“Arson Kragger is talking about franchising,” Mom informs.
I spray the first luscious mouthful of my not-from-concentrate citrus pick-me-up in a three-foot radius, inadvertently giving Sprinkles a bath.
“You can’t go into business with him.” I charge over. Getting involved with a Kragger is the equivalent of sticking your head in a crocodile’s mouth. I’ve dealt with enough crooked Kraggers to attest to this personally. I’ve killed just as many, but that’s beside the point.
“The Kraggers are business savvy.” Ethan says it cool like he knows this as fact. “Plus, it’ll give me something to do with my time other than hanging out on the Internet all day long and amounting to nothing,” he says directly to Tad, playing into the deep-seated fear he holds for his eldest offspring.
It’s clear Ethan is manipulating his way into Taddy dearest’s pocketbook in order to finance this java juice disaster.
“The Kraggers have invited us all over next weekend.” My mother squeals like a schoolgirl at the thought of the Paragon social structure finally engineering the Landons into their private posse. Not that any social network is strong enough to endure the Landons en masse, or in partial for very long.
“Lovely,” I say. Of course I’m going to go. I’m more than curious to see how the wicked half-lives. It’s doubtful dungeons are involved—with exception of their secret world otherwise known as the Celestra tunnels. Although, I do find it mildly comforting my future children and I might score the luxury suite in the tower if Logan so wishes. As if.
I wonder if Candace, the celestial matchmaker, went over that strategy with him.
“Oh, it will be lovely.” Mom’s eyes bug out at the prospect of playing footsy with Demetri at the head Count’s quarters.
“Will there be a dress code inflicted upon us for this joyous occasion?” As in hooded accoutrements, to be more specific.
“I’m sure it’s cocktail attire.” Mom gives an apprehensive nod into Chloe as if she could decipher the dress code better than my mother could. It’s like she’s her favorite daughter. “There’s a big dedication ceremony taking place. I don’t have all the details yet.”
Sounds suspicious. Maybe this is some sort of ambush wedding Demetri is going to pull on Mom? No, wait, that can’t be right, she’s legally bound and gagged to the moron at the counter currently engrossed in a flatulence war with the offshoots of his wayward lineage. If Mom hasn’t already sent a cease-and-desist letter to Tad’s penis, the time would be now.
“That’s sick!” Chloe isn’t afraid to insult the king of the Landon porcelain throne.
“What?” Ethan pipes up with a laugh. “It’s our mating call.”
I don’t miss the opportunity to shoulder up to Chloe.
“Isn’t this great?” I whisper. “You get Ethan, and I get Gage?” I would be remiss if I didn’t rub her nose into the Landon’s special brand of cologne that clots the air.
Mom opens the backdoor and the screen. Usually Mom is terrified that some winged creature might buzz right in and is extra vigilant about securing the screen before we even hit the other side. Obviously occasions such as these, when she realizes what ineptness she’s married into, must make her wish she could take down entire walls to help alleviate the pain.
“I agree with Chloe,” she barks into Tad, “you’re teaching these boys that it’s OK to be disrespectful in the presence of women. I’m not impressed with you at all at the moment.” She sears him with a look that could set a puddle on fire.
“I’m as big a gentleman as they get,” Tad replies nonchalantly as if he believed the lie.
Mom scoffs. “I know men who would make your version of refined behavior look as appropriate as a wild boar at afternoon tea.” She cinches her hands over her hips in a declaration of war.
I seriously doubt comparing your husband to a feral land mammal that appreciates the finer points of a good mud bath is ever a good idea. And, by the way, she so wishes he would magically morph into Demetri.
“Well,” Tad starts off curt, “I’ve met ladies who happened to appreciate this locker room behavior and find it more than mildly attractive.”
He so means Izzy look-me-in-the-boobs-I’m-a-fake-doctor Edinger.
“You know what I appreciate?” Ethan breaks the tension by tantalizing us with the recognition of his values. “A credit line to open my first chain store. Now, which one of you is coming to the bank today to co-sign for the loan?”
