“I’m going to give you something for good luck tomorrow.” After rifling around in the bathroom, he returned with a tube of red lipstick. “Tomorrow, I want you to be as bold as your lip color. Now go home, because Hugh took a Viagra an hour ago.”
Hugh looked up from his book with a “What?”
When she blurted out a laugh, he said, “Just kidding. But we both need beauty sleep before tomorrow’s party.”
As she was leaving, Justin gave her some final instructions. “Make sure to use lip liner, fully line your lips, and then lightly powder your whole face to set the color.”
“I love you, Justin.”
“I love you too, babe.”
Earlier that week, she’d told Markus that no one had ever believed in her before, but that was straight wrong. Justin always had.
It was time to stop whining, and half-ass her way out of this situation.
Saturday morning, Greene household
The day of the party dawned bright and cheerful, California’s unrelenting sunshine a false backdrop for the day. Dread pooled in Gabby’s stomach like battery acid. She took a shower, Spanxed in her muffin top, and slid on her shoulder holster over a plain black tee. Extra cartridges, she strapped to her ankle. Compared to the hardware everyone else carried, the dart gun was a training bra.
Downstairs, Granny was the only one up, brewing coffee and doing her stretches. “Can you even touch your toes, Gabby? You need some exercise, sweetie.”
“Spanx is more efficient.” Just strap in the fat and go.
Granny shook her head. “You know I was in the Olympics. Not one of you took after me.” She shook her head in disappointment. “I’m working on the kids, though.”
Unfortunately, that was true. Out of everyone in the house, Granny was the only one who could perform a cartwheel. If she ever recorded herself, she could be famous on TikTok.
Gabby changed her tone, stopping short of taking Granny’s hand and looking into her eyes. “I’m worried about today. I havethat party and—” She exhaled a shaky breath. “I’m worried it might not go well.”
“It’s a party, Gabriella. Aren’t those supposed to be fun?” One of her drawn-on eyebrows raised an inch as she said, “Is that hunk who came over still giving you trouble?”
“Eh, it’s worse than that.” She wanted to tell Granny everything, but the truth caught in her throat. If Granny approached Mischa or called the cops, the whole thing might blow up. Still, in the silence between them, Gabby was pretty sure her grandma understood, maybe not the details, but the seriousness of the situation.
Like it was gospel, Granny said, “Just serve more liquor. That always works.” She placed her hand on Gabby’s, and in a firm voice that contrasted with her paper-thin skin and blue veins, stated, “Don’t worry, I’ve got the house covered. I defected from the USSR and Shady Acres Nursing Home. Whatever it is, I’ve got it.”
When Gabby asked, “Is that why you’re with Burt?” Granny just laughed.
Before Gabby left, she made one last stop in the bathroom. The minute she did, she shouted, “Lucas Daniel Taylor, get your butt in here,” before mentally slapping herself for saying the word “butt,” which would only encourage him.
Lucas had drawn stick figures with big round butt cheeks all over the wall by the toilet. The artwork was subpar, and Lucas was clearly immature, even for his age.
Lucas walked into the room unrepentant, until he saw the wall. His eyes went big, and he started laughing hysterically.
“Lucas, this is not funny.”
“It was supposed to be invisible,” he said. “I did it with my spy pen.”
He also wasn’t good at reading directions. “Lucas, give me the pen. It’s mine now. And I want this clean before I get home.” She choked up a little at the threat. Hopefully, she would be coming home.
After she pocketed the pen, she gave him a hug and kissed the top of his head. “Love you, Lukie.”
Before she left the house, she slipped on her granny’s necklace, not for luck, but to remind her that she came from a line of women who could do anything. Gabby squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. It was half-assed plan or bust.
The Velvet Underground Speakeasy was as fabulous as it sounded—booths tucked into corners, dim lighting, and an ornate bar with a mirror surrounded by carved figures of Bacchus. It looked like a place where secrets would be kept. Kramer wasn’t there yet, still moving slowly after his garage fire. Carmen was bellied up to the bar flirting with a bartender, and Fran was bustling around doing things Gabby didn’t even realize needed doing. Justin, coming as Betty Danger for the evening, was on his way.
“Thanks for the help, Fran. I really appreciate it.”
“My pleasure.” Fran laughed at herself. “You know I like to get involved in everything. Some have even said ‘over-involved.’”
