by Lee, Nadia
“Paid, right?”
“Yes.”
“Well, that’s great, isn’t it?”
“No, it’s not. I’d rather swim with sharks in a vat of acid.”
“Why not? You’re getting paid to binge-watch Netflix for a month!” It’s one of her favorite activities.
She stabs the fork in the air like a knife. Salazar’s lucky he’s not here because she might just skewer him. “Because he lent me to someone. And now I have to put up with the Greatest Asshole in the World!”
“Who?” I ask, shocked at how furious she is.
She grinds her teeth. “Wyatt Westland!”
I flip through my mental contact list. Wyatt Westland doesn’t ring a bell, even though she’s saying the name like I should know it. Maybe she mentioned him before, but I just don’t remember.
Since I can’t wing my way through this, I ask, “What did he do?”
“What did he not do?” She pushes her hair back, showing me the scar on her jaw. “See this?”
I nod, surprised. She’s never, ever talked about the scar, and I never dared to ask, assuming it might be a sensitive topic. “Yeah.”
“He and his buddies used to call me Scarface in high school.”
“Ouch.” Although Kim seems cool about the scar now, and nobody would make fun of her about it, the situation had to be terrible when she was younger. The teen years are pure hell. Mine were awful too, all because my family was poor.
“Every time he and his idiot friends saw me, they’d yell, ‘Say hello to my little friend,’ in bad Cuban accents.”
I laugh, but I’m thinking, Douchebags! I wish I could go back in time and hug the younger Kim. “And they lived?”
“Only because it isn’t worth going to jail for. And there were the popular kids.” Her expression turns ugly. “You know the type.”
“No way,” I say. “You had to be popular in school, too. You’re gorgeous.”
She gives me a small smile. “Let’s just say I was a late bloomer.”
Still. She had to have been pretty underneath the gangly awkwardness of puberty, which her immature peers were probably too stupid and shallow to notice. “So why did Salazar lend you to him?”
The knuckles around her fork whiten. “Somehow he’s friendly with Dane—ugh—and he convinced Salazar he really needs a fake date to his ex-wife’s wedding.”
“Do people actually go to their exes’ weddings? I mean, seriously? I thought that only happened in romance novels.”
“Of course not. I mean, yes, I might consider going to an ex’s wedding if I wanted to warn the bride. Or to poison him so he’s permanently impotent.”
My mouth parts. I can totally see Kim doing it. “There’s a poison that does that?”
“I don’t know…but Google does.” She winks.
Our server appears, interrupting our bizarrely morbid conversation. He takes away our appetizer plates and replaces them with our entrées—slow-roasted duck with berry and mushroom sauce. It smells amazing. He also refills our drinks, then leaves. Maybe he caught a whiff of Kim’s plan to find erectile-dysfunction-inducing poison and doesn’t want to stick around a second more than he has to.
“Anyway, back to the topic.” Kim cuts into the duck with more zeal than necessary, apparently not realizing that it can’t fly away. “Wyatt has a child. And it’s this child who needs closure after the divorce, and this wedding is supposed to give it to her. So she knows it’s over between her parents.”
Sympathy stirs for the girl.
“I’m actually thinking about murdering Wyatt. It can’t be that hard to get away with. There are lots of people—potential suspects. Like his ex.”
I let out a shaky laugh at how serious she sounds. “Don’t tell me you’re going to frame his ex.”
“Why not? Serves her right,” Kim mutters.
Oh wow. What’s the story there? “At least do it behind the girl’s back,” I say, unsure how to calm Kim down. “Otherwise you’ll traumatize her.”
Kim nods vigorously. “Sure. She’s better off without her asshole dad.” Then she mutters, “Or her bitch mom.”
“Um… Right.” I can’t think of anything else to say to her angry plan. I know she doesn’t really mean that thing about killing him. At least…I don’t think so. But there’s part of me that disagrees with her assessment about not needing a dad. I wish I’d had one growing up. Even though Mom said he was a great guy who would’ve loved me if he’d known me, the tiny bit of consolation I get from that isn’t enough to make up for the fact that I only had one parent, when everyone else had two.
