I flopped back on the bed, glaring up at the gorgeous naked beauty framed above my head. The life-size portrait was of an ex of Brad’s, something he told me he hadn’t had the time or effort to replace. I’d have to push that higher up on his to-do list.
I rolled over to the other bedside and grabbed my phone. Eight percent battery. Figures. I called Brad, hoping he was still in the house but knowing he wasn’t.
“Hey, beautiful.”
“Martha is a bitch, you know that?”
He chuckled, sounding way too sexy for 8:00 a.m. “I can’t talk now. What do you need?”
“I’m stranded here with your crazy excuse for a... What is her job title again?”
“Ruler of Everything in the House. Martha is part of the package, babe. You’re going to have to learn how to get along with her.”
“She’s the one who’s being difficult! She marched in here yelling at me this morning!”
“She’s being territorial, Julia. Take whatever attitude she gives you as a compliment. Most women she doesn’t even bother being rude to.” His soothing voice did nothing but irritate me further. Especially since I now realized whose side he was taking.
“Whatever. I’ll let you get back to work.”
“Just hang out at the house.”
“No, thank you. I hang out at the house any longer and me and her are gonna come to blows. And I’m positive I’ll lose that fight.”
“Julia, she’s not that bad.”
“To you! The one who pays her!”
“Look, if you want, I’ll have Jeff or one of the other drivers give you a ride.”
I slumped back. “Let me figure out my day, and I’ll let you know. Maybe one of the girls can give me a ride.”
He said something to someone else, then was back on the phone with me, dropping his voice now. “You sure you don’t want to just stay? I like the idea of having you there, and I can give you a ride at lunch.”
“I’ll think about it,” I muttered.
I hung up, lay back and stared at the ceiling. Damn Martha. Then I closed my eyes and fell back asleep.
Twenty-Five
The third time I woke up, it was to a quiet house. I lay in Brad’s bed for a minute, listening for Martha, but heard nothing. I got up, checking my phone. Two missed calls, Becca and Olivia. Becca never called before noon. Something was up. My three percent battery didn’t afford me the luxury of calling her back and I crawled out of bed in search of my phone charger. I dug through my overnight bag, not altogether certain I had packed it, and sent a silent prayer upward when my fingers closed around it. I plugged it in, then warily headed downstairs.
The house was empty, the kitchen wiped down and countertops empty, void of anything that could be considered breakfast food. I opened up cabinets, finding cereal, and poured a bowl, sitting at the counter and munching away. The day stretched before me, and I had absolutely no idea of what to do with it. I had lazed away yesterday, doing nothing but feeling sorry for myself, a hobby I was already sick of. I finished off the Frosted Flakes, hefted myself to my feet and washed my bowl, drying it carefully and placing it back on the shelf. Anything I could do to stay on Martha’s good side. I returned the cereal box, then headed back upstairs.
I killed two birds with one stone and conferenced Becca in as soon as Olivia answered.
“It’s Jules. Was it coincidence, or did you both call because you love me?”
“Ha. The police called me this morning,” Becca snapped. “At ten freaking a.m.!”
“Don’t be dramatic, Becca. It wasn’t the police, it was a detective. Detective Parks, right?” Olivia said.
“I don’t know what the damn man’s name was!” she retorted.
“Wait, he actually called you guys?” I interrupted their useless spat, my head hurting from the new information. I thought that the detective’s request for alibi verification was a line on a form of his, not a lead that he would actually follow up on. Didn’t he have more important things to check on? Like the Magiano family? Since when were college interns the most likely murder suspect?
“What happened, Jules?” Olivia’s tone was serious, her words cutting into the rant that Becca was starting back into.
“Nothing,” I mumbled, grabbing my cosmetics bag and walking into the bathroom. “Well, too much to go into now. What did you tell him?”
“We told him you were at the bar with us until around eleven.” Becca’s voice was unsure. “Is that okay?”
“Of course. Did he ask you anything else?”
“That was all he asked me,” Olivia said. “He just verified, several times, how long you had stayed at the bar.”
“Same here,” Becca said, her voice subdued.
“Good.” I exhaled a sigh of relief. “Then everything should be fine.”
“Except that we don’t know what’s going on, and I was woken up at ten in the freaking morning!” Becca’s fire was back, and I wouldn’t be able to avoid it this time.
“Fine. Meet me for lunch, and I’ll explain everything. Deal?”
“Deal. But you’re paying,” Olivia said, “in exchange for us keeping you out of the gallows.”
“The what?”
“Nothing, Becca. Mellow Mushroom, noon. Work for you both?” I asked.
They agreed, Olivia offering to pick me up, and I hung up the phone with at least one part of my life figured out. I stripped, piling my clothes in the middle of the floor, and turned on the jets of Brad’s shower, brushing my teeth as the room filled with steam. Then I stepped in and shut the door, losing myself in the gloriousness of hot water.
* * *
“TELL ME THIS isn’t about Brad.” Olivia had barely allowed me to get both feet in the car before she jumped on me, her tone that annoying level of nag.
“This isn’t about Brad,” I recited dutifully, digging through her glove box until I found a pair of sunglasses and sliding them on, checking my reflection in her mirror. “But I’m not telling you anything more till we get to lunch. Becca will hack me to pieces if I tell you what’s going on before I tell her.”
She glanced over, grinning at me, the open window whipping hair over her face. “You always tell me things before you tell Becca. Why change now?”
“I don’t always do that.” I searched my memory for a leg to stand on and, finding none, moved on. “This has jaw-dropping potential, and I don’t want your reaction to look fake. We all know your acting skills leave something to be desired.” I studiously avoided her gaze, opening my purse and digging around in it, needlessly organizing and reorganizing it until I felt the coast was clear. I sat back, glancing over at her, a small smile on her lips. Our eyes met and she rolled her eyes.