Chosen by a Killer by Laurie Nave (read e book txt) 📗

They sat in silence while Natasha savored her second slice of cake. Celia watched her and thought about what she had said. It made sense in a way, but it was also a bit odd. Natasha had shifted her thinking so that she could still win somehow. Celia supposed that made sense too. The actress was used to succeeding, getting what she wanted. Of course, she would spin what most people might consider a loss into a win.

“You haven’t eaten your cake,” Natasha pointed out. “It isn’t poisoned, is it?”

Celia laughed. “Not at all. I am just not a big eater of sweets. I mainly learned to cook to prove my mom wrong.”

“Well, that sounds like an interesting story.”

“It’s not very. My mom didn’t want anyone in her kitchen. She was rather obnoxious about it. So I learned to cook out of spite, and then so that I could render her speechless.”

Natasha laughed. “Well, well, it looks like I’m not the only one who likes to win.”

Celia shrugged. “Most of life is a competition, after all.”

“Yes, it is, one that I intend to win until the end.”

“Some might consider getting away with four murders winning. In a strange way, of course.”

“Well, except I didn’t get away with them, did I?” Natasha sat back and licked her fingertips.

“You only got caught after killing your father. If that hadn’t happened, you would have gotten away with them.”

Natasha’s expression darkened, and she shifted in her chair. “I guess in that way, my father won. Damn him.”

“Why did you kill him?”

“We’re not ready for that part of the story,” Natasha replied shortly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t intend to touch on it yet. I was just curious since we were discussing him.”

“I do plan to talk about him, but not today. I don’t want to have indigestion after this lovely cake.”

Celia scanned her notes. “In that case, let’s go way back. I asked you in our first interview if you remembered much about your life before you moved to the states.”

“Yes, I remember the question. I do remember some things. I remember my mother. I remember being told stories, and I remember that one time when I was sick, I slept in the bed with her. I don’t know where my father slept. I have a vague memory of people I assume were my grandparents.”

“Would you say you were happy as a child?”

Sighing, Natasha crumpled her napkin and then brushed the crumbs onto the floor. “What is a happy childhood? My parents took care of me. My father provided for us. My mother was very attentive. Until she left, I lived what I assume was a life like anyone else. I was an independent child. That is what my father always said.”

“So no abuse or trauma?”

“That is always the hypothesis, isn’t it? No one ever beat me. My parents’ marriage was less than ideal. There were fights, which mostly consisted of my father yelling and my mother cowering. I remember slipping through the back door and escaping to the yard or somewhere down the street from time to time.”

Celia smiled. “Would you say you were an obedient child?”

Laughing, Natasha tapped the table. “What do you think?”

Celia thought for a minute. “I think you were very good at seeming compliant.”

“Who, me? I was the model child!”

Celia laughed. There was no doubt Natasha knew how to wrap others around her finger, even at a young age. Who wouldn’t use that to their advantage?

“I generally did what I wanted; however, I learned how to work the house rules to my advantage I suppose. Most young people do, at least once they become teenagers. It did get harder after my mother left, but I eventually learned my father’s methods too.”

Natasha wouldn’t have been openly defiant, Celia thought. It didn’t fit with her cool nature. Not that Natasha didn’t likely get angry at times. There had already been a couple of moments where Celia had sensed an undercurrent of it. The day the new guard walked Natasha in, for example. The actress had been smarmy and flirty, but it was apparent she was not happy that the guard tried to control her in a domineering way.

“So now it’s your turn again.” Natasha pointed. “Tell me more about your not-so-apple-pie family. Are they nearby?”

“Oh, god no,” Celia replied. “I was raised just outside the Bible belt.”

“Churchgoing family then?”

“Mom and I did go to church a bit when I was very young. She was involved with some ladies’ group there. All that changed when my father left.”

“How so?”

“For some reason, once he left, we were different. Our status was tainted, I guess. All those ladies group women dropped her, and we stopped going. I didn’t mind; it meant I could sleep in on Sundays.”

“So, you and your mother were close.”

Celia studied Natasha; the actress already knew they weren’t close. “No. Mom got bitter, and my father became insufferable with his trophy wife and a new set of kids.”

“I take it he wasn’t a good part-time dad.” Natasha chuckled.

“Hell, no. I stopped visiting him when I was fourteen. I think he was relieved.”

“And no touching reconciliations years later.”

“Hardly,” I snorted. “I assume my father hasn’t traded up in the last several years. My mother died in 2010.”

Natasha’s sad expression seemed almost sincere. “I’m sorry about that.”

“I was in Haiti. I didn’t make it back for the funeral.”

“So...” Natasha smirked. “No desire for marriage or family?”

“Is it cliché to say I am married to my career?”

“Maybe a little. But a career gives you tangible rewards, and it doesn’t demand blowjobs.”

Celia laughed so hard her eyes began to water. “Oh my god, so true. Sex is nice, but—“

“But it’s a fairly steep price to pay for sex.”

“Also true. And no variety.”

“Poor Bart. Does he know his hopes for fairy tales are futile?”

“He’d better.”

The five-minute warning knock came, and Celia began to wrap the cake in the cellophane she’d used to bring it. “We have two weeks until our next interview.