The phone is pulled from her ear and set on the table next to a bottle of loose powder. A long, manicured finger pokes the speaker and a shrill, female voice echoes through the room.
“I still can’t believe you fucked him.”
Through the mirror, Sarai rolls her eyes. “I had to see what all the fuss was about the way Adela clings to him all the time. I thought she was hiding something good. The man is all grunting and moaning. It was so disgusting, but he gives the best gifts. I would have ended things years ago if he wasn’t so generous after.”
The caller shrieks.“You are unhinged. I could never. But then, my brother-in-law is a troll, and I wouldn’t touch him with a ten-foot-poll.”
Sarai flashes herself the full wattage of her teeth in a brilliant smile. She tilts and tips her head, checking for imperfections.
“I think my Botox is wearing off.” Her smile slips. “Fucking lines.”
“We should totally do one of those Botox parties. They take fat from our assess and put it in our lips or something.”
Sarai doesn’t seem to be listening as she continues to survey her features, running fingertips along the razor-sharp line of her jaw, down the column of her throat. I see nothing wrong and I know most men wouldn’t, but her expression is one of frustrated annoyance.
“I can’t do shit until this bullshit funeral is over,” she snaps at her friend. She huffs and wrenches the thick, diamond encrusted bangle from her left wrist and tosses it down on the table. “Have to keep playing the grieving widow to that foul pig.” Full, plump lips curl into a disgusted frown. “Her royal highness has already sent me a list of things I’m not allowed to do. Like I barely listened to my mother. Why the fuck would I listen to you? But Ihave to if I want to keep this life. This life which — by the way — I helped build. Have you seen what that man looked like? I gave him two kids. Myself. From my body. I deserve a fucking award for my contribution and performance.”
“No, but you are not wrong.”
Sarai sucks in a breath that lifts the edges of her lace robe to showcase the high arches of her breasts.
“Seriously, no one’s sad he’s dead. He was such a loser.”
“For sure,”the friend agrees eagerly.“Like it was obviously a message, right? You don’t get eaten by snakes in the city unless it was a hit.”
“Obviously. Cops think it was those Ushers. Not that they said as much. They’re all bought and paid for by that family, but I heard Julen telling that creepy dude that follows him around that it was clearly a retaliation for taking out those Usher brats. Like who even cares? They would have eventually died anyway. Let it go.”
I don’t have to look at Lenora to feel the rising rage pulling through her. I feel it. I hear it in the shallow intake of her lungs. She’s gone still and silent next to me, dark eyes fixed on the woman patting long fingers along the rollers, checking for loose ones.
“I will say, I should send Marcus Usher a basket of thanks for getting that idiot out of my life. Maybe I’ll even personally deliver it and unite the families.”
“Didn’t he already turn you down?”
The smirk vanishes from Sarai’s mouth. Her blue eyes snap down at the lit screen.
“That was before. He’s grieving and I’m grieving. We can console each other.”
That will never happen.
Even before all this, I knew exactly what kind of woman Sarai Duval was. I’m rarely wrong.
“What about the girl?”
“Girl?” Sarai cocks her head and thinks. “The niece? What about her?”
“I don’t know. She creeps me out. Feels like she has, like, bodies buried under the house or something.”
Sarai snorts. “I hate children, but if I were her mom, I’d kill myself, too.”
“Didn’t Julen … handle them?”
This is new information.
After James and Gloria’s deaths, I made sure there was an investigation. The person responsible was caught. A senseless act of violence, they said. There was no mention of Duval.
“Whatever. Same thing. She’s such a brat clinging to those men like some pathetic leech. Grow up. Get some self-esteem.”
Lenora and I exchange quiet glances. The roaring fires blazing in our chests mirrored in the other’s eyes.
