GAME ON, LULU. U STRUCK 1ST. I LIT THE MATCH. - L
My blood runs cold at the last message, but I try to act cool. The last thing Mel needs is to know how freaked out I am. Lulu is something personal that I’ve kept between us. Unless she’s told someone, I can’t think of anyone capable of this level of cruelty who knows I call her that.
The final message came in this afternoon and appears to be what caused her flipping out. I just don’t know why she didn’t tell someone. She should have called the cops. She should have called me.
“Is there anything else that’s happened recently? Anything even remotely strange?”
She’s silent, but she lifts her head and meets my eyes. Her mascara has mostly worn off from all the crying, and her lower lip trembles. I can’t help myself. I reach out and drag my thumb down her lip and cup her cheek.
“Tell me, baby.”
“Mom ordered my dress for the Heroes in Action ball, and when it came in, it had a note attached to it, which is very unlike the shop owner to do. It said “Welcome home, Lulu,” and it smelled like gasoline. Mom contacted the shop, and they knew nothing about the note. Then the pictures started coming in. Two days ago I went digging in my purse for my wallet and found a bunch of broken match sticks in the bottom of it.”
“Is that everything?” I’m trained to keep a level head in scary situations. I’ve been with the fire department since I was twenty-one years old and was raised by a man whose life slogan is “keep calm,” but this scares the shit out of me. Depending on the origins of a fire and any chemicals or materials it comes in contact with, it can go from small and manageable to an all-out multi-alarm blazer in a matter of moments. But I know how to handle a fire. I have the equipment and a team backing me that’s trained to identify a fire’s weakness and how best to take it down.
This shit?
Someone fucking with my girl?
I have no idea how to handle this or to make it stop, and it pisses me the fuck off that I feel like a failure who can’t keep her safe.
“I think so. I don’t know,” she says. “You could always ask her.”
“Listen to me,” I say quietly and get as close as I can while still keeping her eyes on me. “I don’t think Lydia did this. I know her well enough to know this wasn’t her. I wish I thought it was, because a jealous ex causing trouble isn’t all that bad in the grand scheme of things.”
“If it isn’t Lydia, then who is it? Who would do this to me?” she asks. Her eyes well with tears. I brush them away and hold her close to me, doing the only thing I can do in this moment to try to comfort her.
Chapter 16
Melanie
“My toes are gorgeous,” Janet says with a big smile on her face. I peek over at her feet and admire the peach polish she’s chosen.
“I love spa day,” my mom says with a content sigh. “Though I wish we could have made an actual day out of it.” Her pointed glare isn’t something I miss. But I’m distracted by her disapproval of my day’s plans and nearly miss the smirk on Royal’s face. She’s sitting across from me in a massaging spa chair with a glass of orange juice in her hand.
She raises the glass to her lips as she says, “Next time, I say we leave the spoilsport at home.”
Claire raises her glass of champagne from beside me and says, “Hear, hear!”
“Oh, leave the girl alone,” Janet says. She leans over and twirls a strand of my hair affectionately. She does this a lot, and I still don’t know what it’s about, but it makes me feel wanted and loved. And I love her, so I don’t really care why she does it. I open my mouth to thank her, for defending me but then she finishes her thought. “She’s sorting out which one of my sons is going to father her children. She needs time with them both.”
It’s no use arguing with her. While Royal’s on shift later and is drinking orange juice, my mother and sister have been drinking champagne. Janet brought her own whiskey and only asked the salon to supply the glass. Royal was embarrassed for half a second, until I decided that a spa day between the Kincaid and the Hayes women required hard liquor. I’ve had two glasses, but dear Janet’s had at least four.
“Mom, you’re getting weird,” Royal says and covers her face with her hands.
“No, no, let’s discuss,” my mother says gleefully. Claire and Royal slink down in their chairs and don’t meet anyone’s eyes. I hate that Bailey and Rae both had to work today. They’re mature enough to defend me from our mothers. At least that’s what I’ve spent the last hour telling myself.
I lean over with my glass and point at the emptiness of it, then crook my finger and raise my eyebrows.