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“We could be twins,” she says. “You and me.”
She looks like a clown. An unhinged clown. The makeup, the clothes, and how she has her hair. It’s like she intentionally dressed in my closet in the dark, mocking everything about me. Some kind of hideous caricature.
A sliver of unease slides down my spine.
“We’re not twins in the remotest sense,” I say, forcing myself not to step back from her. “And I think you’re a little taller.”
It’s not the right thing to say. Her eyes narrow and she turns red, her lips pulling back in a snarl. “Bitch. You think you’re better than me? We’re exactly the same in looks. But I had him first.”
She’s all over the place and my heart thumps hard and fast as she takes a step forward. There’s a glassiness to her eyes, her pupils are too big, and I wonder if she’s drunk or taken something.
My money’s on the latter. She’s not slurring and I can’t smell any booze. It doesn’t help though. I don’t want her here, and while her phone’s on the counter, mine’s in the living room and I don’t trust her.
“I’m leaving,” I say as soothingly as I can, even though I want to punch her. “So—”
“He loves me! Not you. And then you stole him from me!” She starts to cry, giant hulking sobs that make me think of crocodiles and unhinged cartoon villains.
“My husband loves his work more than me. Husband?” She sobs louder. “He’s no husband. He doesn’t want me. So I followed him here, to where my first love, my only love is. Travis.” Her mouth twists ugly. “But I find you taking over and worming your way into his life.”
I try and look about for something, anything I can use to get away. Every single nerve ending in me beats out a warning.
“Travis told me to keep away. Probably because he didn’t want you begging him for his money. My money. I deserve it. I’ve put in the years. Given all my best to those men. But Travis… when we were together it was magic. And I find you. The low-rent version of me. It’s pathetic he had to stoop so low. I mean, look at this stupid outfit. I wouldneverwear something so ugly.”
She keeps talking, about how Tyler cut her off, how he didn’t want her here, how he warned her away, too. She veers between Tyler not wanting and wanting her. Between Travis loving her and hating me.
And through it I get two things. She’s completely out of her mind. And I now see why Travis has been like he is. Okay, three. Because my clothes arenotbad. I wear leggings and skinny jeans a lot, yeah. But they’re comfortable. And trying to stay up on fashion would have me dressing like it’s the 80s again, which I would never do. They will have to take my skinny jeans away from my cold dead hands.
But the look on her face tells me more about Travis than I was ready to realize before she stormed into my house.
He’d never touch this woman. Not as he is now. An adult. But he sure as shit might not want me to know she’s lost it and is harassing him. Because in her rambling state it’s more than clear she has completely lost her mind, and when I pick apart her tangled words, it’s obvious Travis has done everything in his power to protect me from her.
Not the other way around.
Jessica’s moving about the kitchen and I stay a few steps away from her. She stops, hand trailing over the bench, and she starts to play with the knife block.
“The thing is,” she says, voice a little singsong now and the tears utterly gone, “you leaving isn’t enough. You divorcing him isn’t enough. You don’t think I know? Of course I do. I know he begged you for it. Begged.”
My heart thuds.
This didn’t come from Travis. She’s been poking into things, and wherever this is headed… I shudder.
“Jessica, please.”
“Jessica, please!” she parrots me savagely. “You don’t get to say my name. He loved me first. You stole him by trying to be me. But I’m going to be you. Poor Tyler will find his dead wife—you, and me, Brandi, will have tried to save you and Travis will be so pleased.”
“What are you talking about?”
To my horror she pulls out the chef’s knife, the light catching on the steel blade.
“Tyler won’t give me what I deserve. All that money. So, I’m going to take it. From Travis. Pretend to be you. Take over your life. Is it that hard to comprehend? Do I have to pretend to be stupid as well as you? Isn’t it bad enough someone named you after a two-dollar stripper?”
Fear spikes in me and for a moment I can’t do a thing, but then I think if she’s like this, what the hell will she do if she goes near Travis?
I’m not thinking about her size compared to his. I’m not thinking about strength. I’ve seen crazy. I’ve seen what some drugs can do to people to make them feel invincible and that’s dangerous.
I’m not thinking of myself as she grins.
She moves. Fast. The knife slashing through the air. I clench my fist and as I twist and dart out of the way, I bring it up, punching her hard in the throat.
