Dangerous

by Daniels, Suzannah

“Yes,” she confirmed. “Chance. His dad owns a car lot, and he found a car that he thought would be perfect for me. The only problem is it’s two thousand dollars, and so far, I’ve only saved up six hundred. I was hoping to have enough saved up by the end of summer, but I may have to work during the first few weeks of school. Granny said she could pay my insurance and give me a little gas money if I could buy the car.”

  “What kind of car is it?” I asked. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather drive Granny’s car?”

  Dara wrinkled her nose. “I’m sure. It’s a small, red Chevy. It’s still in good shape, and it gets good gas mileage.”

  “If I play my cards right, will you give me a ride?” I asked, folding the paper back up and tucking it back in her pocket.

  “I thought you weren’t very good at playing cards,” she accused, narrowing her eyes at me until they were nothing more than vibrant, green slits.

  “I told you. I’m good at everything. And the fact that you bought my bluff proves it,” I said, resting my hands on her hips.

  “Is this where I tell you you’re conceited?” she asked innocently. “And an asshat?”

  “Badass,” I thundered at her. “Clean the wax out of your ears, and get it right, woman. I’m conceited and a badass.”

  “What did you say?” she asked, her brow furrowed.

  “Oh, no,” I warned her. “You can swallow whatever insult is fixing to tumble from those pretty little lips of yours because I’m not going to listen. Besides, I’ve got to talk to Tom about our financials. My dad’s already demanding numbers.”

  “Is that bad?” she asked.

  I raked my hands through my hair, contemplating the answer to her question. “That depends on the numbers. He bought this business about a year ago, and he usually allots a set amount of time to determine whether it’s going to be successful. If the numbers don’t meet his criteria, then he’ll start making plans to sell or close the business at the end of July.

  “I had talked him into buying this business, so I really wanted it to be successful.”

  “You did?” She looked at me a little surprised.

  “Luke loved to read, and he would’ve loved this store. I can’t really explain it, but somehow I feel like he approves of this store and what I’m trying to do.” Shit. I couldn’t believe I just told her that. I hadn’t told that to anyone. I knew the danger of getting too close to Dara, but I was too freaking stupid to keep my distance. “I’ve got to talk to Tom.” I hurried out of the kitchen before she started asking questions. Of all the girls I could’ve found myself attracted to, I had to pick Little Miss Inquisitive.

  Tom was busy checking out customers. I pulled up a stool behind the counter and waited patiently for Dara to finish whatever she had been doing in the kitchen and relieve Tom from the cash register.

  Once she did, Tom grabbed his laptop and joined me in my office.

  “So what do the numbers look like?” I asked him as he stared at his computer screen, a yellow pencil tucked behind his ear.

  “The good news is they have been steadily improving. The bad news is it’s questionable as to whether we’ll reach the numbers your father requires by the end of the month.”

  I slowly exhaled. I wanted the store to remain open. For Luke.

  Tom and I raked over the numbers, and I tried to memorize as much of the necessary data as possible. I knew it was only a matter of time before Dad and I would be having a serious conversation about Quail Mountain Books, not that every conversation with my Dad wasn’t serious.

  I wanted to be ready.

  I glanced at my cell phone, noticing that it was time for lunch. “Why don’t you go ahead and take lunch?” I asked. “I want to talk to Dara about marketing.”

  “I’ll be more than happy to eat while y’all handle the marketing,” Tom said, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “You know how much I despise it.”

  “I know. Give you a bunch of numbers and a spreadsheet, and you’re in ecstasy. Talk about something creative like marketing, and it’s sheer torture.”

  Tom grinned. “Yeah, that pretty much sums it up. Sums. Get it. I like numbers.”

  “I get it,” I admitted with an inward groan. I threw a foam stress relief promotional item shaped like a book at Tom. “Go. Get out of my office,” I joked with him. “Go analyze combo meal numbers one through ten at a fast food joint.”

  He chuckled as he strolled out the doorway.