As we finish lunch, I wonder if I should look for him again. Bradley Brown is going to be hard to locate, even starting with the fact that he was in Dillington over twenty-seven years ago before Facebook and Google tracked people everywhere. But Nate has connections. Maybe he could help…?
I sigh. I probably shouldn’t impose on Nate like that. We just normalized our relationship and decided to make our marriage work. I don’t want to shake things up by asking him to do this and that, making him feel like I’m using him or taking advantage of his network.
Maybe if this were a normal marriage—where he and I were both madly in love and had gone through the entire dating, proposal and wedding process—I might feel different. But for the moment, I should be careful. Trust isn’t love, and it could easily be damaged if both parties aren’t mindful.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Evie
After lunch, Kim drives me to the apartment we used to share. We drop by a bookstore on the way to get some cardboard boxes so I can pack my things.
“Classier than trash bags,” she says. “How come Nate isn’t hiring movers for you?”
“I vetoed the idea. I don’t have that much stuff, anyway.”
She nods as she parks her car in the apartment lot. “That’s true.” She takes the boxes from the back. “I’ll be carrying them. You’re pregnant.”
I roll my eyes. “Pregnant, not crippled.”
“I’m racking up points with Nate in case I ever need a favor from him.”
“If you ever need a favor, you can just ask me.” I know she’ll never do it unless it’s a matter of life and death. Besides, her boss is the more likely choice for her to turn to. Salazar Pryce is just as powerful as Nate, and he’s supposed to be pretty mean when the situation requires it.
As we walk along the hall to get to our unit, a black cat trots toward her. It’s a gorgeous animal, the fur sleek and glossy. Aside from a crown-shaped white mark on its forehead, it’s as black as the back of a penguin.
“Hello, Princess,” Kim says with the kind of warm, sweet smile a man would give up a kidney for.
“Princess?” I ask, watching the cat mewl and wrap itself around Kim’s leg.
“Yeah. A new cat from next door.”
“She seems so friendly.” I crouch to pet Princess. She lets me scratch her behind an ear, and as I do so, her eyes turn to blissful slits. So adorable! I always wanted a pet, but Mom and I could never afford one.
“She’s a great cat. The name could’ve been better, though.”
“Why?”
“She has a crown.” Kim points at the white mark. “She should’ve been named Queen.”
The cat mewls as though it totally agrees with Kim.
“I know,” Kim coos. “It’s just a total lack of imagination, isn’t it?” She turns to me. “Princess, indeed.”
I feel like there’s a story somewhere here. Maybe somebody called Kim a princess or something.
Kim unlocks and opens the door to our unit. A light brown furball shoots out, tail wagging. I gasp and take a step back in surprise. It’s not really a furball. More like a furry cannonball. The breed is one hundred percent indeterminable. The face is slightly foxy, the tongue hanging out of its mouth in a doggy smile. The tail sort of looks like a golden retriever’s, but the fur around its head is a bit odd. I can’t place it, even though it’s somehow familiar.
Kim moves inside, backing the dog into the apartment. I follow her in.
She bends down and rubs his head. “Hey, Champ, you good boy! Did you miss Mommy?”
Mommy? I stare, stunned. She never said anything about getting a dog.
He licks her hands and cheeks, not caring about eating her makeup.
“Wow. You got a dog?”
“Well, I do now.”
“I’ve been replaced,” I joke, even though it hits me suddenly that a chapter in my life is closing, and a new one is starting. A tinge of nerves entwine around excitement. I can’t believe that I’m not only married to one of the most eligible bachelors in the country, but with his child.
She laughs. “Don’t be silly. Nobody can replace you. But he keeps me company.”
“What is this?” I ask, gesturing at the dog.
“Champ.” She lets him lick her fingers, then pulls back to dump the boxes on the dining table.
“Yeah, but what is he?”
