Page 119 of Trailer Park Billionaire
“Alexandre,” I snap, my voice low and flat. “I just read a heartbreak manifesto from a man who apparently decided he’d rather martyr himself in a brainless attempt to save me, than to figure out a way to fix this with my help. So either you start talking, or I start… I don’t know. I’ll kick you in the shins.”
I kick him once, not holding back.
Alex jumps, rubs his leg, and sighs. “Fine. Fine. It’s not a great plan anyway. No classic. Not underappreciated. Definitely not unexpected if you know Ben.” Alex sighs again.
“He’s trying to take down his family, isn’t he?” I take a guess.
Alex nods.
“How?”
“Well… he asked Elaine to call a meeting with the St. Clairs since he didn’t know if they’d show if he asked them himself.”
My skin prickles.
Alex continues, “He’s setting up cameras at the museum. Then he’ll get them talking, to get a confession. He’s planning to testify against them. With his insider knowledge about their crimes and all the evidence he’s collected over the years, he can probably put them away for a long time. I’m supposed to keep you distracted until it’s done, until the St. Clairs are arrested, and you’re safe.”
I stare at him. “That’s fucking bullshit. They’ll just tell the cops about all the paintings Ben stole from them.”
Alexei holds up his hands like I just threw a punch. “That’s what I said. But he doesn’t care. All he cares about is taking them down.”
I feel my fists clench even more. My jaw aches from grinding my teeth. “So he’s handing the police everything. And he’s putting himself behind bars to do so.”
Alexei’s voice is quieter now. “You would be safe. From them.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “How romantic. Going to prison to protect the damsel in distress. I guess he would be safer in there too. Specifically from me.”I can’t let that happen.“What a moron. Do you have a bouquet of red roses and a mixtape full of heart-wrenching hits from the ‘80s that remind him of me to go along with that dumb ass letter?”
“I’ll tell him to send those for your birthday” Alex says, then quietly adds, “From prison.”
I roll my eyes, then straighten. “Fine. Whatever. Take me home.”
He wouldn’t let me go to the museum anyway. He’s doing what Ben asked him to do.
“You’re not going to try to stop him?”
“No,” I say with the appropriate amount of emotion (which is once again none). “You’ve done your job. Don’t worry.”
He eyes me for a moment, but finally nods and leads me back to the RV. The drive is quiet except for my heartbeat thundering in my ears. When we pull into the lot in front of my building, I slide out and head towards the entrance with Alex in tow.
Paul Bearer is manning the front desk in his usual bowtie and a mug that reads, ‘Go away or I’ll fake a fall.’
“Hey, Paul,” I say. “Can you let Robyn know that I’m in desperate need of the extra peaty scotch tonight?”
Paul raises an eyebrow. Then nods once. Message received.
By the time Alexei and I make it up the elevator and reach my apartment, Robyn’s already inside.
And she’s holding her gun.
Alex stops cold in the doorway.
“Darlings,” Robyn greets us cheerfully.
Alex raises his hands as I snatch the RV keys from his pocket.
“What the hell is going on?” he demands.
“What do you think?” I ask. “I’m going to stop Ben. And you’re going to sit here with Robyn and think about what you’ve done.”
