“It was. Thank you so much for your time.” I got up in a hurry because, at this rate, I’d be delayed for my flight.
I walked out of the school feeling as clueless as I did walking in. But something troubled me, like an itch I couldn’t seem to reach to scratch. I was missing something, and Alyssa might be the only one who could fill in those blanks.
The trouble was, she was about as helpful as her dead husband.
ChapterFourteen
Alyssa
A Year Before the Murder
Our trips out of the city became more frequent. Malcolm became edgier, and as much as I asked him to travel alone, he begged me to be by his side. My sister stepped in and watched Gracie while we were away. I was so grateful she and my parents lived close.
Gracie started becoming more annoyed at these trips, and her attitude became unbearable after a few months in. We’d left after a huge argument.
Sitting at the bar, I downed my tequila shot and asked for another. I watched as sultry Marley walked up to me.
“You’re going to need something a whole lot stronger.”
I snorted. “I bet you have just the thing?”
“I might if you asked me nicely.” She took a seat next to me.
“Marley, when will you realize I am not interested in snorting coke or popping those pills you’re constantly offering me? I think a drink is sufficient.”
“Suit yourself, princess.” I hated when she called me that. It’s like she drew this line between us. I was the snooty suburban wife, and she was the most real thing there was.
“Hand it over,” I demanded, and she grinned, opening her purse. She poured a thick line on the counter and explained how I should go about snorting my first line.
Oh, if Mal could see me now, his pedestal wife getting high in his club.
One sniff and I was choking and spluttering all over the place. The burn was unbearable. The bartender offered me some water, and I chugged it down, not caring that it ran down my salmon chiffon top.
“What the actual fuck?” I asked Marley, who finished the rest of my line and grinned.
“You get used to it after a while. Stop being such a baby.” She shrugged.
“How old are you?” I sniffed, my nose burning.
“Seventeen. I’ll be eighteen in a month.”
“Fuck me,” I shouted, and she hushed me.
“You don’t want to cause a scene about it, trust me.”
“But that’s illegal, this whole thing with you and Gregory. You’re not even allowed to marry that young without parental consent.”
She shrugged. “It’s a long story, princess. Not everyone’s like you.”
“Does Mal know, does anyone?”
“I don’t think so. I have a fake ID and passport. Gregory knows people, so…”
“This isn’t right, Marley.”
“You have to promise to keep it to yourself. He isn’t very nice when he doesn’t get his way. Please.”
“Fine.” I let out a heavy sigh, shaking my head.
