Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 122030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
“Tons of people at prom were on something,” I tell RJ. “I’m not sure what exactly, but whatever they took was the happy, touchy-feely sort of shit. Everyone dancing, smiling profusely. It was funny at first, then got annoying. But nobody else passed out or woke up in a lake. We don’t know if it even came from the same stash.”
“So Gabe can’t tell us what he had, and Casey doesn’t remember where she got it.” He sighs, again at the mercy of the dogs to launch the stick for them. “And Fenn’s clammed up again.”
“Now you’re starting to understand my life for the last six months. Dead-end central.”
The vicious cycle of hope and despair. Chasing down clues with no conclusions. Doors slammed in my face.
“There is another suspect who fits the criteria,” RJ suggests, his voice grim.
“Who?” I demand.
“Lawson. From everything I’ve gathered, no one can come up with his whereabouts for most of the dance. Couple that with his amateur pharmacist hobby, sexual adventures, and questionable morality…”
I bite my lip. “I can’t argue any of that. But I also can’t envision Lawson putting so much effort into getting laid. All he has to do is snap his fingers.”
“Valid point.” RJ’s phone buzzes on the table. “Lucas,” he says.
“Let me see.”
Lucas: Hey, sorry, I just saw this. I didn’t stick around long that night. I didn’t know anyone there.
Lucas: Think I saw Casey dancing with Mila and some guys at one point. Don’t remember who.
Lucas: Can’t remember seeing Gabe and Casey together at all. But yeah, Gabe was selling. That’s his deal. I don’t mess with it.
“Mila,” RJ announces. “That’s a lead.”
Of course. Because somehow this had to become more complicated.
“About as useful as asking Gabe,” I say flatly.
“Why?” He’s almost offended at my lack of enthusiasm. “This has got to be more important than your feud, no?”
“This is the whole reason for the feud,” I remind him. “If she were interested in being helpful, she wouldn’t have been such a bitch after the accident.”
“All right, fair. But some time’s passed. Maybe she’ll be more reasonable now.”
It’s cute he thinks that. Sweet, naive boy.
“You don’t understand girl politics, babe. I can’t ask her for a favor. It shows weakness. She would absolutely love having something I wanted and telling me to fuck off.”
“This is stupid,” he says. “You know that, right?”
That may be, but I didn’t make the rules. These are ancient traditions forged from the earliest days of womankind.
“I’m telling you, Mila would rather shave her head than lift a finger to help me.”
“Well, right now she’s the only lead we have. Which means someone’s got to ask her.”
A tiny smile tugs on my lips. “There is one person she might find persuasive.”
“That look makes me nervous,” he accuses, leaning away. “I don’t like that look, cupcake.”
“How hard could it be? Spin a little game. Toss a little charm her way…”
“Flirt with her, you mean.”
“Anything for the cause, right?”
RJ slouches in his seat, already dreading this plan. “You want to set a honey pot.”
“You make such good honey,” I answer with a sweet smile, batting my eyelashes.
“Don’t do that.” He winces. “It’s creepy.”
“Be a good sport, baby. Take one for the team.”
“Jesus. All right.” He groans. “If you’ll lay off the sports metaphors.” He stares at me, pondering the strategy. “Why do I feel like I’m the one who’s walking into a trap?”
I push my chair closer to his and lift my legs onto his lap. RJ wastes no time planting a hand on my ankle, stroking it over my yoga pants.
“There will have to be some ground rules, of course.”
He eyes me skeptically. “If I come right out and ask, she’s gonna know something’s up. She won’t talk to me.”
“Crash course in female psychology: We already know Mila has a little crush on you.” I cock my head. “But what really excites her is the idea of taking something that belongs to me.”
“So, if I have to be a little more convincing…” he says, like he’s bracing to get kicked in the nuts. “What, like no hands? No below the neck?”
It makes me physically ill to entertain this idea, but what choice do we have? I remind myself there isn’t anything I won’t do for my baby sister. Especially when she’s in the midst of a full-blown identity spiral.
“Just don’t fuck her, okay?” I give him a light kick in the side, a silent reminder that I know these woods and every manner possible to hide a body on short notice. “I don’t think I could control my gag reflex after that.”
“Got it.” He smiles impishly. “Don’t do anything that would render me unfuckable in your eyes.”
“See?” I move from my chair into his lap, looping my hands around his neck. For being cooperative, he gets a kiss. “We’re totally on the same page.”