“You look beautiful,” Dean whispered into my ear. I was dressed in a skintight black bodysuit with skeleton bone graphics, six-inch stilettos, a red Saint Laurent bag, and perfectly blown-out hair.
I kissed him on the cheek, and he led me to the front door, where a man wearing a Phantom of the Opera mask was standing with a tray of champagne glasses. He welcomed us, and we each took a glass. We waltzed into the house. It was impeccably decorated and on theme. The house was lit with only crystal chandeliers, candles, and party lights, making it difficult to see others. There were spiderwebs and skeletons and red bead curtains throughout. All the servers were dressed liked dominatrices, clad with leather and chains. The music boomed throughout the house, and the place was crowded with most everyone who was anyone from Buckhead. Dean and I made our way to the pool area, where the decor continued.
“Bryce and Crystal went all out,” Dean said into my ear.
“With our money,” I said under my breath.
The music was turned down a couple of notches. I scanned the party and found Crystal chatting with Shannon on the far end of the pool. What were they talking about? Actually, why were they even talking to one another?
“Get us something to eat,” I said to Dean as I walked away from him. As I got closer, Karen, Keisha, and Jenny joined the gathering.
“Hello, ladies,” I said, surveying each of them. My eyes stopped on Karen. Oh, you have to be fucking kidding me. It was like looking in a goddamn mirror. She looked exactly like me, even down to the purse—the one she had given me today. Why the hell did she have two of the same red Saint Laurent purse?
“Wow, Karen, look at you. They do say that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery,” I said, sipping my champagne. “Is this the only way you can get Mark into bed?”
Karen’s eyes tightened. I thought for sure she would strangle me right then and there. I watched Keisha’s hand slide behind Karen’s back. She was rubbing it. Karen was clearly having her cake and carpet munching it too. I wondered if I could get more money out of her. It seemed she had no intention of telling Mark the truth, nor of breaking it off with him or Keisha.
“I think you both look great,” Jenny said. Always the peacekeeper, never anything else. Such a bore of a person.
“This party really is wonderful, Crystal,” Karen gushed.
“Yes. I was just going to say the same thing. It looks extravagant and expensive.” I raised an eyebrow at Crystal. “And where is the host of the evening?” I wouldn’t be able to enjoy myself until I had the money.
“He’s around.” Crystal looked away from me. “I have to check in with the caterers.”
“Do you need any help?” Shannon asked. I hadn’t even noticed her. She was nothing. Crystal nodded, and the two walked off. I didn’t like that they were getting along, but it was something I’d take care of after my arrangement with Bryce was completed. Shannon’s apology was too late. Seriously, if she would have apologized the night it happened, it would have still been too late. Her whole I’m not the same person anymore was a load of shit. People don’t change. Crystal had her ex-husband, and I had her chairwoman position. There was nothing left in Buckhead for Shannon. I took another slow sip of my champagne, scanning the party.
My phone buzzed.
I pulled it out of my purse. It was a text from Bryce.
Meet me in ten minutes in the guesthouse. Back door is unlocked.
I smiled and stowed my phone. Perfect. Everything was going according to plan. Karen gave me a peculiar look when she noticed I was smiling.
“What are you so happy about?” she snipped.
“I get to be me. Why wouldn’t I be happy?”
73
Shannon “He’s at the bar. You’re good to go,” Crystal said as she watched her husband chat with Dean and Mark. She handed me a key.
“Text me if he’s coming.”
She nodded. I walked into the kitchen and then stumbled into the foyer, acting as though I was tipsy. If anyone asked where I was going or what I was doing, I would pretend to be inebriated—not far-fetched, considering my recent history of overindulging at social events. But tonight I was sober. I crawled under the crime scene tape and made my way up the stairs undetected. Everyone was mostly outside, except for a few servers and workers. But the help never asked questions. I stood in front of Bryce’s office door, key in hand. Crystal had taken it earlier, made a copy, and returned the original before Bryce noticed it was missing. This was it. We were going to take that monster down. I slid the key in the lock and turned it. It opened with ease. I tiptoed into the office and locked the door behind me.
I texted Crystal.
I’m in.
Powering up the computer, I took a seat at the large oak desk. A password screen popped up.
Password?
Good. He’s still at the bar. Bryce2024.
The text popped up on my phone. I rolled my eyes. This moron actually thinks he’s running for president in 2024. I quickly typed it in, and the computer booted up. I browsed the desktop, searching for the folder Crystal mentioned. It wasn’t there. I went to the search bar and typed in Insurance Policy. No results.
Shit. It’s not here. The folder isn’t here.
I started clicking anything and everything. Each folder that opened wasn’t what we were looking for. He must have deleted it. Must have gotten scared when Olivia went to him. We knew they had made some sort of deal.
The text lit up my screen.
He’s coming. Get out of there now.
Shit. I quickly closed out of everything and turned off the computer. I heard footsteps outside the office door. I glanced around the room frantically. There was no closet to hide in. I crouched down, crawled underneath the desk, and pulled the chair in as far as it would go. The key slid into the lock. The door opened. The lights flicked on. A phone rang.
“Bryce Madison,” he said.
There was silence as he walked farther into his office.
“I’m taking care of it now.”
He opened a desk drawer. I was barely out of sight. I held my breath. I had never been afraid of Bryce before, but knowing what he had done—what he was doing—I was terrified. People without morals were meant to be feared.
“It ends tonight,” he said. He hit a button on his phone and slid it back into the pocket of his pants. He closed the desk drawer, and I heard a click, followed by a click, click, click.
He has a gun.
I quickly texted Crystal without even looking at my phone.
I heard him rustle around a bit more. The sound of a zipper on a bag, things being tossed around, and the gun—the bullets sliding into the clip, the clip into the chamber, and the hammer being pulled back. He was going to use that gun tonight.
74
Crystal Shit. Are you okay?
I fired off the message. I didn’t know what to do. I walked to the foyer, ready to charge up those stairs and do whatever I needed to. The crime scene tape was ripped down. Bryce had clearly been in a hurry. I kept staring at the phone, waiting for Shannon to text me back, to tell me everything was fine. Just as I was about to bolt up the stairs, Bryce came jogging down them.
“Party’s down here,” I said calmly. He was carrying a duffel bag and had a look of determination on his face.
“I have to run an errand. I’ll be back in a bit,” he said as he reached me.
“Now? But the party . . .” I pouted.
“I know, I know. It won’t take long.” He kissed me on the forehead.
“You’re going to miss the fireworks show.”
“I won’t. I promise. I have to go.” He walked out the front door, closing it behind him. I took a deep breath and ran up the stairs as fast as I possibly could. Shannon hadn’t texted back. Out of breath, I tried to open the office door, but it was locked. I pounded on it.
“Shannon,” I cried out. “Open the door! Are you okay?”