I do look terrible.
She angrily tossed her phone back into her bag and slumped over to the side. The chair no longer had the power to relax her, so she shut it off. The three women sat in an awkward silence with only the sound of the technicians chatting back and forth to each other.
By the time Ligia came back, Trudy and her three assistant stylists were ready to start on everyone’s hair and makeup.
“Martinique, you will have your hands full with Annabeth there. Her hair is long overdue for some work. I was thinking maybe a Brazilian blowout. Spare no expense. I want these ladies to be the stars of the gala.”
Martinique smiled back at Brooke, but Annabeth’s jaw dropped. Her piercing green eyes glared at Brooke through the reflection of the mirrors. Vi—caught in the crossfire—didn’t know what to do. She knew Brooke meant well. If only Annabeth knew her like Vi did.
“Rita, a little help here,” she whispered, a short prayer of intercession.
“You’re in really good hands,” she said louder so that Anna could hear, while the stylist ran her fingers through Vi’s glossy black hair.
“What are we doing with you today, Miss Vi?”
Before she could answer, Brooke spoke up, “Excuse me. Yoo-hoo. Didn’t you get my text?”
The stylist scrambled for her phone and pulled up the message.
“Don’t I get a say in this?” Vi said under her breath.
“Really, Vi. Trust me. You know as much about style as I do about bull riding. Let me handle this. Okies?”
Vi felt her cheeks get hot, but did her best to bite the anger back down. Brooke didn’t know that she’d finally broken things off with Ricky or how much her comment was like a knife to her heart.
The stylist put down her phone and started to cut large sections of Vi’s hair, and all she could do was sit there in horror and watch as black ribbons of hair fell around her at an alarming rate. She kept her eyes down to hide the glassy sheen of unshed tears that threatened to spill at any minute. Then came the dye, and lots of it. The noxious smell of chemicals made her stomach turn, while the too loud crinkle of the aluminum foil being wrapped around the strands of painted hair boomed in her eardrums.
Time passed, she was sure of it, but she had kind of stopped paying attention. A warm hand reach across and grabbed onto hers.
“Vi, are you all right?” Annabeth asked, just barely above a whisper.
“Yes… I’m fine.”
Anna’s eyes narrowed in disbelief.
“Hello! Earth to Vi!” Brooke’s expression implied she’d tried more than once to get her attention. “I’m leaving. Can you drop Ligia off at my house when she is done?”
She nodded. “Yeah, sure. Of course.”
Brooke rolled her eyes as she spun around to take off, which added to her feeling of violation.
The three women who remained were all put under the dryers and then back into the chairs for makeup. As Vi’s stylist took the foil off, she couldn’t help but gasp at what she saw. While she was definitely still angry at Brooke, she was also stunned by the sight. Her hair, which had always been plain black, was now a rainbow of reds, blondes, and browns mixed seamlessly together.
“Wow,” she said under her breath.
“Yes, Miss Brooke picked the perfect look for you. And I like to think I helped a little, too.” The woman smiled, obviously proud of her work, as she grabbed two threads and set to work on Vi’s eyebrows.
Anna glowered and crossed her arms. “Gorgeous or not, it doesn’t take away from the fact that she didn't give her a say in her own hair.”
The stylist clucked her tongue and motioned for Annabeth to hush. “I don't hear Vi complaining, so there’s no need for you to. Anyway, Mrs. Fischer has settled all your bills, so y’all can leave whenever you feel ready.”
She watched in embarrassment as her stylist walked off in a huff to the customer who had just walked in. Her newest neighbor tended to shoot straight from the hip, which might have worked well and fine back in Detroit, but this was Texas. Respect was non-negotiable here.
“I’m sorry if I caused more trouble, Vi, but this was just wrong. She treats you like a child.”
Ligia walked up to the women with her bag in hand. “Are you girls ready?”
Just then Vi’s phone rang with the shelter’s ring tone. “Excuse me, I have to take this.” She stepped over to the side for privacy. “Vi speaking.”
