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As if he doesn’t have everything already.
The perfect mark.
This isn’t really the challenging part.
That comes next.
•••
IT WILL HAVEto be quiet and understated, but I have to move fast. That man was just a preview. She’s planning something for me.I’mher target right now. Her mark. I know it. So I must plan in return. Play defense. Something that looks accidental when she’s eventually found. Or purposeful, but at her own hand. Pills will probably do just fine. Mother’s an occasional to frequent fan anyway. Xanax. Valium. Whatever takes the edge off. No brand loyalty. The execution will be simple. They’ll be easy to find. I’m in Vegas. I can find anything I want to find here, especially things that are laced with the illicit or the fatal. I’m starting to sound more like her and that’s how I know I will pull this off.
I’ll be Mother’s daughter for now.
I need to be.
Then I’ll leave them both behind.
•••
I PUT Afew of the pills I bought in her own supply, a little tube in the medicine cabinet. Bases covered for any investigation should anyone care, but who will? I’m the only one who cares about her, but that ends tonight. I sit with her as she watches television. I’m not paying attention to the program. I only hear my breath. In. Out. Trying to slow it down. Does she notice? Does she know what I want to do to her? Fix us a drink, she says, like clockwork. I make her a drink, a gin martini, minus the goods. She’d taste it now. I use three ounces instead of one and a half. She won’t taste it after this one.
Down the hatch.
An hour goes by.
I wait for her to ask for another.
But will anything happen?
Nothing ever happens to Mother.
Everything always happens to me.
It has to be her turn.
Another, she says.
I crushed two pills earlier that day and I wonder if I should have crushed three. Or four. Why did I still want to be gentle with her? Can’t stop now. I fix the drink. I pour the powder. I shove the plastic bag into my bra. Fast, fast, fast. I do it all fast.
Did she see me?
I place the drink in front of her.
She smiles.
Thanks, bunny.
Sip, sip, another sip.
Time passes. I don’t know how much.
And then, she looks sauced. She should. I made her that way.
I think I’ll go lie down, she says to me. She says she’s dizzy. She stands up and loses her footing. Unsteady. She laughs. You got me drunk, bunny.
Are you okay? I ask her. She doesn’t look okay. She’s not okay. I’m fine, she slurs.
She sweeps the hair away from my face.
