Jules had pointed out that none of Suspect X’s previous victims had dressed to draw attention. Yeah, they maybe got shined up a little bit—they were going to a party, after all.And even Belle’s own costume—her Daisy Mae cut-offs—was something that she wore regularly throughout the summer months.
They’d settled on Sadie dressing like Sadie, but with a slightly more form-fitting top, a little more effort given to her hair, and a touch of makeup on her face.
As she came into the backyard, she looked around at the kids gathered there—and being Sadie, she no doubt noticed that Trent, their Suspect X, wasn’t among them. Shooting a disgusted look at Rod—who was insolently watching her through slightly narrowed eyes—she approached the kids who were clustered around tonight’s keg.
There was usually a table set up nearby, stocked with cheap bottles of wine for the mostly-girls who didn’t like beer, and Jules noticed it was missing at the same time that Sadie asked, her voice carrying clearly, “Where’s the wine, Alan?”
“It was a no-go at the packy,” one of the boys at the tap told her. “Ronnie was out sick.”
“Ron’s the guy at the package store—the liquor store—who doesn’t check IDs,” Hobbit translated the New-England-speak and Jules nodded. Understood.
“Ugh,” Sadie said. “A perfect shit ending to a perfect-shit day.” With a massive amount of pitch-perfect rolled-eyed attitude, she savagely grabbed a red solo cup from the stack, and got in line for the keg.
Rod sauntered up behind her, and she was ready for him.
“Stay away from me, douche-bucket!”
Rod didn’t have to tell her to create a scene—she just went there, voice crystal clear and loud enough to be heard inside of the house, even with the windows only cracked.
“I’m just getting more beer, skank-ho!” He met her volume and possibly raised her a little as he shook his owncup at her—which he hadn’t been drinking out of as per Jules’s instructions. He’d managed to knock it over earlier, but one of his soccer friends caught it, so it wasn’t empty. And just as Shelly had suggested, the beer splashed up and out of the cup—drenching the front of Sadie’s shirt.
Clearly Rod hadn’t intended for that type of total soaking to happen—he hadn’t been aiming, and he was more than a little taken aback by what he’d just done.
Sadie, too, stood there a moment, her mouth open. The keg was on ice, so it was surely cold and since she didn’t like the taste of beer, it was likely that she didn’t like the smell either. But now she no doubt stank of it to high heaven.
Her shirt was white—well, ithadbeen white—but there’d been enough beer in Rod’s cup to create a wet-T-shirt-contest effect. So much for hiding her fit physique.
“Rodney Burke, yousonof abitch!” Sadie’d been loud before, but now she’d gone full stage voice, which was astonishingly effective.
He still held the cup in his right hand, so he used his left to feebly and ineffectively attempt to wipe at her shirt, which... went about as well as could be expected, considering where he was wiping.
Sadie slapped his hand away from her chest, but he clearly remembered Tom’sWhatever she says or does, don’t accept her ‘no’instructions, because he didn’t give up.
So she pushed him, and he stumbled backwards and in his flail he jettisoned his cup directly at her head, which really wouldn’t’ve been any kind of big thing since it was so lightweight, but apparently there’d still been a bit of beer at the bottom and...
Yeah.
It got her.
Right in the face
Sadie sputtered and spat as Rodney landed on his ass on the lawn. With a blood curdling scream, she leapt on top of him.
“Oh, shit,” Hobbit said from beside Jules in the brush. “We should’ve been ready for something like this. People can get hurt when a physical fight’s not choreographed, and by people I mean Rod.” Still, he was laughing a little—Sadie had committed to the role, one hundred percent and the things she was screaming at Rod were pretty freaking funny. Douche-nozzle. Dick-nose. Vomit-brains. Diarrhea-face.
But Sadie and Rod had achieved their goal—kids were pouring out of the house to watch theFight! Fight! Fight!which really was little more than Sadie continuing to shriek insults as she faux-slapped Rodney.
Jules hoped it was faux.
Rod had his arms up, shielding his face and head as he lay on his back, Sadie straddling him.
“I’m not going to fight a girl!” he was shouting back at her. “Not even a skank like you!”
“You aresucha slime-sack!” Sadie howled.
Rod turned to the crowd that had formed, looking for.... “Jimmy! Trent! Fucking pull her off of me, man! Jesus Christ, I’m not gonna fucking hit a girl!”
And there it was. Trent, their Suspect X, was outside. And Rod, bless his quick thinking, had not only given him a reason to interact with Sadie, but his request also IDed him.
