Stark Raving Mad (Chicago's Finest Book 2)

by Vanessa Knight

  Her wedding dress had been simple. If she’d had her way, it would have been a wedding pant suit. In black. But between her Gran and her mother-in-law, the nagging was nonstop. So, she’d worn a white dress.

  She should have known her marriage was doomed right there.

  “A princess? What am I, five?” Brook pinched and yanked the material into place as Allison knelt on the floor, her head stuck up Brook’s dress. Shay looked around to make sure they were alone. Brook’s legs and nylon-covered privates were on display as Allison Marilyn-Monroed her sister, pulling and tugging from underneath.

  “This damn bottom layer is stuck on the waist band,” Allison groaned as she obviously continued to struggle.

  Shay turned to watch Todd, but he was too busy staring at his phone, periodically glancing up but never lingering over the view. Hmmm.

  “Oh my goodness, this is too small.” Allison stuck her head out the side.

  “The dress is fine.” Brook pulled up the dress train and stepped back, leaving her red-faced sister in the cold.

  “You go girl. You are super sexy.” Julie laughed and tipped back her glass of wine.

  Shay’s hands itched to block her ears from the squealing and giggling. Not the most professional reaction, but damn, these women were loud. Didn’t matter though, she was on the clock, protecting and serving. Unfortunately, she was on the verge of slapping someone, but that would go against the whole protecting thing.

  “I think you’re cutoff.” Brook tried to rip the glass from Julie’s hand.

  “Come on, you can’t cut me off.” Julie gathered the excess skirt of her green dress and flopped into the white leather chair, barely keeping the droplets of wine that were left in the glass.

  Allison stage-whispered, “Her ex called.”

  “Ben? Are you going to see him?” Brook reached for the glass again, but the nascent wino was too fast.

  “Hell no. He left me.” Julie stood up and poured more wine, barely hitting the inside of the flute.

  “Don’t spill!” Adam’s mother, Loraine, snatched the glass from Julie’s shaky hand.

  “You lose a couple pounds, and suddenly you can’t hold your liquor.” Brook lifted her hair away from her face.

  “Ooooh… Wear your hair like that.” Julie took the wine glass back and gulped it down. “And twenty pounds is more than a couple. Although I might gain those pounds back with all the wine I’m drinking.”

  Shay was in the seventh circle of hell. A teen-heartthrob concert, complete with yelling, laughing, and clapping…just minus the teen heartthrob. The only consolation was that Brook looked just as uncomfortable as Shay, wrestling with the neckline of the dress and turning a bright shade of red as the other women touched and tugged the material on her body. Maybe Shay could talk her into leaving early.

  Brook lifted up the hem of the dress and twirled. The women laughed.

  Dammit. Maybe not.

  This was why she had no female friends. Shay eased her phone from her pocket and willed it to ring. C’mon—robbery or vandalism or arson, anything to get her out of this torture. She wasn’t wishing for a violent felony. Just a simple one that would get her back to where she belonged, hanging with grunting, swearing men who showed two emotions—anger and jackassedness.

  She slid the phone back in her pocket as her eyes gulped down the summer sun sparkling through the windows. I bet the men are eating ribs and drinking beer. She looked back at the women twirling and giggling, empty wine bottles stacked in the little wicker wastebasket. She didn’t think there would be ribs and beer in her immediate future. Maybe finger sandwiches and lemonade.

  Yuck. Why would anyone want to eat a sandwich made out of fingers? She held back an internal groan. It was a little too soon to be making finger jokes. Thank goodness she didn’t say that out loud.

  Red fabric blurred in her vision before a face appeared inches from hers.

  “Your turn.” Adam’s girlfriend-future wife dangled a red dress in front of Shay, flapping it around matador-style. “I need you to try this on.”

  “I’m on duty.”

  “I have it narrowed down to three dresses. I just want to see them all together.” Allison swung the dress back and forth. Back and forth.

  “I can’t take the chance of someone coming in while

  I’m in the dressing room.”

  Adam’s mother spoke up. “Is that it? Glenda, can you lock the doors for a few minutes while Shay tries this on?”

