“Riley!” She looked up surprised as I approached her. “I've missed you recently. I’ve got some walls that need the paper stripped.”
My eyes narrowed. “You’ll have to rope one of your other minions into that. Besides, I’m more of a painting gal. Wallpaper stripping is a bitch on the cuticles.” I stretched out my freshly painted fingernails for emphasis.
She tilted her head, her pale eyes darkening as her lips curled. If there was a face I hated most in the world, it was that one. That exact smile.
I counted to ten in my head and tried to feel my feet in my boots.
“That’s a shame,” she said, her eyes not leaving mine. I willed myself not to blink and tried not to fidget as the silence between us continued. Was this a staring contest now?
“For you, I guess.” I lifted a shoulder and leaned against the seat, letting my gaze wander out the window.
“For Ema,” she corrected, her smile growing as she tucked her paper under her arm to leave.
“Ema?”
“Well, I can’t do it all by myself. It’d take a day and a night. Without your help, she’ll have to do it for me. A day and a night won’t bother her though.” The smirk on her lips grew as she leaned on her elbows, her fingers laced together.
“I didn’t realise child labour was legal.” My gaze drilled into hers. She was as predictable as thunder after lightning.
“She likes it.”
“How we liked wall sits and the doctor’s ECT treatment at Bellamy. Or being filmed?”
She lifted a shoulder. “You guys didn’t know what you liked. People who have parents that don’t care about them need powerful people to guide them.”
Not quite the answer I wanted, but we were getting warmer.
“Let’s say shedoeslike it. I’m sure the school wouldn’t appreciate the missed day.”
“They take my guidance well.” The dark challenge in her eyes remained. “It benefits them to stay in good stead with a Fotherington.”
Wasn’t that the truth. I wondered how many slimy activities had been carried out over the years in the name of that family.
“Besides,” she added, “don’t you have some kind of saviour complex to make up for your own failed life?”
I snorted, satisfied by the way it made her jump and her skin to jiggle. That was pretty much what I’d said to Dax the other night.
“Maybe I do," I answered. "How’s Ema doing, anyway?”
“Not your business.”
“Maybe not.” I admired my nails again. “But I don’t think she’s your business anymore either.”
Breeze had done a great job with the polish. Racy red wasn’t usually my colour, but paired with my black skinny jeans, heavy combat boots and today’s mood, it was a winner.
The darkness left Miss Lissy’s eyes for a second, but her experience at making other people squirm into submission in front of her made the rest of her features stay the same. She didn’t want me to know what she was thinking, and I could see her chess-player brain trying to calculate two steps ahead of me. I wasn’t playing chess though; I was more of a Go Fish kind of gal, and this time I had more pairs than she did.
The silence stretched longer between us, engulfing everything in its path. I wondered what the other patrons thought about the cowboy era stare down that was happening.
“Must be off. It’s been lovely to see you,” she finally said as she stood to leave. Her eyes still watched me like a predator.
“I wish I could say the same, but I seem to remember a rather electric punishment for lying as a child. I tend to avoid it now.”
“And you said you didn’t benefit from Bellamy House.” She replied.
Bingo.
“Good luck stripping the wallpaper from the spare room,” I called after her. I was about to put my last pair down.