  I found Dara looking at a box of inventory that was ready to be shelved.

  “Dara?”

  “Yeah?” she asked, glancing up from the box.

  “Let’s talk marketing.”

  “Okay,” she smiled, clearly in her element. She turned away from the box and focused on me.

  “I want to build off the momentum that we already have going from the Fourth of July promotion. I thought we might have a sale.”

  “What’d you have in mind?”

  “Sales have been steady for some of the new releases across the board, in books, games, CDs, and movies. I thought we might offer fifty percent off another item when the customer purchases any item that was released in July.”

  “Would that fifty percent be off of anything in the store?”

  “Anything that’s not a July release.”

  “Okay,” she nodded, staring down at the counter. I could tell that she was deep in thought, and her mind was already processing ideas.

  “Could you see about having some ads ran as soon as possible? Maybe this weekend or next week?”

  “Sure. I’ll start checking on it right now.”

  “Maybe you could make some signs on some of that neon pink poster board in the supply closet.”

  “I’ll take care of it, Stone.”

  How did Tom and I manage marketing before she came along? Apparently, not very well. Dara was always ready to do whatever it took to get the job done. The beauty of it was that she’d take control and not only get the job done, but she’d do it right the first time. It made my job so much easier, and I no longer had to drag Tom through the wringer to get another opinion on marketing.

  But could we get the numbers up by the end of July?

  I desperately wanted to.

  For Luke.

  Chapter 10

  Dara

  Squinting against the bright, morning sunshine that radiated through the thin, white, vinyl blinds, I rolled over and stared at the red LED lights on my alarm clock. It was a few minutes after eight o’clock, and despite the fact that I didn’t have to work today, I knew I wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep. I kicked the comforter off my feet and rolled out of bed. Granny cooked breakfast every morning, and my stomach grumbled as the smell of biscuits and bacon wafted through the air.

  I stumbled to the kitchen in my pajamas and found Granny sitting at the table reading the paper. “That smells so good, Granny.”

  She looked up and flashed a brilliant smile. “Come on, honey, fix you a plate.”

  I sat down in the chair across from Granny and picked up the plate that she had already set out for me. I buttered a warm biscuit, spread strawberry jelly on it, and grabbed a couple of slices of bacon.

  Granny made the best, homemade, cat head biscuits that I had ever eaten, and I had suggested on more than one occasion that she should open a restaurant. I bit into the biscuit, savoring it.

  “I’ve got something to tell you,” Granny said.

  Alarmed, I momentarily forgot the biscuit and focused on Granny. “What is it? Did my mother show up again?”

  Granny patted my hand. “No, dear. It doesn’t have anything to do with your mother.”

  “Is everything all right? Are you all right?” I asked, worried about her news.

  “I’m fine, Dara,” she said, chuckling. “It’s nothing bad, but it might be a little unexpected for you.”

  “Granny, you’re killing me. What is it?”

  She smiled as she patted my hand again, watching me closely with kind eyes. “George and I
are getting married.”

  Elation spread quickly through my body, and I shot out of my chair and hugged her. “Granny, I’m so happy for you.”

  “Thank you. I’m happy, too.”

  I gave her neck another quick squeeze, kissed her on the temple, and returned to my chair. “When did he propose? How did he propose?” I asked, feeling the sudden need for details.

  He asked me last night at dinner. She held her left hand out to me, wiggling her fingers until I noticed the solitary diamond engagement ring.

  “Oh, Granny! It’s beautiful! He did good!”

  “He did, didn’t he?” she asked, admiring the ring. “He dropped down on one knee and everything,” she added. “And he said the sweetest words to me. He told me that he couldn’t imagine his life without me.”

  I squealed. “We’re going to plan a wedding!”

  Granny laughed. “Now, we’re just going to have a small ceremony. Nothing fancy.”

  “Oh! And I’m going to throw a bridal shower for you!”

  “That’s not necessary, Dara. For us, the most important thing is being together.”

  “Granny, I‘ve got to. I can’t let you get married without a bridal shower,” I said with conviction.

