Vonnie: Book Two of Broken Girls Series

by J. A. Hornbuckle

  As I pulled the sheet off and moved to the paper cutter, Zee already had his battered wallet out (which gave me a great idea for one of his Christmas presents). It was one of the best compliments I’d ever received about my photo editing skills—and given totally without words.

  But his words did come when he tucked the two snaps in the plastic sleeves and carefully tucked them into his back pocket. Sliding an arm around my shoulders as we stood side-by-side, he squeezed my upper arm and offered, “You did good, baby sister. Thank you for this.”

  Funny enough, I didn’t pull away nor did I get the typical panic feeling in my stomach like I usually did when someone touched me. Everyone except Rio that is, which I still wasn’t willing to examine even within the confines of my own head. No, I accepted Zee’s hug in the spirit it was given, pleased that I’d made him happy.

  “So about today,” he started after he dropped his arm and we’d pulled apart. “Got a call from Rio about going to Black Ice while you’re doing the wedding thing. Although there’s a plan B if me being so far away makes you nervous. Everybody involved is willing to meet at the police station.”

  “Why the police station?” There were a couple of points about what he’d said that bothered me, but I only challenged one of them.

  “Guess it has to do with the old case or something,” he replied with a shrug. “The meeting should be over before you’re finished, so I’ll be around to take you home.”

  I glanced down at Pookie who was curled into a little ball on top of her blanket and sock monkey. “The girls may want to get something to eat afterward. I’ll send you text when I know for sure, but can you swing by and let the dog out if Rio’s still tied up?”

  Rio had already given Zee an extra key and programmed his phone with the alarm codes over breakfast, so we wouldn’t have to play key-swap. At first Rio’s trust in Zee made me uncomfortable, but then, I was a skeptic when it came to trusting most everybody.

  But I had faith in Rio.

  Almost more than Diane—and that was saying a lot.

  “Yeah, no worries.”

  With that out of the way, I glanced at the clock. If I didn’t get a move on, I was gonna be late. Which meant I’d get an earful from everybody, but most of all Pheebs.

  And she was one girl I didn’t want to see turn into a bridezilla.

  *.*.*.*.*

  We were knee-deep in discussions about the dresses Miss Sierra of Sierra’s Bridal Boutique had on offer, when Phoebe finally lost it. As in, lost her shit.

  Standing on the tiny, round dias bracketed by a three way mirror on one side and a curved, white-leathered covered banquette on the other, she held up her hands in the surrender position with eyes closed. That was, until each lady in our eight-person group shut right the hell up.

  “I know and appreciate every one of you want to look your best on my special day,” she said in a firm, loud voice, which seemed out of place not only for the girl I knew her to be, but for our venue. “Yet, we’ve got to gain consensus on your dresses. With that in mind, I need each of you to tell me just what the hell is wrong with the stuff Sierra and Daphne have shown us.”

  I looked to where Sierra and her assistant, Daphne, stood on the edge of the room, fiddling with hangers and fluffy frocks. Maybe that sort of yelling and language was par for the course in bridal fittings, because they didn’t seem affected by Phoebe’s behavior at all.

  As far as I was concerned, they were an awesome duo who put themselves forward as one of the new businesses manned by women sprouting up in and around Grantham. A bridal place that’d taken over the space Marty’s Music Emporium vacated after it moved to the less costly and more trafficked area of the new suburbs. Since Marty’s profits were mostly from music lessons, it only made sense for him to go where the burgeoning, young musicians called home. Which sure the hell wasn’t in downtown Grantham.

  Maizie was the first to answer Phoebe, as she sat next to me on one of the C-shaped settees.

  “That tight, belted sheathe number? The one with the draped neckline? I can’t wear that. Not without registering my ass as a new zip code.”

  “What about that halter thing?” Tonya’s question was given with a frown as she looked around our group. “Oh my god, there’s no way I could wear something like that. It’s cut too low and too skinny on the sides. Even if I was carried in on some sort of makeshift platform, lying on my side, I couldn’t create the cleavage necessary to fill that dress. People would wonder why a ten-year-old boy was acting as a bridesmaid.”