“A mix of many things, including golden retriever and Pomeranian.”
I blink once. Then twice. That explains the fur around the head. But… “Can a golden retriever and Pomeranian…” I make a circle with one hand and stick an index finger on the other hand in and out of the loop.
“Apparently.” Kim gestures at Champ.
“Wow. How does that work?” I ask, trying to imagine the deed with that size differential.
“I don’t know, and I didn’t ask.”
I squat down so I can run my hand along his soft body. “I didn’t know you wanted a dog.”
“I didn’t. Annie—you know, the building owner—asked me to keep him and take care of him. He’s her mom’s dog, but she passed away last Thursday. Annie told me she just couldn’t deal with the dog because it reminds too much of her mom. She’s devastated.”
“Oh no, that poor woman,” I say, my heart aching as I imagine what it must be like to suffer such a loss. I don’t know if I’d be able to cope in that situation.
“She says she can trust me to be good to him.”
“She’s right. I can’t think of anybody more responsible than you.”
“Anyway, so I’m stuck with him.”
Champ wags his tail and gives her another doggy smile. Meanwhile, Princess wraps herself around Kim’s ankles, while mewling loudly and—unless my imagination is being overactive—possessively. Did she follow us in? I didn’t even notice.
“So I guess that narrows your roommate search to people who like dogs. You know what? I’ll continue to pay for my portion of the rent until you find someone.”
“Nah. Annie gave me a break on the rent for taking care of Champ. So I’m good. I actually think it’ll be good for me to have the place to myself for a bit.”
“Oh. Well, cool. That’s great,” I say, relieved she’s all set. I’ve been feeling a bit guilty about abandoning her before the lease is up.
We go to my room. Kim helps me pack up my things. We avoid stuffing each box, since I’m not sure if lifting heavy things is okay or not. As we go through my stuff, Kim asks me if I want to throw anything out. We find a bottle of expired lotion, aged hair product samples that I’m certain aren’t good anymore and a couple pairs of worn-at-the-heels socks, so I toss them. The rest gets organized into boxes and labeled, while we gossip about people, TV shows and movies. Kim’s been plowing through so many on Netflix.
“You want the vase?” she asks me suddenly.
Pausing in the middle of writing shoes on a box flap, I lift my head. “What vase?”
“The one that one of your online dating guys gave you.”
Ugh! The pink-and-green monstrosity looks like a bloody snot tower. “I thought you threw that out.”
“I didn’t, just in case.”
“Don’t want it.”
Her eyes gleam. “Perfect.”
“Who is that slightly evil expression for?”
“No one.”
“You planning something?”
“Nope.”
She’s definitely planning something, but it doesn’t look like I’m the target. So okay.
I carry a small box with my shirts to the living room and almost drop it when there’s a sudden black streak right in front of me. “Does Princess hang out here a lot?” I ask, curious why she isn’t in her own place and left to wander around the building’s halls.
“She likes to be with me when her home’s empty.”
Aw, that’s cute. The cat’s just lonely. Champ is wagging his tail and looking happy in a corner, while panting like…well, an excited dog. And that makes me realize…
“He hasn’t barked even once,” I say.
“He doesn’t bark. Trained not to. Otherwise I would’ve never been able to take him in. The other people in the building would’ve gotten upset.”
“Does he make any sound at all?”
“He whines when he wants something. But otherwise he’s a very nice, quiet dog.”
I prop the door open, and Kim and I move the boxes one by one.
“Just one more left. I’ll grab it,” Kim says, going back to my room.
I stretch my back, then my sides. Who knew packing could be so labor-intensive? I didn’t think I had that many things, but I’ve accumulated quite a bit since moving to L.A.
“Hey. Need some help?”
I turn and see a guy standing at the door. Wow. I’ve never seen him before, but he’s a hottie. Not as hot as Nate—nobody’s hotter, obviously—but he’s got that nice, strong face with a square jaw and bright, deep-set blue eyes. The dark hair’s cropped short and slightly messy, like he’s run his fingers through it a few times. And when he shifts, I can see muscles moving underneath his shirt.
