Page 68 of Wicked Beautiful (Wicked Games 1)
“I am the cat.”
Darcy snorts. “More like something the cat coughed up.”
“Whose shirt is that?” asks Tabby brightly.
“Whose do you think?” I mutter, pulling out a chair and flinging myself dramatically into it. Darcy and Tabby share a look.
Tabby says, “What happened to the blouse you were wearing when you left last night?”
I scowl at her. “What are you, writing a book?”
She grins at me. I want to curl my hands around her throat.
Darcy says, “You know, it’s not a walk of shame if you stop for brunch on the way home.”
I prop my chin in my fists. “Shut up. And why are you people in my kitchen so early on a Sunday morning?”
“Because your assistant here called me and told me you didn’t come home last night, so I had to come see for myself the state you were in when you finally showed up.” She purses her lips. “And what a state it is.”
I drop my head to the table, rest my forehead on my folded arms, and sigh.
“Uh-oh,” says Tabby.
Darcy asks, “What?”
“I know that sigh. It’s the precursor to some really vile plan. She’s probably going to tell us now about the body she needs us to help her move.”
Darcy says reasonably, “Girl, what are friends for if you can’t count on them to help you move a body?”
“Thank you,” I grumble to the table. “At least I know I can rely on someone around here.”
Tabby rises. I hear her move to the counter, hear the sound of liquid being poured. She returns and sets a steaming mug of coffee in front of me. “Don’t be so quick to judge, Maleficent. You can rely on me. For important stuff, too, like, for instance…finding out about the girl Parker was dating who killed herself.”
I bolt upright and stare at her. “You found out? Tell me, tell me!”
Darcy says, “Whoa—what’s this?”
“Parker told Victoria he was dating a girl who killed herself.”
“Actually, what he said was, ‘I once killed someone,’ which is vastly different, but when pressed he admitted she actually killed herself. He just drove her to it.”
Darcy makes a face like she just ate a piece of rancid sushi. “White folks. Y’all are fucking crazy.”
“Get on with the story, Tabitha! What happened?”
Tabby sits, folds her hands on the tabletop, and looks at me. “What happened is, your boy lied.”
I hear a faint, faraway ringing in my ears. “What?”
Tabby shakes her head, holding my gaze. “No girl Parker ever dated killed herself. I searched everywhere, all the way back to when he was in high school, even cross-referenced morgue records in every place he lived in case I missed something. There’s no one. He lied.”
Slowly I sit back against the chair. “But…Europe. He went to school in England. He lived in France—”
“I searched everywhere, V. When people die, there are records. Medical records, obituaries, death certificates, articles in the newspaper. I mean, his entire dating history is public knowledge; he’s been famous for ten years. You can connect the dots from one to the next, all the way back, but even before that, there’s nothing. I’m certain of it; he lied.”
Because I know how good Tabby is at what she does, I know what she’s telling me is accurate. If there were any scrap of information that would corroborate his story, even a crumb, she’d have found it.
I wonder if I’m going to throw up. “Mother. Fucker.”