  “Oh, okay,” Granny agreed, but just a small one. “We could have a few friends over.”

  “Let me handle everything,” I insisted. “This is so exciting! Have y’all set a date?”

  “At our age, we don’t want to wait too long. We’re going to get married in three weeks.”

  “Three weeks?” I asked, surprised. “I have to get busy then.”

  Granny beamed like a school girl who had just been asked to the prom.

  In light of the good news, I scarfed down my breakfast, eager to spill the news to Crimson and Scarlet. My granny was getting married! How cool was that?

  As the tepid water from the showerhead pelted against my skin, I imagined Granny in a flowing white dress with a bouquet of colorful flowers. I wanted everything to be perfect. I wanted to do something for Granny to repay her for everything that she had done for me.

  I borrowed Granny’s car and drove to Crimson and Scarlet’s shop. When I walked in, I was surprised to see how much progress they had made. The walls glowed a bold shade of lime green, which complimented the zebra print accessories beautifully. They were setting up the lobby area with black, vinyl chairs that sported a modern flair. Clear acrylic end tables held black lamps with zebra print shades, and a glossy, black magazine rack towered in the corner, offering an assortment of entertainment magazines and hair design books like a silent butler. Loud music spewed from overhead speakers, and Crimson’s and Scarlet’s bodies rhythmically pumped to the beat as they danced across the zebra-print rug in the middle of the seating area to collect another chair to place in the seating arrangement.

  This was nothing like the salon that I frequented with Granny. I watched them, expecting a disco ball to extend from the ceiling and shoot neon lights around the room. When they still didn’t notice me, I mimicked their dance moves as I closed the distance between us.

  Scarlet noticed me first, and she let out a scream of surprise that was barely audible above the blaring music. She smiled widely and went to turn the music down as Crimson and I continued dancing.

  “Holy smokes, Dara, you nearly scared the crap out of me,” Scarlet chastised as she rejoined Crimson and me. “So what do you think?”

  “It looks amazing,” I gushed as I glanced around the salon and admired Scarlet’s knack for decorating. She accessorized better than anyone I knew.

  “We are so freakin’ excited,” Crimson squealed, her huge, brown eyes revealing her happiness. “Is this not the most chic salon you’ve ever been in?”

  “I don’t know,” I said as I purposely looked around the room. “The owner of the salon that Granny and I usually go to could teach you some wicked tips on how to decorate with gingham and plastic flowers.

  “Plastic flowers? Seriously?” Scarlet asked, appalled. “Like, do they even make those anymore?”

  “I have no idea,” I answered, grinning. “But this place rocks.”

  Crimson licked her finger and touched her arm, releasing a sizzling noise from her full lips. “We did do a fantabulous job, didn’t we?”

  “We?” Scarlet asked, furrowing her brow and glaring down her small, straight nose at Crimson. “I picked everything out.”

  “Well, I agreed to it,” Crimson snapped. “And you didn’t decorate by yourself.”

  “I’ve got some exciting news,” I blurted, interrupting them before their conversation turned into a full-blown trial of who did what.

  Crimson squealed. “You and Stone are now an official couple!”

  “Bite your tongue,” Scarlet shushed. “She needs to get back together with Chance, not hook up with a social degenerate.”

  “He is not a social degenerate,” I chastised her.

  “He hit your boyfriend,” Scarlet cried, defending her position.

  “First of all, Chance is not my boyfriend, and Stone was provoked,” I explained. “But no, Stone and I are not a couple, and since I know y’all will never guess, I’ll just tell you.” I paused. “Granny and Mr. Milton are getting married.”

  “How cute!” Scarlet exclaimed.

  Crimson hugged me. “That’s awesome!”

  I couldn’t stop the incredibly silly smile that forced its way across my face. “Will y’all help me give her a bridal shower?” I asked, looking from Crimson to Scarlet. “I so want everything to be perfect.”

  “Yes!” they squealed in unison.

