She takes my hand and squeezes it. “If the restaurant is holding you back, don’t worry. I’ll help find someone to hold your place. But traveling will be good for your brand. I’m sure whatever events you have scheduled can go to another mermaid. I keep saying you need sisters. A mermaid pod so you don’t work yourself to the bone and you still make money even if you don’t personally attend every gig.”
I lift my head and dare to meet her gaze. She smiles, but there’s a flicker of sadness behind it. “And if it’s me in the way, I’ll be okay. Maybe Emily can be my new roommate.” She hits her leg with mine. “Kidding.”
Alice stands and stretches, then snatches up her Tarot deck from the bed.
“Want me to pull a few cards for you?” she asks, fanning them out with a little flourish. “Might give you some clarity before you see your man.”
I shake my head quickly, laughing nervously. “Thanks, but no. I don't think I can handle any more mysteries today.”
She shrugs and drops the cards onto her dresser. “Suit yourself, mermaid. But when you’re ready, the cards are always ready too. But I think this would be an amazing opportunity. Especially for your career. All those beaches. So many pictures to post on your socials. New things to post in your store. You can blog about your travels. I’ll be with you in spirit.”
The anxiety building within my chest causes pressure on my heart and my left leg to jiggle uncontrollably. “I have a list of all the places I want to visit.”
“See.” She grabs my wrist and pulls me to my feet. “It’s time to see your boyfriend and make those plans come true.”
Alice shoos me out. “As for me, I got a dinner date to get ready for.” She winks and closes her door.
I shuffle into my bedroom and change into a cute little black dress with matching heels. I reapply my makeup and brush my hair. A car horn honks, and I drift downstairs.
When I slide into the car, I find myself alone. “Where’s Sully?” I ask the driver.
He pulls onto the street and glares at me through the rearview mirror. “At the house in Beverly Hills.” His voice is cold and stiff like steel.
“Oh…” I sink into the leather seat and watch buildings and cars whizz by. The sickness in my stomach burrows deeper. I swallow the nervous fear and close my eyes, picturing Sully shirtless and kissing me. His hands on my waist, cupping my breasts, making me shudder and come apart as his body molds to mine. It’s only been a few days, but I already miss him. His scent, his warmth. Just him.
The closer we get to Beverly Hills, the more I debate leaping out of the car at every red light and stop sign. Something tells me this is a trap, and I have no idea why. I squirm in my seat, knowing the rest of the band is there, eavesdropping on us.
My hands shake as I send Sully a text.
Almost there.
He replies within a few moments.
K.
What the hell? The dreaded one letter with a period? What’s going on?
The driver stops in front of a massive mansion with a fountain with an angel holding a pot where the water spills out. I missed the drive up by staring at my phone like it would decode Sully’s very short reply.
I step outside and look up at the stone fortress with ivy crawling its walls. It looms in the distance like Dracula’s castle, and I’m the victim about to be eaten.
The pink and purple flowers leading to the wooden door aren’t inviting. The singing birds sound like a warning. Even the sun’s warmth chills my blood.
The door opens before I can knock. A twenty-something woman in a black pencil skirt and white blouse waves me inside. I follow her wordlessly through the gorgeous living room with antique furniture and a giant picture of Marilyn Monroe above the brick fireplace. She leads me into the dining room and points to a chair. “Sit,” she orders as if I’m a dog.
I linger but give in, dragging out a chair and sitting on the edge of its cushion, ready to bolt.
“Where’s Sully?” I ask over my thundering heartbeat.
The woman sighs as if my question inconveniences her. “He will not be joining us. Please wait here.” It’s the wickedness of her smile, the evil gleam in her eye, and the sharp echo of her heels that send my soul flying to the ceiling. If he’s not here, why am I?
My gut was right. Something is wrong.
A door opens somewhere inside the house and heels click on the tile floor. I look up to find Gigi grinning at me, her cat-green eyes blazing beneath thick black lashes. A red dress hugs her perfect figure, pushing up her breasts and complementing her glowing skin. Gigi’s like a model who just stepped off a billboard or glossy magazine cover. She’s all glamorous with a stone-cold bitch glare directed at me.
“It was you who texted me,” I say, trying to keep the surprise from my voice and failing.
She scoffs. “You’re smarter than you look.” She takes Sully’s phone out of her bra and tosses it on the table.
