“And he’s my father. Who, by the way, left me everything after he died. Not you.” I smile sweetly. “Remember?”
Her green eyes flash, making me regret taunting her. I’d warned Steve not to poke a bear, and here I am, doing the same thing. I guess I’m my father’s daughter.
“Well, he’s not dead anymore, is he?” Her lips twist in a smug smile. “So I guess you’re back to having what you’re used to—nothing.”
I falter, because she’s right. I didn’t particularly care about all the money Steve left me in his will, but now that it’s gone, I really do have nothing. No, that’s not true. I have the ten thousand dollars Callum gave me when I got back to Bayview after running away.
I make a mental note to hide that cash the first chance I get.
“You have nothing, too,” I point out. “Steve controls everything around this place, and it didn’t look like he was too happy with you at dinner. What’d you do to piss him off so hard?” I pretend to think it over. “I know. Maybe you killed Brooke.”
Her jaw drops in outrage. “Watch your mouth, little girl.”
“What? Did I hit a nerve?” I narrow my eyes at her. “Am I getting too close to the truth?”
“You want the truth? Brooke was my best friend—that’s the truth. I’d kill you before I’d ever kill her. Besides, I’ve learned that accidents aren’t the best way to get rid of people.” She smiles savagely. “I have a gun and I’m not afraid to use it.”
I gape at her. “Did you just confess to trying to kill Steve?” Oh man. Where’s a recorder when you need it?
She lifts her chin as if she’s proud of her actions. “Watch yourself, Princess. When it comes to children, I’m a big believer in the saying seen but not heard. As long as you stay out of my way, I’ll stay out of yours.”
I don’t believe her, not for a hot second. She’s going to get some serious pleasure out of tormenting me now that I live under her roof. And was that comment about the gun a threat? Holy hell.
“Watch yourself,” Dinah says again, then flounces out of my room and closes the door behind her.
I stay in bed. There’s no point in getting up and locking the door when I know that any keycard can open the darn thing.
Taking a breath, I shut off the light and close my eyes. Visions of Dinah flashing a gun in my face pop up, along with ones of Reed behind bars.
Sleep is elusive.
* * *
Don’t lose ur temper with S. Not worth it. He’ll come around.
That’s the text Reed sends me before he leaves for practice on Monday morning, and it’s pretty much the same thing he’s been saying to me this whole weekend.
This whole long, terrible, long, frustrating, long weekend.
Come around, my ass.
Steve has already gotten me fired from my job and decided I’m trying out for a school team—you’d think that would be enough. But nope, it’s not.
Last night, he informed me he was imposing a curfew. I have to be home by ten each evening, and I have to turn on the location finder on my phone so he can keep tabs on me. I’ve already decided that in the future I’ll be leaving my phone at home. There’s no way I’m making it easier for him to find me.
The problem is, this Friday is the Riders’ first playoffs game. Reed was cleared to play, and I desperately want to go because I’ve decided I’m done with Reed’s reluctance. Every day that he’s the prime suspect in Brooke’s case is a day that rattles my sense of security. If we’re supposed to act normally, if we’re supposed to at least pretend that all is well in our lives, then this distance between us should not exist.
It’s time for us to have sex. I don’t care if I have to play dirty to make that happen. So I’m going to seduce him. The away game is the perfect place to do it, and there’s an amusement park thirty minutes away that a bunch of kids were talking about going to. The plan is—or was—to use that as an excuse to stay overnight.
Except now, with Steve’s stupid curfew, I don’t know how I’ll be able to swing it. Hopefully Val can help me figure it out today. But I’m going on that away trip, one way or another.
I finish brushing my hair, tuck my shirt into my skirt, and grab my backpack.
Out in the living room, Steve is lounging on the couch, paging through a newspaper. Doesn’t he ever work?
Dinah is at the dining table, sipping a flute of orange juice. Or maybe it’s a mimosa because I don’t think people use fancy glasses for their OJ.
She eyes me over the rim, a smirk forming on her pouty lips. “That skirt is rather short for school, don’t you think?”
The paper rustles as Steve lowers it. He frowns as he examines my uniform.
I look down at my white shirt, open blue blazer and ugly pleated skirt. “This is my uniform.”
Dinah glances at her husband. “I didn’t realize the headmaster at Astor Park Prep encouraged his female students to dress like whores.”