Page 8 of Royally Bad

Except ... I couldn’tfindmy car. I couldn’t even find the way I’d come inside! In my haste, I’d gotten turned around in the cavernous mansion. Perspiration pooled inside the dip in my throat, growing by the minute.

Every corner looked like the last. Each hall was a mirror of another. Had I seen that painting before? Was that gray swirl in the floor new?

Rounding into a passage with large windows, I spotted rich green grass, tall hedges outside.

And a door.

Yanking at it in relief, I threw myself out into the air. The midday sun was beating down, the sky empty of clouds. Shielding my eyes and wishing for my sunglasses, I studied where I was.

The back of the house?

All around me was a large field, the ground beaten by traffic in some spots. The scent of hay hit me before I saw the stables. With adrenaline flooding my veins, I looked on as a young woman guided a chestnut mare into a stall.

The Badds really did have horses. I hadn’t imagined the stables when I’d driven up.

Eyeing the large backyard, I noticed the curling tendrils of rosebushes to my right. That had to lead back to where my car was, I was sure I’d seen the garden from there.

But I don’t want to get lost again.

Debating with myself, I gave in to my secret desire. I loved horses, I’d ridden them when I was a child. I’d had to stop riding once I hit fourth grade; my father blamed it on money being tight.

Approaching the stable, I slid my palm over the smooth grain of the support beams. The rich scent of animals and nature made me dizzy. “Excuse me?” I called.

Instead of a face, big, bouncy curls of black hair poked around the corner. I saw the person they were attached to a second later. She peered at me from around the mare, and though her eyes were confused, her smile was friendly; it showed off her freckles. Was she my age? She felt ... younger. “Hey there!” she chirped. “What can I do for you?”

My stare was fixated on the horse. Its giant eyes, so wet and honest, studied me. Every fiber in me wanted to pet its velvet nose. I held back. “My name’s Sammy. I’m ... well, how do I explain. I was here—”

“Oh! The wedding dress maker!” Laughing, she rubbed the horse’s flank. “Frannie would not shut up about you and that gown.”

“Right. I finished up with her, and now I’m kind of turned around.”

“The estate can be intimidating to first-timers.” Dusting her palms off, she came my way, then she kept going. “Come on, I’ll show you out. Name’s Matilda, by the by.”

I lingered, watching the horse as long as I could. Finally, I chased after Matilda. She was shorter than me, though not by much. Her hair made up a lot of her height. Even among the rosebushes she took us near, she still smelled like hay. I loved it.

We wove through a short maze of hedges. “Here you go,” she said, gesturing as we broke out onto the hard tiles of the driveway.

I was about to thank her. I didn’t get that far, the two of us stopping in our tracks as we saw what was going on. A red car was parked near mine, an older woman shouting furiously at a man in a gray shirt and purple tie. Throwing her arms up, she said, “You’re done! Get out of here!”

“Mama, you tell him!” I hadn’t noticed Francesca. She bounced nearby, her arms wrapped around a fluffy white thing—some kind of dog? “Get the fuck outta here, you scam artist!”

The man scowled, but there was fear in his narrowed eyes. “I’m not a scam artist, Miss Badd. I told you weeks ago, you can’t keep changing the plans. I said I’d arrange things for noon, you were the one who changed the rehearsal lunch to a rehearsal dinnerlast night.”

Francesca opened her mouth, but the larger woman—who had to be her mom—stomped forward. The man ducked, nearly feeling the wrath of her ring-encrusted fist.

Holy shit!Was this about to get ugly? Mama Badd screamed, “Go! Get your scammy ass off my property! We’ll do the party without you!”

He didn’t need more convincing. Ducking into his car, he started to reverse. Francesca ran forward, kicking her sparkling gold heel into the side of his front bumper. Squealing tires broke through the clean air—he drove away in a flurry of dust.

Breathing heavily, Francesca spun on her mom. “What do we do now, Ma? Who’s going to organize the party tonight?”

“Oh, honey, we’ll figure it out. I can call another planner. Anyone would feel honored to help throw a party for us!”

Next to me, Matilda made a small snort. There was no way Francesca heard her, but still, her dark eyes flew my way. I stood taller, unsure if I should smile or run into the rosebushes.

“Sammy!” she shouted, drawing her mom’s attention to me. She waved, nearly dropping the fluffy dog thing. “You’re still here! Thank fucking gawd!”

My face scrunched. “I was actually about to go.” Could I make it to my car if I moved quickly enough?

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