I sort of like the way he gets straight to his asinine point.
My mother and Tad glare at one another for an ungodly amount of time. You can practically see the divorce decree written on the wall. Their marriage has been weighed on the scales and found desperately wanting. Their days of matrimonial unity are most certainly numbered.
“Hello?” A voice calls from the entry.
Brielle appears, holding a tiny swaddled infant and a diaper bag big enough to house the space lab and suddenly all is right in our little corner of the world.
Chapter 49
A Tisket a Casket
“I hope you don’t mind.” Brielle is quick to pass little Beau Geste to my mother. “I’ve got a shift at the bowling alley in less than an hour, then Emily is having this raging party I can’t miss. And”—she spins into me—“we so need to plan for Logan’s birthday.” She plunks down the bloated diaper bag. “Anyway, Gage is helping with the rest of his stuff.”
Chloe perks up at the thought of her faux suitor on the horizon.
A tall, dark, and handsome frame lights up the family room—Gage. He carries a tiny white casket in his arms, which he’s quick to place on the coffee table.
“You should have the lid removed,” he suggests. “It’s just a few screws.”
“Oh, don’t do that.” Brielle balks at the idea of an oxygenated environment. “He sleeps much better if you close it. You’ll hardly hear him cry.” Bree’s alarming suggestion highlights the fact social services has fallen behind on securing the well-being of this child.
“And they let you breed?” Chloe snipes under her breath.
Same could be said of her parents. Although, I hate to admit it, I happen to agree with Chloe. Drake and Brielle are the last two people on the planet who should multiply in combination.
“He’s smiling at me!” Mom bounces him in her arms like she’s getting ready to hoist him through the window.
“He’s just gassy.” Brielle corrects.
“A genetic marker of a true Landon,” I say, letting him curl his tiny perfect hand around my finger. He gives it a squeeze, and it feels like a truck just barreled over it. “Shit!” I pull back.
“He’s strong, right?” Brielle looks slightly terrified.
“Right.” It’s all that calamitous Count blood boiling in his veins. It’ll be a miracle if the island is intact by the time he’s three.
“Maybe he just doesn’t care for Skyla.” Chloe gives an approving coo in his direction.
“Gage does,” I fire back. “And that’s all that matters.”
Chloe cringes. She walked right into that one, and she knows it.
“Hello!” Mom shakes her head into the baby. “You are amazing!” She barks it out at Mach 5 as if it were a scolding.
“What in the hell was that?” Tad leaps up at attention after my mother’s demonic outburst.
“It’s all a part of dynamic parenting,” she reasons. “It’s a very progressive form of thinking. You have to affirm positive verbal statements throughout the day. It’s vital in building character and confidence.” She doesn’t hesitate to educate us in all things ridiculous.
“Is it necessary to shout?” I ask, clasping Gage’s arms around my waist like a seatbelt as I ready myself to board the insanity express.
“Oh, yes.” Mom assures with hyper-vigilance. “It’s important to jar the psyche. You really need to capture their attention.”
“You’re going to capture his attention all right,” Tad quips. “He’ll be crapping his pants
every time you walk in the room.”
Mom ignores his verbal snipe and dances around the table with the newest victim of her controversial parenting technique. She blows in the poor baby’s face like a makeshift hurricane.
“You are above and beyond our every expectation!” She shouts each word like its own sentence.
The baby shudders and startles before belting out a howl that rivals my mother’s.
“Have fun!” Brielle spins toward the door. “Remember—the lid works wonders,” she shouts as she heads on out.
“You think she’ll be back before evening?” Mom’s face creases with concern.
“I think she’ll visit on occasion.” Like Christmas and Easter. I’m pretty sure this is a permanent arrangement.
“Dr. Edinger will be here tonight.” Mom averts her eyes. “We’ve got couples counseling.” She mouths the last words.