“You need to come. Now. Anjali’s parents won't let her come home. She’s really distraught and will only talk to you.”
“All right, I’ll be there in a minute.”
I can’t even get a few hours away from that place.
“Sorry, Ligia. I have to go to the shelter. A client needs my help.”
Annabeth perked up. “The same girl you told me about earlier?”
“Yeah, she’s upset and will only talk to me.”
Ligia fluffed her hair. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll just order a ride,” she said, pulling her phone out from her purse.
“Don’t!” Annabeth put her hand over the girl's phone to stop her. “Call a cab instead.”
Ligia rolled her eyes. “Jeez, calm down. It’s perfectly safe.”
Annabeth grew flush. “No—no, it’s not. One of my students went missing. The last I saw of her was when she got into one of those paid-car service cars. Haven’t you read about all the sexual assaults, too?”
For a second, Ligia’s face took on a ghostly pallor. “You’re joking right?”
Annabeth shook her head. “No, I’m really not.”
“Fine, I’ll take a cab.”
“I’ll call ya one, sugar,” Trudy said as she grabbed her phone.
Vi felt some tension leave her chest, which had felt tight all week.
“Do you think your client would talk to me?” Anna asked with eyes full of hope.
Her breath quickened as the many sources of her stress piled on top of each other and pushed her down. “I can ask her, but I can't promise anything. She signed a confidentiality agreement that gave me permission to talk to the police, but I don’t know how she would feel talking to a P.I.”
Annabeth held up her hand to stop Vi. “Don’t worry. I know what I'm doing. I won't push her. But if she has information that might save these girls from being taken...well, how can I not at least try?”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Brooke
Brooke ran around the empty house, alternating between quick phone calls and shouty all-caps texts. The gala was tonight, and she needed to be sure it would go off without a hitch, even if that meant pushing all her contractors—and even her volunteers—to the brink of madness. She hadn’t become the best in the biz by putting everyone’s feelings before the work that needed to be done. They could all hate her for now. She knew how to win them back.
Just a couple more hours to go.
Gosh, how will it all get done in two measly hours?
The garage door rumbled, and she shot to her feet in search of the kitchen clock. Dizzy, so dizzy. She sunk back onto the couch and took a few deep breaths, then reached for her phone. Brian wasn’t due back for another hour and a half, but...
“Honey, I’m home!” His voice boomed across the threshold. What, did he think this was a 1950’s sitcom, and why was he in such good spirits anyway? His moods were becoming impossible to predict.
Still, he had promised he’d make it home in time for the gala, and even though she’d set herself up for disappointment, he’d actually made good on his word. That had to count for something.
She stumbled to her feet again, slower this time, and went to greet her husband.
Just keep swimming. Just keep swimming.
“Hi, baby,” she chirped, kissing his cheek. “You’re home early.”
Brian tossed his briefcase into the corner, then placed a firm hand on each side of her butt and squeezed. He attacked her with a deep, hungry kiss.
“You know how delivering closing arguments gets me all worked up. Man,
I could hardly make it home. I need you so bad.” He rubbed his erection against her thigh. Did he even notice that she was all dressed up? Did he remember that tonight was one of the biggest nights of her career? Have any idea how much still needed to be done?
“Mmm,” he hummed and leaned in for another kiss.
She returned his kiss for a moment, but then pushed him away. As things were, she’d already need to touch up her makeup and make sure there were no palm imprints on her rear.
“Bri, I can’t.”
He laughed. “You can’t? C’mon, Brooke baby, just give me a little quickie. Believe me, I earned it today. If you could’ve seen me in that courtroom, you’d be just as hot as I am.” He began working the buttons on his shirt and pressed his hot mouth to her neck.
“Brian, tonight’s the gala. Remember? And I’m kind of running the whole thing. I don’t have time to…”
“Don’t have a few minutes for your husband? C’mon, Brookey B. Don’t be ridiculous. Tell you what, no foreplay. It will be the quickest of quickies.” He reached around for the zip on her gown, but she wriggled loose. The last thing on her mind right now was sex. Why couldn’t he understand that?
