone arguments just didn’t yield the same satisfaction as yelling in someone’s face and I wanted to save up my anger.
    “Put Quinn on,” I said, not even bothering with formalities. We were way beyond that.
    “Claire. We need to...” Pete started before I cut him off.
    Just hearing his voice spiked my blood pressure. I never pictured myself hating anyone with as much passion and tenacity as I hated Pete in that moment. If I had been home, I just may have choked him.
    “No! You do not get to do that—end our marriage via voice-mail and then try to absolve yourself over the telephone. You…you sonovabitch!” I shouted.
    Pete hung up on me somewhere between “sonova” and “bitch.”
    Okay, so maybe I’d let my temper get the best of me.
    But he really deserved a whole lot more than I’d dished out. He should be very nervous about facing me in a few days. I counted to one-hundred. Breathed in through my nose and out through my mouth. I thought of Bette’s calming touch and wished she were there to soothe me.
    When I had better control, I called again.
    Quinn answered with a shrill, “Mooommmyyy!”
    “Hey bug. How’s my favorite girl doing?” I said, my heart skipping a beat at the thought of all she would have to go through as soon as I returned home.
    “Good, how’s my favorite Mom doing?” she parroted.
    “Your favorite Mom? I’m your only Mom!” I said with mock outrage.
    “You are!” Quinn said, “At least until I buy a new Mom on