Dead to Her(94)

Many of the guests who’d been at the party were likely to be here and no doubt Virginia, down at the front, was taking a mental roll call that all the right people had shown their faces. Marcie didn’t listen much to the sermon, only occasionally fighting a smirk or a smile at some glowing recommendation of William’s character, his kindness, his sweetness. No mention of his entitlement and bombastic behavior. Making Eleanor hide her grief at the loss of their only son. Marrying a much younger woman when his wife was barely cool in the ground and then trying to break her, and the way he’d always kept Jason dangling on a promise of elevation to the point that Jason resorted to theft to make it happen. Having Elizabeth at his beck and call every minute of the day. Not exactly a saint. Still, whatever he was, William probably hadn’t deserved this fate of hanging in limbo between life and death, but then most people didn’t deserve what life threw at them, good or bad.

The church was standing room only but over the hour of gushing words, Marcie had plenty of time to study the congregation. There were the true churchgoers, all in the front rows with Virginia and Emmett, eyes shining and singing loud as they cast their good wishes heavenward. Everyone else simply whined out the hymns under their breath, unsure of the melodies, while making token nods to the prayers. Marcie almost envied that inner circle. The power of their religion. The solidarity it gave them with their fellow believers, to automatically belong somewhere. The sense of community, of invisible bonds. She’d seen it with the women who helped at the Mission. United by worship and the need to serve their God in all they did, to help each other. It was anathema to Marcie. She figured religion had to get you when you were young, before cynicism set in. With her upbringing, if Mama’s efforts at dragging her through childhood could be called that, cynicism had set in way before Marcie could even spell the word.

Once she’d spotted her, it was hard not to just stare at Jacquie. The brunette, hair in an elegant bun, was standing over to the right, about halfway back, not part of that religious inner circle. Jacquie and her bitterness. Jacquie and her revenge. Jacquie the crazy bitch. She hadn’t glanced back, but she wasn’t fooling Marcie. She knew Marcie was there. Jacquie might think she was playing with Marcie, but Marcie was on to her now.

After seeing Iris the previous day, Marcie had gone home and called her old high school, asking the secretary if they kept copies of past yearbooks. They’d put her through to the librarian, who’d laughed, surprised, when she’d said she was interested in spare copies of the 2004 edition. Apparently a woman emailed a while back asking for the same. She remembered because she never got requests for that far back, not often. People move on, don’t they? Marcie’s stomach had been in her throat when she’d asked if the librarian had a copy of the email, but she hadn’t. The woman must have come and collected one though, because there was one fewer than there had been in the storage room. She must have come in, maybe during the vacation when there were only office staff in. The librarian promised to ask her colleagues, but wasn’t sure she’d get an answer. It was several months ago and in high schools everything was always such a blur wasn’t it? All that youth racing around.

Once she’d gotten rid of the wittering woman, Marcie had almost called Anderson right away to share her theories but stopped herself. She needed more.

“Hey!” she called out, as the doors opened and the crowd spilled free. “Julian!” The party planners were hurrying off toward their car, heads down and faces like thunder. “Julian! Pierre! Wait!”

Pierre stopped, peering over his sunglasses, and waited for her to catch up. “Well,” he said. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I thought I should show my face,” she said. “I don’t want people thinking I’m hiding. Do you want to get some brunch? My treat. I’m not going to lie, I’m in need of friends.” She might be deep in the shit long term, but for now she was cash rich. “And obviously”—she winked irreverently at Pierre, knowing how to play him—“I have all the gossip.”

“Alessi’s,” Pierre said, after a moment. “I could murder one of their martinis.”

“Let’s steer clear of the M word, shall we?”

“Deal. As long as you tell us everything about what it’s like in the real world of Orange Is the New Black.”

“Oh, you’re funny,” Marcie said

“Come on,” Julian said, unsmiling. “Let’s get out of here.”



She didn’t wait for a showdown with Jacquie or to chat with Virginia or Iris or any of the women who kept glancing her way as if she were radioactive, but got in her car and followed the boys out of the lot. If anyone knew about people’s movements that night, it would be these two. For all their flamboyance, they were professionals and would have been sober and observant all night.

The martinis were already on the table when she slid in to join them at the booth.

“You said she’d be there,” Julian was saying. “What a waste of a morning. You know I can’t stand churches. They hate us in there.”

“That’s not true. They all love us. And hate is a strong word. They’re confused by the gays they don’t know. Which means they probably don’t hate them at all.”

“You thought who’d be there?” Marcie said.