“What about the girls?” My sisters are dying to babysit a human. Lord knows they’ve dressed that dog of theirs up six ways to Sunday in only the most fashionable pink frilly pet wear they could afford. I’m sure they’ll have junior here looking like a million dollar transvestite before the sun goes down.
“They leave for camp this afternoon.” Mom pecks the baby with kisses in an effort to quell his tantrum.
I glance over at Chloe who’s suddenly clammed up. I’d volunteer her services, but I’d like my nephew to live to see another day.
“Skyla and I can do it.” Gage offers.
I look up at his dewy black hair, his open face, that smile that makes his dimples tremble. He’s perfect in every way.
“It’s only an hour.” Mom blinks with relief.
“Great, because I really want to get to Emily’s raging party.” I can’t wait to infiltrate Casa Morgan. It’s rife with prophetic pictures and paintings. One of which includes Marshall in their dining room. Say—I should totally bring Marshall and let him check the place out. I bet he could solve a thousand cryptic mysteries.
I look up at Gage and smile. I’m glad there aren’t any more mysteries revolving around him and his dimples. I press a kiss into him, and my stomach explodes with heat.
“See that, Lizbeth?” Tad crows. “I predict another casket in our future.”
Chloe steps in close and glares at me. The protective hedge slices through the light with its brilliance. “I bet you’re right,” she says, stroking Tad’s ego. “I bet there is another casket in your future.”
***
Gage gives me a ride to the bowling alley in his truck. I missed this. I missed being by his side and trusting him infallibly and yet something in me stirs with apprehension, and I can’t shake the feeling.
I rub my open palm against his dash as if it were the fur of a most beloved animal.
“You OK?” he asks, pulling into the dirt lot out back. It was here that Chloe arranged for the Mustang to mow him over in hopes to insert Holden Kragger into his body. I can’t even imagine the insanity I would be going through right now if “Gage” and Chloe were running around the island secured in a lip lock. I would die. Of course, the real Gage wouldn’t have been guilty of the malfeasance. But, his body, his soul—I’m greedy for them all.
“Skyla?” He waves his hand over my face before taking off his seatbelt. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” I shake my head. “I’m just zoning out. I was up late, and I found out Tad and Ethan are thinking about going into business with the Kraggers. It’s been a weird morning to say the least.”
Actually, Chloe’s parting shot about the casket stuck with me, and the visual of her running through the woods with a severed head keeps playing on a loop in my brain, but there’s no way I’m bringing up Chloe. It’s bad enough I have to endure her morning breath. The last thing I want is her needling into my relationship with Gage at all hours of the day.
We climb out of the truck, and Gage leads me over by a juniper tree before entering the building. The scent of crisp morning pines infiltrates our senses.
The clouds over head expand in billows, thick as clotted cream. The sun boils just above the precipitous canopy stretched over Paragon, bathing us in humidity. We can feel the heat but are denied of the beauty the precious rays provide.
Gage wraps his arms around me, while dusting kisses over each of my lids.
“Meet me in the freezer in ten?” he hums.
“OK, but first I’ll meet you in the arcade in five.” I bat my lashes. Oh, that reminds me. “Hey, I’m thinking about asking Marshall to Em’s party later. You OK with that?” I shrink a little when I ask.
Gage closes his eyes an inordinate amount of time. “He’s annoying as hell.”
“I know, but I thought if he saw those paintings, he might be able to help us in some way. It might give us the edge we need to win the war—hell, a region would be nice.”
A slight frown darkens his features.
“You really don’t like him, do you?” Stupid question, I know.
“Do you like Chloe?”
“That bad, huh?”
“That bad.” He grazes his eyes over the dirt. “Look, bring him tonight, let him check out Emily’s paintings. If it’ll help us win a region—if it keeps you safe, I’m all for it.” He cradles my face in his hands and bows into me with a tender kiss. A sweet strumming sensation pulses through me, not quite as strong as it does with Marshall but something far more organic, pure. It’s as if our love came to life and sizzled through us, vibrant and sparkling, like a wave in the ocean. I push him in by the neck. Forget my mother and her hard-lined rules. I want all of the love Gage is willing to offer and then some. I’m greedy for his heady brand of affection. It leaves me reeling like a drunkard. Gage is the best drug, and I never want this addiction to end.
