One of Us Is Dead(49)

“What’s this?” I took the card and held it up. It said, William Bellinger, Private Investigator.

“I used him a while back.” Shannon pulled out a tube of red lipstick. She slowly pressed it against her lips, tracing them back and forth.

“Wait—on Bryce?” Jenny asked.

“Among other things,” Shannon said with a flick of her wrist.

“Maybe I should hire a private investigator to figure out who broke into my salon. I think that’s the worst part, the not knowing. The feeling like they could come back at any time,” Jenny said, but I don’t even think she realized she was saying it out loud, because she wasn’t looking at any of us.

Keisha grabbed Jenny’s hand, snapping her out of her daze. “If it’ll make you feel better, you should.”

She looked at Keisha. “Oh, yeah, maybe I will. But Karen you definitely should,” Jenny said.

I nodded and slid the card into my pocket. I didn’t know if I would use it, but it didn’t hurt to have it. If Olivia was really sleeping with my husband, what else was she doing?





40

Crystal


Olivia sat across from me in a throne-like purple chair in her large and lavish living room. Opulent wasn’t a big enough word to describe her and Dean’s home. Everything was trimmed in gold and mixed with onyx and white marble. I’m not quite sure who her interior designer was, but I’m sure she had the Trumps’ number on speed dial. It was exactly how I pictured her decor taste would be. The house was a monstrosity of architectural design, big in every way imaginable—ten bedrooms, eight bathrooms, an outdoor pool, a walking garden, and tennis courts. Just like Olivia, it was over the top and in your face. I hadn’t known her long, but I knew that much about her.

She was holding a nearly melted ice pack against her eye. We had been sitting here for thirty minutes, talking on and off, mostly about the greatness of the house she resided in. I wanted to leave, but I didn’t want to abandon her like this. Olivia wasn’t a very kind person, but she was still a person. I knew what Dean had done to Olivia was an accident. However, what he did to Mark was deliberate, and I could see the rage boiling within him. I feared one day that anger would spill over onto Olivia, if it hadn’t already.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked again for the hundredth time.

“Yes. It was an accident.”

“This time it was, but what about the next time?” I shifted uncomfortably on the couch.

Olivia took a deep breath and removed the ice pack from her face. She set it on the coffee table in front of her, leaned back in her chair, and gently pressed her fingertips to her bruised eye. She winced but continued to press her fingers into her skin. It was clear it was painful, but she kept doing it, which was rather odd. She stopped and looked directly at me.

“There won’t be a next time,” Olivia said.

“And you’re sure of that?”

“Yes, Crystal. I’m not some little girl who can’t take care of herself.”

“I’m not implying you are, and I thought the same thing . . .”

Olivia’s face lit up, and she leaned forward in her chair. “Did something happen to you?”

I shifted again uncomfortably. “Umm. No . . . I was just trying to relate to what you’re going through,” I said unconvincingly. The corner of Olivia’s lip perked up. She leaned back in her seat.

“I’m not going through anything,” she said firmly. “So just drop it.”

I looked around the room awkwardly. An older woman walked in and handed us both a glass of sweet iced tea. Olivia took her glass without acknowledging the woman. I thanked her.

“I’m sorry, Olivia. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I don’t mean to butt in.” I took a sip of the iced tea.

Olivia nodded. “It’s fine. I just don’t feel comfortable speaking ill of my Dean. He’s my husband. I’m sure you’d feel the same way about Bryce.” She raised an eyebrow from behind the rim of her glass.

“Of course,” I said, setting the drink down on a coaster.

“I’m happy we’re friends,” Olivia said, looking me up and down.

“Me too.” I pulled in my lips and fidgeted with my fingernails, unsure of what else to say.

“I like to keep my inner circle small, so you’re quite lucky to be a part of it.” Olivia cocked her head to the side with a smirk.

“Yeah . . . Well, do you need anything else?” I stood from my seat and readied myself to make a quick exit.

“Have dinner with Dean and me tomorrow night. Bring Bryce. We’ll do a double date.”

I stammered, trying to come up with an excuse as to why it wouldn’t work. I really needed a break from everyone, and I didn’t care for Dean. Buckhead was driving me crazy, but after some hesitation, I reluctantly said yes.

“Great, how about seven?”

I nodded. She rose from her seat and closed the space between us in three steps. She wrapped her arms around me, then released me from her embrace. Before I could turn away to collect my purse, she grabbed my shoulders and looked me in the eyes.

“Perfect. We’ll have our chef make osso buco. You probably don’t know what that is, but trust me, you’re going to die when you try it.” Olivia’s lips spread wide, revealing a large, toothy smile, like a primate does just before it attacks. I smiled back. From the couple of weeks I had known Olivia, I had noticed she had this way of being both cruel and kind at the same time, like a personality paradox. The way she acted wasn’t natural . . . but it was intentional.