“Brian, I really don’t have time for this. I would if I could, but there’s still a lot to do, and I don’t have time to redo my hair and makeup. I promise when I get home tonight, we can—”
He silenced her with a kiss and pushed her up against the counter, lowering the straps on either side of her dress.
She pressed hard against his chest, but he was much stronger than her and very determined to get his way. Should she just give in? They were married, and they were trying for a baby. It’s not like Brian was wrong to expect sex from his wife. Shouldn’t she just take one for the team?
No. Because this was America where no still meant no, or at least it should.
She just couldn’t afford to lose any more time from her schedule. She still was feeling a bit woozy, besides. Who knew what the rush of an orgasm might do to throw her even more off-kilter.
She turned her head away, so he would have to stop kissing her—at least on the mouth where he was smudging her lipstick. “Brian, I said no.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t mean it, now, did you?” He grabbed her hard and forced her face toward him. His other hand clenched down on her wrist. Not only was this decidedly not sexy, but it hurt.
“No means no, jerkface,” Ligia said stomping into the room.
Brooke hadn’t even heard her come in, but her timing couldn’t have been better.
Brian laughed nervously. “It’s just a game we play. No harm done.” He turned away from Ligia and shot Brooke an irritated look, daring her to say otherwise. “I need to get back to the office anyway. Have a great time tonight, girls!”
Her husband put on his most endearing smile, gave Ligia a quick hug, then headed back out the door, forgetting to do up his buttons first or to grab his discarded briefcase. “Good to see you again, Liggy,” he called before slamming the door and disappearing entirely from the house.
“Ick. What happened, Auntie B? That did not look good.”
Honestly, Brooke didn’t know what had just happened, and didn’t really want to waste any time trying to figure it out, either. Brian’s excuse would work for the time being. “C’mon, you don’t want to hear about Uncle Bri’s and my sex life, do you? Unless you want to know about the time he tied me to the bedpost, and I—”
“No, no, dear God, no.”
Brooke forced a laugh, and Ligia’s demeanor softened a little. “Hey, where are Vi and Annabeth? Didn’t they give you a ride back?”
“Nah, they kind of ditched me, but it’s cool. I took a cab.”
“What? They ditched you!” Suddenly all of Brooke’s anger shifted toward her so-called friends.
“It’s fine, Auntie B. I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself. But yikes!” She came closer and lifted Brooke’s hand into the light. “Did he do this to you? This is not okay.”
Brooke looked down and saw the ring of bruises blossoming around her wrist where Brian had clamped down. Blast her sensitive skin. She laughed, but not before Ligia caught the growing horror in her eyes.
“Game, my hiney. And, oh my gosh, your face.” She put her phone in selfie mode then thrust it toward Brooke. An angry bruise was spreading across her jaw as well.
She laughed again. “Calm down, Ligia. You know how popular all that Fifty Shades of Grey stuff is. Brian and I just wanted to try it out. I should have known better than to do something so kinky this close to the big event, though. You know how I bruise up like a peach.”
Ligia frowned, but then laughed too. “Auntie B, I had no idea what a slut you were.”
Thank God.
“Could you help me touch up my makeup some? I don’t want all of Herald Springs to know I like it rough.” She winked, and Ligia winked back.
“Your secret’s safe with me. Just make sure I never walk in on that again, okay? Oh, I have the best new MAC lipstick. The shade will look great on you. Wanna try it out?” Before Brooke could answer, Ligia had already started rummaging about in her clutch.
“Shoot!” the girl exclaimed. “I forgot to pack some tampons when I switched over my purse. Got some I can borrow?”
“Sure, be right back.” Brooke jogged upstairs to her master bathroom, and on the way it hit her. How long had it been…? She brought up her period tracker app, and a giant red 7 greeted her.
No. It couldn’t possibly… Could it?
She grabbed the box of tampons from under the sink, and fired off a quick text to Jesse before returning to Ligia.
“Here you go,” she said, handing them over. “Jesse is heading over to the gala early to direct volunteers. Would you mind if he picked you up and took you over early while I finish up here?”
