I clench my jaw so hard I can barely speak. “You can’t veto anything.”
“Sure, I can. You may have the gun, but I stayed back with the clean-up crew, so I literally know where the body is buried. Try talking your way out of a murder charge… oh, wait. You don’t need to because you can just hand over the gun and let Tanner take the rap. Sucks to be her. Maybe if you get a job as a prison guard, you can sneak in and get that sweet little virgin pussy.”
My eyes bulge. “You don’t even know what you want her to do.”
“And I’ll take that, times two, thank you very much.” He blows on his nails, then rubs them on his blazer.
“Fine,” I say through gritted teeth. “But you stick with the rules.”
“Don’t ask her for anything that Zach wouldn’t. Got it. Luckily, that leaves a lot of room to play with, doesn’t it?”
I think about pounding my fist into his face. Using the same swollen hand that Lilac saw was hurt and took care of, even though she knew my presence put her in danger. The one I let her pet and clean and caress, even though I don’t like people touching me without permission.
Nobody’s cared for me before. Nobody who wasn’t paid to.
I didn’t know what to do with the rush of emotion that came bubbling to the surface. The reason I negotiated instead of just laying down the law.
Still feeling confused, I throw myself in the recliner next to the sofa, flicking through the game options on the gigantic screen. “What level are you guys on?”
CHAPTERSIX
LILAC
At school the next day,I don’t see Zach anywhere. Not that I’m searching for him, but I notice Em is by herself in the morning, then again at lunch. By the time I finish my last lesson and head out of the grounds, it’s like I’m back in that strange floating period between Robbie’s death and before spotting Zach in the common room.
One step inside the door at home and I crash to earth. There’s a large box on the coffee table. Fancy wrapping finished with a gigantic bow. Although Finley and Rosa keep their eyes averted, I get the feeling they’ve been staring at it, waiting for the moment I got home.
With a sigh, I walk into the kitchen instead to grab a glass of water. Drinking it, I stare out at the path beside the house. The one Zach must have used to access my window. There’s a gate there, but at his height he could easily vault over it.
“How much do you think a window lock is?” I ask, continuing my thought process as I walk back into the lounge.
“For god’s sake, woman.” Finley flaps a frustrated hand at the box. “Package. Table. Open it. Now.”
I really don’t want to and having an audience doesn’t make it any easier. But it’s obvious from the set expression of Finley’s lips that she’s not about to let me out of it.
“Fine,” I grumble, moving closer and touching it with a finger as though it might explode. “Do you keep wrapping paper?”
“Do we—” Rosa casts me an expression suggesting she has grave concerns for my mental capacity. “No, we don’t keep wrapping paper. We’re not grannies. Tear that bitch off!”
Ignoring the command, I slide off the bow and carefully lift the tape holding the paper together on the base while Finley dances in an impatient circle around me.
“Stop torturing me,” she says, stamping her foot. “Just open it already. It was hand delivered three hours ago.Three hours.You’re lucky it’s still in one piece.”
When I pull the lid off to reveal a nest of tissue paper, Finley’s groan sounds close to a death rattle. She drags down her cheeks, turning her plumply pleasant face into a horror mask.
Inside the tissue lies a dress.
Okay. Not the worst thing in the world. I pull the card out and tuck it into my sleeve before my friends get their hands on it. Then I lift out the bright yellow and blue construction, wondering why such a big box is needed for so little fabric.
The dress falls to mid-thigh. On a taller—read normal-sized—woman, it would be risqué, but on me it’s practically demure. The care instructions assume a proficiency with handwashing silk that’s beyond me, but the whole thing is pretty.
Beneath the dress is a pair of matching yellow shoes, almost sneakers, but with a strange mid-length heel. My size. There’s also a receipt that I’m pretty sure wasn’t meant to end up inside. There are four figures on the total, excluding the two following the decimal point.
My skin hums like I’m touching a low voltage cable. If this is part of Zach’s wish-list, what’s the catch?
“What are you still doing out here, woman?” Finley says with an aggravated sigh. “Get in the bedroom and try on the blasted thing.” She slaps at the back of my legs when I don’t move fast enough, and I poke out my tongue at her before shutting the door.
I duck back out to wash my hands in the bathroom, scared I’m going to mark the absolute perfection of the subtle silk before I get the chance to wear it. There’s another humph followed by a clicking tongue as I dry my hands.
