“Just thought I’d talk to her, see if we can come to an agreement.”
The guys tell me she lives within walking distance. I rise, slide on my jacket, and head out of Sparkle Bar.
Coco Higginbotham has no idea what’s about to hit her.
Chapter 7
Coco
“What’s this about a man yelling at you on the street?” Mom asks over the phone.
Turns out, Mrs. Malfree and her wheezing pug didn’t disappoint. Mom called five minutes after Stone confronted me, and I put off phoning her back until late—long after I’d inspected the earth with Stone, and well past when I’d dropped my grandmother’s ring off at the jeweler’s.
My gaze floats over the tiny cottage I rent at the edge of town. The payment is cheap and the roof leaks often (okay, every time it rains), but it’s my own space and it’s painted yellow, my favorite color. Plus, the old woman who lived here before left all the furniture. Which means doilies protect the surfaces.
“Sorry I didn’t phone earlier. I’ve been busy.”
“It’s fine, sweetheart. I was worried the man did something to you. Your father asked if we should head over and make sure you’re still alive.”
“I’m good. Tell Dad thanks, though.”
I plop onto the velveteen couch. The material is great during the winter—soft and snug—but awful in summer. In August, I can’t even look at the thing because the idea of peeling my body off it makes mewant to break into hives. But in early spring, the cushions are cozy enough to curl up on.
So I do.
“So, this man?” she prods again.
“It was nothing. Just something to do with work.”
“Did his license expire?”
My chest wobbles like it’s about to burst into tears. I inhale sharply and instantly stop the sensation.
“Yeah, something about his license. We got it worked out, though.”
What’s the point of correcting her? She won’t remember—not on purpose, but because Brittany takes up all her headspace.
“Well, since it’s nothing big, I’ll let you go. Oh wait—do you have camo you can wear on Saturday?”
No, I don’t, but instead I fib. “I’ll check.”
“Great. Brittany wants to tape our annual hide-and-seek.”
Awesomewith a heavy dose of sarcasm. “Can’t wait. See you then.”
“Love you, hon.”
“Love you.”
As the call goes dead, there’s a knock at my front door, which is about ten feet from where I’m sitting.
What now?
Through the window cut into the door, I spot a figure.
Who in the world knocks at eight o’clock at night? For goodness’ sake, I’m wearing French poodle–themed pajamas. I’m not fit to receive visitors.
The knock comes again. “I can see you. I know you’re in there.”
