Page 56 of Your Every Wish
“What? Tell me. Is it bad?” Ah, jeez, maybe I have cancer and Misty saw the tumor, or congenital heart disease. Grandma Tuck died of it.
Kennedy starts to respond but Misty interrupts her. “It seems that you’re in a relationship that’s a tad unbalanced, dear.”
“Dex?” I look directly at Kennedy when I say this and glower. She’s made it clear on every level that she doesn’t like him and has probably poisoned the well where Misty’s concerned.
Kennedy throws up her hands. “Don’t blame me.”
I turn to Misty. “Did Kennedy tell you that she hates him?”
“She did no such thing.”
“Well, I don’t want to hear anymore.” And like a six-year-old I put my hands over my ears.
“I’ll take another one of these.” Misty hands her martini glass to Kennedy.
“Coming right up.”
It’s possibly the strangest cocktail party I’ve ever hosted—or been to, for that matter. And hours after Misty leaves, Kennedy and I go back and forth on how much of Misty’s story to believe.
It’s not until that night, while Kennedy is fast asleep, that I hop on the Google highway and get my answer.
Kennedy
“It’s freezing in here.” I run back to my bedroom and throw a sweater over my pajamas and turn up the heat.
It’s the first time we’ve had to turn on the thermostat since we got here, and everything smells like charred dust.
When I return to my breakfast, Emma is at the table coughing and holding her nose.
“Yeah, I don’t think anyone has used these electric wall radiators in years. Hey, it’s better than freezing to death.”
“Should I ask Liam to look at it? I hate to take advantage, but it doesn’t seem like it’s working right.”
“It couldn’t hurt. But I really do think it’s just a lack of use. It kicked right on when I flicked the switch.”
Somewhere in another room theWilliam Tell Overturestarts playing and Emma races out of the kitchen to get her phone. “Shit, I’m supposed to be working.”
I pour us each a mug of coffee, grab the half-and-half out of the fridge, and deliberate on whether to toast my Pop-Tart or eat it raw. I opt for cooked, and pop two in the toaster oven. Pretty soon, it’ll be time to restock. Another trip to the grocery store, the highlight of my week. Yep, I’m likely to go stir crazy here before too long.
I’d go for a run but don’t want to freeze my ass off. I suppose if I get desperate enough, I could always join the ladies for canasta. I think Monday is their day to play.
Emma is back. “Okay, this is bizarre. That was Mr. Townsend on the phone. Were you aware that Willy’s house was seized by the feds under asset forfeiture law?”
“No. Which house? San Diego or Vegas?”
“San Diego. He leased the one in Vegas. Anyway, they seized the San Diego one years ago when he was first popped for insider trading, and it’s been sitting around ever since. They’re finally getting around to auctioning it off and Mr. Townsend said we’ve been given permission to take any personal belongings we want. But we only have a week.”
“Really? What kind of personal stuff?”
“I don’t know for sure. But Mr. Townsend said anything that wasn’t purchased in the commission of a crime—in other words, anything the feds haven’t seized. You interested?”
“Hell yes. Aren’t you?”
“I’ll have to see if I can get a couple of days off work, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t wildly curious.” Emma fixes herself a bowl of instant oatmeal and joins me at the table.
“He has a big house in La Jolla.” It was one of the things I’d made note of while keeping tabs on him.
“Had,” Emma says. “He had a big house in La Jolla.”