Definitely a winner.
When I continue to stare, he gives me a warm smile. “Sorry, I should’ve introduced myself.” He starts to gesture at the unit next door with his thumb. “I’m—”
“Just leaving,” Kim cuts in with a fake-polite voice. “And no, we don’t need any help. Evie, let’s go.”
Wow. She isn’t generally rude to people, so what did he do to get on her shit list?
The man’s mouth tightens. “Kim—”
“We’re very busy. Oh, don’t forget to take your cat.”
Ah-ha. So this is Princess’s owner. The cat makes a protesting growl when he picks her up. I raise my eyebrows. Doesn’t she like him? Is he an abusive dick? He doesn’t look like one, but then, most Capital Dicks don’t have I’m a dick written on their faces.
Shooting him a look cold enough to keep mint chocolate chip ice cream frozen, Kim picks up all the stacked boxes except a couple and starts toward the elevator. The sight of her holding four is impressive, especially if you don’t know that the boxes hardly weigh anything. I take the remaining two and follow, stealing another look at the man. His lips are tight. He definitely did something he shouldn’t have. He’s probably sorry he has no chance with Kim, who is a babe.
Kim pretends like he isn’t staring at her hard enough to make her back tingle and steps into the elevator. After the door closes, I take a good look at her face.
“You okay?”
“I’m fine,” she says. “I just don’t like it when jerks move in next door.”
“When did he move in?”
“Two weeks ago.”
Wow. The man must’ve made a terrible first impression. There must be a good story to this, but before I can ask, the elevator stops and Kim steps out purposefully. We walk toward her car.
She gives me a small grin. “I know it sounds silly, but I’m actually excited right now. I’ve always wanted to see the inside of Nate’s mansion. I’ve never seen his home featured in magazines!”
I nod. He gets a few requests for those things from architectural or lifestyle magazines, but turns them down every time. “He doesn’t like strangers in his home, taking pictures and stuff. Says it’s rude because he lives in a residence, not a museum.”
“Exactly. But if I’m helping
you he’ll let me in, right?”
“Kim, you can just visit me. He knows you’re my friend.”
She brightens. “That’s true. And friends help friends move.”
When we’re in the car, I ask, “So. What’s the deal with that guy? I honestly thought you found the jackpot when I saw how hot he was at first—”
Kim makes a strangled noise in her throat. “That shithead is Wyatt Westland.”
“The asshole you have to put up with during your month off?” I say, stunned. “The jerk who called you Scarface?”
“Yes.” Her jaw tightens.
“You didn’t tell me he was your new next-door neighbor!” Poor Kim. It must suck to live next to a bully from her past.
“Because he’s going to move soon! He sold some fancy-schmancy photo app patents to Sweet Darlings Inc. for a lot of money. And what do newly minted billionaires do with their new cash?” She snaps her fingers. “Spend it! He’s bound to upgrade his car, his home and his furniture. Which means he’s going to be gone—to some overpriced, eye-gougingly gaudy mansion located someplace very far from here. This is just him slumming until he finds something ‘better.’”
“Wow.” She’s probably right. I’ve read about lottery winners spending money like crazy. Why would this Wyatt guy be any different?
“He’s already sending his kid to private school. So soon I’ll have a nice, normal, non-douchebag neighbor.”
“Hey, do you think he abuses his cat?”
“I don’t know. Why?”
“The cat doesn’t seem to like him much. She was complaining when he took her away.”
“Oh.” Kim shrugs. “Princess loves me more than him or his daughter for some reason.” She smirks. “Probably because even an animal with a brain the size of a walnut knows I’m not a dick.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Evie
Kim slows down as we drive the long, quiet road and approach the wrought-iron fence around the mansion. The design is complex and elaborate, and I’m pretty sure any determined crazy could drive through it with an SUV or a truck, but Nate told me that even a flimsy barrier tends to discourage people from approaching.
