Reaper's Stand(35)

Ice cream and hair dye.

Two hours later I swirled in front of my bathroom mirror, a new woman.

Ruby Fusion.

I looked like Christina Hendricks on acid (okay, not quite as statuesque, and my boobs were smaller … but still very curvy!). The new hair was gorgeous. Crazy. Fun. I wondered if Reese would like it, and then decided I didn’t care, because I liked it.

That’s when it hit me.

For the first time in forever, I was doing something for myself.

It felt good.

The high lasted until about noon the next day, when I carefully sorted through my finances. Counting all my savings, the business emergency funds, and the secret vacation stash, I was still broke. Okay. So no new Miatas just yet. But if I got the contract for The Line, maybe I could revisit the idea in a year or two. Assuming Reese didn’t fire me.

Powerful motivation.

I’d just have to get that contract no matter what. So what if I had to sleep with him to do it … I’d just call it a bonus and roll with it.

Jessica got in touch right after I went to bed Tuesday night.

“Hey, Loni.”

“Hey there,” I responded, biting back the “So, I see your phone still works” comment hovering on my lips. Silence fell between us, all weird and uncomfortable.

“How are things with your mom?” I asked finally.

“Things are good, I guess. I mean, she isn’t here very much. She’s really busy with her friends and stuff, and she doesn’t like me to be around when her boyfriend comes home. I don’t have a car or anything, so I’ve just sort of been hanging out by the pool. They’ve got me in the guesthouse. There are a few others staying there, but I have my own room.”

“Well, I’m glad things are good,” I told her. “I want you to be happy.”

“I was wondering …”

“Yes?” “Do you think you could pack up some of my things and ship them down? I left all my clothes up there, and Mom has been loaning me shit, but I don’t feel quite right borrowing from her all the time.”

I glanced toward her bedroom door, wondering if I’d be a horrible person if I said I’d set all her things on fire. Yes. That would be horrible. Pity, because a small, hateful part of me wanted to hurt her.

But even with Ruby Fusion hair, I still had to be the adult.

“Sure, I can pack some things up—but not everything. That would cost a fortune to ship. If you want more, you can get a job and earn the money to pay for it. I’ll get some clothes for you, though.”

“And maybe some of my books and pictures?” she asked. “You know, like the scrapbook I made of the kids at the community center? I’m kind of missing them, especially since I didn’t get to say good-bye. I wanted to find somewhere else to volunteer, but Mom thought that was a bad idea.”

My heart softened a little. Amber was a Class A bitch, so staying with her had to be a punishment in and of itself. My Jessie girl had some hard lessons ahead of her.

“I’ll pack some things up and send them soon,” I told her firmly. “But it’s late and I need to sleep. I’ve got work in the morning.”

“Okay,” she whispered. “Loni?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

Wednesday morning I opened her bedroom door, midsized cardboard shipping box in hand. I’d come in here right after she ran away and picked up the worst of her mess from the tantrum, just so nobody would accidentally cut their feet on the broken glass. But beyond that I’d left everything untouched. Jess was a slob, and we’d come to an agreement years ago. She’d do her part to keep the rest of the house clean, and I’d stop bugging her about her bedroom.

The system had worked well for us.

Now I looked around, wondering where to begin. Most of her favorite things were strewn across the floor in dirty piles. I could either grab the things from her drawers (already clean) and pack them, or collect up what she really liked and give it a quick wash.

Well, she had said “thank you,” which was a big step up for Little Miss Entitlement.

I grabbed the dirty clothes, tossing them into the box like a makeshift laundry basket. I carried them into the kitchen, where a washer and dryer took up one corner. Then I started sorting through and checking the pockets.

That’s when I found the money.

A hundred-dollar bill, wrapped around a scrap of paper with a note on it.

Seven tonight, downtown. No bra, no panties.



What. The. Hell.

My hand trembled as the implications hit me. Jessica had some sort of secret boyfriend, the kind of man who gave her money. Enough money that she could afford to leave a hundred-dollar bill stashed in her pants.

Amber had boyfriends like that, too.

The thought made me sick, and I swayed, reaching out to clutch the counter. I stumbled into the living room, sitting down heavily on the couch, trying to think.

Mellie. She’d know what was going on.

The phone only rang once before she picked up.

“Hey, Loni,” she said, sounding pathetically eager to talk to me. I felt a twinge of guilt—I hadn’t given her much thought the past couple days, even though she’d spent two or three nights a week at my house over the last year.

“Hey, Mel. How are you?”

“Okay,” she replied. “I miss Jessica, though. I’ve tried calling her but she hasn’t answered. I guess she’s too busy doing cool things with her mom.”