by Alisha Rai
“What are you doing?” Livvy asked, craning her neck to see what was on her mother’s legal pad. She caught a glimpse of a cartoon character before her mom covered the pad with her hand.
A torn-out page rested by Kareem’s leg, and Livvy picked it up, recognizing the chubby character instantly. “Hey. This is really good.”
“It’s nothing. Something to amuse the boy.” Her mother tried to snatch the paper, but Livvy neatly sidestepped her, taking in the sketch. This wasn’t good, it was excellent, the character’s face set in his usual sour lines, his leg raised like he was about to step off the page.
“It’s not nothing. I can’t tell you how many requests I get for this tattoo.”
“People get cartoon tattoos?” Kareem asked.
“Sure,” she said, at the same time her mom sternly said, “No.”
“You will not be getting any tattoos,” Tani told her grandson, ignoring Livvy. “It’s not for respectable people.”
Her heart jumped at the hint of subtle criticism. It was a happy jump. You’re sick to crave this type of attention.
Sadia joined them and perched on the arm of the sofa, holding the milk out to her child. Her face was placid again, whatever tension Jackson’s name had invoked gone. “Mom’s always drawing stuff for Kareem.”
“She is? You never drew stuff for us.” Her mother had loved and appreciated art, and she’d used a tiny room above their garage to store her supplies. Livvy had started sneaking sketchbooks and materials out of there from the time she was in third grade. It had been one thing they’d had in common.
But that had been a hobby Tani had only occasionally had time for. She certainly had never sat around and drawn pictures for her kids.
“You don’t remember the mural on your bedroom wall?” Maile asked.
Tani glanced at Maile, and Livvy didn’t miss the frown on her mother’s face. It cleared quickly, leaving her brow smooth again.
“The mural?” Livvy tracked the stray memory floating through her brain like a wispy ghost. “Wait. I do.” A castle, with a tiny, dark-haired, light-brown-skinned, freckled princess inside, with dark eyes just like hers. She and Jackson had shared a room then, and he’d been featured as a small knight on a steed, his wavy dark hair peeking out from under the helmet. “God, how old was I?”
Tani bowed her head and smoothed the paper out. “Four or five.”
“Six, I think she was,” Maile said. Her fingers flew, the yarn between them working up rapidly. “But you only had it up for a few months.”
After that, her room had been a soft baby blue until she’d hit high school and thrown a tantrum for blood red. “I remember being sad it got painted over so quick. Why did you spend all that time working on it if we were redecorating?”
“Well—” Maile started.
Tani closed her sketchbook with a sense of finality. “A whim.”
“I should get going,” Sadia said. “Livvy, I texted you all the emergency numbers, though Mom and Auntie have them too. Remember—”
“Noor will be here at 6:30. Got it.”
“Are you working at the bar tonight?” Maile asked, then continued before Sadia could answer. “Livvy, why don’t you go with Sadia tonight? You’ve been cooped up here with us since you got back. It’s not healthy.” Maile’s needles moved faster. Livvy had no idea what her aunt was making. She’d once peeked into her aunt’s closet to find it filled with plastic containers stuffed with yarn, but she didn’t know where the woman stashed her finished goods.
“I haven’t been cooped up.”
“That sounds like a good idea,” Tani said crisply. “You don’t need to be here.”
Oof.
She hid her flinch. She knew her mother meant she didn’t need to be at home tonight, but she couldn’t help but interpret it as you don’t need to be here at all.
Sadia glanced at her. “Sounds fun. It’s Friday, so I might get swamped, but we’ll surely have chances to talk.”
Livvy forced a smile. “Sure. That sounds great.” She didn’t know if it would be great or not, but what else did she have going on? Sitting at home and cooking and cleaning and trying to bond with her mom? Or staring and rereading her text messages to Nicholas? Neither of those things sounded particularly healthy.
And damn it. She was going to be healthy, even if it killed her.
Chapter 5
LIVVY WASN’T sure whether she was so relaxed at O’Killian’s because Sadia was here or because she had no memories attached to it. Either way, one drink in and the twisted knot that had turned her stomach into a mess for a week was finally unraveling.
