The Evil Stepsister (Fairytale Killers #2)

She Said She'd Delete It

Driving the sisters around town on a predefined route that covered the entire city -- despite its only two checkpoints being the high-end restaurant they would be posting pictures from, then, their home -- proved to be a much simpler task than Oz would've assumed. Barely covered in matching bedazzled dresses, black and tight, they didn't talk, except to direct him where to park, heads in their phones. Laughing at the same time, the same way.

For two hours he ate a lonely vegan dinner at a side table later, across from where the twins only interrupted their texting to take selfies. Their account was monitored by their father under a random follower account he gave Oz the password to, day one. No nudity, no sex tapes, were the only instructions. So now Oz monitored a social media profile of moderate local success called Caterina Walter, where the sisters both posted. 

They edged the line on nudity, but the eeriness of their videos was what kept their fanbase growing. They posted karaoke videos where their mouths moved like a multiplied image. He kept expecting for them to turn into four identical split screens. Then eight.

Once the selfies were posted, they were ready to be driven around town, on a route that seemed to search for the longest path available, at all times. Not even looking out the window, eyes in their phones.

“I don't really believe in keeping in touch,” she had said, at the end of their night together, both spent over the sheets of his bed. Her phone had died filming them.

“We'll wake up in the morning, see how we feel,” Oz had said. They hadn't exchanged names, the club had been loud, and they'd immediately got down to nonverbal communication.

“Fair warning, I insist on brushing our teeth before starting this, again,” he could feel his chest being poked, even as he stood behind the wheel, “Alcohol is not a great morning breath.”

Oz had kissed her eyebrow, black hairs arranged in a perfect line, a mirror image of the other. He’d thought he would get her name in the morning, but waking up alone and with a hangover at the end of his money was a particularly brutal rock bottom moment for him. Got help, enlisted his friends, and never drank again.

The women got out of the car and left him in it, waving identically as a goodbye. Viorel and Stan, always in the car following them, walked them inside the house.

***

“Rita, what do I tell Rio?!” Oz went to the cabinet he knew so well, only to find it completely non-alcoholic. Rita was a good friend, despite the way their work affair ended: Oz at the bottom of a bottle and her not dealing with it anymore. It kept bringing back too much from her own past. 

Oz understood, still didn't stop drinking until his career was on fire, leaving it to spend his few savings on alcohol-soaked high-end hotel nights. Sober for two years, his recovery also included apologies to everyone he had hurt, so he and Rita were friends again. Both liking it better that way.

“You mean that you slept with a crime lord's daughter? And you are now wanted for virginity theft?” Rita laughed, as Oz transmitted his skepticism with a frown. “Oh man, on your first day on your solo mission. You know the guys were betting on you failing, but I don't think that soon.”

Oz exhaled, taking his phone. For months, the only people who called him were Captain Rio and Rita, preponderantly her.

“Captain, I can't go through with the mission, for personal, objective reasons, but I swear I am ready for any other mission you got your mind set on.”

There was a too long silence at the other end. 

“Fine, it will take me months, but I'll build another backstory. It just delays my conversation upstairs about a well-deserved rank jump, but it can wait if you're not ready.”

Oz had to ask, “There's a promotion for taking down Rawlings?”

“Yes, for me. But whoever helps me, gets mentioned in my official acceptance speech. It's fine if not Iosif Zaharia. I'm sure driving two beautiful women around is not that problematic for other officers.”

“No, sir. Let me on this. I'll make it work.”

Rita raised her eyebrows at him as he closed the call. 

“I'm going to pull this off,” he sounded hesitant, even to himself. “All I need is to keep the one night stand out of the case. That means also the twins. Both, to be sure. If I focus on Rawlings’ illegal activities enforced by Franco, maybe there's no need for the story to matter.”

“Yeah, the story will explode everywhere. Rawlings is ratings’ number one hate-watch, drawing the entire Riverside area to his opposite-of-a-TED-Talk lectures,” Rita shook her head. “His son is a rumored sexual deviant who has been brainwashed ever since he was a child and now frequents orgy clubs and tabloid blog posts. If it gets out about their deal with Franco, and that the promised virgin took an undercover cop to heaven first, it will definitely spread past local TV. I can just imagine The Captain's eyebrows reigning down on you. Deservedly so.”

“It was about time I made a name for myself that didn't bring vodka smell in people's minds,” Oz said. He didn't know how, but he was going to pull it off. All he had to do is let his bruised ego heal and never mention that Ibiza night to anyone.

“Fine, improvise,” Rita was not that confident.

“Oh shit,” Oz realized. “She… was filming on her phone--”

He never needed a drink more, “She possibly has a sex tape of us.”

“Possibly?”

“Possibly, I was drunk. She said she'd delete it, but I didn't care.”

“Did you even use a condom? Insulting question, I know, but at this point…” Rita just judged him.

“Yeah, I remember her being very stressed by that. I thought it was lack of experience with drunken one night stands. It's why we didn't--why we ended up in my hotel room.”

“To me, that shows experience. That and the camera…” Rita warned him. “Get out of this, now.”

“I'm not going to fail. I'm going to do my job, stay on the wagon, not draw attention to myself. You'll see me on local news, behind The Captain.”

“One way or the other,” Rita rolled her eyes.