Evil Will Die.
“Come on,” I shout, throwing my hands up and turning away from her before I face her again, pointing at it. “Why would someone do this?”
Evie crosses her arms, shaking her head. “We should call the cops,” she whispers, drawing my attention.
She’s scared. Of course she is. It’s only been a week since that bullshit at her work. But this is ... this is just someone being a dick. Even as I think it, I’m not totally convinced either.
Still, I don’t want her to be afraid.
“Baby,” I call to her, opening my arms, signaling her to walk to me and snuggle in. And she does.
“It’s okay,” I say, kissing her forehead. “It’s nothing more than some asshole fucking up my car because he can. It’s LA, after all.”
My eyes fall to the destruction again, and it sounds weird, but I’m getting déjà vu. I rub her shoulder, glancing down because she hasn’t answered.
Evie’s gnawing at her lip, staring at the car, worry behind her eyes before they pop open wide and she looks up at me.
“Umm ... What are the chances, while you’ve been doing all the PR for the restaurant, you posed in front of your car?”
I shrug, not following. “What? Why?”
I’m not making the connection until she says, “The paint ... isn’t that like one of the vigilante moves for people who hate animal cruelty? They throw it on fur coats, right?”
My mind never even went there, but she looks a lot less afraid, so I’m game.
“Did you talk shit about vegans in thatLA Timesspread?”
I breathe out heavy. “Define shit?”
“Oh my god,” she rushes out, pushing me away like she’s solved the crime.
“Come on ... I always talk shit about vegans. And yeah, I got my fair share of emails saying meat is murder, but I didn’t take it seriously. There’s a whole-ass vegan option on the menu. Gimme a break.”
Her brows rise. “Well, you might want to start taking it seriously. For a multitude of reasons. The main one being ...” Her eyes shift to my license plate.
I hate to say it, but she’s starting to make sense. I did pose with my car in that magazine article. And I do talk shit.
Goddammit. That stupid plate. Oh man, I knew that plate was a bad idea. No, I didn’t—I loved it. But it’s made it real easy to find me.
Still ... the feeling in my gut won’t go away.
No, I’m being paranoid thinking anything else. This makes sense.
She’s right. I’ve done this to myself. But still, fuck them.
“What about not being cruel to this animal,” I bite out, pointing to myself. “You know, if they ate more meat, then they’d be too lethargic to fuck up my car and become felons. Meat saves the world.”
She starts to laugh, then stops and walks over to me, forcing me to look at her. But I’m pouting, trying to keep my eyes on the ocean.
“Look at me,” she presses, but I don’t, so she tries to shake me. “Look at me.”
I do, directly into her eyes.
“The good news is, I bet you have excellent insurance—”
I pop my shoulders and begrudgingly nod as she continues.
“—and you’re rich . . .”
