One of Us Is Dead(69)

“I know. She says she wants to be with me, but I’m a realist. I know making that decision won’t be easy, and I want to be with her too. It’s different with her,” Keisha explained. She didn’t smile. She was serious, and she was serious about her feelings for Karen.

“How is it different with Karen?” I crossed one leg over the other.

“With Karen, it feels like I’m falling, but not off a cliff or something like that. It feels like that sensation right before you fall asleep . . . you feel warm and safe and sure that when you close your eyes, everything is going to be okay, that dreams will be dreamt and morning will come.”

I leaned over and patted her on the knee. “Damn, Keisha. You really are in love. I’ve never heard you talk like that.”

“I know. I know. I’m a big sap.” She laughed.

“You’re not a sap. It’s great. You’re so lucky to have that . . . to experience that.”

I smiled, but deep down there was a tinge of jealousy and a dash of frustration. Keisha was jeopardizing my business by fooling around with a client. Did she think about that at all? Did she think about how it would affect Glow if things went sour? Would I have to ensure Karen’s appointments were only with me? Would Karen demand that Keisha be let go? Would other clients complain? These are things business owners think about. They treat their business like their child, putting it before anything and everything else. I know I wanted more than Glow, but this salon was my baby—and although I was happy for Keisha and Karen, I was irritated that they hadn’t considered the consequences of their actions. Love and entrepreneurship didn’t go hand in hand, because they both required sacrifice. And we only have so much we can sacrifice before we have nothing left to give.

I cleared my mind and took another drink of water. Keisha was my friend, and her happiness mattered more than Glow, I reminded myself. I took a deep breath, exhaling all the thoughts racing through my mind.

“Actually, I’m not that lucky. See, the other day, when Karen and I were”—Keisha coughed—“having a tanning session, Olivia walked in on us.”

My mouth dropped open. “She knows about you two!?”

“She told Karen she wouldn’t say anything to anyone. She said she’d take it to her grave . . . But she was toying with us throughout the entire evening.”

“She was messing with everyone.” I rolled my eyes. Goddamn Olivia.

“I’m not exactly sure where things are with Karen and me because Olivia interrupted us, and I feel like Karen is being apprehensive now. Like she doesn’t know what she wants.”

“If Olivia gave Karen her word, I’m sure she’ll keep it, because she’d love holding something over her head.”

“I’m actually a little worried about what she’ll want in return for keeping our little secret.” Keisha let out a huff.

I shrugged. “What would she even get out of telling anyone?”

“Drama.” Her eyes widened. “It’s like crack to Olivia,” she said with a laugh.

I laughed too, for a moment, but then stopped, placing my hand on Keisha’s.

“Regardless of Olivia, you need to talk to Karen and figure out where you both want things to go.”

Keisha nodded and squeezed my hand, exchanging a small smile with me. “I know.”

“But also keep a close eye on Olivia,” I said with a laugh, but I was entirely serious.





61

Karen


The sun was too bright. The birds were too loud. My own heartbeat was deafening. I could feel it in my neck, in my wrist, in the temples of my head. I glanced over at the clock on my nightstand—it was noon. Shit. I jumped up, noticing Mark’s side of the bed was already made. He was that anal of a person that he’d literally make the bed while I was still in it. I covered my white nightgown with a robe and raced down the hall to Riley’s room. His bed was made. His room was clean, and his backpack and coat were missing. I padded down the hallway to the kitchen and found a note on the countertop.

Didn’t want to wake you. Took Riley to school. There’s coffee in the pot. —Mark

Next to the note was a glass of water and four Tylenol. I tossed them in my mouth and washed them down. I walked to the sink, refilled the glass, and drank the entire thing again, nearly drowning my insides. Just as I was pouring a cup of coffee, the doorbell rang. I set the pot down and walked through the living room. The doorbell rang several more times.

“Hold on. I’m coming!”

On the other side of the door stood Olivia. She was dressed in all black, wearing oversized red-rimmed sunglasses, a scarlet Chanel bag, and a smug look. She looked like the Grim Reaper herself.

“We need to talk,” she said, pushing her way past me. Her heels clicked along my hardwood floor as she made her way into the living room and took a seat, crossing her legs at the knee.

“Come right in, Olivia,” I said sarcastically closing the door behind her.

“Did you just wake up? You look haggard.” She looked me up and down. Her forehead attempted to wrinkle, but the Botox hindered her ability to show her disappointment in my disheveled appearance.

“What happened to you last night? You left us with the bill and stranded.” I threw my hands on my hips, ignoring her comment. I could look however I wanted to look in my own house.