The Slot (Rochester Riot #1)(66)
“What?”
“Adam.”
Julia stood. “Whatever you think you heard is wrong, Heather. Adam—”
“Saved you from a sexual assault,” finished Heather, interrupting her again. “An assault that no one really knows if you had coming. After all, you’ve been a tease since high school. Drawing men in with your curvy body and sassy personality. But none of them were ever good enough, were they?”
Julia closed her mouth and stared. She shook her head. “Heather. You’re a guest in my home. You came here. It’s my understanding that your affections have strayed in a different direction.”
“You don’t understand. But then, you attended one of those state schools and majored in design. Who knows what kind of education a person receives at a cheap college. You’re so silly. This is exactly how Adam got me to date him. He knew I was seriously out of his league as a poor farm kid. I don’t slum. But since he was probably going to get drafted into the NHL, I made an exception.”
Julia’s head hurt from trying to understand what Heather was getting at. “You’re going to have to give me more information. Everyone knows that you’re rich and Adam was poor. I don’t see what that has to do with any of this now.”
Heather sighed and pressed her fingers to her temple. “Julia, I shouldn’t be surprised that I have to spell it out. Remember that kegger back in my junior year the night of homecoming? You were younger, but your brother was there. Adam paid Trip McWilliams his entire week’s pay from the feed lot to slip a Xanax into my beer. Just when I hobbled out to get lost in the corn field, he came swooping in to save me. Sound familiar?”
Julia’s stomach rolled over and she sat back down so she didn’t pass out. Her mind raced. No way. Not Adam. But … it sounded exactly how SueAnn told her the events of last night occurred. Heather viewed her stricken expression as an invitation to drive the knife in even further.
“I know, right? I couldn’t believe it either when Mark finally confessed the truth. We’d shared a couple of bottles of wine at Rinaldi’s over lasagna and he told me everything. In that moment, I knew I’d picked the wrong brother. Adam’s sick, Julia. Selfish and cold. His hands are like ice and he never really wanted to touch me. I almost wonder if he’s gay. At first, I laughed and shrugged it off, but then he showed me a photo of the ground up pills Adam keeps in a bottle in his bathroom. He told Mark they were for his knee.”
Julia stood on shaky legs and pointed a finger at Heather, no longer able to contain the raging emotion she’d been feeling since this morning. The anger moved through her like hot knives slicing butter. “Get the hell out of my house.”
“What?” Heather remained motionless and seated, her elegant face wrinkled with confusion. As if no other woman had ever dared to talk to her with rancor. And piss.
“I said that you and your disgusting lies need to get the hell out of my ‘charming’ house.” Julia used everything in her power to keep her voice calm but it quaked anyway. Gritty, low and full of venom.
Heather squinted at Julia, her blue eyes deepening like an incoming ocean storm. “Did you just throw me out of your home?”
Julia stood her ground, hands on her hips and nodded. Afraid to open her mouth again. Because if she did, words would tumble out that might be more appropriate for a dockside wharf or a truck stop.
“The Chamber of Commerce is going to hear about this, Julia Wales,” she spat as she stood and smoothed the wrinkles from her designer outfit. “My father will make you wish you were never born. You and your little barn business. It’s more than likely you were born in one.”
With a flip of her glorious, shiny hair, she stomped through the living room and into the foyer. Heather opened the door, slid through it and slammed it hard. The sound of the oak door hitting the frame with such force caused the huge breath Julia’d been holding to escape from her lungs on a hiss. Rather like a rattlesnake. God. She didn’t like behaving like a bitch. Sometimes, as a young woman in business, she’d had to but it wasn’t her normal modus operandi. Seems Heather McNeal brought out the worst in everyone. Adam. Mark.
Now Julia too.
She tromped into the kitchen to brew a cup of chamomile and lavender tea in her cast iron teapot. The loose leaf concoction might be the only thing capable of ironing out the kinks in her ravaged nerve endings. And once she had the steaming mug in hand, she’d take another dip in her antique, claw-foot tub while listening to Adele.
Julia breathed in deeply and felt some blessed relief spread through her tight limbs at the thought of the stress relief routine. Maybe a yoga class this week at TRX Fitness. Yeah. Heaven. It was time to start taking more breaks during the week and stopping to smell the roses.
The buzzing of her iPhone broke through her current fantasy of downward dog. She glanced down and saw SueAnn’s name. In bold letters.
SueAnn: SOS
Not wanting to text after that greeting, Julia hit the green button for SueAnn in her contacts.
“Hey, girlfriend,” SueAnn’s voice floated over her. Calming her. Except — SueAnn sounded frantic. “Feeling better?”
“I was starting to,” Julia replied. “I was just grabbing a cup of tea so I could soak in the tub and declare this day over. Tomorrow is a new one.”
“Yeah, about that.” The pause on the other end of the line became long. And meaningful. SueAnn knew something. Something she didn’t want to divulge.