  Why don’t you try it on? Shay wanted to ask, but Loraine would never fit into the single-digit-sized dress.

  A redhead with big curls bounced across the room and slid the bolt. “I’m the shop owner. This is the only entrance.”

  The lipstick smeared across her teeth showed as she smiled.

  “I need to keep an eye on Brook.” Now Shay knew how drowning felt.

  “She can go with you,” Julie said. “You can watch her and she can turn her back. Easy-peasy.” She got up and stood next to Allison. They were ganging up on her.

  Brook slid in next to her sister. “Please. It’s the only way this day will ever end.”

  Well, if she put it that way… Shay snagged the dress and headed into the dressing room.

  Brook’s footsteps tapped behind her until Todd took her arm. “You look amazing, but I need to get back to work.”

  “Thanks for the dress hookup.” Brook smiled, but it looked rather pained.

  “No problem. You do a little pro-bono legal work, and you get discounted dresses for life.” Todd smiled as he checked his phone again.

  Brook batted her eyelashes. “But if we take your discount, how will you get yourself a pretty dress?”

  “I think I’ll manage.” He leaned into her. “You know I’m always here for you.”

  “I know.”

  “Call me tomorrow.” He kissed Brook on the cheek. “I’m leaving you in good hands. You all look beautiful.”

  The women waved and said their goodbyes as Brook and Shay wandered into the dressing room.

  Shay hung the dress on a hook along the wall as Brook moved to the corner of the room. Shay closed the door and walked the twenty feet to the hook. Twenty feet? The room was huge, nothing like the typical department store closet that passed as a dressing room in her world. This room had fresh flowers and wall-to-wall mirrors.

  Wall-to-wall mirrors. She turned to Brook standing in the corner in dunce formation. Her eyes met Brook’s in the mirror. “Why are you turned around?”

  “I thought it would be more comfortable for you to get dressed with me facing away.”

  “Don’t bother. We’re in a fishbowl.”

  “True.” Brook turned and sat down on a white chair. Her eyes stayed focused on a piece of thread hanging from her dress.

  “So, is Todd a friend?”

  “Ex-boyfriend.”

  Shay stopped removing her shoes and stared at Brook. “Isn’t Todd gay?”

  “I didn’t know it at the time.” Brook’s red-tinged face lifted. “How did you know he was gay? And don’t say gaydar. Apparently, my gaydar’s broken when it comes to him.”

  Shay watched Brook’s eyes cloud. What was it about Todd? “Okay,” Shay said slowly. “Well, he is well-groomed.”

  “Well-groomed? He could be a metrosexual.”

  “True, but you put that together with the fact that three cute women were out there trying on dresses, practically showing all, and he didn’t flinch. I mean, your sister literally climbed up your dress—I’m assuming to fix something— and he didn’t get all hot and bothered. He was checking his text messages.”

  “I guess.”

  “Think of Joe. What would happen if he saw that spectacle?”

  “I’d be bent over that chair calling him Daddy.”

  “Ugh. I’m sorry I asked.” Shay unzipped her chinos. “But you get the point.”

  “Yeah, I get it. How about you? Ever get dumped by a boyfriend?”

  Now she remembered why she didn’t
have girlfriends.

  They asked questions. Questions she’d rather not answer.

  “C’mon, I showed you mine,” Brooke urged.

  “Fine. No. I was never dumped by a boyfriend, but I was dumped by my husband.”

  “Ouch. How long were you married?”

  “Three years.”

  “How did Shawn take it?”

  Shay felt a smile curve her lips. She knew she liked this woman. She got it. She understood. Most people told her how she was lucky they didn’t have any kids to make a divorce messy. But she did have a kid—Shawn. Things were messy, and the poor kid was stuck in the middle between his sister and the only father figure he’d ever really known.

  Flames licked the side of her stomach. That jackass. She’d forgiven Daryn for hurting her, but not for hurting Shawn. How could she, after what he did to her brother? The confusion and guilt he carried on his preteen shoulders. In his little- kid mind, he’d thought it was his fault they broke up.

