Read Online Killing Britney by Sean Olin - Free Book Online

escape, coming home, sitting with his scotch and a look on his face that said, “Please don’t come near me; I’ll break if you do.”
    Now, though, she was surrounded, smothered by love. The VFW hall was packed. Thirty large round tables covered in white paper tablecloths. On the center of each table was a bouquet of festive azaleas. Britney couldn’t stop imagining that this was what the place would have been like on her wedding night—except on her wedding night, there would have been better music than the soft classical strings piping out of the speakers today. There would have been chinking of glasses and demands, every five minutes, that she and Ricky kiss. They would have held each other tight and danced slowly. And then they would have done the chicken dance and laughed.
    The dinner was potluck, a lot of hot dishes and casseroles, and the only thing that came close to Atkins worthy was one plate of finger sandwiches someone had brought. Britney stocked up on these, pulling them apart so she could roll the ham and turkey inside into little balls, which she then popped into her mouth like they were bonbons. By the time she was done eating, she had built a six-layer-deep wall of bread triangles.
    Throughout the meal, it seemed like everyone there found a moment to come over and give condolences. She hardly knew most of these people. They were Ricky’s acquaintances, accumulated throughout his seventeen years. It was nice, if a little bit weird, to have stranger after stranger come up and shake her hand, pat her tenderly on the shoulder, and say how sorry they felt for her. “You’re the fiancée,” they’d typically say. “It’s such a tragedy.” “I know it’s not much of a help, but I’m going to miss him too.” She imagined that most of these people must have known Ricky a lot better than she did—they’d known him for years, while she’d only had a few months with him. Still, she was gracious. She smiled demurely and looked the strangers dead in the eye—this seemed to be what they most wanted—while they stretched for a heartfelt connection.
    Accepting so much kindness was exhausting. The only relief came when Melissa stopped by. She’d cleaned herself up for the occasion, pulling her curly hair into nice braids, and she’d even put on some mascara and lipstick. Britney had never seen her look so elegant. “How are you holding up?” she asked. The nice thing was that Britney didn’t have to answer this question. Melissa knew her so well that a mere shrug explained everything: the shock and confusion, the exhaustion, the numbness, the weirdness of being showered with love from people she’d never met before. Without another word, Melissa positioned herself behind Britney’s chair and began kneading the knotted muscles in her shoulders.
    Britney’s father had demanded that Adam be seated with the family. Up to now, he’d been surprisingly well—behaved—Britney figured this was due to the warning her father had given him in the car on their way over—but as soon as Melissa came over, he perked up. In a really obvious way, he started glancing at the two girls. Every five seconds, his eyes would dart back to them and linger in what Britney thought was a leering stare. The only thing that stopped Britney from telling him off was that to do so would mean she had to speak to him. She didn’t want to give him any excuse to make a scene.
    “Better?” asked Melissa.
    “Yeah,” said Britney. Squeezing Melissa’s hand, she pulled her friend close so she could whisper in her ear. “Listen, I want to say this now because it seems like the right moment and moments like this don’t come around too often. You’re the only one. The only one in the whole wide world who knows what I’m really like. Whatever happens, I want you to know that.”
    “Shush,” said Melissa. “You don’t have to say that. I’m just doing what anyone would do. You know, there’s this place in Africa where the