Gigi stepped back, and the four of us watched in intense silence as Courtney moved toward Gigi. “I swear I didn’t do this. Didn’t Luke take the photo? Maybe he—”
“He wouldn’t.”
“Someone else then. Believe me, I would never do this to you. I’m so sorry, Gigi.”
Gigi held still as Courtney wrapped her arms around her while she sobbed, too broken, apparently, to put up any more of a fight.
While the other three looked on, I turned away. Gigi may havewantedto believe Courtney, but I doubted she really could.
I couldn’t.
Chapter Four
Present
While Gigi uses the stateroom mirror to reapply her lipstick and Beth checks her phone, I dig my own phone out of my bag to make sure my sister hasn’t texted about the girls.
“We’ll probably lose cell service when we get out to the Strait of Juan de Fuca,” Gigi says. “But we’ll have internet through Starlink the whole way so I can post live feeds of our trip.”
That must be the flat white plate I saw secured near the top of the mast. Seeing I have no new texts, I drop my phone back into my bag.
Gigi lifts her head to the sound of the female voice on the dock. She clasps her hands together. “Finally. Emma’s here.”
Beth returns her phone to her bag and leads the way upstairs. I follow Gigi. Seeing how perfectly toned her thighs are, I wish I had gone on a diet before the trip.
When we reach the cockpit, Captain Nojan is on the radio. I trail Gigi and step onto the deck, seeing Emma on the dock. Adam extends his hand to Emma, but the home renovator shakes her head. Instead, she grabs the shroud.
“I’m good,” she says, using her tanned, muscular arm to pull herself onto the boat.
The last time I saw Emma was in the news last year after a video surfaced online of her at a house she was renovating in Capitol Hill,screaming profanities at one of her contractors before throwing a screwdriver at him. She was sentenced to community service after pleading guilty to assault. Not long before the incident, Emma had shared a link in our group text thread to anArchitectural Digestarticle that featured one of her projects—a Seahawks player’s Lake Washington home that Emma had fully renovated and designed. But after the incident, when I saw the wordbitchspray-painted across her face on a billboard on the 405, I wondered about the effect Emma’s volatile outburst has had on her business.
She’s always had a temper, but I was surprised to see that it’s gotten worse as she’s gotten older, not better. Recently a few home-DIY articles featuring Emma popped up on my news feed, so I guess her out-of-control temper hasn’t ruined her career after all.
She looks good,I think. In her cargo pants and ribbed tank top, she’s still the tomboy, and even fitter than she was in high school. With that sweet smile, one would never guess she was capable of such explosive rage.
Emma and I never meshed, but that’s not what causes my unease at seeing the house flipper. I swallow back the guilt that rises in my throat, thinking about the “accident” our senior year that left Emma with a broken ankle.
Emma manages to make Beth look petite next to her. At five foot seven, Beth is the shortest of all of us. Beth’s glossy dark waves are a sharp contrast to Emma’s short blond curls. Emma’s once-thin lips are now unnaturally plump with filler.
I’m suddenly self-conscious of every line on my Botox-free face.
“Sogood to see you!” Gigi gushes, pushing past Beth to get to Emma first.
Emma scans the deck after Gigi embraces them both. “Where’s Alex? Didn’t he come to see you off?”
“He wanted to, but he had business in Spain.”
“He’s in the restaurant business, right?” Beth asks.
Gigi’s smile fades, and I wonder if Beth guessed the wrong profession on purpose to annoy her.
“Hotels.”
“Oh, right.” Beth nods. “I knew that.”
“Gigi,” the captain calls from behind the wheel at the back of the boat. “I need to speak with you.”
“Okay,” Gigi says over her shoulder. She turns back to Emma. “Sorry, I’ll be right back.” Gigi heads toward the helm, leaving Beth and me with Emma beside the boat’s towering mast.