The bar was about one step up from being classified as a dive, with retro booths lining the room, patrons eating greasy pub food and drinking affordable beer and creative cocktails. Livvy tapped her foot on the stool in time to the music coming from the jukebox and snagged a handful of peanuts. Loitering while her BFF worked wasn’t exactly the same as a proper girls’ night out, but they’d managed to chat between customers.
Sadia drifted over. “There are, like, two men at the other end of the bar who will not stop staring at you.”
“Cute?”
“Definite sevens, I would say.”
Livvy made a dismissive noise, not bothering to check them out. “Sevens aren’t worth the hassle of a hookup for me in this town.”
“They look a little on the young side. They may not know who you are.”
“With my luck, they work for Nicholas.” A pang hit her when she said his name, but the alcohol had dulled it. Why, she barely felt the urge to pull out her phone and stare at those fucking messages.
Barely.
“Oof.” Sadia winced. “That’s a definite risk. Never mind, you’re right. Can I get you another drink?”
“Sure.”
“What are you in the mood for?”
“Hmm. Something classic.”
Sadia grabbed a shaker. Her competent hands were a blur as she mixed sugar, lemon juice, water, and gin in a highball glass. She stirred the liquid and garnished it with a couple raspberries before sliding it across the bar. “Gin Fix.”
Livvy picked up the glass and took a sip. “Nice. What year?”
“Late 1860s.” Sadia wiped the counter down.
The holidays were still months away, but Livvy made a mental note to see what she could find for Sadia in the way of old mixology books. The girl was a history nerd.
“This place has a lot of character,” Livvy said.
“Character’s a nice way of putting it.”
“It’s character.” She tipped her head down the bar at the man wearing flip-flops and a neon-green suit. “It has characters in it.”
“Ha. Well, characters tip well.”
“They tip you well, because you’re hot.”
Sadia gave her a mock glare. She’d changed out of her mom clothes. With her curves poured into tight black jeans and a tank top, she was hot. “Excuse me, I’m also really good at pouring drinks.”
“Uh-huh. That’s what’s got that blonde down at the other end of the bar so entranced.”
Sadia slid a surreptitious glance down the bar. “The guy or the girl?”
“The girl.”
“Huh.” Sadia cleared her throat. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not looking for a relationship right now.”
“Damn.” Livvy shook her head sadly. “Now you’ve done it.”
“Done what?”
“Said the words that ensure a relationship smacks you in the face.”
“I see you’re still a romantic.”
Livvy’s smile faded, but Sadia was talking, her words rehearsed and practiced. “I have a business and a son. The last thing I have time for is another person.”
Livvy shrugged. “An affair might be fun.”
Sadia leaned closer. “Actually . . . I’ve had a few of those this year. Flings.”
Livvy opened her eyes wide. “No!”
Sadia’s lips twitched. “Okay, okay, Ms. Woman of
the World. It was a big deal for me. I’d only really been with Paul.”
“Please don’t violate our lifelong code of not talking about you and my brother like that.”
“I’m not giving you details.”
Livvy screwed her eyes shut. “Bless you. Anyway, I think you should have as many affairs as you want. I can give you man-slash-woman hunting tips.”
Sadia fiddled with the tiny apron wrapped around her waist. “I thought it may be strange for you.”
“Since you’re Paul’s widow? Nah. I want you happy.” She took a sip of her drink.
Sadia squared her shoulders. “I’m not going overboard. I realized I’ll be hitting thirty soon. It feels like I should do something new and exciting.”
Sadia mommed everyone so well, Livvy felt like she could be forgiven for forgetting the other woman was younger than her. “Thirty makes you rethink things, for sure. It’s the new twenty, though, or so I hear.”
“Will I get back the ass I had at twenty?”
“No, just the financial stress and the sinking feeling that you don’t know what to do with your life.”
“I’d rather have the ass.”
“That blonde doesn’t seem to mind your ass.”
Sadia leaned forward more, slightly arching her back. “You sure?”
Livvy studied the patron out of the corner of her eye. “Uh-huh.”
