Page 38 of Another Fox Bites the Dust

Can we talk?

A litany of three-word messages that all lead to the same reaction: annoyance and anger.

Taylor rests a hand on Luke’s arm, laughing at something, and my eyes zero in on where she’s touching him, a sudden impulse to reach across the table and rip her fingers away pulsing through me.

Irrational. Ridiculous.

This is not normal. I breathe in through my mouth and then slowly release the air through my nose. I will be cordial, at least for Finley’s sake. She’s gone through enough and—

“—Mindy?”

I look over at Finley. “What?”

“Do you know her?” Finley asks.

I take a sip of my water to mask my inattention. “Sorry, know who?”

Taylor’s fork clatters, but when I glance over, she’s staring down at her plate, her hand wrapped around the handle tightly enough to make her knuckles white.

She thinks I’m being intentionally rude. I want to explain that I was spacing out, and it’s not about her, but I know she won’t believe me.

“Laila Mae,” Finley says, drawing my attention back to her. “She’s a singer. Taylor is friends with her.”

“Sort of,” I answer.

Taylor shifts in her chair, glancing over at Luke before continuing. “I’m friends with her manager, Ursula. I’ve met Laila a handful of times, but she’s really nice, really down to earth, and an incredible musician.”

“I know Ursula. Not well, but we’ve met a few times. And I know of Laila,” I admit. “She’s really talented. Incredible at marketing. Her fans are dedicated because she’s very open about her life, and her songs have an almost story-like quality to them. I think they call her fandom the Laities?” I pronounce it like “ladies.”

Taylor’s eyes narrow, like she’s waiting for me to keep going, tack on some scorn and derision.

When I don’t, she continues. “Anyway, when I get back after Thanksgiving, Finley, I’ll stay a few weeks if that’s okay? I need to have some work done on the van, and Veronica agreed to let me bartend a few nights a week for some cash.”

I press my lips together, holding back an irritable comment.When is Taylor going to grow up, stop mooching off her family, and get a real adult job?

“What?” Taylor’s voice is a whip, reaching across the table.

I jerk up.

She’s staring at me, hostility outlining the rigid set of her lips, the gleam in her eyes.

Crap. Did I say that out loud? I’m sure I didn’t.

I scan the room. Jake is stuffing food in his face, Archer and Luke have their eyes trained down at the table, and Finley is glancing between us and biting her lip, probably ready to leap across the table to pull us apart if needed.

“What?” I ask. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You don’t have to, you made a face.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did. I saw it. I’m not blind. I know you think I’m some kind of flighty loser because I’m not stuck day after day in some corporate hamster wheel, and I stay with my family sometimes. Well, you know what? I’m not the only one who’s had to come home to stay for a spell, now am I?”

“Taylor,” Finley says, her voice sharp.

Taylor slashes a hand in her direction. “No, Finley. It’s my turn to say something. I’ve dealt with snide comments and contempt from her for years.”

No one needs to ask who “her” is. She’s still glaring at me like she wishes she could cut me with her eyes.

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