She lifts her hands like she’s innocent. “Touchy subject. Noted.”
I hadn’t thought about it, honestly. Now that my parents, Craig and Martha, have yachted to the Caribbean, and Juliette and Roman have undone the enemy lines between our families, I guess anything is possible.
Probable, even.
Still, as a Calloway, we don’t show up in the HillPoint neighborhood unless there’s a reason.
Unfortunately, I’ve had a revolving one for the past six years.
Frederick Lawrence.
He made me into this. He broke me, and twisted every edge until pain felt like home, and my own reflection looked like astranger. And you know what they say: You either die a hero or live long enough to become the villain.
I’m still trying to figure out where I fall in the remains.
Either way, I could spit on his grave every day for the rest of my life, and it wouldn’t be enough.
“Doesn’t matter,” I say. “The tavern’s neutral territory now, since Art took it over.”
The last thing I want is for Genevieve to notice that what she’s mentioning is settling on my shoulders. She might try to talk to me more, and I see enough of her as is.
She brushes a loose strand of red hair from her porcelain face. “Neutral’s an interesting word choice, but you make a good point.”
“At least one of us does.”
“My point,” she tucks the vodka back behind the bar, “is I don’t have grief to spare for rich assholes who spent their lives screwing people over.”
“What are you, the morality police?”
If she is, she’s terrible at it.
She tosses the rag into the bar sink, turning to face me. “You know, you Rosebrook townies act like this shithole is sacred ground. Like anyone not born here is dirt on your shoe.”
“And yet here you are. Living in our mess. Serving us drinks. Keeping our secrets…” My eyes catch hers. “… Sleeping with one of us.”
She crosses her arms. “Is that why you’re such a dick? Because you’re jealous I steal Art’s attention?”
“You think I’m jealous of you?” I laugh, and it’s bitter on the back of my tongue. “I’ve been his best friend our entire lives, and you’re just a girl. One who he won’t let near his dad, even after all this time. So who should be jealous of who, exactly?”
Genevieve flinches, and that bitter taste slides down my throat.
“You’re a fucking asshole.”
“And you’re not worth my time.” I toss the polishing rag on the bar.
“Wow. I’m devastated. Please believe I’ve seen where and what you spend your time on, and I’m not interested.”
“Guess we’ll both lose sleep over it.”
“Why are you even here?” she asks. “You don’t work the bar. Hell, you don’t even work aboveboard.” She steps closer. “You’re just someone’s bitch.”
I don’t know if she sees the sudden flush on my face, but she goes for the throat.
“Aw. Sore subject? What’s the matter, Champ? Feeling directionless now that your handler kicked it?”
Kicked it.Like I wasn’t the one who pulled the trigger that wiped Frederick from the face of the earth.
My finger still remembers the vibrations from every shot. The release after years of watching him strut around town in his tailored suits, shaking hands with my family and our enemies, then showing up underground to run the Lye like some crime lord above reproach.