Sadia gave another surreptitious glance down the bar and her brown skin darkened. “Ahem. I suppose I should go freshen her drink.”
“Is that what they’re calling it now?”
Sadia’s quelling look only made Livvy chuckle, reminding her of their teenage years when they had snuggled in twin beds in her room, giggling over crushes. Then Sadia had fallen for her brother, and giggling over crushes had been a bit more awkward.
Sadia started to walk away, but then froze, looking out at the floor of the bar. Confusion wrinkled her brow. “Huh.”
“What?”
Sadia’s face went blank. “Nothing. Hey, do you want to go sit on the patio?” A fixed smile appeared. “It’s so beautiful out tonight.”
Sadia was really shitty at subterfuge. “It’s cold and gonna drizzle any minute,” Livvy said, and glanced over her shoulder, wondering what had made Sadia’s eyes widen.
It was almost midnight, so the crowd had grown over the last hour. Her eye was caught by a small, plump woman sitting alone in a booth, mostly because of the way she was dressed, buttoned up in an expensive black trench coat, pink scarf draped over her head, and oversized sunglasses. “Who’s the movie star—” The woman turned her head. Though her eyes were hidden, Livvy could tell the girl was looking at her. She cocked her head, and the gesture, combined with the familiar curve of her cheek, made the breath strangle in Livvy’s throat. “Oh.”
The last time she’d seen Evangeline Chandler, the night before the accident, she’d been a quiet, shy thirteen-year-old, asking Livvy to read one of her favorite books with her.
Gossip had it that the girl had had to be sedated when she’d been told her mother died.
Livvy jerked around. “Has she come here before?”
Sadia didn’t bother to pretend she hadn’t also recognized the woman. “I’m not sure. She’s not exactly our type of clientele. I’ve only seen her once or twice over the years. She keeps to herself.” Sadia watched Livvy with great concern. “Are you okay?”
“Sure.” No, she was not, but there wasn’t much she could do about it. “Are you? With her being here?”
Sadia gave a helpless shrug. “I don’t subscribe to this family feud, love. As far as I’m concerned, I’m neutral ground.”
Livvy didn’t subscribe to the feud either. It had been forced upon her. “That’s good. I mean, she has as much right to be here as anyone else.”
“Now, if she upsets you, I will—”
“Kill her, stab her, trip her. I know.”
“Do you want my car keys? You can go home now and come back and get me when my shift’s over.”
She wanted to say yes, so badly. Her stomach was in knots all over again. Whatever relaxation she’d won in the last couple of hours had disappeared.
A man from down the bar loudly hailed Sadia. “Hey, we gonna get some service here?”
A rare flash of temper lit Sadia’s eyes. “Asshole,” she muttered.
“No, I’m fine. Go do your work. I’ll be okay.”
With another concerned glance at Evangeline, Sadia moved away reluctantly. “Call me if you need me.”
“Flirt with the blonde,” Livvy said, trying to sound like her peaceful evening hadn’t just become anything but.
Livvy fidgeted with her glass for a couple of long moments, the back of her neck itching. She’d assumed some people had recognized her, but she hadn’t felt exposed until this minute.
She picked up her glass and took another sip. She had a weakness for good, expensive alcohol. She’d tried to shake it, since it was a little too much of a reminder of the extensive stash in her father’s office that she’d started sneaking sips out of when she was around seventeen. This top-shelf drink could have been made entirely with water, though, for all the appreciation she could spare it now.
This isn’t a big deal. It was entirely possible Eve was simply out on the town and a coincidence they’d both ended up at the same practically-a-dive bar. She was, what, twenty-three now? At that age, Livvy had been hanging out in way more disreputable places than this. But then, Livvy hadn’t had much more than a few hundred bucks to her name then. Eve had millions.
Millions that should have been ours, Paul muttered in her ear.
Nope. Adjusting to not having limitless funds had been tough in the beginning, but once she’d grown comfortable, she hadn’t missed it too much.
