Page 1 of Fatally Yours
I
“I’m gonna live forever,” August said with a smile. There was nothing like a warm summer day with the windows rolled down, music going, and him babbling some strange mantra about life, death, the devil, or more. I gave him a small, humble smile and shrugged, hoping to appease his statement.
“What? You don’t believe me?” He eyed me with a mischievous grin as I shook my head. His pristine white teeth almost reflected my face at me, and his cheeks were dimpled and scruffy with stubble. Mandy giggled again, surely under the effects of something more potent.
“How areyougoing to live forever?” I questioned. His shoulders lifted. Living forever was not realistic. And he wasn’t deludedenough to think so, either.
“I don’t know, but I’ll figure it out,” he said. “I just feel it, you know? Living life, having fun, raising hell, the works.” The wind picked up, and I gripped the crank, hoping to roll it up before the breeze twisted my or August’s hair into knots.
“If you say so.”
“Don’t worry, Tash. You’ll be there too. I don’t want to do it without you.” Now it was my turn to laugh. Living forever? He wanted to raise hell, but that sounded a lot like hell to me. Life was meant to end. That was how it always was and always will be.
“I don’t think I want to live forever.”
“You will if I’m there with you,” he said with a smirk. Out of the corner of my eye, Mandy’s hand appeared as she reached between us with a joint between her fingers. August plucked it and pressed it to his lips as his eyes teared from the road again. Right on command, he swerved. I gave him a look, curled my hand around the handle, and hoped that this evening wouldn’t be the time his recklessness got us into an accident.
So much for living forever with the way he drives.
“Can you imagine you and me at the end of the world?” he asked. “Now that would make a good song.” His smile and olive eyes made my heart skip. He was right. And he would write it and sing it. Then, he would add it to his endless repertoire of other tunes he memorized. We would all gather, and we could forget about our worries for a while. Everyone would enjoy it, but I knew he was speaking just to me with his lyrics.
“Me and my baby on the edge of the abyss, the world is crumbling, but at least I have her kiss…” he sang. My cheeks blushed as I drank in his angelic voice.
“I guess that would be nice,” I said, giving his hand a squeeze. “Only if you were there.”
“I will be. You and me at the end of the world,” he grinned. “I wouldn’t want to do it with anyone else.” He threaded his hand through my hair. His skin looked deathly white against my dark locks, but he wouldn’t be dead for a long, long time. We were only twenty-two. All we could see was the rest of our days.
A lovely future, August there by my side, a home, kids, everything a small-town girl like me could ever dream of. That was all I really wanted. College was a bust, and sure, working low-wage jobs for the rest of my days wouldn’t be ideal, but as long as he was there, we would be okay.
“The end of the world, how romantic,” I laughed sarcastically.
“I can make it plenty romantic, baby,” he said, leaning in and kissing me. His lips felt like heaven against mine, and I felt a pleasant shudder crawl down my body before he released me. He sure could live up to that promise. I returned to staring out the window, engrossed in the thought of the two of us together at the end of the world. There was some gloomy serenade playing on the radio while I pondered that thought. Mandy was humming along, and August was singing under his breath.
The song concluded, and all that was left was the hiss of the breeze slipping through the top of the windows and the low hum of the engine trudging along. There was a slight crackle-like static, and another, more professional voice broke through the host speaking.
News for June Fifth Nineteen Eighty-Seven.
A killer stabbed in prison…
Before August and I could share a knowing look, Mandy shot up from the backseat, placed her hand on the volume, and turned it up until the sound made me wince.
“Stop being cute for thirty seconds and let me listen to this,” she said faster than I had ever heard her speak while stoned. I knew this wouldn’t be good news—at least for her. A benefit for the public would be a different story.
We just got word from San Quentin that Marcus Allan Archer, convicted serial killer, has been attacked in his cell. He is expected to make a full recovery.
“What?!” Mandy cried as she pressed her palms to the side of her face. Simultaneously, August and I exchanged glances, knowing fully what was coming next. Her appetite for darkness was relentless, but she was harmless—except for having an affinity for a serial killer. I reached for the volume and turned it down, hoping not to burst our eardrums.
“That blows,” she whined. “I was expecting a letter from him next week…” August looked back at her from the rear-view mirror, probably hoping to get through to her on some level.
“Mandy,” he said in an almost fatherly tone. “He probably deserved it. Maybe if he killed people who weren’t innocent, but, you know… he didn’t.”
“He did deserve it,” I added. “The guy killed eleven women.”
“Yeah.” Her shoulders drooped with an unusual sorrow. “But he’s so handsome. Haven’t you seen him?”
“Yes,” August and I said in unison. This wasn’t the first time we had this conversation, and we both knew it wouldn’t be the last. But we loved her regardless, despite her flaws. She did the same for us, after all.
“And he’s a really sweet guy. You know, if he weren’t in prison, I’d marry him.” She paused, then added: “I think.”