“No probs.”
She gave her goddaughter a tight hug. “Thanks for being so awesome through all this, L. You know how much I love you, right?”
“Of course. And you know how much you owe me, right?”
Oh, she has no idea.
“Well, Jesse should be by to grab you any minute. I’ll let you go take care of business.”
Speaking of business, it was time to pee on a stick and hope like hell no little blue lines popped up to greet her.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Annabeth
Annabeth wiped her clammy palms on her jeans. Even though she had her doubts about questioning the victim, she continued to reassure Vi on the drive over to the shelter. Interrogation had never been her strong suit when she was with the Bureau. Marcus was the one who excelled at getting the information they needed. She’d been avoiding the hospital every time they called to provide an update. He was in a coma, she got it, but... There was only so much she could handle right now.
Things had not been going well for her these days, and she desperately needed a check in the win column. Getting some forward momentum on this job would definitely be a step in the right direction. Her billionaire boss only had so much patience. He wanted results sooner rather than later. Coldhearted or not, there just wasn’t time to focus on problems she had no control over. She couldn’t pull Marcus out of his coma, but she could put her all into her work and maybe—if she was lucky—even save some lives.
Annabeth swallowed hard as she followed behind Vi into the crowded crisis center. It was time to act like she knew what she was doing even if she didn’t.
Annabeth wet her dry lips and grimaced at the chemical taste of the lipstick the salon had forced on her. Everyone commented on Vi’s new look.
“Oooh girl, you look fierce!” one of the advocates exclaimed.
Vi blushed and looked away. “Ginnie, where’s Anjali?”
“Out back smoking. And where might you be headed, hot stuff?”
Vi frowned. “The gala, remember?”
“Oh, gosh. Is that tonight? Wish I could make it, but duty calls.” She eyed her chart with a frown. “You will take pictures fo
r me, won’t you? Let me be there Vi-cariously.” She snorted and put a playful hand on Vi’s shoulder. “I slay myself sometimes.”
Vi wriggled out from under her coworker’s touch. “Of course. I’ll fill you in on all the details tomorrow.”
“Alright. Have a good time.”
Annabeth and Vi walked down a long corridor lined with half-open doors. Women and small children bustled about, in and out of rooms. They all flashed looks of distrust at Annabeth, who tried not to take it personally. These women had been in horrific situations, after all. Trust wouldn’t come easily to them.
After what seemed like forever, they reached the large, metal door that led back outside into the tiny courtyard. The afternoon air hit her like a slap to the face. It was the kind of heat that took your breath away. The locals claimed it wasn't so bad—a “dry heat,” they called it. But hot was hot no matter how anyone tried to justify it.
Her thin flip-flops clacked across the patio behind Vi to where a young Indian woman was camped out at a picnic table smoking a cigarette. From the looks of the overflowing ashtray, she had been there awhile.
Vi and Annabeth slid onto the bench across from the girl.
“Anjali?” Vi asked with a look of concern. “You asked for me?”
She glanced at Vi before looking out toward the distant horizon. She shook loose a new cigarette and placed it between her shaking fingers. It took her several tries to get the lighter to flicker to life. When she finally succeeded, she took a long drag, then let it out with a sideways smile.
“So, tell me, why are you looking like a Miss Universe contestant?”
Vi gave the girl a half-hearted smile. “I’m going to a gala benefit tonight for my sister’s group home.”
Anjali’s right brow arched up. “They should have applied more kohl. Your eyes look a bit squinty, na?”
“Do you want to talk about me and my personal life or do you think it might be a better use of our time to talk about what is going on with you? Why did you want me to come down tonight?”
“I’m having a hard time here. The other girls aren’t at all nice, and, to be honest, all their troubles seem so small after what I’ve... Anyway, there’s no one here I can talk to, and then I get stuck inside my thoughts. Sometimes it is too much, na? And that’s when I call you.” She took another slow drag. “You help put my anxieties to sleep, at least for a little while.”
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