  “Do you already know where you’re having it?” Crimson asked.

  “Granny said I could have a small one at home,” I answered.

  “Let’s have it here,” Scarlet offered. “There would be plenty of space to set up tables and chairs in the center of the room.”

  “Yes!” Crimson agreed. “It’d be perfect!”

  “Y’all don’t mind?”

  “Are you kidding?” Scarlet asked. “We’d do anything for Granny.”

  “Do you know when you want to have it?” Crimson asked.

  “That’s the thing,” I said, trying to give them a little bit of warning before I sprang it on them that we’d have to act fast. “She’s getting married in three weeks, so I want to give her the shower in one week.”

  “Sheesh!” Scarlet exclaimed, her eyes widening as if I had just asked for the impossible. “Let’s get busy then. You need to write down a list of everyone you want to invite, so that you can get invitations out. What about a cake?”

  “I thought I could make cupcakes. We’ll have a small crowd, so it shouldn’t be too hard. I’m going to try to keep my costs down, so I can still put a little money back for my car. But I want to make it as nice as possible. I appreciate both of you helping me.”

  “No problem. Mom will insist on helping with the food. She can make some mints and some hors d’oeuvres,” Scarlet suggested.

  “I will love her forever if she could do that,” I promised. “Maybe you could check with her to see what she might be willing to do. Then I can get whatever else is needed.”

  “We have some folding tables and chairs in our garage,” Crimson said. “Do you have any idea how many people you’ll need to seat?”

  I thought for a minute. “It’ll be a small party. Probably no more than twenty or twenty-five.”

  “Any particular colors?” Scarlet asked. “Mom has some white tablecloths, and we could accessorize in any color that you want.”

  “I think it would be pretty if the main color was a pastel pink, but we could use any pastel colors.”

  Scarlet rubbed her hands together, her perfectly manicured nails tipped in white. “This is going to be so much fun. I love a good party!”

  “Are y’all moving in with Mr. Milton after they get married?” Crimson asked.

  My heart fluttered when I realized that I hadn’t even thought about that. Where were we going to l
ive? “I have no idea.”

  “I wonder what kind of house he lives in,” Crimson said, plopping down in one of the new chairs.

  “I don’t know,” I replied. “I’ve never been to his house.”

  “There’s no time for idle chitchat,” Scarlet chided.

  “You’re right,” I agreed, knowing I needed to get busy to pull everything off. “I guess I’d better get going. I’m going to stop by the bookstore and tell Stone the good news. Then, I’ll make a list, buy some invitations and fill them out, and get them in the mail.”

  “We’ll have Dad bring the table and chairs over, and we’ll get the tablecloths from Mom and find out what food she wants to make,” Scarlet said. “Then we can compare notes with you later.”

  I gave them each a quick hug and thanked them again. “I’ll talk to y’all later,” I promised as I opened the front door.

  “Bye,” they called in unison.

  The day heated up with every passing minute. When I stepped into the brilliant sunlight, I shielded my eyes with my hands and crossed the street to the bookstore. The bell chimed as I entered, and I spotted Tom posted behind the counter at the cash register. A few customers browsed quietly, and I hoped the sales would be good today for Stone’s sake.

  “Hey, Tom,” I greeted as I approached the counter and leaned against it.

  “Morning, Dara,” he said, pushing his glasses up his nose.

  “I wanted to talk to Stone for a minute. Is he here?”

  “He’s in the back somewhere, and just so you know, he’s not in a very good mood today.”

  “What’s wrong with him?”

  “I don’t ask,” Tom answered, holding his palms up in surrender. “My philosophy is to stay out of other people’s business, and they’ll usually stay out of mine.”

  I pushed away from the counter and walked through the door that led to the kitchen. I glanced in the office, only to find it empty. There was no sign of anyone in the back of the building, so I gently opened the back door and peered out.

  Stone was standing near his motorcycle under the carport on his cell phone having a heated argument. I watched for a moment before I opened the door any farther, listening to his side of the conversation.