She was moving forward, not looking back. Livvy swung her leg on the barstool, trying to find the rhythm of the music again. She ate a peanut from the bowl, but it tasted like ashes. She tapped her fingers against the glass and snuck a peek at the sevens down the bar. They were, indeed, still eyeing her, but Livvy couldn’t muster up any enthusiasm.
Fuck it.
Pretending to stretch, she glanced over her shoulder. Then looked again, forgetting to be casual.
Eve wasn’t alone. Her fingers were clenched tight around her drink while the man who had dropped into an empty seat at the table leaned over the smaller girl. He was big and muscular, every inch of his body screaming predatory animal who had found his prey.
“Hey there.”
Livvy cast a single glance at the man standing next to her. One of the sevens. Ginger. Late twenties. Polo shirt. “Hey.”
Eve had shrunk back in her seat, her gaze downcast as she picked at the napkin on the table. The man was doing all of the talking.
Not your business. Not your—
“. . . Buy you a drink?” Polo Shirt asked.
The man leaned in closer, and Eve flinched back.
Ugh. She wasn’t one to cockblock a lady, but Eve’s body language was not screaming receptiveness.
Livvy grabbed her glass and her jacket. “Got a drink, thanks. Sorry. I see a friend.”
She strode up to the table. “There you are, Karen. I was looking all over for you.”
Eve’s face turned to her, and Livvy had to control her flinch. Her ridiculous disguise couldn’t hide the similarities she shared with Nicholas. Her jaw was the softer, feminine version of his.
“Karen? You said your name was Evangeline,” the guy said, disgruntled annoyance on his face. Livvy wasn’t sure if it was annoyance at the interruption or at having been given a fake name, but either way, getting annoyed at such a simple thing was a screaming red flag.
“Evangeline? That’s a new one.” She dropped down in the seat on the other side of Eve and stared coolly at the man. “Girls’ night, bro. Scooch along.”
“I don’t like being called a bro,” he sneered.
She glanced over his styled blond hair, spray tan, and V-neck T-shirt. “Okay
.” She paused. “Bro.”
“We were having a good time—”
“You want to talk to this guy here?” she asked Eve.
A single shake of her head.
“You heard the lady.” Livvy bared her teeth at him. “Off you go.”
With a grumble, the man lumbered away from the table. She caught Sadia’s attention and ignored the woman’s look of surprise. Livvy pointed to her eyes and then the back of the large guy, and Sadia’s mouth tightened. She leaned over and whispered something to the man working next to her, who cast an assessing eye at the dude she’d ejected.
Assured that Sadia would keep an eye on things, Livvy turned her attention to Eve. She couldn’t exactly get up and leave now, not when the bro was still hovering.
They stared at each other for a long minute. Finally, Evangeline removed her sunglasses and placed them on the table, and unwound the scarf, letting it hang around her neck. Dark eyes met dark and Livvy had to control her flinch. Eve had always favored her mom in looks, but now that she was older, that likeness had gone into doppelganger territory. Eve’s hair was stick straight, unlike Maria’s curls, and her cheeks were rounder and rosier, but other than that, they could have been twins.
Livvy spoke first. “I’m surprised after you dressed up like a 1920s lady spy, you’d give that guy your real name.”
Eve tugged at her scarf. “I was caught off-guard. Dumb.”
Livvy shifted, feeling every inch of the years that separated the two of them. “Not dumb. Naive, maybe.”
“You’re not naive,” Eve replied, with no inflection in her voice. She picked up her drink, a pink liquid in a large martini glass, and took a sip. An empty glass sat at her elbow. She’d been here awhile before Livvy had noticed her.
“I’m not. But I’m also much older than you.”
“Not that much.” Eve straightened and looked her in the eye. “Hello, Olivia.”
“Hi, Eve. I still prefer Livvy.”
“Most people call me Evangeline now.”
Nicholas didn’t, Livvy bet. He’d always hauled Eve in close, affectionately squeezing her. Evangeline is too big of a name for a little squirt like you. Livvy and the rest of the family had followed suit.
She inhaled. Rest of the family. She’d been a part of that family then, yes, but no longer. “I’ll remember that.”