  So he’d run away. He thought that Shay and her husband would get back to together if he wasn’t around to screw it up. She’d tried to explain that he didn’t screw it up. He was a child. The grown-ups did that all on their own. Poor Nip.

  Jackass.

  “It was hard at first, but I think he got over it. It’s nice to have Joe around. He talks football and video games and boy crap with him. You know, the things I couldn’t possibly understand because I don’t have a Y chromosome.”

  Shay finished undressing and lifted the dress over her head. Soft red silk flowed around her body. Her skin glistened. The light brown in her eyes softened. She looked good—completely ridiculous in the fancy-schmancy dress—but good.

  “That looks nice.” Brook stood up, watching Shay twist back and forth.

  Boobs. Who knew she actually had boobs? Cleavage peeked out the top of the dress. Shay was inches from twirling, the satiny material brushing against her skin. She could understand why women wore this stuff. She felt pretty, like a lady. Too bad she’d never get her actions to match the dress.

  “Let’s go face the firing squad.” Brook opened the dressing room door and waited for Shay to follow.

  Firing squad. She pushed on the neckline of the dress again. Yep, that about summed it up.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Brook’s eyelids closed as Allison rambled on, and on, and on. Dear Lord, why does anyone care if the bodice is beaded or not? Maybe Allison had mentioned why she cared, but Brook lost focus a half hour ago. A half hour discussion on beading. Really?

  Julie, Allison and Loraine seemed enthralled with the debate. Bead size and location and spacing…oh my! Thank goodness Todd had left. He’d be just as bored as she was. Shay’s stare told Brook they were in the same boat, both just standing there waiting to be pardoned from their undeserved penance.

  “What ’bout Shay’s dressh with a stash?” Julie giggled. “I mean a sash.”

  Julie’s wobbly legs made it across the room and she grabbed a long, wide red taffeta sash from the pile of discarded accessories. Despite having cut her off an hour ago, she was still riding the wine buzz, tripping, laughing, and slurring.

  Another day—not today—Brook needed to sit her down and talk. An intervention. If Ben was moving back, her wine-guzzling coping strategy would only ensure a weekly pass to an AA meeting.

  Julie swerved as she dragged the long strip of material across the room, flailing as she tried to lift it off the floor.

  “Why don’t you stand still, fold all that up, and then walk over here,” Brook suggested. Julie continued walking, staring at Brook with her head tilted and her eyes narrowed.

  Brook shook her head. Apparently, walking and comprehending directions were handled by the same part of Julie’s brain, because she tripped on the sash as she attempted to gracefully make it back to Shay. Total. Fail.

  It happened so fast, yet it felt like slow motion. As Julie tripped, the length of fabric wrapped itself around her calves, going taut. Her balance took a honeymoon as she tipped toward one of the chairs. She tried to kick free, but the heel of her shoe lodged in the hem of her dress.

  “Ahhh…” Julie screamed as she timbered over. “Help! I’m stuck.” Brook winced at the distinct sound of tearing fabric. Julie pulled and flailed. Eyes wide. More ripping sounds.

  “Stop! Do. Not. Tear. That. Dress.” Loraine rushed over, followed by the other women. “It’s a three-thousand-dollar dress.”

  Julie’s widened eyes lined with tears, but she didn’t move. “Get me out of this. Please.”

  Brook leaned over to help, sliding Julie’s shoe free. “Sit up, Jules.” Shay peered around Brook. “I think she’s bleeding.”

  Julie raised a hand to her forehead, and her hand came away bloody. “I think I might pass out.”

  Allison gasped. “Oh crap!”

  “Can someone get a towel? There should be paper towels in the back room.” The shop owner tipped Julie’s head back— probably concerned about the dress.

  Shay patted Julie’s shoulder. “It’s okay. Hang in there. Don’t pass out.”

  Brook took off to the back room. She understood why it was in the back. Tables were covered in fabric and dress trimmings. But no paper towels. She poked under half-finished dresses but nothing. Wait—staff bathroom. Paper towels. She’d never been so happy to see a giant roll of paper towels in her life.

  “Ms. Southby?”

  She turned toward the voice, a man’s voice. Crap. Dennis

  Maxwell Stark. “Dennis. What are you doing here?”