“I predict a visit to Rockaway in our future,” he rumbles into my neck.
“I was thinking maybe there’s a thirteenth floor that might need some haunting.”
“I think you’re right.” The curve of a naughty smile springs to his lips.
Gage reduces me to cinders with a heated kiss.
I’ve always wondered what made those disembodied spirits moan so wildly.
And now, I’ll discover firsthand.
Chapter 50
Suspicious Minds
The bowling alley holds the scent of fresh popcorn, the thick smell of pizza dough rising in the oven, and unfortunately, the somewhat pungent odor of used shoes. Tons of people from East and West have chosen to patronize the establishment and, of course, that includes the bitch squad.
Chloe is wearing her Band-Aid inspired bathing suit top and ultra-short shorts that accentuate her long, tawny legs.
Whatever the hell happened to no shirt, no shoes, no service? Where’s Logan when you need him to enforce the rules?
Chloe keeps complaining about the “shoddy equipment” and redirecting Gage to the technical difficulties by way of her scantily clad bod.
“She never quits.” Brielle seethes as though it were her boyfriend Chloe had declared open season on.
“She’s tenacious,” I say. “Her jealousy should be classified as a deadly weapon.”
“Totally illegal,” Brielle sneers. “We should do something to her. Just me and you.”
I graze over Brielle with a quick look. I’m still not sure I can trust her one hundred percent, and I really don’t want to confront her about being paid a cool grand to be my friend while we’re staring down the barrel of a six-hour shift.
“What did you have in mind?” I’d love to hear Brielle’s unique take on exacting revenge. I’m always open to entertaining new possibilities in that arena.
“I don’t know.” Brielle rests her hand next to mine. “Someone like her—you almost have to hurt her ego. You know, build her up then pull the pin on the grenade and run like hell.”
“I see Chloe more as a landmine.” She specializes in blowing your world apart when you least expect it.
She and Gage make a beeline over to us. Much to my deligh
t, he looks totally annoyed with the overexposed witch by his side.
“I had a great idea.” Chloe presses out her chest. “Gage, here, thought I should run it by you.” She curtsies into me sarcastically. “I think the bowling alley should start a recycling program. It’s such a waste to toss all these bottles and cans in the trash. It could be the beginning of a green revolution right here on the island.”
“Perfect.” I force a smile. “We’ll be sure to let Logan know once he gets in.”
Chloe scowls before heading back to Emily and Lexy. What did she want? A statue erected in her honor?
“I thought I’d redirect all her inquires to you.” Gage lands a sultry kiss on my lips. “That way she knows she can never have a minute of my time that doesn’t involve my better half.”
My stomach burns with heat when he calls me that. I wrap my arms around him and lay my head over his shoulder.
Chloe singes me with a look from across the room that could melt a glacier.
I have a feeling the recyclopath is up to her old tricks again. The only thing turning green around here is her. I’m pretty sure the only revolution she’s interested in igniting is the one for Gage Oliver’s heart.
Brielle is right. It’s time to put her in her place once and for all. Build her up and watch her explode into a million tiny pieces.
I smile over at her.
Payback is a bitch Chloe—just like you.
***
It’s not until almost noon that Logan walks through the door, showered and shaved, looking like his usual resplendent self.
“Logan!”
He reels me in by the hand and indulges in a very long embrace. I can feel his broad chest heave with relief. It’s so good to have him back right here on Paragon. This madness we’ve embroiled ourselves in has got to end.
“Tell me everything,” I say. “Start with the Transfer.”
“Hey.” Gage comes up and knocks a fist into Logan’s side. “Everything OK with you?”