  “Are you saying you’re flat-chested?” Coco’s words cut to the chase. “Because I thought I looked pretty hot when I modeled it and we wear the same size bras.”

  The way it’d gone down was Sierra had each of our group pick a different style of dress and model it. Well, all except for me since I was so short and begged off, doing so in terms that left no doubt I was serious about enacting personal mayhem on anyone forcing me to participate.

  “You did, Coco,” Phoebe soothed, stepping down off the dais to plant her ass on it instead of a chair. Since she held the focus of the room, it was not only a great move, but a good one to back everyone’s ass down—including her own. “Just as much as Beta looked wonderful in the sheathe thing. But I think we’re all in agreement the bell-shaped skirt Maggie modeled would never work on anybody.”

  There was quiet in the area our party was sequestered in, as each of us nodded yet tried to come up with a solution for our dilemma. This was still going more than two hours after we’d arrived.

  Maggie, Ryker’s mom, held up a finger. “I have a suggestion, which might seem a little loco.”

  I looked to my girls and saw each and every one of them had their face tilted to the beautiful, yet older Hispanic woman with an expression of fledging optimism. There was no denying Phoebe’s soon-to-be mother-in-law was still a beautiful woman and I caught myself hoping she was wise as well.

  “Phoebe, what if you allow your hermanas to choose the style that fits them best, but have the dresses all the same color? That would work, no?” Maggie’s suggestion held merit for me, but I looked to my girls to gauge their reaction.

  “So what are your colors, Pheebs?” Diane jumped in with the same question I had as well. After six weeks of listening to Phoebe drone on and on about her and Ryker’s plans for their wedding, I’d shut off about a week and a half ago. Started pushing the magazines shoved underneath my nose away while telling my girl to make a choice, any damn decision to stop all the shilly-shallying. So for Di to ask about colors was a valid one.

  “Toasted aqua and burnished gold,” she breathed, her eyes lifting upward as if encountering the holy vision of her choice in wedding colors, spreading out on the heavenly-high or some such.

  “You mean a dark aquamarine and a light taupe?”

  “A dark green-blue with light brown, shot with gold?”

  “It’s gonna happen in the couple of weeks before winter starts, so why not just cut to the freaking chase and go with red and green, for fuck’s sake?” Yeah, that was Maizie adding her two cents in the earthiest words possible. While I’d been the one grounded the most, our Maizie spent a lot of time with soap in her mouth for her salty language.

  Phoebe started rummaging through the bag at her feet before bringing out two swatches of fabric. “This is the aqua,” she announced, waggling the beautiful piece of material so we all saw the silver threads giving the material a shimmer.

  Then doing the same with a swathe of the one I would’ve named ‘light brown’, she continued. “And this is the gold.” There was no denying it had gold in it as the boutique’s lights caught on its deeper sheen.

  Sierra stood to the side, her hands in a temple position as she finally addressed our group. “I have eight different styles available. I’m sure each of you will find something you like and will be proud to wear in celebration of your sister’s special day.”

  I knew which one I wanted, the style Diane had modeled. It was simple, wit
h no ruffles or extra adornments, but just flowed from its tiny band at the neck as it shifted down in princess seams. A construction designed to catch and pause at the bumps and dips of a woman’s body in a way that wasn’t too tight or too loose, fluttering out in a hemline that teased the knees.

  Oh yeah. That was the dress for me.

  Although it had done shit-all for Diane’s still fabulous figure.

  Now to decide colors—but truthfully? Both were in my color-wheel, something Beta initiated for each of us in the latter years of her high school days. I was a ‘fall’, with my red hair and white skin. So the dark aqua and burnished gold were perfect for me.

  I raised my eyes to Phoebe’s, only to find her staring my way as the conversation continued around us. “You pick the color,” I said in a normal voice, which became only a whisper in the raised cacophony of the females around us.

  “Aqua then,” she replied right back with a smile and a little bit louder to be heard over Maizie’s latest argument. “You can dye your hair in streaks to match my big day.”

