I Gotta Kill the Prom Queen

Ch. 25 -Goodbye Marta

I go by Tiffani's house and tell Marta I left my phone in Tiffani's room and that she's on the warpath because I don't have it. She spits in her hands and throws an invisible fist of air and spit on both sides of me before letting me cross the doorway.

When she backs up I notice she's in her regular uniform clothes but also has every bracelet of Tiffani's draped around her arms. When she sees me staring she tsks at me clicking her tongue and waving me toward the stairs.

"Nice look Marta. It's a little hooker like to wear them all at the same time, by whatever floats your boat."

She grins and gives me the bird which makes me laugh so hard I can't tell whether I should grab my sore face or my throbbing ribs.

"Tell me one thing Marta, just between us-- why do you stay? Is the pay seriously good enough to put up with Tiffani? I think I'd risk deportation if it meant getting rid of her from my life."

She frowns and turns away and I think she isn't going to answer but her voice rings out as I watch her walk away.

"Someone has to keep the demons safe, and yeah, it's that good. I have two years left and a beautiful house in the keys just waiting for my time to be up. You wanna play you gotta pay, and sometimes it's a deal with the devil either way."

She doesn't turn back and I wonder just how true all her spitting spells and curses work. Maybe Tiffani would be way worse without her, I mean, at least Marta is someone, a warm body that makes sure the girl gets some food and would notice if she didn't come home. I wonder what's going to happen to her now that I'm going to have Tiffani locked up? Maybe she'll just be a plain old housekeeper making sure the mansion that sits alone gets dusted.

I make my way up to Tiffani's room and grab her best gown. The white Egyptian with the gold trim and crystal beading that I know she's saving for the day she gets crowned and roll it into a ball sticking it down in my bag.

There's still an hour so I sit down at her makeup table and delicately brush some cover up on my face. It doesn't do much, but it gives me a small sense of satisfaction to be using her stuff. I know she'd hate it, and that alone makes it worth doing.

Crossing over to the giant king sized bed I plop down and take one final look at the room that housed evil. It's beautiful and tragic all at the same time. So much stuff, more things than any one teen could ever use. Thousands of dollars worth of crap that wouldn't amount to anything close to having a family.

I think about how much I wanted this. I wanted to dethrone her, be her, love her life. It was insane. I was insane. I know that now. Being at the top of the pyramid is nothing more than a joke. You think it looks easy -- after all, you don't have anyone standing on your shoulders and you aren't holding anyone else up. But the truth is, it's the only spot there is where you aren't sharing the load and the full pressure of structure sits right there on your shoulders. It sucks.

The whole moment is way less cathartic than I imagined and I take her designer bedspread and use it to wipe the tears that have randomly made their way across my carefully concealed face. Another waste of time.

I grab my bag and head for the door. It's time. This is the last time I'll ever step foot in this room, this house. I grab a tube of her cherry Mac #7 and draw a large red heart on the mirror. Like The Godfather it's my calling card. I was here.

I get back in the Uber where the curly headed driver is napping in front and buckle my seatbelt. It smells like patchouli and lime and I'm positive he decided to partake in some hopefully medicinal tokes while I said my goodbyes. Figures. I rap my knuckles on the back of his head and jolt him awake.

"One more stop cheech. Make out point please."

He nods and gives me a strange look in the review mirror. Yeah buddy, I'm going alone. It's not that weird.

The sun is blinding and the sky is just starting to turn a deep shade of pink. It's beautiful and I wonder if it's because I'm finally going to take control of my life and rid myself of the cancer that is Tiffani or because I finally learned s valuable lesson about wishing for a life that isn't mine. Either way, I'll take it.

Mindi and the other robot girls are there, standing right under the tree with the best view. Exactly where I hinted they should be and I'm glad. I don't know if I could hoist this pig into a tree by myself.

I grab the bag and slip the driver a ten. Sure, he'll probably still come out short when he realizes some of the pic blood has seeped from the bottom of the garbage bag onto his backseat floor, but with any luck he won't notice that for a few days and he'll just be happy he got a tip.

"Hello girls. Thanks for coming. Tonight is the grand finale and Tiffani wants it perfect. First things first, we got a pig to dress. Whose got the gloves?"

We place Tiffani's tiara and favorite dress on Sir Porky and finagle the rope around his neck throwing the other end across the fattest branch of the tree. It takes all of us but we finally get the pig high enough to hang just above the branch and steak down the other side of the rope for easy cutting.

Dusk is fully underway and I tell the girls that Tiff wants to meet them at her house to give them all the juicy details on her date. They squeal in unison and run to the civic with Mindi in the driver's seat.

Without bothering to ask if I'm joining them they drive off leaving me standing in the shadows. Figures. I never really got in with them anyway. My chip implant just wouldn't fit.

I sit on the other side of the tree waiting for Ronald's car to pull up and stare off into the distance. You can see the whole city from up here. Twinkling lights and traffic make it almost bearable. Just when I'm about to think something deep and meaningful headlights cut through the shadows. Ronald's early but it doesn't matter, I'm ready. Tiffani is going to die tonight, and everything is perfect.

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Sorry it's been a while, just two chapters left. I know, you all probably think I have nothing but time and I should be cranking these out like pancakes but prison is no joke. It's more than 9-5, it's 24/7 and the few hours we are given for sleep are usually needed for sleep. If I could just get Helga to quit crying long enough to actually let me sleep, I'd be in a pretty good place. Well, as good as you can be for someone who carries a potato peeler in their shoe. Hey, don't judge, in a bind anything that would shave a carrot can carve out an eye.