  He’d changed, although the familiar gap between his front teeth was still there.

  A severely receding hairline was fringed with unkempt hair, and he looked…older, and not in a good way.

  “I was in the neighborhood. I wanted to see you.” He made no move. Just stood there.

  “I’m happy to see you again, too. You look good.”

  “Now, that’s not true. Of all the things to get from my daddy, I got the early chrome-dome. My sister got the anger issues.”

  His sister was the one with the anger issues? Considering he beat his girlfriend till she lost her baby, this chick must have some scary-ass issues. “I remember her. Maggie, right? How is she?”

  “Angry.” Despite the subtle creases around his mouth and eyes, his face looked the same. He was that same scared young man who she met at the jail so many years ago. Her first case. Her first loss. He’d deserved better than what she’d given him. She’d been new and scared. But not anymore. The words danced on the tip of her tongue, the words she longed to say over and over during her career.

  She took a deep breath and said, “I’m so sorry for how everything turned out. Your case should’ve gone better and I’m so sorry.” Silence.

  He stared at her. Didn’t move or flinch. Then he spoke up. “Tell your goons to stay away from me.”

  “My goons?”

  “Your boyfriend. I didn’t do nothing wrong. I’m just trying to get on with my life.” He shuffled his feet as his eyes roamed around the room

  “I’ll tell them.”

  “Brook, what’s taking so long?” someone screamed from the front. “One second.” she yelled back as Dennis turned toward the door. “Goodbye, Ms. Southby.” As quick as he had appeared, he disappeared.

  “Goodbye, Dennis.” She snatched up the roll of paper towels closer and ran back to Julie.

  “Get lost?” Allison asked as she pressed some towels to Julie’s forehead. “We’re going to need to get her to a doctor. She needs stitches.”

  Stitches. Joe. Crap. She was going to have to tell them about Dennis.

  “What’s wrong?” Loraine smiled and laid a hand on Brook’s arm. “You’re a million miles away.”

  “I had a visitor in the back.”

  “What?” Shay stopped trying to get a better look at Julie’s head. “Dennis wanted to talk to me.”

  Shay flew up and slid her gun from her chinos laying on the chair. “Stark? Are you sure?” At
Brook’s nod, she ran to the back. The sound of locks clicking and doors opening filled the silent shop. She came barreling back a moment later. “We need to go. Let’s get changed and get out of here.”

  “But we need to get Julie to a doctor.” Brook jerked her arm out of Shay’s grasp. “Please.”

  “Fine. Everyone change and let’s go.”

  They all changed back into their street clothes. Not a smidge of blood had hit Julie’s gown, but the rip was embedded in the material. Loraine paid for the dresses while the other woman piled into their cars. Shay led the way, cherry spinning on the roof as they headed to the hospital.

  “You know I’m going to have to tell Adam. And Joe.” Shay swerved to avoid a cab that turned in front of her.

  “I know.” Brook stared out the window. Both men would be pissed. Both men would be impossible to deal with. Neither would understand.

  * * *

  “I don’t understand.” Joe’s fist hit the steering wheel. “How the hell did he get to her?”

  “Joe, calm down.” Shay’s voice came over the Bluetooth connection in his truck.

  “This is calm, Shay,” Adam said from the passenger seat, running a hand through his hair. “How the hell did he get that close?”

  “And why did you take her to the hospital?” Joe demanded. “Is she okay?”

  “Brook’s fine. Julie needs stitches.”

  The speedometer jumped as he hit the gas. “Wait, what? What did he do?” Dennis needed to be stopped. He was getting too damn close. He couldn’t imagine how scared Brook must feel.

  “It wasn’t Stark. It was a dress mishap.”

  “Dress mishap. What the hell does that mean?” He swerved into the entrance for the parking lot and followed the signs for the Emergency Room.

  “Why don’t you come here and we’ll talk? This over-the-phone thing isn’t working.”

  “We’re here now.” Joe turned into the first spot he found and disconnected the Bluetooth.

  “Joe, stop,” Adam said once they were out of the car, holding up his hand, but Joe just walked around his outstretched arm.