  I nodded, holding her gaze. “You’re getting married, Pheebs.”

  “I know, Vons.” Her eyes took on a shimmer I was unwilling to share, especially after my eyes leaked so much the day before. “And you’re falling in love. Guess we’re growing up after all.”

  Oh hell no. She did not say that!

  But I shoved her scintillating assessment aside and stayed with the subject at hand even as I brought my camera up to capture the glow on her face. “That shade of green-blue works for me. But what about the rest of ‘em, Pheebs?”

  She turned her head to look around the room and I clicked the shutter, capturing her as she moved. Black and white would absolutely work for the snaps I was taking. And Phoebe in those stark shades was beauty incarnate, in my opinion. I’d always considered my bestie to be beautiful, but with the radiance of happiness she’d found with Ryker, she was truly breathtaking. And I was determined to capture the whole of her exquisiteness on film.

  Yet, the arguments about what dress to pick was front and center in everyone else’s conversation. A low neckline versus something soft, only showing a hint of cleave or a hemline at knee-level against one going to the floor. One thing could be said for my foster-sisters: they were opinionated and didn’t mind sharing their thoughts.

  I continued to work, taking candid photos of Phoebe and the rest of my family as she decided on not only her dress, but those who were to accompany her when she gave her vows. Coco’s present was a wedding album (that’d cost a flipping whack) and with my photo skills, I was determined to fill the damn thing with pics Phoebe and Ryker would treasure the rest of their lives.

  Even including a few pics of us girls arguing either for or against our choices of wedding apparel. Because the truth of it was, even when caught up in the emotion of the moment, my girls looked awesome and photographed beautifully.

  Each and every one of them.

  Despite Maizie holding a hand up in front of her face, claiming she was ‘puffy’ and yelling at me to not include her. But the girl had always been conscious of her weight, her looks. Yet to my trained eye, she was stunning. With her dark eyes and blonde hair, she was an anomaly. Her Latin heritage evident in her body’s voluptuous curves, her high cheekbones and thick hair.

  But she didn’t see it that way.

  Because to Maizie? She was just fat. And I knew for a fact that Tonya, Beta and Coco would’ve killed to have even half of Maizie’s rounded endowments.

  After several clicks later, I felt someone by my side and took my eyes off the screen of my camera. “Hey, Di’,” I offered, shifting my equipment into another position.

  “Hey yourself,” she responded with a smile, one of the ones that had sustained me throughout the years. “How’re you holding up? Big things happening in such a small space would normally see you leaving.”

  Shit. Of everyone on the planet (including my Rio), Diane knew how I attempted to function in the everyday world. And my go-to reaction for most of the stuff I couldn’t deal with, was to just…leave. To walk out without looking back and deflect any questions afterward regarding my attendance. But not at that moment. And I realized somehow and in some way I’d experienced an internal shift without ever noticing. A change which found me more comfortable with myself and those in my life, no matter what environment I found myself in. I didn’t know how to answer, so I just shrugged and fiddled with my camera as I sat down.

  Di followed suit, elegantly crossing her legs. “How did your meeting go with Zee?”

  “Good,” I finally replied after taking a couple of minutes to find an innocuous word to describe yesterday’s actions and resulting emotions. “But I still don’t get why you didn’t tell me about him before.”

  She leaned towards me to nudge my shoulder. “I wanted to, little one. So many times I wanted you to know, especially because you were the only one in the house who thought she had no family—couldn’t remember her parents or her early years with them. But your brother was afraid, terrified any connection with him would put you in danger.”

  “So you promised Zee.”

  She nodded. “I did. And I kept my promise all but that one time. Your safety was more important than anything.”

  I wasn’t sure I agreed with her especially remembering how lonely and insular I’d felt growing up. But I understood both Diane and Zee’s reasoning and was willing to let my disappointment at their secrecy pass. Putting my camera to the side, I reached into my bag and touched the bi-folded piece of cardboard. “Zee and I found something yesterday. Wanna see?”

