Our laughter sobers up, and I decide to ask something that’s been bothering me since I opened Bianca’s car door. “Cookie, why did you think I’d be mad at you? Was it only because you slipped and told Dana we’re FBI? I get the feeling it was more than that.”
Lila props one elbow on her door, resting her head on the passenger window. “It’s inconvenient how well you know me.”
“Not for me,” I jest.
“The FBI slip with Dana was part of it. But mostly I was worried I’d blown it. She wasthis closeto joining me, then it all crumbled. In one fell swoop, I lost a potential ally for me, another witness for you,andput her daughter in danger. It was theF upto end allF ups.”
I open my mouth to tell her to just sayfuckbut think better of it. Instead, I squeeze her hand comfortingly.
In a quivering voice, she adds, “If anything happens to her daughter, I’ll never forgive myself. I can’t be responsible for another child dying.”
Before I’m able to respond, her phone rings. It zaps the hopelessness right out of her, replacing it with rage.
“Argh. Not again.” She huffs, digging her phone out of her purse. “If this keeps up, I’m gonna block her. When I got my phone out of my locker, I had three missed calls and fifteen texts.Fifteen!That’s too many to find out why I’m avoiding her.” She declines the call and throws the phone onto the floorboard. “Icannottake this tonight. Some of us have bigger problems.”
“Not to pile on, but she’s also texting and calling me like mad.”
Lila flops against the headrest. “What are we gonna do about her?”
“I want to saymurder. But that doesn’t feel right.” I playfully shrug. “Maybe we’ll go with lobotomy.”
She gives me a nasally chuckle. The kind that’s mostly an annoyed harrumph. Which is fair. “Let’s go with a lobotomy. For me. Not her.”
Neither of us speaks for a few moments. It’s not a tense silence, but something else. Lila’s shine is dulled. Almost like she’s defeated.
After a haggard sigh, she says, “I bet she figured it out.”
Absentmindedly, I skim my hand over the top of her thigh. “Probably.”
“I don’t even know what to say to her. There isn’t an explanation that could justify her actions, let alone excuse them. So what’s the point of talking to her?”
I hate watching Lila hurt like this. She’s coming to terms with her new reality. That marble pedestal she put Kenzie on has collapsed into dust and rubble.
I’ve had a lifetime to get used to how it feels to be hurt by Kenzie and our mother. This is new for Lila.
Wanting to ease her pain, I take her hand once more. “Avoidance won’t help for long. We need to get this out so we can all move on.”
“How can weevermove on?” She pulses her fingers in mine. “I have no clue how I can be her friend after this. And I don’t have the spoons to figure it out.”
Ignoring the spoon comment because I don’t want to give her a chance to distract me again, I offer a suggestion. “Why don’t you send her a text message to put her off for one more night?”
My phone rings before she can respond.
She glances at the car’s display screen where Kenzie’s name appears. “You know what? Screw it.” She taps the answer button, connecting the call to the car’s speaker, and yells, “Kenzie, leave us thehellalone, you freaking liar.” With a shaky finger, she taps the end call button before my sister can respond.
“Or you could do that. A bit different direction than I was thinking, but it works too.”
Lila stares at the display screen that’s now back to the radio station and song info. Her eyes are wild. Her jaw is on her chest. And the corners of her lips are quirking up like she’s fighting a smile.
“Oh. My. God.” She breaks the staring contest with the song title and flashes a self-satisfied grin at me. It grows until her entire face is lit with diabolical glory. “That feltsogood. I kind of want to call her back and do it again.”
Hmm. I don’t know whether to laugh with Lila or check her in for a psych hold.
I go with the former. She joins in, all out hooting and hollering. And then the tides turn quickly. Her braying guffaws turn into silent sobs until she’s curled in on herself.
Perhaps I should have opted for the psych hold.
I consider pulling over to comfort her, but I see the parking garage entrance. “Cookie, we’re almost home.”
