“Don’t worry about a thing, Lottie,” he mewls. “We’ll do our best to frighten those women right off the property.”
“I’m not sure it will do any good,” I whisper his way. “They happen to own the property.”
His furry little head twitches. “Once we’re through with them, they won’t even ask for a refund.”
Here’s hoping.
Both Thirteen and Lea look sharply to their left.
“A mini bear!” Lea shouts.
“A koala,” Thirteen corrects.
“I can’t wait to chop him to bits.” Lea stalks off with her weaponry poised to do just that.
“I’d best warn the creature.” Thirteen sighs as he scampers off after her.
Greer sucks in a quick breath. “Do you know what this means? Oh, great news! There’s going to be a murder. This is perfect.”
Winslow nods. “I’m ashamed to agree. Death is never good PR, and all week Cressida and Cormack have been hounding your mother regarding good PR. The best we can do is cheer the Grim Reaper on while he hunts down one of the blonde biddies.”
“We can’t cheer anyone’s death,” I say as Verity stalks back into the room. “Not even Cormack’s or Cressida’s.”
“Let’s get this party started!” Verity whoops as the music dies down and a hot pink spotlight falls over her, as the rest of the room grows dim.
Bambi Bailey steps in close to her with a plate full of raspberry tarts and Verity snatches one from her.
“Don’t you dare try to step on my harmony,” Verity snips.
“Step on her harmony?” Winslow shakes his head and Greer nods his way.
“It’s probably some new slang way of saying she’s imposing on her spotlight,” she tells him.
I’m guessing Greer is right.
Verity chomps down half the raspberry treat as a crowd begins to gather around the two of them and the din of voices grows quiet as if they were expecting to be entertained, and I’m betting they will be. The tension between those two women is palpable.
Verity pumps a fist into the air. “Welcome one and all to the Love Your Selfie Soiree!” she bellows the words out as the room breaks out into cheers.
A couple of blondes trot her way, breaking their way through the crowd, and I can’t help but frown over at them. It’s Cressida and Cormack, the blonde ditzes themselves.
“It’s the Love Your Selfie fest!” Cormack steps forward as she addresses the crowd. “And don’t forget to tag the Rendezvous Luxury Resort in all of your social media posts! We have the exclusive Razzle Dazzle Day Spa, which features ionic footbaths, seaweed wraps, hot cupping, mud baths, and an espresso bar that stars a male barista we flew in from Italy that also happens to be modeling the latest in Italian silk boxers!”
The crowd breaks out into titters of approval.
“Good grief.” Winslow sighs. “Let’s hope he’s not serving coffee in his skivvies.”
“Oh, he is.” Greer nods as if she were sure it was a fact.
The man in an ill-fitting suit, the same one I saw arguing with Verity when I walked into the room, makes his way to the front. He has dark hair, a wide forehead, an elongated face in general, and his body looks stiff with muscles.
“Let’s get this show on the road,” he bellows and Verity snorts.
“I never thought I’d agree with you on anything, honey,” she spits the words out and the crowd gives a little laugh. “Now, who is ready for the pearls of marketing wisdom I’m about to toss before swine?” She looks directly at Sugar when she makes the cloven-hooved jab.
The room breaks out into raucous cheers once again, and I spot Evie snapping a thousand pictures as she stands with her friends, her blonde bestie, Dash, and the two boys that Evie was dating in tandem up until last month, Conner and Kyle. But now Evie has settled on Conner, while Dash has scooped up Kyle. It’s a happy ending for all—although I hope not all that happy. At least nothing that would make a teenage boy all that happy.
The feisty redhead, Bambi Bailey, waves to the crowd. “And right after, I’ll be signing my tell-all, Bambi Tells It Like It Is! It’s chock-full of celebrity secrets and only the choicest gossip of you know who.” She points over to Verity, and the room breaks out into a riot of cheers and laughter.
“Enough!” Verity shouts. “This is my night—my party. I’m the one making a big announcement. How dare you step on my limelight. None of you are to buy this ridiculous book, you hear me?” she growls at the crowd and a hush falls over the room. “I’m getting a restraining order,” she bites the words out at Bambi before manufacturing a smile for the crowd. “Ladies, since we’re all here to celebrate me this evening, I have an announcement to make.” She holds up a raspberry tart. “Tonight, just for all of you right here, I’m debuting my exclusive new single. As you well know, I dabble in music now and again.”
“And you’re bad at it, too,” the man in the ill-fitting suit shouts and a gasp circles the room.
“Oh, Chad.” Verity looks fit to kill before bearing her fangs back at the women before her. “Ignore him, I do.” She holds up the tart. “In just a moment, you’ll all get to hear my new single, ‘Raspberry Dream’, live for the very first time!”
The room breaks out into a wild applause as my mother quickly hands Verity a cordless microphone.
“Protect your ears,” Chad, the man in the ill-fitting suit, shouts. “She’s liable to blow out your eardrums.”
Verity grunts over at him, “I won’t have your bad energy here. Get out of this room, and get out of my life. You’re a bore.”
“And you’re a whore,” he shoots back, and the room is right back to gasping. “You’re nothing but a cheap floozy.”
Verity sniffs before pushing the microphone to her lips, her left hand holding up the raspberry tart as music begins to seep through the speakers once again.
She begins to hum along and bob her head before leaning into the mic. “When you walked in…” she sings weakly before coughing and sputtering.
“Ha!” Chad barks. “And there you have it. The great song you’ll all pay ten bucks to download on your phones in the next hour. You’re nothing but a bunch of sheeple,” he bellows to the crowd.
Verity makes an awful groaning sound into the mic before clearing her throat.
“When you walked in…” Her voice comes out far more strangled than before. “Raspberry…” She drops the mic and clutches at her throat, my raspberry tart still firmly in her hand as she begins to writhe and spin.
The room gurgles with whispers of concern just as Verity Prescott falls to the floor in a heap.
Mom jumps over and quickly checks the woman’s pulse before looking my way and shaking her head.
It looks as if the world will never hear Verity Prescott’s debut single.
Verity Prescott is dead.
Lottie
“Lottie!” a familiar deep voice shouts as Noah makes his way over to me as fast as he can. And on his heels is Detective Ivy Fairbanks waving her badge.
“Ashford Sheriff’s Department,” she calls out. “Back away from the body. There’s an ambulance on its way.”