  I handed Diane the dark-colored piece of card I’d used to store my parents pictures. Taking it, she glanced at me with confusion. “What’s this?”

  Reaching to open it for her, Di’s eyes went to the doctored snaps as she gasped. “Oh my god,” she breathed. “You look so much like your mother.”

  “I know, right?”

  “Did Zee bring these with him?” Just like me when I’d first seen them, Diane couldn’t keep her eyes away.

  I swallowed hard, again getting emotional about finally having evidence of my family. “They were in the locket. Zee was able to pry it open and there they were.”

  Diane swiped at one eye before putting one hand on my back to rub. “They’re precious, Vonnie. And a wonderful keepsake.”

  Phoebe interrupted the moment by plopping down on the other side of me. “Hey, no tears today. This is supposed to be fun, so no damn crying, okay?”

  Without a word, Diane held the pictures out to Phoebe and I didn’t protest since I’d been thinking to do the same thing.

  “Holy shit,” Phoebe breathed, bringing her eyes to mine. “God, Vons. Are these your folks? Seriously? How’d you get these? Oh god, now I’m gonna cry too.”

  I wrapped an arm around Phoebe’s waist and pressed my head into her shoulder. “My brother. I got them from my brother.”

  A hush had fallen on the group although I couldn’t’ve told you when it happened. All I knew was the noise in the room died before each of my sisters moved closer. Silently, Phoebe passed the pictures to Tonya who then handed them off to Beta. And each of my girls’ faces held an expression of stunned awe before the snapshots finally made their way back to me. I felt like I should say something, explain maybe, but I didn’t know if I could over the lump in my throat.

  But it was Coco who broke the quiet instead of me. “And here I thought just seeing you hug Pheebs was a pretty big deal.”

  I liked that I was the one who giggled first at her pronouncement.

  And liked it even more when everyone joined me even if their sounds of mirth were accompanied by wet eyes and trembling lips.

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Reggie stood in full uniform, his cap clutched underneath one arm in the middle of the bullpen reserved for detectives. He’d only been in that part of the station a couple of times and it always made him a little nervous. He was more comfortable in the chaotic confines of
the squad room, located on the other side of the chief’s office where loud voices of the other cops filled the air at all hours. Not so in the dicks’ area. And were what he and the other cops called the group of detectives. A group Reggie thought all of the rest of them secretly looked up to and admired, although they’d never admit it.

  But since it was the end of his shift, Reggie was more than ready to call it a day and wasn’t too happy about this latest delay in clocking out.

  “Okay, Gianetta,” Bell started, waving him towards a chair. “Let’s get through this so you can hit the sheets.”

  Reggie sat on the edge of the wooden chair and nodded. He wasn’t sure why he’d been summoned and wondered if he’d fucked something up in a case that’d been passed along for further study and resolution. “Which case are we talking about?”

  “Veronica James and her break-in.” Bell clicked a couple of keys on his laptop as Trusdale placed a Buxby’s coffee cup on a corner of the desk before taking his seat across from Bell.

  Gianetta was confused because he and Gutierrez had processed that scene by the book. The fact Ironcloud insisted on getting the place dusted for fingerprints was weird, but Reggie hadn’t been a part of that. No, his biggest concern over that whole deal was in contacting Zee to let him know what had gone down with his sister.

  “Your report gives the particulars, the broken printer and stolen laptop as well as the indications of how the perp entered and exited her unit.” Bell was reading from Reggie’s report, only pausing to sip from his to-go cup. “Yet you included the details of the fridge being open and Miss James’s artwork being destroyed.”

  “Yes, sir.” Reggie didn’t know what else to say. Everything he and Gutierrez saw and did was included—he’d made a point of it since the chief was contacted. Always better to cover your ass beforehand than offer excuses after the fact.

  Leaning back in his chair and finally looking at Reggie directly, Bell gave off a small growl which Reggie read as one of frustration. Although what the dick had to be frustrated about, especially in regard to a standard B&E report, didn’t compute. “So what’s your take on this, Gianetta?”